Day 3 - Casa de Piedra to Plaza Argentina "Base Camp" (3,200M to 4,200M)

Eight Mile Triple Baptism: Water, Water, Altitude

After much hype and anticipation, the dreaded river crossing was our first task of the morning. Cacho, our lead guide, offered anyone who would accept it a ride on a mule across the ten meters or so of frigid silted aqueous expanse. No one raised a hand, as the testosterone fest pushed on.



The distance between yesterday’s afternoon sweltering heat and the shock inducing waters tugging at our calves could not have been greater. Sharp needles and nails of near freezing water pierced constricting capillaries and jabbed hard at exposed pedal veins. No one could deny that this process invoked not a sting, but an actual aching hurt.



The pain didn’t linger for more than about five minutes after exiting the water. Returning layers of socks to feet helped to distract and the immediate pace of continuing on towards the valley head, that would ultimately bring us to Base Camp, was distraction enough.



Now things were starting to get serious. After the humor, of freezing our feet in the river crossing this morning, the real business of finishing the approach to Mt. Aconcagua began. The leading valley is steep in ascent and on both sides. The trail, in places, is no wider than a boot length and often falls directly off for hundreds of meters into the flowing glacial runoff. (No pictures of the actual narrows for obvious concentration reasons.)

No one seemed to flinch as the group marched upwards along the skinny slide rock trail. We all waited for the third and definitive view of Aconcagua. Finally, after climbing almost half way to base camp, in elevation, the white reflection of the Polish Glacier, topping our visual target, came into view.



This perspective is actually of a false summit. Over the top of the Polish Glacier and out of view was the real prize.



Then there was one more river crossing. I should have known better, to patiently follow Stewart to where ever his measured leading would find a suitable crossing, but went ahead with my own fording attempt. Splash! Guess what? I can’t long jump over 20 feet any more, especially in hiking boots and a daypack. My boots were now mobile sloshing aquariums with half the day's trek left to go. Brilliant! At least the floundering flight spasm was an extra moment of comic relief for the group, as cheers promptly followed the splash. The good news was that lunch was less than a half hour away, so socks, liners, and boots would have a good hour to dry in the alpine sun. And, yes, Stewart had found a successful series of rocks, stepping across without getting a drop on his shoes.



After two and a half days of hiking and observing the guides taking a siesta after every lunch, it didn’t take any prodding for the entire group to follow suite. We were starting to feel the pull of altitude on full lungs that remained undernourished with oxygen.



With siesta complete, the trek reconvened and the group of twenty quickly fractured. The fast paced Brits beat tempo. Concerned about acclimatization I gladly pulled up the rear with my Polish tent-mate, the Chinese contingent of two and Stewart of Northern Ireland. We were all relieved when the mules pushed past in the valley, so that the equipment would be waiting at base camp upon arrival.



Canadian Dan, known with preface attached because there are three “Dan’s” on this trip, is a gregarious guy from a town about an hour west of Toronto. He works for the third largest brewery in Canada and is a wealth of information on process and industry. If you ever want to meet a man who undoubtedly loves his wife, this is the guy. A psychological study showed that, with statistical clarity, divorce can be predicted with a single question, “How did you two meet?” The determining factor is with how much clarity and detail each spouse can remember the first encounter. Dan’s wife has nothing to worry about. Not only was the first sighting recalled in vivid Technicolor but I believe every moment since. In an environment where others are bragging about exploits beyond the purview of their partners, it is nice to find a hearty man willing to openly reveal the focal point of his life’s passion.



Canadian Dan is also a sharing guy with his sunscreen, which securely blocked every conceivable form of UV radiation, while making us look like mountain climbing circus clowns.



Plaza Argentina, a.k.a. Base Camp is situated on the moraine of the confluence of two major glaciers (English and Polish). The rocky basin is exposed equally to wind and sun, as the Casa de Piedra camp, but with a daily increase of 1,000 meters the median temperature is much cooler.



Foolishly, I walked to a hose, deciding to wash face, arms, and feet before dinner. The chill of the water as it hit my face was shocking. Quickly racing to remove any remnants of castile soap from my face and arms the mistake was more than obvious. With the sun already behind the high mountain face, there was nothing thermal to add a hint of heat to my chilled appendages. Stone faced, walking deliberately, because the lack of oxygen prevented a jog, the tent flap opening more than 150 meters away was objective number one. Once inside the shelter, the gathering blueness was chased out of my skin by the windbreak and a warm sleeping bag. That post sunset mistake would not be repeated.

We were all feeling the altitude. Some threw up; others spouted nosebleeds of epic proportions and many just found the envelopment of sleeping bags mesmerizing. No one was particularly excited for the group medical check-up in the morning.



The center of life is the blue mess hall tent that affords complete protection from the elements.



Stewart, the Northern Ireland representative of the group, definitely won the "best hair of the evening" award. Fortunately, his positively electric personality matches his follical display.



The lines from the kitchen tent had a dual purpose of structural support and refrigerator shelf.



Later that evening the alpine aged beef was ground and reappeared in a form of Argentine “shepherd’s pie”.



The evening meals thus far have been pretty impressive and the volume appreciated. After a briefing, the 9:30pm timing didn’t scare anyone away from crashing hard for the evening.