I decided to climb a mountain. I've done a fair amount of backpacking, so I figured this would be similar, but with more up. The peak I chose was Cotopaxi: 5,800 meters, which translates to a little over 19,000 feet. Since I had been living at sea level for the past 3 months I decided to prepare for my climb with a series of day hikes, in the 3 days leading up to the big day. The first day hike was in Papallacta a town I stopped at on the way back from the jungle, that also has some lovely thermal hot springs. This hike took me to about 4,000 meters. It rained the whole time, was really muddy, and really windy. Sounds like fun, no? (not as much fun as the Wonderland trail was with the same conditions at times, it's all about the company) I was wearing rubber boots for the hike and fell on my but a number of times on the way down. Awesome. Fortunately I had a very nice and interesting guide, Fernando, who told me all about the medicinal plants we passed along the way, which conveniently gave me a chance to stop and catch my breath as we went up, up, up.From the top of the hike in Papallacta
The next day I climbed Ruca Pichincha which is a peak in Quito. I did this climb with a couple of the girls that I signed up with for the Cotopaxi hike. There were a few places on the trail that were a bit scary as they had washed out in the rain, but we made it to the top, all 4,600 meters.Self portrait at the top of Ruca Pichincha
The next morning we met up at the Condor Trekking office to set out towards Cotopaxi. I was joined by a German girl, two Dutch girls, two Danish girls, a Russian guy and 4 Ecuadorian climbing guides. (This is when I also learned that all the hot Ecuadorian men are climbers.) We hiked Rumiñahui that afternoon with freezing rain and strong winds. I'm not even going to pretend that the end of that hike was fun.
Finally at the top....
Glad to be back down....
Saturday we hiked up to the refuge on Cotopaxi which is at 4,800 meters. After lunch we were supposed to have a technical briefing on the glacier but the weather was so bad they didn't want us getting wet before the big hike. So we stayed inside and played silly games. After dinner we went to bed and slept from 7pm to midnight. At midnight we woke up got all our gear on, had a snack and hit the mountain by 1am. The goal was to reach the top by sunrise.
Each guide had two climbers. I as grouped with one of the Dutch girls. It was windy and snowing when we set out, not to mention dark. About 15 minutes in we stopped to put on our crampons. In another 15 minutes or so we reached the first glacier and had to rope in. The girl I was paired with was having trouble with the altitude so they switched me over with another guide who had already lost one to altitude sickness. The second glacier was a 45 degree angle, which pretty much feels like straight up. I was using the handle of my pick axe as a hiking pole. It was dark and windy, all I could see was the next two foot prints ahead of me in the glow of my head lamp. I was hiking in a slow deliberate rhythm, right, left, right, left. The soft snow made you loose about half the ground you gained with each step. I found myself singing "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming..." through gritted teeth. I'm pretty sure at one point I called out to the guide that I didn´t think I could go on, but with the strong wind he didn't hear me, so we didn't stop. Finally, we made it off the second glacier and the incline became more reasonable. I decided I was going to make it. Then about 20 minutes later the guide checked the snow conditions by digging a hole, and grew concerned. When we caught up with a couple of the groups ahead of us the guides conferred and all agreed that it was not safe to go on for fear of an avalanche. We turned around at 5400 meters, 400 meters from the top.
On the way back down...
I'm glad I can blame not making it on the weather and not on me, but the truth is, I don't know if I would have made it. I'm also not sure yet whether I'll attempt another mountain climb. That was an intense experience and a very different kind of not fun than the 20th mile in a marathon. You find yourself wondering why you though it was a good idea to be doing this in the first place. You think about quitting. Why not? And then you remember the satisfaction of finishing. The taste of stretching yourself to your absolute limit. The sense of accomplishment. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Dayna
Sunrise, at the bottom. (That's a different peak in the background.)
The next morning we met up at the Condor Trekking office to set out towards Cotopaxi. I was joined by a German girl, two Dutch girls, two Danish girls, a Russian guy and 4 Ecuadorian climbing guides. (This is when I also learned that all the hot Ecuadorian men are climbers.) We hiked Rumiñahui that afternoon with freezing rain and strong winds. I'm not even going to pretend that the end of that hike was fun.Finally at the top....
Glad to be back down....
Saturday we hiked up to the refuge on Cotopaxi which is at 4,800 meters. After lunch we were supposed to have a technical briefing on the glacier but the weather was so bad they didn't want us getting wet before the big hike. So we stayed inside and played silly games. After dinner we went to bed and slept from 7pm to midnight. At midnight we woke up got all our gear on, had a snack and hit the mountain by 1am. The goal was to reach the top by sunrise. Each guide had two climbers. I as grouped with one of the Dutch girls. It was windy and snowing when we set out, not to mention dark. About 15 minutes in we stopped to put on our crampons. In another 15 minutes or so we reached the first glacier and had to rope in. The girl I was paired with was having trouble with the altitude so they switched me over with another guide who had already lost one to altitude sickness. The second glacier was a 45 degree angle, which pretty much feels like straight up. I was using the handle of my pick axe as a hiking pole. It was dark and windy, all I could see was the next two foot prints ahead of me in the glow of my head lamp. I was hiking in a slow deliberate rhythm, right, left, right, left. The soft snow made you loose about half the ground you gained with each step. I found myself singing "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming..." through gritted teeth. I'm pretty sure at one point I called out to the guide that I didn´t think I could go on, but with the strong wind he didn't hear me, so we didn't stop. Finally, we made it off the second glacier and the incline became more reasonable. I decided I was going to make it. Then about 20 minutes later the guide checked the snow conditions by digging a hole, and grew concerned. When we caught up with a couple of the groups ahead of us the guides conferred and all agreed that it was not safe to go on for fear of an avalanche. We turned around at 5400 meters, 400 meters from the top.
On the way back down...
I'm glad I can blame not making it on the weather and not on me, but the truth is, I don't know if I would have made it. I'm also not sure yet whether I'll attempt another mountain climb. That was an intense experience and a very different kind of not fun than the 20th mile in a marathon. You find yourself wondering why you though it was a good idea to be doing this in the first place. You think about quitting. Why not? And then you remember the satisfaction of finishing. The taste of stretching yourself to your absolute limit. The sense of accomplishment. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...Dayna
Sunrise, at the bottom. (That's a different peak in the background.)
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2 comments:
Hey Dayna! Glad to read about your adventure. Your summitting experience sounds a lot like mine. Hours or days of just putting one foot in front of the other when you really don't even remember why you wanted to do it, and have to trust that it will be worth it when it's over... I'm glad you hung in there!
I gave up on summitting for that very reason (was glad I did some, but realized I didn't need to bag any more peaks to consider my life a success), but now I'm in the market for another challenge, of a sort. I'm training to ride a century (which sounds easy compared to Cotopaxi) and I went on a training ride last weekend, where I spent the last 5 or so miles just counting off pedal strokes in sets of 10 and telling myself to just. keep. pedaling. Perhaps I'll replace it with "just keep swimming" on my next ride :)
Keep up the adventures!! Glad you're doing so well!
Thanks for writing about your internal monologue during the climb, very cool stuff; I know it's personal and appreciate it!
The great news is that you'll have the choice to be a mountaineer your whole life, no matter where you live. There are excellent peaks on every continent! (Actually, not sure about the topography of Antarctica, but I'd be there's a challenging hill of ice there somewhere!)
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