Tuesday 4 August 2009

Don't aim too high

(Tuesday-Wednesday, 28-29 July 2009)

Google map:
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=volcan+chimborazo+ecuador&sll=-2.089342,-78.570442&sspn=0.168116,0.350189&ie=UTF8&ll=-1.445922,-78.777466&spn=0.336349,0.700378&t=h&z=11

After my solo hike around volcano Cotopaxi – see 3 posts below – I saved my first experience with crampons and ice axe for volcano Chimborazo’s summit. At 6,268 meters, is the highest mountain in Ecuador, and due to the Earth’s bulge at the equator, it's also the closest you can get to the stars while with your feet on the ground. I couldn’t resist the temptation of climbing up to the Earth’s closest point to the sun, could I?

Well… I shouldn’t have aimed so high, I guess: I only managed to do half the climb, giving up at 5,700 meters, at 2h45 in the morning, after more than 3 hours going up, up, up. Always up.

I thought I was in pretty good shape. I thought I was more or less acclimatized to the high altitude, after my walks in Quilotoa and Cotopaxi. Actually I was. Just not enough!

The climb up is very, very tiring. You start around 23h30 (yes, at night, when the snow is harder and thus easier to navigate) from the last mountain refuge, at 5,000 meters, and you are expected to climb up for the next 7 hours all the way to the summit, and then around 3 other hours down, back to the base.

The lack of oxygen is punishing. For instance, it was hard to fall asleep at the mountain refuge the night before. Whenever, almost with my eyes closed and an inch away from the arms of Morpheus, I’d forget to take slow and deep breaths, I’d be suddenly awaken by the need to inhale deeper, with my heart beating faster than normal. Then, I would inhale profoundly, only for the scene to repeat itself a few scarce minutes later. Now imagine what the lack of oxygen does to you when you’re climbing up the mountain, hitting the snow hard with your crampons for hours, and using the axe to help you navigate a 45º ice slope…

The best views of the mountain I managed to get were actually from… the day before and the day after the climb! Going up during the night with only a flashlight in your forehead iluminating a few scarce meters around you means you don’t see much beyond rock, ice, snow and stars. Plenty of stars!

So yes, the recollections I have from the experience are most of the hard physical effort I had to pull. Oh yes – and of the unforgettable sound that sometimes the ice platforms make when you step on them with your crampons, cracking loudly, making you think someone must be firing a weapon right on your back.

From the refuge, the summit seems just there. At your arms’ reach. It’s hard to believe you need 7 long hours to get there. But you do. First, your eyes trick you and things are of a much larger scale than what they seem: when, in the next morning I was back down at the refuge and saw a couple of climbers in the mountain, I couldn’t believe how small and insignificant they were against the massive landscape around them. Second, some of the slopes are quite steep, and making the same repetitive effort of kicking the snow the all time to fix well your crampons, in an environment poor in oxygen, just tires up your lunges and muscles completely.

I thought of giving up 3 or 4 times before I eventually did. I tried to push my resistance further and further, but the thought of having yet another 3 good hours to reach the summit just felt overwhelming. And my mountain guide was starting to feel worried I would be no longer in good conditions to walk my way down on my own if I continued to push any further. If climbing up is a huge effort for your thighs and lungs, walking down really pushes for your knees, as you need to keep fixing your crampons tight on the ice in order not to slip…

When I finally arrived back at the refuge, well after 4h30 in the morning, I was happy I had made the decision to go back when I did: I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. And if half of me was thinking I might had made it to the summit if I had pushed a bit further, the other half was thinking how beyond overwhelming the way down would have been if I had decided that way…

I made a few mistakes. I was thinking the all time how much more I would have to walk to reach the top, instead of cooling down and thinking of a step at a time, for instance. Also, we were walking too fast the first hour, when I was feeling great and should have saved some energy for later. Last but surely not least, I should have climbed a few lower summits to learn better how to use the ice gear and get better acclimatized. Even very experienced mountaineers spend a good week doing so around other mountains in Ecuador before attempting Chimborazo, but I didn’t. Who the hell did I think I was?!

I have to say I came back from this experience with a sour taste in my mouth. From only seeing darkness during my climbing attempt, instead of an unforgettable sunrise from high up, at the summit. From having tried and failed.

But stupid me, I made the biggest of the mistakes well earlier I even set my feet on the mountain: I aimed too high.

Well, that’s a learning which should prove useful not only in future mountaineering attempts but also in general. I know so damn well how often I incurred in that very same mistake in my professional and personal life…

I should think about it for my round 2 with alpine mountaineering. I know there will be one soon enough – I’ve just developed too strong of a taste for high altitude mountains not to do it again.


Yep, I’m starting to dream of my next vacations in the Alps…


View of Chimborazo from the road that gives access to the lower mountain refuge, at 4,800 meters

Getting started on the use of crampons and ice axe, in the afternoon before the climb


Taking it easy at the last mountain refuge, at 5,000 meters

Yep, that's the best view I had of the bloody mountain! By the way, the very top is hidden behind this first summit. It takes around 45 minutes from there to reach it

5,700 metes at 2h45 in the morning. Time to throw the towel. My face looks like this because of the camera's flash, but that's exactly how I was feeling - too damn tired!

Tasting sour in my mouth. Early morning of the following day, back at the mountain refuge at 5,000 meters. Next time, dude. Next time! Better prepared...

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