1/17/10 Rest Day.
There are two kinds of Climbers you will find on any major mountain, and they can be separated by a single question; "would you be here if there were no chance of summitting?"
Those who answer "yes" are Mountain Lovers. They enjoy just being in the mountains and don´t seem at all troubled by the discomforts which accompany it. To be certain, they like to summit. But, as doing so signals the end of the fun, the Mountain Lovers summit with a bit of sadness in their hearts.
Those who answer the question "no" are probably goal oriented individuals. Typically these Mountaineers took up climbing later in life and see the IDEA of having summitted a major peak as perhaps having greater value than the experience itself. It is the answer to some call, the punctuation mark accompanying a personal weigh point, or the stone pathway to quiet satisfaction in later years. In the eyes of Mountain Lovers, the Seven Summiter is the worst of these, checking off items on a shopping list, picking ripe fruit without regard for the amazing tree from which it comes.
Ty is the former, and I the later. Together we form the Yin and Yang of climbing, both respecting each other´s place though experiencing the climb from very different perspectives.
As we talk to other Climbers it becomes quickly apparent which is which. Every Guide I have ever met is a Yin, a Mountain Lover. It is perhaps because of this special relationship they have with the mountain that nothing will get under their skin faster than a Yang who speaks honestly. As such, and owing to my overriding desire to get along with everyone, I choose to be a closeted Yang.
Ty and I were talking with a Guide (a super great guy) yesterday about another climbing company. "Yeah, they get a lot of Seven Sumitters, " he commented with a note of palpable disdain. I was glad to remain in my closet and Ty did not give me up. But I was outed later the same day at dinner with that Guide and his group. The topic of Seven Sumitters came up as we gathered in our dinning tent. "Dave here is a Seven Summitter," Brian said. Then adding "he just doesn`t know it."
This much may be true. Though I am asked often if the seven summits are my ambition I always demure. I do this in part because I want to experience each climb as a special chapter in my life, as opposed to a chapter in a book that has no value unless completed. Yet, to be certain, if there were no chance of summitting I would never leave home.
In the end the Yins need the Yangs, their numbers comprising the greatest portion of clients paying the substantial fees that make commercial expeditions possible. The Yangs, in turn, need the Yins to derive greater now from an experience that will forevermore be a then.
1/16/10
Two more choppers lifted sick Climbers out of base camp this morning. I don´t know their stories and at this point would rather not know. Hanging around base camp has become a little like being a dog lover and living next to the freeway.
That German Climber was sent down on a mule. He apparently did not have the money for a chopper. I spoke with some Climbers who arrived to base today, passing the sick German on their way in. They said he looked very pale and schlumped over in the saddle. I`m sure he will be alright. Descent is THE cure for Altitude maladies. Faster is better, but even a few thousand feet can make a substantial difference.
In the end I suspect many of the helicopter lifts are economic choices as opposed to medical necessities. Climbers make the long trek into base camp and start to feel some form of altitude sickness. Realizing they won´t be going up, and not feeling good enough to trek out, they open the wallet and call for a bird. Today saw a total of five heli-lifts from Plaza de Argentina.
The real climbing started today. We carried our first load to camp 1, 2,500 feet above base camp. Ty and I made good time for the first 1,400 feet, but then I started to feel the thinning air and found myself stopping to breath quite often. Ty was breathing hard too, but in general seemed stronger than myself. I had started a coarse of Cipro the day before and suspect the lingering effects of an intestinal bug was robbing me of strength.
Our pace first started to slow as we navigated through a large field of Penitentes. These are snow-ice formations that reach upward in a spire. They are formed by the unique sun and wind combination of this climate. We saw penitentes ranging from 1-9 feet. They are typically clustered closely, sparkling in the sun like a white bed of nails.
We finished the carry and cached our gear in a nice camp site looking out over the Vacas Valley. On our way down we passed the AAI team we share a dinner tent with. They were making fine progress and seemed to be in good shape with the loads they were carrying. I called out encouragement to Brian and he smiled back.
It took two hours to descend to Plaza de Argentina. Ty and I quickly drank two quarts of juice and discussed the work ahead while elevating our then shoeless feet. The move to camp 1 will follow a rest day, rest we both feel is greatly needed. It will be a hard move, though we should feel better than we did the first time we visited camp 1 for our carry, with credit given to acclimation.
I set out map out on the table for further study. More than anything I was hoping to find our carry to camp 1 was the most difficult part of the entire climb. Vince Lombardi once said "Fatigue doth make cowards of us all."
1/15/10
I was in the steel latrine when I heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching. It was six thirty in the morning and all of base camp was entombed in a frozen snow. Not many people were up. I myself would have preferred to be in my warm sleeping bag, but the liniment oil had let me down. I spent the entire night trading sides. After about twenty minutes the hip I was lying on would wake me with an ache that demanded I shift the burden to the other side. By six a.m. my hips had formed a union and gone on strike. Unable to sleep on my back or stomach, my only alternative was to dress and be upright. Thus my wandering to the latrine.
Shortly after arriving at Plaza de Argentina yesterday, I noticed a Climber vomiting a few camp sites away. I pointed this out to Ty, but as this sort of thing is not uncommon and the man appeared stable, we went about our business. We later heard more about this man from other Climbers. He had retreated to the medical tent and was trying to get a helicopter lift out. But he had supposedly been told one price, then it was subsequently raised to $1,800. While he tried to debate this the weather deteriorated, making a medevac impossible.
I have never experienced altitude sickness on the level this man seemed to be suffering. I would imagine he had a very unpleasant night.
By the time I had my camera in hand the bright yellow helicopter was flaring to land. A few duffels were unloaded, a few loaded, then the sick man was led by the arm to a seat in the helicopter. I was impressed with how coordinated things seemed to be. That helicopter probably was not on the ground five minutes. By the time a collective base camp crawled from their tents there was nothing to see.
I am sitting in the dinning tent waiting for warmth. The skies are clear and sunlight will soon consume the chilly shadow cast over base camp. Then, in a matter of one hour, the temperature outside will rise from 29F to 72F, eventually reaching of high today of approximately 87F.
Now it is the evening and the snow is coming down. This is a tough place to dress for. After breakfast Ty and I reported to the medical tent for the mandatory checkup. It is not entirely accurate to say the examination is mandatory, but if a Climber forgoes the examination and subsequently requires rescue he must pay the full monetary cost of that rescue. As this would likely run into the thousands of dollars no many Climbers dare skip the medical checkup.
I was asked how I am feeling, if I am taking any medicines, and what the highest altitude is I have climbed to. My blood pressure was checked, my breathing listened to with a stethoscope, and a measurement of my blood oxygen saturation level was taken.
The wall I faced during the examination was decorated with photos of frostbitten fingers and toes. The accompanying verbiage was all in Spanish, but the basic message was universal. A very pale German climber was seated on a cot against this same wall. He had an oxygen tube up his nose and coughed with great heaves. Fluid was building in his lungs, a condition known as HAPE, High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. Efforts were underway to get him to lower altitudes.
My friend Brian was a few places ahead of me in line for the examination. He left the tent shaking his head. "They want me to come back again later in the day. They say my blood pressure is too high and my saturation level is too low." I hope Brian´s Guide knows about what happened on Kilimanjaro. I hope Brian has really thought through the implications of climbing a mountain a full 3,000 feet higher, absent the army of Porters that carried all our provisions in Africa. I am concerned but don´t feel it is my place to express that concern. At dinner I asked Brian how that second checkup went. "Not good," he said, waving a foil containing several doses of high blood pressure medicine. The camp Physician wants to see Brian again in the morning. I once climbed with a Guide from a very prominent international expedition company who told me the only Guide they had ever lost was on Aconcagua. The Guide had secummed to HACE, High Altitude Cerebral Edema, after making a carry from Base camp to camp 1. Clearly this is a mountain to take seriously.
We are well rested and excited for the carry tomorrow. Our loads are packed. We feel thoroughly acclimated. I can hear the snow falling on our tent now. All of base camp is silent. We are warm in our down sleeping bags. Now comes the sleep.
1/14/10
When we broke camp this morning Ty was complaining about having had another rough night of sleep, saying he "just couldn´t get comfortable." I had slept well and made a point of telling him so. I had applied Dr. Timothy´s magic ellixer the night before to my hips and shoulders. Ty had mocked me as I did so and refused the ellixer when offered. He`s not laughing anymore (read that part with a mad professor voice).
Dr. Timothy is perhaps the least likely acupuncturist you will ever meet. He grew up in North Dakota and studied to become an RN. His 1960`s experience not only opened his mind to eastern medicine, but also inspired an affinity for aloha shirts which he wears exclusively to this day.
But make no mistake about it, the Dude is excellent at acupuncture. I have hobbled in using a cane in each hand to support my upper body, stooped at 90 degrees but for a lower back that quit me. Dr. Timothy will ask me a few questions, fidget with his Sam Elliott mustache for a moment, then place dozens of needles in my person. When the last needle is placed I typically fall into a deep sleep. I have walked out of these sessions upright without the use of a cane, like someone on those televangelist shows.
But before all this, before Dr. Timothy starts placing needles, he rubs a liniment oil on the afflicted area then focuses a heat lamp on it. The oil is not really called Dr. Timothy,s Magic Ellixer. That`s just my name for it. The correct name is White Flowers, and it can be purchased at most oriental grocery stores.
I think Ty is coming around to trying the ellixer. A moment ago he commented on how it at least keeps the tent from stinking.
1/14/10
The first part of our trek today was crossing a dry riverbed valley about a mile and a half wide. When I say "dry" I mean mostly dry. A knee deep river of glacial runoff perhaps twenty feet wide tumbles down the center of the valley. This was the crossing we had been told would require the assistance of a mule. But at this late part of the Argentine summer the waters were cross-able on foot. We changed into our sandals and forded the river. Dear Friends, I hope to tell you that water was cold! My feet were numb by the time we were halfway across, and then ached with misery as they came back to life on dry land. We continued on,up a narrow canyon with a tributary of the Rio Vaca flowing through it. We eventually had to wade that river too, but the dread was subverted by the profound beauty around us. All along the trail small tufts of a low green ground cover thrived, casting off a delicate sweet scent from tiny yellow pansy-like flowers. The rock formations varied from huge Flintstones boulders to reaching sheer walls. The clear skies provided a very comfortable 77F.
We chatted at times, stopping to hydrate and pick through our lunch bags. For no reason other than it felt good, we kept a brisk pace, passing several teams that had left Casa de Piedras two hours before us.
Arriving at Plaza de Argentina, we hydrated and built our camp behind a stacked stone wall constructed by those before us. It was in a low impression that would offer some protection from the wind. Comparing notes, as we do after each move, Ty and I both felt quite good, better than we felt pulling into the similar altitude on Denali. This had been our first goal, to arrive healthy at base camp. So far so good!
We have eaten our dessert first. The trek to base camp has been picturesque, leisurely, and quite altogether enjoyable. While the last three days have required some work to bring us to Plaza de Argentina at 13,800 feet, we have done so carrying no burden. We have been the unladen swallow which must now grip that coconut by the husk and continue it´s migration to England.
Tomorrow we will remain here at Plaza de Argentina and rest. The next day we make a carry to camp 1 at 16,728 feet. We can see the trail from here and it looks steep. Ty and I will each carry about 50 pounds of gear. That is when the real climbing starts. But for now we are enjoying the impressive base camp amenities provided by our logistics support group, Grajale Expeditions.
Grajale Exp has set up several qwanzen hut type tents here. They are arranged in two rows forming a muddy narrow main street between them. One must duck and weave to avoid the low hanging wires that connect them all in a low volt, low tech, municipal lighting system that no has figured out how to work. One tent is the cookhouse. Pleasant associations are fostered with this tent owing to its emissions of both fine aromas and classic rock and roll. There is one corner of the cookhouse tent where intermittent internet access can be purchased for $10 per 15 minutes.
A charming young lady who goes by the name of Veronica is camp boss. She assigns groups to the remaining tents for dinning purposes. Veronica also coordinates the cooks, mule cargo, chopper lifts, and regular tidying up of the drop toilets. At no time have I seen her without a smile. She is kind and at once respected by all, including those who for cultural reasons might view this as a man´s world.
Within minutes of arriving at base camp we were shown to our tent and served up a variety of meats and cheeses with a large pitcher of orange drink. Having already accepted the inevitable de-evolution of comfort that comes with a mountain climb, Ty and I were giddy with the prospect of knowing some further kindness. Our dinning tent would provide a place tall enough to stand in and yet be sheltered from the wind. Though we would still need to set up our sleep tent, we would at least have a place to go for the days we would be at base to read and socialize with the AAI group with whom we would be sharing that dinning tent. Ty and I celebrated our good fortune in having booked our arrangements through Grajale, practicing the pronunciation of same in ubber important tones. "So you are telling me I can´t have a private library at 13,000 feet," we would argue to no one in particular. "But I must say this to you; GRAJALE." Poof. The Kennedy library would appear before us.
1/13/10
We set out this morning after a poor night´s sleep. It is always like that your first night of sleeping on the ground. We will adjust. Our eight mile trek took us still further up the Rio Vacas with much of the trail on broken rock that left our feet feeling beaten up. But our spirits were high and the weather excellent so we passed the hours listening to our I-pods and playing a game I call "Knife Fight." It works like this; I say "Hey Ty, Janis Joplin versus Boy George in a knife fight. Who do you like?" "Janis Joplin," Ty says, and then he has to justify the choice with lyrical references from the two. "Boy George would be too busy asking "Do you really want to hurt me," and Janis would pull a shiv from her dirty red bandanna." We pitted Bob Seger against Bruce Springsteen, Randy Bachman against Elvis Presley (the later years), and Art Garfunkel against Prince.
The heat came on, hitting 102F as we neared Casa de Piedras, an apologetic Ranger Station and camp ground. We were well ahead of the mule trains and thus without our gear so Ty and I soaked our feet in a nearby spring creek. We spoke of dust. It is dusty here. So so dusty. And that would not be so bad, except it is also windy. So so windy. It´s like living in a David Lynch film. As a result, dust is everywhere and in everything. If you leave your mouth open you will not only look like someone in a Pepsi commercial, your teeth will instantly become gritty. So then, because we must live this reality for another two weeks, Ty and I decided to come up with all the reasons dust is good.
1. Without dust, 70`s rock group Kansas could not have written the epic hit "Dust in the Wind." It would have come out as "Dirt in the Wind", as in "...all we are is dirt in the wind." Not the same thing. This in turn would have adversely affected the teenage dating experience for most of us.
2. Dust is really just tiny bits of dirt. Since it is said that dirt is the stuff of life, to embrace dust is to embrace life itself ...in really small portions.
3. We could not come with a third reason. We were too dusty and uncomfortable.
1/12/10
After sorting our gear for the Mules to pack in, Ty and I were dropped off at the trail-head for the Vacas Valley approach. We checked in with the Ranger, then set out up the valley. Everything about the picture we walked into was large and interesting. Steep canyon walls rose up from the Rio Vacas, which tumbled by noisy and cocoa colored. A perfect blue sky provided dramatic backdrop to the rugged stone gates which seemed to open one nudge at a time as we pressed on.
We didn´t talk much for the first several hours. Ever aware of the many miles to be covered that day, we clicked along with our trekking poles and day packs, stopping occasionally to hydrate and nibble from our lunches. So much of what we passed through was mindful of a float trip my boys and I took down the Grand Canyon a few years ago; the contrast of water against dry earthen landscape, the shadow-play of light against stratified walls, the call of a canyon wren.
We arrived at Pampa de Lenas and set about choosing a camp site. There was only one group ahead of us, that of the American Alpine Institute (AAI). The lead Guide, Aiden, offered advice on where best to camp and we thanked him. I recognized someone I know in his group and called out to Brian.
Brian had been on my team that climbed Kilimanjaro a few years ago. It was a first foray into high altitude for him and it did not go entirely well. Ten steps from the summit Brian collapsed, vomiting in the snow. We drug him the remaining distance to the summit, propping him up for a photo before sending him down with an assistant guide. As the rest of the team descended twenty minutes later we came upon Brian next to the trail, unable to stand. A Physician in our group determined that Brian was probably suffering from High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE) and so he was given a dose of Dexamethasone. Dex, as it is commonly called, is a high octane steroid designed to swiftly reduce the swelling in the brain that sometimes occurs among climbers whose bodies fail to manage the effects of altitude well. Soon Brian was on his feet and able to descend, suffering no further symptoms.
Aconcagua being a full 3,000 feet higher than Kilimanjaro, I was surprised to see Brian attempting this mountain. Yet I did not feel it was my place to say anything. Climbers can have very different reactions each time going into thin air. Brian is a big boy and it seemed important to respect his personal choice.
Soon the air grew dusty as the mule trains pulled into Pampa de Lenas. Ty and I built our camp, ate a modestly tasty freeze dried meal, and settled in for the night. As we lay there, too excited to sleep,the sound of coyotes calling to each other from across the canyon began to break the peace. I thought upon the enormity of what Ty and I had begun; the hard days ahead, the challenges we could only guess at. I fashioned a pillow from my camp coat and felt very small.
1/11/10
We are traveling now to the Penitentes, a winter ski resort about 3 hours from Mendoza. It is summer in this hemisphere so there won´t be much doing aside from the climbing expeditions gathering there.
Ty dozes until awakened by the van´s satellite radio. It is "Diamond" David Lee Roth singing "Just a Gigolo." Ty worked for years as a rock radio disc jockey before becoming a television news anchor. He is encyclopedic when it comes to music reference. The next song is by Kiss. "All time best Kiss song," Ty asks me. "Detroit Rock City," I say. Ty says "Hard Luck Woman." Back home we both give our time to more important issues, but such is the nature of being far away that we may debate the merits of a rock bank that wore more makeup than Tammy Fay Baker.
We arrive in Penitentes and are greeted by climbing legend Fernando Grajales. Many years ago Fernando made a first accent of a very difficult route up Aconcagua. He was subsequently honored with that route being named after him, The Grajale Colouir. Fernando is now a man of advanced years, relying on many lieutenants to run Grajale Expeditions, but he still takes the time to shake hands with each Climber supported by his organization. He is a cool Dude.
Ty and I arrived to a warm summer day in Mendoza. Our airport transfer pulled up to the Hyatt Hotel, a grand marble structure in the old world fashion of the official residence of some high ranking regional politico. Across the tree-lined street was Indepencia Park. We checked in, then immediately changed into cooler clothes, heading out on foot to explore the neighborhood.
Pulling a few exploratory loops out and away from the hotel, we noted most businesses were closed for Siesta. The 98 F heat eventually chased us into the shade of the park where locals napped on the grass and teenage boys tried to impress teenage girls with their bicycle acrobatics. Many empty vendor stands were assembled along the large circular promenade running the perimeter of the park. This being a Sunday, we reasoned, there wouldn´t be much to see.
Later that night, around 11:30pm, I stepped outside to the hotel to gather a last breath of warm summer air before calling it a night. The park before me was a busy nocturnal playground. I was drawn by the sounds of an amplified voice to an outdoor stage where street performers were just finishing a magic act. I watched for a few moments then raced back to our room to get Ty.
Together we wandered the park, marveling at the sizable crowd everywhere we went. There were children clamoring on lit playground equipment, lover´s picnicking on the grass, great crowds of shoppers grazing the diverse offerings of vendors along the promenade, Actors, Acrobats, Musicians, and Painters. There was no festival or important holiday to credit. The occasion of this was nothing more than a Sunday summer evening for a people who live broken days, Siesta setting a Latin rhythm to a life of patient comfort.
I sat next to a man named Ken during the flight from Seattle to Dallas. He is a blond pony-tailed Caucasian who married into a rural Japanese family and now runs their rice farm outside Tokyo. I asked him many questions about the uncommon path his life had taken and what it must have been like to learn the culture and language of such a different world. I found this fascinating and he seemed to like talking about it. But this cultural comparison somehow turned to the topic of relationships and how infidelity on the part of men is accepted in Japan. Ken then spent the last hour of the flight recounting to me his many romantic conquests. If I was uncomfortable with this I was not alone. Ken has one of those voices you can hear from four rows away. Somewhere in there I noticed the people around us had stopped turning pages in the books they were reading.
It is Saturday, the 9th. Lin and I just finished breakfast and I am about to load my gear out into her car. My flight leaves in two hours.
For some reason I am talking Southern. Not just a harmless remainderment attached to the tail of each word, but a full blown Gone With The Wind accent. Lin asks if I am doing this because I am about to head south. She points out that the predominant language will be Spanish as opposed to civil war era Georgian. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn," I respond, sticking with the whole Rett Butler character.
I don't speak Spanish. This is bound to complicate things a bit in Argentina. But I didn't speak Russian and still managed to make my way through that country last August. One unexpected benefit of this has been the improvement of my drawing abilities.
While in St. Petersburg this summer I enjoyed a large and lengthy Chinese meal one afternoon. The driving rains outside gave me cause to order a second and third pot of green tea as I waited them out. By the time I stood up I sounded like an aquarium being rocked to and fro. Russians are not big on labeling things, so finding a restroom can be a bit of a guessing game. I didn't have that kind of time. I approached the two Russian men tending the till and asked where the restroom is. They stood there in unconvincing Kimonos, confused looks on their faces. I tried the word "bathroom." Nothing. Borrowing a pen and paper, I next set about to drawing a toilet. They studied my progress intently, mumbling to one another in Russian. Then one of them shouted "Toilet!" "Toilet," the other shouted back. They high-fived in satisfaction and continued chanting "Toilet toilet toilet!" Humiliated, I looked about the restaurant to survey the reaction of its other patrons. There was none. Apparently no one else knew this English word. The good fortune of being alone in one's dread was mine.
In some strange way, still stranger than the southern accent I am speaking in now, I look forward to similar experiences in Argentina. It's time to go now and it's all I can do to not finish by saying I am Gone With The Wind.
There is this Improv Character I have been working on lately. He is a former member of the Up With People Singers. You remember those folks. Launched largely in response to the surprisingly popular Down With People Singers, this slap-happy corp d'positive performed sweater-clad song and dance numbers proclaiming the basic goodness of people everywhere. If someone pushed the envelope a bit during a Super Bowl halftime show, you knew the punishment would be the Up With People Singers performing the following year.
Anyway, this character I am working on is a midlife washed out Up With People singer. He was shunned by the other singers and still managed to find the positive side of it. Now days he breaks into spontaneous song over things both random and wholly unworthy of celebration. My girlfriend, Lin, and I were shopping for food supplies for the climb at Costco the other day when I slipped into this character. She said something about Oatmeal. I sang "Talkin' 'bout (CLAP CLAP) OAT MEAL! It's the way I feel! I eat it lumpy. Like it bumpy. Can't be grumpy. Gimme some-py. Hear me now I'm gettin' real! Talkin' 'bout (CLAP CLAP) OAT MEAL!" This went on as I celebrated Cliff Bars, Fruit Leather, and (though it's not going on the climb) Feta Cheese.
Lin is a good sport. Which is to say she indulges me even when the price is public humiliation. She is a sweet sweet Lady, and I am going to miss her while I'm gone. She is my Love.
Lin also indulges me with my climbing. Not everyone does. The nature of these climbs stirs complicated feelings within those closest to me. I try to listen and offer reassurance, but in the end we each make peace in the terms of our choosing.
I recently asked Lin if she would articulate her feelings about my climbing in a letter I might share with readers of this Blog. She did so, but the touching and deeply personal words felt too private to share here verbatim. So I will paraphrase.
She writes about trust in a relationship, in all of its forms, and the trust she has in me, then concluding "I trust you know when to back off and when it's safe to leap forward." She writes about the importance of having a passion, her own being gardening. Noting the work, expense, and uncertainties associated with this, Lin concedes her dedication to this activity makes little sense to some. Yet it is her passion and it brings her joy. "I personally can't relate to the joy you get from a mountain climb," she then writes. "It seems brutal. The long climb, the cold, the wind, the icky food, etc. But only you know the incredible, exhilarating feeling when you arrive at the top.It must be and feel so beautiful, a sense of accomplishment, a conquering." Lin acknowledges her "internal worries", but ultimately finds comfort in the belief that our passions drive our destiny.
So, here is what we have in mind. Mountains and weather have a way of changing a Climber's game plan pretty meaningfully. But, in general, this is the basic order of how things should go down. I will not be able post the kind of detailed entries I did on the Elbrus climb as we will be worlds away from any cell signal. I will however relay regular short updates of our progress via satellite phone and have them posted to this Blog.
DAILY ITINERARY
Day 1 -January 10th.
Arrive in Mendoza
Either this evening or tomorrow morning, we’ll sort out our Aconcagua climbing permits.
Day 2-January 11th. Mendoza to Penitente (2,400m, 7,872 ft).
In the afternoon we get the equipment ready for transportation to the base camp by mule.
Day 3-January 12th. Approach from Penitentes to Pampa de Leñas. After a night in Penitentes, we are transported to the entrance of Aconcagua Park . We arrive at Punta de Vacas, where the mule carriers will load the equipment on the mules. We then begin the three day hike to Base Camp. On this day, we trek from 4 to 5 hours up to the camp Pampa de Leñas (2950 m, 8,036 ft).
At the camp, we present our permits to the park rangers, we meet up with our equipment and we assemble the tent.
Day 4- January 13th. Pampa de Lenas to Casa de Piedras. We cross a bridge 500 metres upstream from the camp, heading up the east side of the valley on a good and easily followed path to Casa de Piedra (3,200m, 10,496 ft), our next camp. 6 hour hike.
Day 5- January 14th. Casa de Piedras to Plaza Argentina. From Casa de Piedra, we cross the Rio de las Vacas. The water can be cold and fast flowing so we will strap on our sandals and grab ahold of a mule …really, the only time mule grabbing is considered kosher. We will have to cross the Relinchos river further upstream as we enter a wide valley. This leads to the base camp at Plaza Argentina, 8 hrs walk approx. Plaza Argentina is our base camp amongst the moraines of the Relinchos Glacier (4,200 mts, 13,776 ft).
Day 6-January 15th. At Plaza de Argentina we rest and use the day for acclimatization. We load our packs with the food, fuel, and supplies we will carry to camp 1 the next day. No more mules.
Day 7-January 16th. Carry to Camp 1, return to Plaza Argentina. We carry a part of our equipment and food for the remainder of the trip up to the next camp at 5,100m (16,728). We cross the Rio Relinchos on a bridge of penitente ice and enter an undulating area of moraine. The higher we climb, the more penitentes we see – large spikes of ice created by the unique dust/sun and wind conditions of the Andes.
The final hour we will have to navigate through a penitentes field, getting a close up view of these beautiful, natural sculptures. Camp 1 is perched atop a plateau, looking down over the path we have climbed, back towards Base Camp to which we return for the night. (Camp)
Day 8-January 17th. Rest Day. We dedicate this day to rest and recovering our energy.
Day 9-January 18th. Move to Camp 1. Today we climb back from base camp to camp 1 (5,100m, 16,728 ft) with the rest of our equipment. (Camp)
Note:: The whole ascent is non-technical. The main difficulties are caused by altitude and, potentially, acute meteorological conditions. We will be very prudent in this regard. Certain signs (e.g. the presence of lenticular clouds, denoting strong winds and changing conditions) could mean abandoning ascent or turning back.
Day 10-January 19th. Rest day
Day 11-January 20th. Carry to Camp 2. This is a hard day. We carry a part of our equipment and food up to the next camp at 5,900m (19,352 ft). Weather conditions may mean we use our crampons. We drop our food and kit to our camping area and we return to camp 1 to sleep.
Day 12-January 21. Move to camp 2 at 5,900m (19,352 ft). This camp is right at the base of some cliffs and the wind and cold can whip around here. Good thing we will have a heavy duty tent designed for Denali. It’s a fortress, and it weighs as much as a Buick. But we will be glad to have it if the winds kick up.
Day 13-January 22. Rest day.
Day 14-January 23. Carry to Camp 3 Today sees us climb for 4 hours to the next camp at around 6,000m (19,680 ft). The climb is diagonal and towards the right. We must cross the inferior, flat part of the glacier, to be able to arrive at the northern edge of the Aconcagua. The walk would be easy at sea level but with the weight and the increased altitude, it is necessary to walk slowly and carefully.
Camp 3 is placed at the same height as the Berlin refuge (on the Normal Route), strategically situated because it is so close to the Normal Route, and for its altitude and cover from winds. We will place our last high altitude camp here.
Note::
Above 6400 metres (20,992 ft)hard snow is sometimes encountered (varies from year to year). It is when you encounter these conditions that the crampons and ice axe come into their own. Snow-covered areas tend to be short and intermittent (maybe 150 metres of crampon-wearing at a time) and gradients are typically around 30 degrees. Fixed ropes are not used. The final 200m of ascent to the summit is on loose scree and is very tiring but not in itself dangerous. Crampons and ice axe may only be used for one day on Aconcagua. Return to camp 2.
Day 15-January 24. Move to camp 3 (High Camp)
Day 16-January 25. Rest day.
Day 17-January 26. Attempt on summit.
The day begins at 5:00 am. This is the most demanding day of our expedition. We continue north and join the Normal Route at 6200 m, a point found between the Independence refuge and camp Piedras Blancas. We continue on the Normal Route up to the Independence Refuge (6,500 m). We ascend the "Portezuelo del Viento" where we can find strong winds, even on calm days. From here on we pass by the superior part of the Western face and climb "La Canaleta", a 300 m channel that takes us to edge of the summit.
After an hour, we go through the Filo del Guanaco, that leads us to the summit. We reach the summit of 6,962 m (22,841 ft), where the prize is waiting for us, a 360° view. We then descend to camp 3.
Day 18-January 27. Alternate attempt on the summit.
Day 19-Janaury 28. Third Summit opportunity or Descend to Plaza de Mulas (4,250 mtrs, 13,940 ft) via the Normal Route
Day 20-January 29. Descend to Plaza de Mulas, base camp for the Normal Route.
Day 21-January 30. Return to Penitentes. Overnight.
Day 22-January 31. Shuttle to Airport in Mendoza. Fly home.
We have made arrangements for Grajales Expeditions to pack our provisions into base camp and provide all meals while we are there. As Ty and I are a self-guided team, we will be responsible for any meals above base camp. Our strategy for these meals will closely mirror that used on Denali.
It starts with a two gallon Ziploc bag. Each bag will contain a dinner and a breakfast.
Dinner:
A freeze-dried Mountain House meal for two (though we each eat a complete packet). These are lightweight, yet 500 calories solid. The Chicken with mashed potatoes is hands down the best. On Denali we learned to thaw individual cheese packets in our arm pits, then add them to the meal for cheesy mashed potatoes! Num num num. I'm not sure what we will be prepping with our arm pits on Aconcagua, as the warm summer climate down low will spoil cheese.
A packet of instant soup (chicken or onion), candy bar, Cocoa, and a Sweet and Salty Peanut Bar.
Breakfast:
Two packets of instant oatmeal, Cocoa, Starbucks instant coffee, freeze dried banana chips, trail mix.
Then we build a lunch for each day inside a one gallon Ziploc bag. These consist of beef jerky, a Cliff Bar, freeze dried pineapple slice, candy bar, Gatorade, potato chips (crushed), fruit leather, and trail mix.
We place the lunch bag inside the two gallon bag to create a complete day's rations for one Climber. Each morning we will take out a fresh set of meals, remove the lunch bag to somewhere accessible on our packs, eat the breakfast items, then stow the remaining dinner items for later that day. As bags are emptied they can be compressed tightly within each other to conserve space. Any leftover food items from each day are consolidated in a two gallon bag. This provides important backup in the event we are forced to dig in and supplies run low.
All told, a day's rations weighs about 2 pounds, and constitutes approximately 5,000 calories. We will probably burn more than that each day. On similar rations I lost 17 pounds climbing Denali, and I was fairly lean going into it. But the converging factors of load weights, and an ability to ingest more calories argue against a climber adding still more to his rations since most climbers suffer a loss of appetite as they reach into higher altitudes. For myself it has always amounted to forced feeding any time I am above 16,000 feet. This factor stands in direct opposition to the bodie's needs. Aside from the obvious and ferocious caloric burn rate that accompanies such strenuous endeavors, there is also a steep runnup of a climber's metabolism owing to altitude. Someone told me once that a climber at Denali's high camp (17,500 ft) would burn 7,000 calories a day lying in her sleeping bag. Such a place might make an ideal site for a weight loss clinic!
Those of you who followed my Elbrus Blog know I wrote under the character avatar "Rooster." I chose this for a variety of reasons most probably associated with the scrappy and infinitely masculine nature of same. Since time, I have learned that Roosters in fact do not have a penis. Their contribution to procreation is delivered by way of "sperm globules." This changed everything for me. It's just not the same deal. So never mind that Rooster thing. Call me Dave.
A reader asked what I am doing to train for the Aconcagua climb, which I leave for on January 9, 2010.
My training is composed of two parts; Gym and Outdoors.
My gym workout is a Monday, Wednesday, Friday thing. I do 20 minutes on a stepmill, 30 minutes of weights and core strength, then a 2 mile run on the treadmill. Sometimes I substitute the two mile run for two miles of packing. I'll jog out to my car and extract my expedition pack from the trunk. After topping off the water containers inside it, I will throw in a ten pound weight from the bench-press station. That brings the load up to 80 pounds. With the incline on the treadmill shifting between 15 and 30 degrees I'll schlogg out about an hour of grunting. I typically pass this time watching one of the five televisions that face a roomful of exercise machines designed to simulate everything from rowing to taking out the garbage. The regrettable consequence of this is the daytime television I have become acquainted with. Here are my observations; 1.All Soap Operas spin off the central themes of Greed, Lust, and the suspected illegitimacy of one or more children. Though we might expect Love to figure in there somewhere, one party is typically faking it. I would like to see a plot line where the child's Father is known with certainty, yet there is some doubt about whom the Mother is. If you think this is a stretch you probably haven't watched much Soap Opera. 2. If you are ever invited to be on the Jerry Springer Show you should decline. Nothing good can come of this. Any minor celebrity you may enjoy will surely be negated by the revelation that your best friend is a cross-dressing skinhead who is secretly in love with you. 3. Almost all news is designed to reassure shut-ins that they've made the right choice.
My Outdoors Workout is a Tuesday, Saturday thing. A few years ago I knew the honor of climbing Kilimanjaro with famed Sherpa Ang Dorje. As lead Sherpa to Rob Hall, Ang figured keenly in the book "Into Thin Air." He is one of the brave heroes who went back out in the storm to rescue lost and stranded climbers. Ang has summited Mt Everest 13 times. In the course of the seven days we climbed together in Africa, Ang and I discussed training several times. Again and again he stressed the importance of getting outside for part of a climber's training. Having too many times seen climbers arrive at Everest trained only indoors, Ang knew the high failure rate they experienced. A Stepmill is fine for some training (I have one in my garage), but each foot placement enjoys a perfectly flat stable surface. This bears no resemblance to the steep, uneven, and often loose terrain a climber must move up. The result being feet, ankles, and calves which are ill-prepared for actual climbing.
On Tuesdays and Saturdays I load my expedition pack with sixty pounds of water and climb the steepest hill in this area, the Cedar Lakes Trail. This is a 1,400 ft gain over the course of 1.7 miles. It takes me about 50 minutes to get to the top. I pour out half the water (to save my knees), change shirts, drink a liter of water, and head back down. Door to door it's a two hour round trip. Hikers on the trail will ask me what I am training for. Some think I am crazy and they tell me so. Others encourage me on saying "Good luck" and "You go, Dude." I am really really sick of this workout. It's a fanny kicker and I have been doing it for the better part of seven months. As much as I am looking forward to leaving for Argentina in a week, I am equaled excited to only have two more of these hikes.
