The Summit

The wind howled and seemed to cut right through my jacket. The snow peppered my face, making it almost impossible to see my guide located only a few yards ahead of me. My heart was pounding out of my jacket, in part due to oxygen deprivation and in part due to sheer adrenaline. There I was at 18,000ft, standing on the glaciated slopes of Mt. Pisco in the Andes Mountains, so close to the summit it felt like I could reach out touch it. I prayed that my guide wouldn't say the words I was dreading to hear, "We have to turn back." As the weather deteriorated around me, I couldn't help but think back to how I had come to be in that precarious position..

It all started last week when I departed from the coastal city of Trujillo and took a rickety bus past the desert coast, up through the winding Andes Mountains, to finally arrive in the mountain town of Huaraz (elevation 10,000ft). As the insane bus driver took the corners of the dirt road through the mountains at break neck speed (in the way only a South American driver can), I got my first glimpse of the breathtaking mountains of the Cordillera Blanca, the world's second highest mountain range, eclipsed only by the Himalayas in Asia.

Huascaran, the tallest mountain in Peru (elevation 22,000 ft) 

Mt. Vallajaruna (elevation 18600 ft)

To see all of my pictures from my hikes in Huaraz click Here and Here!

From the moment I stepped off the bus I could feel the affects of the elevation, it seemed liked my heart raced and I was gasping for breath after every few steps. Of all the advice that you hear about climbing in the Cordillera Blanca (or any mountain range for that matter), the most important is to leave adequate time to properly acclimate to the elevation. The last thing I wanted was to get the nausea and splitting headaches that often accompany altitude sickness. For that reason, I took a few days to acclimate before attempting to summit any of the breathtaking peaks surrounding Huaraz. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it gave me an excuse to do a number of acclimatization hikes and activities which turned out to be great in their own right.

For the next 3 days I did some amazing things ranging from hiking up to a high altitude lake (elevation 14,000ft) and flying 20mph down a mountain biking "trail" with sheer cliffs on either side of me, to ice climbing a 60ft cliff!

In front of high altitude lake "Churup" 

Biking down the "path"

Ice climbing on "dead ice" (dead because of the layer of dirt over the ice)

Unfortunately, on the third night my rush of activities finally caught up to me and altitude sickness hit me with all its might. Feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach and then proceeded to place my head in a vice, I soon realized that being sick and alone in a foreign country is probably one of the worst feelings a person can experience. Sometimes you just have to deal with it though, and thankfully after a night spent mostly in the bathroom (too much info?), the next morning I awoke feeling like a brand new, albeit exhausted, man.

After passing through that bit of unpleasantness, I finally felt that I had acclimated enough and was ready to do what I had come to Huaraz to do, summit a high peak. To that end, I hooked up with an expedition agency that rented out all necessary equipment (boots, harness, crampons, ice pick, etc) and set me up with a local guide who would shepherd me up the mountain. This experience epitomizes why I love South America. I didn't have to sign a single waiver, didn't have to put down a single emergency contact, nada. The attitude down here is along the lines of: You know exactly what you're getting yourself into, if you don't like the risk, don't do it. No red tape, no law suits, exactly the way life should be.

The next day, I arrived at the expedition agency early in the morning to meet my guide and set off. My guide was Johnny, an indigenous native of Huaraz who could give Lance Armstrong a run for his money in cardiovascular fitness. We decided to hike Mt. Pisco, a decent sized peak (elevation 19,000ft) that was well suited for someone like me who isn't an expert in the technical aspects of climbing but still relatively fit. That's not to say it wasn't without risk though, in fact Johnny informed me that two hikers met their death just last year on this very same mountain.

Mt. Pisco, as viewed on the hike to basecamp

That day after packing up all our gear (about 25lbs per pack) we got dropped off at the trail head and started off. The hike was scheduled to look something like this: Day 1 - Hike to base camp (15,000ft); Day 2 - Hike to summit (19,00ft) and return to base camp; Day 3 - Return to Huaraz (10,000ft).

At the start of the climb (only about 6,500ft more to go!)

The hike up to base camp was relatively uneventful as expected. We climbed for about 5 hours, passing some gorgeous waterfalls and surrounded by mountain vistas that were reminiscent of scenes from Lord of the Rings. Now this was obviously the "easier" part of the climb, but as I soon learned climbing with 25lbs of gear on your back in a high altitude environment is anything but "easy". After huffing and puffing (and even taking a quick 15min nap), we finally arrived at base camp around 4:00pm.

Taking a (much needed) rest on the trail!

The base camp consisted of a small lodge that normally housed mountain officials / guides during the high season. Unfortunately, January through April is the rainy (aka snowy) season with extremely unstable weather. Due to this, very few people choose to climb, making Johnny and I the only people at base camp. 

Base Camp (elevation 15,000ft)

After throwing our sleeping bags down and getting our sleeping arrangements set, we decided to make some food. Unfortunately, the portable cooker that we brought decided not to work. Thus we had to do things the old fashion way, light a fire and cook:

Johnny getting the fire ready and doing some cooking

After filling up on pasta and tea, Johnny gave me a brief tutorial on mountaineering. I learned the necessary knots, how to work my harness, and what to do in case of an avalanche and/or if one of us were to fall into a crevasse in the glacier. Afterwards, we decided to hit the sack as the next morning we had to get up at 1:00am to start the summit! We had to make it the summit early in the morning, as the weather often becomes much too unstable and dangerous in the afternoons. To that end, we went to bed at 7:00pm and woke up (an all too quick) 6 hours later. Unfortunately, we awoke to find that a small storm had deposited a new layer of snow all around base camp. That didn't bode well, as if it's snowing at base camp it's probably far worse on the mountain. However, we decided to set off, knowing that if the weather took a turn for the worst we would be forced to turn back.

Trekking out from base camp at 1:00am (and without coffee!?!?)

We hiked for about 4 hours, over boulders, up and down gullies in complete darkness, lit only by our headlamps. At about 5:00am we finally made it to the glaciated slopes of Mt. Pisco, where the boulders and trails end, and the snow and glacier begin. The sun was just coming up as we arrived and the small amount of light through the clouds turned everything a beautiful blue color.

Where the glacier (left) begins, as the sunrise turned everything blue

Things got much more intense when we finally arrived at the glacier as this is where serious mistakes can be made. We put on our harnesses and connected ourselves to each other through about 4 yards of rope. That way if one of us fell on the slopes or into a crevasse, the other one could dig in with the axe and (hopefully) stop them from falling. We strapped on our crampons (metal spikes that go on the bottom of boots to give traction on the ice), did a quick spot test of the equipment, and were off. As we set off, in the distance I heard what could only be described as intense thunder. After seeing the bemused expression on my face, Johnny explained to me that that was the sound of an avalanche on a nearby mountain, but no too worry as it is "common" to have avalanches on that mountain. A little unsettled, we began climbing.

Climbing up the glaciated slopes of Mt. Pisco

We climbed and climbed for hours, always keeping an eye on the weather, which at that point was snowy and cloudy but nothing too bad. Now I've done some relatively difficult athletic things in my life, but this has to be right up there with the toughest. Hiking on very steep slopes, through the snow, with gear on your back, with little to no oxygen made my heart feel like it was about to jump through my jacket. After huffing and puffing some more, we finally came to a plateau at about 17,00ft and decided to take a quick break before moving on. Looking around at the views here as the sun was coming up was absolutely breathtaking. I won't even try to describe it, so I'll let the video below do the talking:

At the top of the plateau

After our quick break we climbed some more, but we couldn't help but notice some ominous clouds gathering in the distance. We continued to climb more and more, but the clouds kept approaching with ever increasing speed. 

Beautiful view, but with clouds gathering in the distance

Unfortunately, 30 minutes later those clouds hit with all their might; throwing snow down upon us, whipping up winds that cut right through us, and reducing visibility to almost nothing. We were at about 18,000ft, so close to the summit it felt like I could touch it. I wanted to get there so badly, but I knew the inevitable was about to happen. Johnny screamed at me, "It's way to dangerous, we have to turn back NOW!" No I thought, we had come so close we couldn't turn back. I would later think of Jon Krakauer's book, Into Thin Air, about the deadly summit of Mt. Everest in which multiple people lost their lives because they failed to turn back just short of the summit when bad weather hit. I remember thinking when I read it, how stupid could they be, was it really worth risking your life for a mountain? On the slopes of Mt. Pisco I came to understand how those men felt, I was right there, I had put in so much time and effort, we just couldn't turn back. Unfortunately though, Johnny gave me a look that said we didn't have choice, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "We need to leave". Devastated, we turned around and headed back.

We trekked for hours back down in silence, eventually out the storm, and finally arrived back at base camp. Johnny, sensing my extreme disappointment, looked at me and said, "You can tell your family that you didn't make it to the summit, two men last year never got that chance," a sobering reminder of just how high the stakes really are.

While I ultimately came up short of my goal, I know that sometimes that's just how life goes, or as the Spanish would say "Asi es la Vida." I have no doubt that this will end up being one of the most incredible experiences of my life, and one that I'll never forget, for as someone once said, you always remember the one that got away.