I must have slept pretty well last night, because at breakfast this morning I heard tales of someone lighting off small explosives out on the flat area below camp, and I didn’t hear a thing. But I didn’t feel like I slept all that well. I imagine it is the effect of the altitude.
I checked my pulse last night after I lay down, and it was 72 beats per minute, which is phenomenal at this altitude. But this morning it was 64! I must be better acclimated than I thought. 80 to 100 is more usual for people ascending to this height.
The weather has taken a turn for the worse, with the wind threatening to blow our kitchen tent down. A couple of the poles are bent already, and if it gets hit with a good, stiff gust, I have no doubt it’s going to collapse. I’m not sure what the guides have in mind in that contingency, but I imagine we’ll switch to eating in our tents.
During the last hour, snow has begun to fall, and when I last went outside the tent to check the guylines and my pack, some of the snow was sticking to the ground. If this keeps up, we could be stuck here for a while. The last Summits group made it only to Camp 2 and were forced by the weather to come back down without a summit attempt. I’m sure it is better than being killed in an avalanche, but it must have been very disappointing to have come that far and be stymied by the weather. I hope we have better luck, but today, it looks like we’re not.
Several of the group are having some problems with the altitude already, and I wonder what they’re going to be like as we climb higher. I know that we will all eventually suffer, but those that are having problems down here might be severely undermined later. We’ll see.
Our breakfast was very late this morning. Robert had packed in 24 eggs so that we could have omelets for our rest day here in Plaza Argentina, but the preparation was delayed by the problems with the collapsing kitchen tent, so we all sat around glumly, waiting for our turn at the omelets, which had to be prepared in batches. Overall, though, the food so far has been excellent, much better than I expected.
Evidently at this stage of these sorts of expeditions, all of the personal eating gear is kept in a common container, but I have seen some of the filthy cups and spoons that are in that container, and have decided to keep my own stuff in my pack. They don’t weigh very much, and I will eat much better knowing that they are relatively clean.
This morning, after breakfast, I wandered up above camp to take some pictures and scout the area a little. I didn’t go very far, though, because of the weather. Robert has told us it’s important to get in a little exercise on rest days, just to prevent lassitude, but I expect that that’s all I’m going to get today. That’s just fine with me, though. I’d rather do a little reading, and lie around, perhaps take a nap. It is, after all, a rest day.
I managed to finish the Vargas-Llosa book that I started on the plane from San Francisco, and I must say it was more of a slog than a pleasure. The constant chronological hopping around may be a nifty literary device, but it just annoyed me. I hope the other books I brought aren’t as difficult to get through.
The snow hasn’t let up since this morning, and our carry up to Camp 1 tomorrow is in real doubt now. The kitchen tent has collapsed a couple of times, and is up again, held together with bailing wire and duct tape, but I expect it will collapse again soon. Near our camp is the camp of Expedition Inspiration, the group of breast cancer survivors, which is also being run by Summits. They have two kitchen tents, both of which have collapsed. There’s some talk of cannibalizing the three tents and making one good one, but I hope that they wait until the weather clears, or they will risk losing all of them.
Carry to Camp 1
We got some bad news this morning. Steve, the guy from Pasadena, was spitting up blood, the main symptom of pulmonary edema, and has been forced to call it quits. They put him in a Gamauf bag, which is sort of a large rubber bag, connected to a foot pump, and inflated it to a pressure which simulates a lower altitude. After he had stabilized, they let him out, but the only cure for pulmonary edema is to descend quickly, so Chris, the youngest of the guides, escorted him down the mountain. If Chris can meet up with some muleteers, he might be able to hand Steve over to them, and return to finish the climb with us, but if not, we may have seen the last of Chris. Which would be too bad, since he has been an excellent cook. Now Win will get his chance with the stove, and we are down to two guides.
I don’t know what will happen if anyone else has to drop out, whether we will continue with only one guide, but after today’s carry, I think it is likely that others will fall by the wayside.
After breakfast this morning, we loaded up our packs with all the gear we needed to cache up high for Camps 1 and 2, then received a bag with group gear; food, fuel, etc., and began ascending the scree-covered Relinchos glacier towards Camp 1. The climb began going up the steep, left side of the glacier until we reached sort of a moraine-covered plateau. Crossing the moraine was very tricky. We couldn’t just head out in a straight line, but had to dip down and up, turning left and right to avoid obstacles. It was only when we reached the top of one the moraines that we could re-establish our bearings and continue on. We advanced at a very measured, deliberate pace, but even so, the thin atmosphere made us all pant like dogs.
Carrying Our Gear to Camp I
At length we cleared the moraine and came to a very steep slope that led up to the ledge upon which Camp 1 sits. We began our ascent through the Penitentes, cone-shaped pinnacles of ice that are sculpted by the sun, sometimes reaching six feet or more in height. They are called Penitentes because they resemble the white cone hats worn by penitents during the Spanish Inquisition, and they are very difficult to cross. We worked our way through them slowly to the side of the cliff, where the ice was smoother, and more easily negotiated. But the slope was still extremely steep, the steepest we had encountered so far. Many of my companions slowed to a crawl during this part of the ascent, and I fear that they will not have an easier time of it when we climb higher.
Eventually though, we all reached Camp 1, and were greeted enthusiastically by the members of Expedition Inspiration and their guides. They were having a rest day, and looked to be in pretty good shape. We dropped down for a rest and tried to catch our breath. It wasn’t easy.
Several of the guides on that climb I recognized from my climb of Rainier two years ago, and they seemed to remember me, though how well, I can’t say.
We were asked to move some rocks to form shelters for our tents, which we will be moving up there tomorrow, weather permitting. And it was during this rock moving that I really began to feel the altitude. Perhaps I was just trying to be a bit too enthusiastic, but very quickly I lost my breath, and my head began to pound. I had to sit down again and pressure breathe for a minute before I was able to continue. I must remember to take it easier when I first ascend to a new altitude.
After the shelters were built, we stacked our bags of gear up against the leeward sides of them and prepared to go back down to Plaza Argentina. With practically empty packs, I hoped it would be an easy descent. This time Win led us down, and with some nasty weather bearing down on us from behind, he set a quick pace. We avoided the ice field on the way down, and instead sort of skied down the scree slope to its right. That was the fun part, but soon we were back on the moraines, and the going was difficult.
I kept thinking that we’d soon catch a glimpse of base camp, but the moraines seemed to go on forever, with Win leading us on a circuitous route up and down and around them. I was getting increasingly exhausted, and longed for a rest stop. But Win was intent on getting us down ahead of the weather. And sure enough, a light snow started to fall while we were still in the midst of the moraines.
Eventually we came to the end of them, found the trail, and made our way back to camp. All of us collapsed in our tents; it was by far the most difficult day on this climb so far. Tomorrow we head back up there, this time to stay, and I think this is where the attrition of our group will really begin. Some of us are battling persistent headaches, and all of us are very tired.
Move to Camp 1
We awoke this morning feeling a little better than we had last night after our carry, but the wind had been howling fiercely all night long, and none of us was sure that we would make the move up to Camp 1. At breakfast, however, Robert told us that we would give it a try in spite of the wind, and so we finished our food and set about striking camp. It took us a long time to get organized, and it wasn’t until eleven o’clock that we actually were loaded up and ready to go.
My pack was a bit heavier than the day before, and my knees still ached a bit from the descent, so I didn’t relish the idea of heading back up again. But the mountain isn’t going to climb itself, so I shouldered my pack, and got in line with the others.
A nasty rumor was passed on to me by Mike this morning; that Connie has an agreement with Summits that she doesn’t have to carry as much gear as the rest of us. It seems that she wanted to be a part of Expedition Inspiration, but since she didn’t suffer from “the right kind” of cancer, she wasn’t allowed to be a part of that group. The rumor has it that she swung a deal with Summits, whereby she would have minimal loads, and Win would be assigned to her as sort of a personal helper. In any case, Mike overheard a conversation between her and Robert this morning, in which she complained about the amount she was having to carry, and wanted Robert to radio back to the company to straighten the situation out.
I have no problem with making special arrangement with Summits, but this is supposed to be a group expedition, and the cohesiveness of the group is important to help us all make it to the top. If this rumor is true, and we are shouldering a share of Connie’s load, I think that might cause some resentment of her. It’s evident so far that she is the weakest member on the team; during yesterday’s carry she lagged far behind with Win on the steeper parts. I realize that none of us knew how difficult this climb would be when we signed on, but we knew that it would require a great deal of strength and stamina, and if she cannot carry her load, then she shouldn’t have joined this sort of an expedition. That may be harsh, but this mountain is no place to be less than prepared, both mentally and physically.
Mike and I are getting to be very good friends, even though he is a lawyer. Last night, as we were lying in our sleeping bags, he told me a lot about himself, and about a recent engagement that had been broken off by his fiancee. I could tell that he was very hurt by the experience, and that this trip had been planned as sort of a way to get away for a while and get his head straight again. I couldn’t offer him any advice, and I don’t think he was looking for any, but he thanked me for being such a good listener. Before this trip, I had fretted about my chances of getting a decent tent mate, and I don’t think I could have done any better than Mike.
I get along fine with everyone else, so far, except that Connie is sometimes too opinionated, and I think I still carry a grudge against Robert, the dog-beating Brit. But there have been no scenes or confrontations, and I think that says a lot about the maturity of our group, especially considering the arduous conditions we have to endure.
It’s now been 7 days since I last was able to wash, and to say that I am filthy is an understatement. I trimmed my fingernails down to the nubs because they were so filled with dirt, and every part of me smells like a dead animal. Fortunately, we’re all in the same boat, so we don’t complain about each other’s looks or smell. But I looked on the calendar, and it could be another eleven days before I have a chance to take a shower. I shudder at the thought.
Camp I
We managed to make it up to Camp 1 this afternoon, and even though Mike and I snapped a tent pole when we were setting up our tent, we’re now snugly ensconced inside what we have dubbed “Casa de Funk.” Robert surprised us at lunch on the way up, saying that if the weather is good tomorrow, we would make the carry to Camp 2 instead of having our second rest day. I don’t think very highly of the idea, but I’m not the guide on this trek, so I’ll do what I’m told. I fail to see the logic of driving us so hard, however.
Right now it’s snowing outside, and if it doesn’t let up, we may well have to hunker down in our tents tomorrow whether Robert likes it or not. I certainly won’t complain, if that’s the case.
The climb to Camp 2 is another 3000 feet, mostly over snow fields, and I’m told that Camp 2 is very exposed to the elements, and bitterly cold. It is a little higher than the summit of Kilimanjaro, so I will set a personal altitude record if I make it that high. I think my chances are pretty good, as I have yet to have any serious problems with the altitude, even though I have a little headache right now. But the summit of this mountain is another 3000 feet higher than Camp 2, and I can’t imagine myself up there yet. It seems impossible. All I can do is take this climb one step at a time, and if my body forces me to quit, then so be it. I have nothing to prove to anybody, and if I have given my best, then I’ll be satisfied with that.
Camp 1
Today is another rest day, our last scheduled one. Robert told us yesterday that we might get ahead of schedule, and carry up to Camp 2 today, but when we awoke, the wind was blowing hard, as it had all night long, so he decided to stick to our original schedule, and rest today. Today I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, it is good to get another day of rest before we head any higher, but on the other hand, it would be good to get this thing over with (much as I am enjoying every minute of it). Every day we stay at this altitude, with little sleep, poor sanitation, and grit-laden meals, weakens us. Again, I must defer to Robert’s judgment.
Although this is a rest day, it is important for us to get a little exercise, just to stay loose, and not let lassitude get to us. So after breakfast, I climbed up the north side of the valley to a large outcropping of rock, and was rewarded with a great view, both up and down the valley. I could see almost the entire route we will be taking to Camp 2 tomorrow, only the last part was obscured by the rocks behind which Camp 2 is situated. It looks like fairly easy terrain, but steep, and I know it won’t be as easy as it looks.
Though the climb up to the rock was steep, I -didn’t feel too wiped out by it, which I took as a good sign. I didn’t sleep very well at all last night, and I feared that I would grow progressively weaker as these last few days of the ascent wore on. But climbing up to the rock showed me that I’m still in pretty good shape.
However, my endocrine system is all out of whack, which is something which seems to happen to me at altitude. I have become seasoned enough in the mountains now to use a pee bottle in the tent rather than brave the howling winds at night. But last night I woke up seven or eight times with that old uncomfortable tickle in my bladder, and by the end of the night had filled up a quart and a half with urine. I have no idea where all this liquid is coming from; I barely drank that much yesterday, and I must have sweated something during the climb. It’s a mystery. Nevertheless, I continue to slam down all the water I can. Dehydration leads to all sorts of troubles up here.
While we’re on the subject of waste removal, eliminating solid wastes has to be one of the more onerous things about mountain climbing. On the approach trek, it’s bad enough, but at altitude, when the freezing winds are howling, it can become downright dangerous. Not only must you find a place out of sight, and away from any water source, but you have to expose those parts of your body that most of us hold dear, to possible frostbite. This has a way of motivating you to speed the process up; there’s never a thought of bringing any reading material with you.
Anyway, there’s not much else to say about today. Chris has returned, having dropped Steve off with some muleteers, and we’re now a group of ten. The Expedition Inspiration folks moved up to Camp 2 today, so tonight we might get a radio report on the conditions up there. From what I saw from the rock, it looked pretty bad. Nuclear, as Robert would say. I hope the weather is good tomorrow, I want to keep moving up this mountain. Most of all, I want to get home to Vilma.