Aconcagua. Trek and Mountain team.

Up up and away..

It’s always hard to supress summit fever when the summit of the peak you have come to climb begins to smile seductively at you. Of-course as a consummate mountain professional I am trained to ignore this and focus at the immediate task at hand; finding a save route and watching my clients like a hawk for signs of them being able to continue to the top and being strong enough for the long descend. Still with a positive feeling that all is going well it is ok to exchange a wink here and there and let it know that you are grateful for it putting on such a mighty fine show today.

The forecast had been for deteriorating conditions and we had altered our strategy accordingly; cutting out an extra rest day to give the group a chance to stand on the summit before the weather made this impossible. Here lies the balance of success; human capabilities and mountain conditions. Still our team couldn’t have been more acclimatised having spent many nights at 4, 5 and 6000 meters respectively and most had summited Bonette peak. Medically each of us had been given the green light by the scrupulous doctor lurking at Basecamp. And we’d suitably fattened up on meals nothing short of restaurant quality. Even the load humping days were made easy as me and my Argentinian colleagues had been busy moving camp and food supplies up to the mountain as the team enjoyed a day or two rest. No excuses for staying in bed on the summit day.The summit day weather forecast was a bit rough around the edges and a fierce wind would gradually build as we gained altitude but I was pleasantly surprised that the mountain gave us a good start to get into the groove. This groove business to my mind is the key ingredient of any ascent; it’s the state of mind of just letting time slip by, finding a comfortable pace and rhythm and open your mind to the world around you; See how the sunrise flings its colours on the glaciers and peaks, enjoy the camaraderie of your friends, watch the huge shadow of the mountain stretch into the west …… and don’t fret the small stuff.

Sheelagh was the first to descend. She had begun to panic over her cold hands. Despite wearing inner gloves and thick over-mitts filled with chemical hand-warmers she felt that if she continued her hands could get worse and she called it a day. I brought her back to the high camp at 6050 meters where one of my Argentinian colleagues was still busy fortifying the tents against the forecasted high winds. I went back up as soon as she had reached the high camp. As I re-joined the group I met Paula climbing with Argentinian guide Gerry also on the verge of coming down, her pace had slowed to a crawl and she was beginning to have panic attacks, her friend Sheelagh descending had set her into a negative frame of mind, she began fretting the small stuff and despite reassurance that she was in great hands she soon began to want to descend.

Young Evan lasted until sunrise. He couldn’t see the beauty un-fold around him and began to focus on how exhausted he felt. He seemed relieved that he didn’t have to take another step up when I suggested that at his current pace we’d reach the summit in the worst conditions possible; Dark and Stormy. I descended with him from 6300 meters brought him to the high-camp and then re-joined the team still ascending at 6400. Feeling a bit like a jo-jo I quickly re-assessed the 3 guys still on the move; all were in great spirits and feeling up to the task of battling on in decreasing temperatures and an increasingly fierce wind. Their minds were focussed on the summit and it would take a lot to stop them. We re-fuelled in the shelter of the battered Independencia hut on Gatorade and chocolate and began the most arduous part of the climb; the Traverse and climb to the Canaletta. Human capabilities were so far out-lasting the mountain.

Lee came down at 6450. He had been battling with cramps in his fingers and had continuously needed to take of his gloves. His fingers had become seriously cold as a consequence and the risk of getting frostbite was becoming a real one. He descended to the tents at high camp with Gerry the Argentinian jo- jo. This left Stella and Chris. The summit was half a day climbing away and the chances of seeing it were dwindling as team members succumb to the pressures of the ascent. The ground between the top of the “great” traverse and the cave is to my mind the most awful part of the ascent; steep and loose, literally one step up and 2 steps down, at 6500 meters in biting winds this is the last thing you need. The groove is a hard thing to maintain and even though I try different techniques like switching my mind to the Shopping, Disney or Soft-porn channel, external reality filters through and demands immediate attention to the loose gravel and biting wind.

Still we made it to the cave at 6700 meters. Chris blubbering incoherently and Stella just managing one small step at the time before having to take a break. The summit winking furiously and still the technical crux to go. The Canelleta is a broad gully. Ok when filled with snow and ice but not when filled with more loose gravel. As luck would have it we were shit out of luck.

More loose gravel. Now at 6800 meters and the needle had popped well out of the groove. At least we were sheltered from the worst of the winds bite but judging from the ice screaming over the south ridge we’d soon be reacquainted. Chris and Stella now in La la land and Gianni and I becoming Good cop Bad cop, switching roles every 5 minutes just to have some fun. Still conditions holding up enough for us to reach the summit. Slow-mo being better than No-mo.

As is always the case for when you need those dramatic images to relate your heroic stories to the folk back home nothing of the kind happened when we reached the summit. The banners, flags and scarves wrapped around the summit cross didn’t dramatically batter in the wind nor were they at all frozen solid into place. They just hung limp and lazily wafting in the Mediterranean breeze enjoying the clear blue sky and lovely sunshine. Still as Chris and Stella stumbled and dragged themselves onto the top of the Americas a definite hero moment occurred as is always the case when mere humans endeavour outside of the comfort zone and find that place they’d never thought they’d reach. The summit is always fleeting and usually just a blur but the knowledge of what can be accomplished when mind and body pull out all the stops lasts a long time, or at least as long as it takes to dream up the next mission when of course it is a blessing to have a short term memory!. The descend as usual was eventful and took a long time. We stumbled into camp 17 hrs after having gotten up to go. We were lucky that our tents were still there; other teams had their camps swept away by the howling winds and returned to find nothing but the miserable knowledge that they’d have to descend even further down if they were to survive the coming night. Our team of now good friends had secured and endured the battle well and we were welcomed by broad grins , hugs and hot drinks and this is what climbing mountains is all about; Great friends made, amazing times enjoyed and collectively having been to that place few people ever attempt to reach.