Pushing My Limits

Part of this trip for me is trying new things, that might be outside of my normal routine. The idea here is to discover new strenghts...and sometimes weaknesses.

When I arrived in Bolivia, my unplanned stop in South America. I knew that La Paz, where I am staying, is high up in the Andes. Its part of the reason I wanted to come. I do have a soft spot for mountains...and I also enjoy big cities. La Paz is the unoffical capital (don't ask me what that means) of Bolivia, it has about 1.5 million people, and it sits about 3,600 meters above sea level (11,800 ft.), beautifully setteled into a valley surounded by impressive Andes peaks. Natuarally when I hear they can be climbed, I am interested. One particularly impressive mountain is called Huayna Potosi. It is 6,088 meters up...thats about 19,968 ft. (really high). The 6,000 meter height is an important milestone for many acomplished climbers.

Of course, I readily sign up. After all, I have done 2 treks in Peru both summiting at around 4,600-4,700 meters...not exactly 6,000- but I figure I have a nice bit of aclimitizing and conditioning leading up to this. I also never had any real problems with the aformentioned treks with altitude sickness. So, I thought, maybe...I'm some sort of genetic freak and I have a body that can with stand low levels of oxygen. Its worth looking into, ...right?

Well, as it turns out- I am not a genetic freak that has some special power to function even with low levels of oxygen. ...I know, I was disapointed too.

It was an amazing ride, riddled with challenges along the way....here is the story of my climb.

I knew things were going to be different when myself, and three others from the hostel, went to suit up at the agency where we booked our trip. Included were crampon compatable plastic made boots, -10 below celcuis sleeping bags, gloves, headlamps, climbing harness, ski pants and jacket, crampons for the boots, and ice axes. It was going to get serious.

The first day was spent on a nearby glacier to the first basecamp, at 4,600 meters high (my previous high mark) where we geared up, and learned how to use our axes and crampons to climb vertical walls of ice, how to fall on your axe to save another climber who has fallen (and is tied to you), how to repell down these glaciers, walk on glaciers, proper jumping techiniques for going over cravasses in the glacier, and how to accend and decend step slopes. I had an absolute blast! It was like having a glacier in your backyard, someone give you all the gear...and say, "here ya go, have fun!" I mean, it was some instruction, but I just felt like a big kid the whole time playing around on this giant piece of foreign ice. One part I broke off and ate, you know, so I know what real "glacier" water tastes like...I guess its not helping global warming though. :(

It was only a 5 hour trek to the second base camp the next day, 5,200 meters (17,056 ft.). And everything seemed to be going to plan, I had my pack on- as usual in my previous treks- it was loaded up with my crampons and ice axe on the outside...it has never looked cooler. But then we started climbing...not just walking/treking, but on all fours going up the side of a mountain. The challenge was welcome, and all was well given the short distance that day. But now came the interesting part.

After dinner, served early, at 5 o'clock. We hit the sack. Sleeping in a cabin like structure on the mountain built to accomidate the climbers. It was quite comfortable...except for the fact that you needed to go to bed at 6 o'clock. Why? Well, because we leave at 1 am for the summit! Breakfast is at midnight! Needless to say, I couldn't sleep- and around 10 that night I started getting my first headache. It was too early for me to sleep, and its notoriously difficult to sleep at altitude anyway...so I got nothing. My first mistake...I was not in the best of moods at our midnight breakfast! So, just to clear this up, yes we are climbing about a 6,088 meter mountain in the dark. Why? (yes I asked) Its because when the sun comes out it can melt the snow on top of the glaciers making it unsafe to traverse. OK- fair enough. I will hike at night. But I couldn't see anything!- the fact that it was snowing wasn't helping. Thank god for that headlamp, the tracks in the snow, and the ropes that tied us all together as we accended...otherwise I wouldn't have made it 50 ft.

Our guide, as it turns out, is a slave driver! His pace is fast, at least for me- but he knows the pace we need to reach the summit. After the first 50 meter climb, one guide just told a hiker to go down, they weren't going to make it at that pace. We left 4 people at that 2nd base camp who stayed behind due to altitude illness. At least another 5 turned around on the mountain that day/night, including one girl who is mountain climbing guide in Turkey! After about 30 minutes, I get into the zone. And I later realize that 97% of what I see on the accent are foot prints in the snow, highlighted by my trusty headlamp. What can I say, I'm just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. This is the primary thought in my mind for the next 9 hours. Despite asking for frecuent breath catching breaks, I do well for the first few hours. Hmmm, it might have something to do with the 800 mg of ibprofin that I took around 11 pm the night before...just a few hours ago now. But soon, the lack of sleep sets in. I get tired, and on the breaks I am closing my eyes, coming close to going into what could become a permenant sleep. I knew that I must have been really tired if I was falling asleep while climbing a mountain! This was my second sign. Next, came the dizzyness. When I started falling over for no reason, I knew it had to be the altitude that was getting to me. But, I pushed through, and as the obstacles became more involved, my alertness also increased. Or, it could have been the 60 mg of psuedoephedrine (Sudaphed) that I took to ward off the sleepyness.

Nevertheless, I was strugeling. And as we climbed, it got colder, and the snow intesified. We stopped for a break. I have no idea where we are, but I know I have about nothing left in me...and I was done waiting for someone else to cry for help, so I could quickly jump to their relief by agreeing to desend. As I am proclaiming my lack of juice left to my firends in the group...which is sort of the anti-christ thing to do on a climb like this (because you could sap the small amount of energy remaining in the group with your proclimation). Our guides speak up at the same time. Serving as the official translator for the group, they come to me to speak. By one guide we are 400 meters from the top, ...the other one later tells me 200 meters... and they are advising us to stop where we are. The snow has gotten to thick, seeing distance is small- which negates any possible views from the top, and the real kicker- if we continue we are in risk of causing an avalanche... not a good thing. The thing that struck me though, was the genuine fear of these two guides to go up- I had the feeling they were scared! When it was 400 meters, everyone was ready to heed our not-so-fearless leaders advice and start our decent (which I am ok with at this point). But, then the other guy chimed in and had to tell us it was only 200 meters. It just seemed so close...we had to try! Without much discussion, we were back in our lines, marching to our leaders beat. But soon, the climb became steep, and technical. It took us a hour to do the last 200 meters. But, we made it! All of us in our group. I was so out of it though, that I couldn't fully enjoy it until later.

After the summit, I was chosen to lead the group down. A difficult task! Especially when the tracks you had to guide you up are snowed over, and you cant see more than 30-40 feet in any direction. The trip down was interesting, my legs felt like rubber, and I mistepped many times, falling into the deep powder, or catching myself with my axe. We eventually made it down to the 2nd base camp just after 9 am. It took us 5 hours to reach the summit, and 2 hours down- with one more to go back to base camp 1. This all happened today, and I feel like it lasted a week!

All in all, I am glad that I have climbed Huayna Potosi, a great mountain that I can say I climbed, but definitly did not conquer. I seem to not be able to pass up a good mountain climb/trek on my South American adventure, and I hope the many summits will become a metaphore for my life when I return.