On the way to base camp. Before crampons and ice axe.
Once we arrived at base camp we did a review of our equipment and practiced some techniques for climbing the glacier; how to avoid injuring yourself with the crampons and ice axe, how to rescue a fellow climber, and how to slow yourself down with your ice axe when you are sliding down the mountain uncontrollably. All useful skills. After training we sat down for dinner and tea around 6:30pm and headed to bed by 7:30pm, as we would be waking 5 hours later for our ascent.
I spent the night in the familiar grip of altitude sickness. No sleep, fever and chills, and a paralyzing headache. Without any appetite, I forced down two handfuls of granola for breakfast, and begin getting prepared. The temperature was in the teens and with the wind chill, it was surely below zero. We gathered our gear, special fleece pants and jacket, gloves and mittens, hat and face mask, hiking boots and crampons, harness and head lamp, and of course our ice axe. We each brought one bottle of water and a chocolate candy bar. Why I thought it would be enough to sustain me as I hiked 8 hours straight up into the darkness, I don´t know.
Five us begin the climb, but only three of us would make it to the summit. The climber from Portugal didn´t make it out of base camp. The Brazilian turned back after two hours. The other American, Frenchie, and myself would push ourselves and each other for the next ten hours testing the limit of stamina, endurance, and willpower.
The climb takes between 6-8 hours and begins at midnight in the pitch dark, for two reasons. Number one, without the sun, the ice and snow remains frozen and is (supposedly) easier to climb. It also reduces the risk of avalanche during the descent of the mountain, as we will be hopefully descending around 8am, allowing only a few hours of sun exposure to the ice and snow.
We were roped in as a group of four. The guide, myself, the American, and Frenchie bringing up the rear. It was slow, slow going. No step was wasted, no movement not planned or thought out. Each step was a kick as hard as you could manage up and into the ice with your toe. It was as steep as climbing a ladder. With your crampon safely wedged into the ice, and pushing off with your ice axe, you would lift off that foot and repeat the action with your other foot. Fail to kick hard enough and when pushing off, you slide back down two steps.
Step, take two breathes, step, take two breathes, step, take two breathes. This was our rhythm. Break it, try to take two quick steps, or only one breath in between steps and you would be laying down gasping for air. It takes 20 to 30 seconds to get your wind back, and in that time your body temperature drops significantly. Your legs and and torso start shaking uncontrollably, you begin to lose feeling in your fingers and toes, and you know this is what freezing to death feels like.
Back on our feet, we set off again. Back to our rhythm. Back to the climb. Back to the pain. A tug on the rope indicates someone needs a rest or a drink of water. No words our spoken, it uses up to much energy. Only the occasional grunt or swear word indicates we are still capable of speaking. I take a bite of my chocolate bar, it´s frozen solid. I sip from my water bottle. I watch another climber throw up. I accidentally drop my water bottle, and can´t imagining backtracking two yards to get it. I´ll be drinking snow from here on out.
The clouds parted and we spent the last four hours of the climb under a clear sky. The stars as bright as spotlights at 18k feet, helped guide us we continued our march upwards. The Sun soon began to break the horizon, and as it did one side of the mountain remained as dark as night, with the stars and moon still dominating the sky. The other side was streaked with pink and orange as the sun begun to make it´s presence felt.
We were within an hour of the summit and I was done. I couldn´t take another step. I was freezing, I was sleepy, I was sick, and I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I couldn't convince myself to go any further. I wanted to close my eyes, I wanted to sleep, I wanted to be off the mountain.
¨I got nothing left¨ I said, I was ready to accept to defeat.
¨I know, I don´t know if I can go any further.¨The other American replied.
And for some reason, someone else acknowledging how hard it was. How difficult it was, gave me a lift. I would make it, I convinced myself. That was before the 90 degree wall of torture showed up however.
The sun was shining directly on me, and the ice had lost it´s firmness. One step up, two steps up, then slide back down 4 or 5 steps. I couldn´t do it. I slide all the way back down to the bottom and moved to my left 10 feet. The same thing. A wave of frustration and anger washed over me, as I continually couldn´t get my feet to stick in the ice. What was I supposed to do? I was exerting energy I didn´t have, trying to push threw the wall that was both literally and figuratively in front of me. Was this as far I would go?
With tears of frustration in my eyes, I gave it one last go. I was nearly climbing sideways, searching with my feet for the firmest ice way off the left or right of my hands. I was making progress, with one last burst I pushed for the top. Pulling myself up by the rope in one hand, the other hacking away with my ice axe, and using my knees to guide me up. I crested the hill, rolled down it and immediately feel asleep. I have never in my life been so absolutely gutted. I had nothing, nothing left. I was woken up once Frenchie crested and we walked together the last 30 minutes to the summit, where the most spectacular views awaited us.
At the summit. Close to death.
Special fleece jacket and pants, gloves and mittens, special snow hiking boots with crampons, and of course our hanresses, as we would be roped together in teams of 3.
fev
´t kn
power
