[Gimpilator]

Have You Seen Part 4? When the sun came up, it was still blowing like hell out there, but the violent gusts were starting to taper-off a little. I had been trying to do the math in my head about how many days were left before our flights, and how many days it would take to get back to Santiago Chile by bus. We had allowed 11 days on the mountain, so technically we still had one more day in which to go for the summit. The main problem was that we didn't have the necessary supplies for that. I still had a little food left down at base camp, but we desperately needed more gas for the stove, or else we would run out of water. Assuming that somehow we could get more supplies, and further assuming that tomorrow would be wind-free, we might still have a chance. But if the weather was bad again, we might as well pack up camp descend now. Throw in the towel. Greg went to ask the ranger about the forecast. He returned with good news. Tomorrow was supposed to be perfect, with a maximum wind speed of 25 kilometers per hour. I knew that neither Greg nor I had the strength to descend the 4000 feet to Mulas, return with extra supplies, and then go for the summit the following morning. I did suspect though that Rob would be able to do it. Without a doubt, Rob was the most exceptional athlete of the three of us. On multiple occasions, he had done more than 25,000 feet of vertical gain in a day, in some kind of sadistic hiking marathon. Anyone with that kind of endurance might be able help us get out of this situation. We talked about it and agreed that it was our only chance to go for the summit as a group. Rob could just go for the summit alone, without making the trip down, but then we were still going to run out of water. Without any pressure added pressure from us, Rob agreed to make the trip. Hope slowly crept back into me, along with a sense of gratitude for Rob's selflessness. He would try to find a source at Mulas to buy gas canisters, and bring up more food.

World's Highest Poker Game

He left early in the morning, and just about the time we started to worry that evening, he showed up. He had purchased two gas canisters at the hotel, and brought up half of my remaining food, but to top it all off, he had even carried up 3 liters of water. That meant I didn't have as much snow to melt for everyone to be ready. The trip had exhausted him and I felt guilty for his sacrifice. We thanked him profusely. Now hopes were high and after Rob took a rest. Afterward, we all played a game of poker. I taught Greg and Rob how to play Texas Hold'em, and we used Greg's M&M's as poker chips. I'm sure it was the highest poker game in the world at the time, and perhaps one of the highest Hold'em games ever. Greg was a fast study, and I lost all my M&M's to him, not long after Rob lost all of his. Once again, we went to bed setting the alarm for 3 am. This was really it. There would be no more second chances. The air outside the tent was still and cold. In the silence, I slept.

The Long Traverse High Above

January 20th, 3 am. The alarm went off and I opened my eyes. Realizing where I was, and what was about to happen, triggered an ungodly adrenaline rush. My heart started pounding hard. I listened carefully. No wind! Hot damn! As much as I dreaded getting out of my sleeping bag, I was excited to have this opportunity. I knew it was only because of Rob that we had this chance. I choked down some Christmas bread with mysterious gelatinous chunks in it, and then put on all my layers. Outside the tent, I worked to get my crampons on as quickly as possible, before my hands went completely numb. It was bitterly cold. I thought about the prospect of using the chemical hand and foot warmers preemptively. I decided against it. I would save those for emergency use only. This later turned out to be a mistake. After putting my crampons and gaitors on, I switched off my headlamp and put it away. That was the only time I used it during the climb. The moon was full and it was very bright. We could see all see all the features of the terrain with its light. We'd be climbing by moonlight! Yeah, baby!

Summit Day With Camp Berlin Right Behind

Guided Groups Follow

The path was easy enough to follow, but it was snow covered and very icy. Without crampons, it would have been impossible. Just like the climb of Ojos del Salado, my fingers and toes went partially numb within the first few minutes. Then some of my toes went completely numb. I worried about frostbite and tried to wiggle them to get back some sensation, but they stayed numb. I decided to take my boots off at the first break and put in the foot warmers. On the big slope above Nido, Rob and I were moving a little faster than Greg, to try and stay warm. Greg said not to worry, that he would catch up. There were other people climbing in the dark. A whole bunch of people, actually. The word must have gotten around that this was a good day to climb. Rob and I stopped for a break at 19,300 feet to wait for Greg, just below camp Berlin. Somehow, Rob had left his down parka in the tent, and now he was really freezing. I noticed that he had a bunch of ice stuck to his mustache and beard. I felt my own face and discovered the same thing. I wanted to use the foot warmers, but it would take at least 20 minutes to take everything off, and then put it back on. Rob needed to get moving again. I gave him some hand warmers. He said they helped. Greg didn't show up, so we went on without him.

Aconcagua's Shadow

Rob's Icy Face / Alpenglow On Mercedario

Mercedario (Far Distance, Left Side)

We passed though Camp Berlin, and people were up and active. It seemed like everyone on this mountain was going for the summit at the same time. We saw several long caterpillar trains of headlights on the upper slopes. I knew these were the guided groups. If I was in a long single file line like that, it would just kill it for me. We climbed slow and steady. I tried to set an even pace. I felt pretty good other than the fact that I was horribly cold. At least it wasn't windy. I saw Aconcagua's shadow like a dark pyramid in the western sky, below the full moon. The sun was starting to come up. It's first rays touched down on Cerro Mercedario (21.982 feet) to the north. We came to a level area at 20,800 feet and I realized that we were at Independecia. About 50 other climbers were there, resting on the rocks. It felt good to be in full sunlight, but it did not warm us. We put on sun block. Rob's was frozen so he used some of mine. Nearby, I saw the little broken down wooden hut. It is claimed that this is the highest refuge in the world, but it's really just in ruins. The wooden roof has been blown away. There's nothing but a snow-filled shell left.

Resting At Independencia, 20,800 Feet

The Ruined Hut At Independencia

We got very cold after 5 minutes of sitting, so we started moving. Once again, it was getting progressively harder to breathe. The number of steps I could take before stopping to breathe was decreasing. Rob didn't seem to be struggling with it as much as I was. We crested a snowy ridge top. Stretching far and high above us, we could now see the long traverse of the Gran Accareo, a wide open slope. This section was known to be very loose, but luckily at the moment, the entire trail was covered in compacted snow. Beyond the crest of the ridge, we were exposed to a slight western wind. At this altitude, and in the shade again, it's bite was deep. I was forced to put my balaclava back on. It was the coldest air I have ever felt with my bare skin. We got stuck behind a very slow group and Rob made a move to step up off the trail and get past them. I didn't have the strength to pass them as fast as he did. On the far side of the group, I watched as Rob gained speed on the ascending traverse. There was no way I was going to catch up to him now. That was ok. I looked down the slope and could see the wide open plain, where Nido was located. Further down, and to the left, 6000 feet below, I could see Plaza de Mulas and the valley floor. I slowly passed the slow group. Doing the traverse seemed to take ages. I was glad to get to the top of it and find shelter there from the stinging wind. By the time I got to the base of the Canaleta at 22,000 feet, I was dead tired, and moving incredible slow. It took me nearly 5 minutes just to walk the last 30 feet. I sat down on the rocks, surrounded by other tired climbers. There was no reason why I couldn't make it now. The Canaleta would be the steepest part of the route, but I could do it. It was going to be slow, but I was sure I would make it.

Snowy Ridge Top

The Gran Accareo And The Long Traverse

The Gran Accareo And The Long Traverse

On The Long Traverse

I rested for 20 minutes and forced myself to eat something before moving again. All the guide books suggest that you stay to the right in the Canaleta, near the wall, avoiding the loose rock in the middle. The Canelata is a sort of wide gully with steep walls on either side. It leads directly up to the summit. I saw some people going up the middle of it, but I turned to the right and found a better trail that went along the wall. The snow was steep enough here to warrant the use of an ice axe, but the section was short, and I felt steady on my feet, so trekking poles were enough. I took 3 steps and then stopped to breathe, then took 3 more and stopped to breathe again. Progress was very slow. Everyone else seemed to be going at the same snail's pace, so I didn't feel bad about it. At the top of the Canaleta, I was only taking two steps and then stopping for a half minute. It had taken me an hour to climb 500 feet. I didn't have much juice left. I felt like laying down and going to sleep. But I could see the summit just 300 feet above. There were people standing on it. The occasional joyful shout of somebody getting there was an encouraging sound.

End Of The Traverse, 22,000 Feet

Entering The Canaleta

Entering The Canaleta

Steep Terrain In The Canaleta

At this point, Rob came down from the summit and encouraged me to keep moving. I asked him how long he had been up there and he said "almost an hour". Thankfully, I had saved one thing for this crucial moment. A single Clif Shot, laced with caffeine. I washed it down with water, and a few minutes later, I was a new man. I still moved slowly, but twice as fast as before. I passed a couple of the Argentinean Army guys and then I was very close. Behind me, I could see the southwest summit. I made those last few steps, and then I saw the broad open summit area with two small crosses. There were about 15 people already there, most of them laying on the ground. I walked over to the highest rock and touched it with my hand, just like Greg Slayden does. At that moment, I was likely the highest person in the world. Climbing in the Himalayas during January is understandably unpopular. This was my fifth country high point, and my second peak of the seven summits. I was totally happy to be there, but my excitement was stifled by the deep exhaustion I felt. I shot a video and a few photos. The views were good all around. It would be nice to lay down like the other folks, but I noticed some small clouds to the south, and they seemed to be growing and coming this way. After 20 minutes, I bid farewell to the highest point in the western hemisphere, and second most prominent peak in the world. After all, this was only the halfway point.

The Southwest Summit

People Standing On The Summit

Views

Gimpilator On The Summit

I didn't feel any less tired on the way down. Coincidentally, about an hour after I had run into Rob, I ran into Greg at the same point. He told me the reason he had fallen behind in the beginning. He had stopped to put foot warmers in his boots. He was just as knackered as I was, but he also knew he was going to make it to the top. Now it was my turn to encourage him, as Rob had done for me. Afterward I told him I would see him back at camp. Shortly thereafter the peak was engulfed in clouds. I reached the bottom of the Canaleta and took another long rest break. Going down the traverse, it started to snow, and I thought about all the people who had been lounging around up on the summit. If the weather continued to change, and the wind picked up like the night before, they could be in real danger. In fact, if that happened, I could be in danger too. But it just continued to snow gently, and the wind behaved itself. The further I descended, the more tired I got. Soon, I was more physically tired than I had ever been in my life. I was now moving even slower than I had on the uphill. And where was everybody? There must be at least 150 people behind me, but as the hours went by, it continued to snow, and I saw not a soul. I passed Independecia, and then it seemed to take another lifetime to reach Berlin. I was stopping to sit down on rocks about every 5 minutes. I've never moved so slowly down a mountain. I knew I was going too slow, but I just couldn't go any faster.

Tired Climbers On The Highest Rocks

Having come through Camp Berlin in the dark, I was unsure of where the trail picked up on the far side, so I asked the resident ranger, and he pointed me in the right direction. Back on the trail, I continued my downward crawl, fantasizing about that moment when I would see the tent. That tiny, stinky, dirty tent, which was now heaven and salvation and home. The snow followed me all the way to just below Berlin, and then it stopped, but I could see that it was still snowing on the upper slopes. I passed somebody that was bent over on the side of the trail, and I was alarmed to see that he was coughing up blood. I asked him if he was alright and he reassured me that he was not coughing up blood, but just puking from altitude sickness. I then asked him how many days he had spent acclimatizing at Mulas. His answer was, "just one". His friends had heard the weather prediction and so the whole group had rushed up the slopes. He was the only one to get really sick, and was headed down alone. "Some friends", I thought to myself. I told him that what they had done was extremely dangerous, and that decisions like that get people killed. I stayed with him for awhile keeping my eye on him. When I got to the tent, Greg was only 5 minutes behind me. For dinner we made polenta, with soup flavoring and tuna fish.

Back At Nido

Our Home

The next morning, I woke up with the strange sensation of pin pricks on my face. I opened my eyes and was flabbergasted to see that it was snowing inside the tent. Condensation had frozen to every surface inside the tent. The little ice crystals were dislodging themselves when they became too heavy, floating down to land on us. I looked around and saw that there was even a little bit of accumulation on top of our sleeping bags. Weird! I felt a lot better after eating food and getting a nights rest. We rested the first half of the morning and I melted a little bit of water, just enough to get down to Mulas. Then we packed up and left. It snowed on us again on the way down to Mulas. We were now carrying all the weight of the first two carries, combined. These would be the heaviest packs of the entire trip. Not everything would fit inside our packs, so a lot of things were strapped on the outside. My pack was sagging a little bit to the left, because of the broken frame, and this became painful after awhile. It was a relief when we reached base camp and could take the packs off.

Snowy Descent To Mulas

Rob quickly discovered that the tent poles which he had strapped to the outside of his pack were not there. Crap! Greg was very calm about the whole situation, and didn't seem to care at all, even though it was his tent. Rob said he thought he knew where they fell off, and was going back up and look for them. We tried to talk him out of it, but he felt bad, and was determined to try. So Greg and I just sat there and watched him go back up the slope. After a half hour he started coming back down and we could see that he had nothing to show for his effort. So we would have to rent a tent, it was as simple as that. For $40 we had a huge tent with a table and chairs and an electric light bulb. What luxury! Greg and I freely admitted that we were glad that Rob had lost the poles and that we were staying in this spacious tent. It even had salt and pepper on the table. That night, we rolled out our sleeping pads for the last time, and we slept shoulder to shoulder for once. I even got to have my head uphill. The next day was going to be another hard day. It was 16 miles back out to the road. At least the mules would be carrying the bulk of our gear.

Leaving Mulas

Desiccated Mule

In the morning, we weighed out our duffel bags, and this time we were well below the maximum weight. We had gone through a lot of food. We were signed out at the rangers station. I felt proud when they asked us whether we had been successful or not. Down in the Horcones Valley, I had expected it to be hot, but a nice breeze kept us cool. I was feeling good and strong. Before I knew it, Greg and Rob were far behind me. Eventually I lost sight of them, and didn't see them again for several hours. They caught up to me during a break, when I was changing my socks. In the afternoon, my strength began to wane. My feet were killing me, but the idea of blisters never crossed my mind. I had walked many hundreds of miles in these leather boots, and not once had I gotten any blisters. So why were my feet so painful today? Perhaps it was the fact that I had just descended 14,000 feet in a matter of days. The last two miles were excruciating, and I slowed way down while Greg and Rob moved far ahead. I tried to stay positive, and in the moment, but all I could think about was being done, and getting to the end. As we got closer, we started to see tourists with their families, walking around the park. Obviously these people in cotton, without packs, were not climbers. They all stared at us, with our big packs, sunhats, glacier goggles, nose guards, and trekking poles. Unshaven and unclean, we must have looked truly frightful to these people. But surely, they knew where we were coming from, and what we had done. I had a smug smile on my face, just thinking about the past few days. I felt a surge of pride to be stared at like that. I even liked the fact that I was limping from the pain of my feet. It added a sort of dramatic effect. When we got to the trailhead, I took my boots off to discover two enormous blisters, one on each heel. That explained it.

Upper Horcones Valley

Lower Horcones Valley

Back at Punta del Inca we met a group of South African climbers that had also just come down from the summit. One of them was actively working on the 7 summits and had already climbed Everest. The only peak he had left on the list was Denali. This was his second attempt on Aconcagua. The first had been shut down by wind. We made friends with their group, and he offered to give us his hotel room, which was already paid for. They were going to Mendoza and wouldn't need it. We happily accepted, eager for a shower and a meal. He told us that if we ever got the chance to climb Everest, "go for it, no matter what, because it's totally worth the risk".

Crossing The Horcones

The rest of the story is just a long journey back through Santiago, Miami, Houston, and finally Seattle. After one bus, two cars, three planes, and 72 hours later, I stepped into my house, and went to bed. Conclusion: It's a long way from the summit of Aconcagua to Edmonds, Washington.

[RichP]

In Argentina when you summit a mountain it is called "hacer cumbre." It has a bit of a different nuance than simply to get to the top of a mountain, but refers more to the experience in its fullness and totality. A bit difficult to put into English, but at any rate, hicieron cumbre, and in grand style. Congratulations on putting together a good team, which is crucial to success and safety, and how well you described the phycological aspects of being on a big mountain which often outweigh the physical task at hand. Edit* During my daily perusal of the Argentine press, I saw that The Aconcagua has been gripped by a strong storm with winds as Gimpilator descibes and temperatures to 30 below zero and lots of snow. Around 500 people are hunkered down in tents on the mountain. Unfortunately, the prospects of a good outcome for a lost Polish climber are slim after last being seen descending from the summit 4 days ago. 2/28/11 Polished climber found dead 16 days after last being seen near the gran acarreo. http://www.clarin.com/sociedad/Aconcagua-andinista_polaco_0_435556661.html

[Jim Dockery]

Epic TR I don't have any desire to slog up that heap of pumice (if it had more snow and better skiing mabey), but good un on ya.

[silly_traveler]

Epic indeed thanks for sharing your adventure and finishing the story! I love the pictures, the place looks barren but incredibly beautiful, nice colors. Nice to be sleeping in your own bed?

[canyonwren]

This was amazing fun to read! Good job!

[GaliWalker]

Great accomplishment(s). Just as impressive was the entire series of reports - great balance of photos and story-telling, as well as content - I read each of them end-end.

[Tangeman]

YEAH! Good job Gimpilator, awesome photos too, looks very beautiful. It must be so euphoric to stand on a mountain like that. Great job, epic TRs, amazing pictures! Congrats!

[EastKing]

Epic TR and one that all of us can only dream of in our lives. Truely all of this will be something you will always remember in your lifetime. Pictures are breathtaking and I easily see these trip reports being TR's of the year!

[belowfellow]

You are a rockstar. Nice photos and great write-up of a fine climb.

[puzzlr]

Really enjoyed your TR. Your writing style accommodates lots of factual information and still comes across as a personal account. So glad you got a weather window to get on top with wide views and sun. This is a line worth repeating:

[Magellan]

Fantastic! Thanks for making the effort to share it with all of us Gimpy. To me the most amazing thing about Adam is that he does a 'trip of a lifetime' almost every year. Nothing is finer than some high altitude sloggin'.

[Arete]

Thanks so much for taking the time to share the details. It made me feel like I was there at times. The perspectives were really valuable for us, as we're thinking of heading down there in a year or two. Congratulations on a great climb!

[juneauhiker]

Great effort and TR! I enjoyed reading parts 1-5 because your writing vividly captures both the elation and the suffering of such an epic trip (as well as throwing in humorous asides like the banyo del inca). I think we can all relate to your descriptions of inner hopes and doubts. Your pictures are amazing too, thank you for taking the time to snap them. I particularly liked the shots high up on Aconcagua where the dots of other climbers showed the mountain's grand scale. And kudos to Rob for making that fuel run! That's beyond impressive.

[Fletcher]

Yeah nice job Gimp! That had to be one epic time.

[Magellan]

I agree with Juneauhiker in that Adam covers an amazing amount of detail in his report. They are factual, and fun, and always include the suffering or doubt. The part about pouting like a five year old is perfect.