All world’s are not the same though. Some offer money, some offer thrill. Some give warmth, as in our families, and some excite our senses. Some touch us more deeply than others. Some infuse more life into us and some are a net drain. On a good day, some even offer the tingle of romance.
And then there is the Climbing world. Solid, one hundred percent built out of romance. Its different that way. Climbing. Its pure gold.
As we step onto the foot of a mountain, big or small, the consummation of a relationship long in the making starts to take effect.
When you are in the plane to go climb a mountain in a far off place, there is both excitement and fear in you. You are soon going to depend for your life on some well meaning yet to you unknown, mountain guides, and to the fortunes of weather and the mood of the mountain. Those relationships reign supreme during the course of the expedition. And for these variables, you have bargained away a hard earned vacation, significant amount of money the comfort and joys of being at home and enjoying a more benign time with your loved ones and friends, who are likely not on this trip.
What pulls you in this mesmerizing vortex, a state of mind that you are now unwilling and unable to step out of, a need to be on the mountain and soak in that immersive experience? To me it is the romance of it all.
Climbing is not just about hard work, although that is needed, it is not just a sport, although it requires athletic prowess. It is not even meditation, although each step is meditative in nature. It is all of the above and then some. It is exposing oneself to the vissitudes of nature, one tiny step at a time. It is breathing in the fresh mountain air one gulp at a time. It is stepping into the unknown and unexplored arenas of your own limitations, one peak at a time. It is learning to lead and to follow, to depend and be dependable, to be prepared and yet knowing that you can never be fully prepared for what the mountain can throw at you that day. It is digging deep and also burning bright. It is consuming the joys of nature and being consumed by it. It is being absorbed in the scenery and the beauty of the landscapes. It is realizing that on those precious few days, you are part of that magic of the mountain even as your body mind and soul becomes one with it. As I said, its the romance of it all.
A mountain may be a pile of rock to the uninitiated. A crease or a fold on the planets surface created by tectonic shifts over millioniao. They may be still simmering memories of a long ago eruption, where earth spit out its anger in the air. Some massive violent event that left a giant Volcanic scar on the planets surface, now covered in loose rock and snow. They may be nature’s majesty in full display to others .Yet to a climber, they are beings. Beings that are alive, and that allow you or not to pay homage to them. So don’t go trampling upon their chest, in your pride and ego. Be humble, be grateful. They may love you back then. Love and romance are always entangled.
Mr. Sir Chimborazo Ji, Day 1:(Chimborazo is the biggest mountain in Ecuador, 6263 meters/20,549 ft, notorious for unpredictable weather due to which many attempts get aborted)
Day 1 started many months ago, one could argue. For simplicity we can call today, when the first acclimatizing climb to Pichincha kicks off as Phase 1. At 16,000ft/4784 meters, it is not a big mountain but nothing to scoff at either. Breakfast with fruit, eggs, toasted vegetables and topped with a Cappucino gave a happy feeling that only good food can bring. Everything will be alright the breakfast tells me. Heading out with Will and his brother, two handsome, aspiring, young Ecuadorians. They could also be in the the cast of Narcos, running some hit jobs and/or getting killed. They just have that youthful boundless energy. Tourism they say has picked up. Mandatory masks everywhere. The car meanders through an unremarkable part of town, while playing some unremarkable American music. Unremarkable enough not to interfere with the happy feeling.
Now, 15 min into the ride the car climbs up some narrow streets, some hairpin turns and the we cross into a protected area. The engine strains, views get greener and we are at the entrance of Cable car area.
Weather is stunningly perfect. Bright and beautiful. There is greenery and old Town Quito down there in the distance. There is a spattering of few other climbers. Everything is gorgeous today.
This part of the world has witnessed its own centuries of horror and abuse, due to Spanish colonization. Now though, all that blood seems to have dried up and a new generation of vegetation and peoples span the landscape. Accepting of the past, looking into the future… Drawing energy from the bright Sun that shines on this Equatorial country, Equador. Young and youthful as all developing countries are. Underlying poverty hidden from touristy eyes due to limited places we visit and things we do.
Symbols of Christianity dot the landscape, dominated by Virgin Mary. This, along with mixing of races seems to be a more enduring legacy of European colonization.
Going up the cable-car, nice and easy. Pichincha trek, beautiful bright sunny day, temp 60 degree, views spectacular and some lucky sightings of a rare bird Curiquinge, some little flowers that could and some heavy breathing when the slope got tough. Overall made it up to the 16k feet summit in 3.5 hours and got back down in 1:45. There was no rush. The climb got harder at some rather steep parts and over the last 100 meters, where it was rock scrambling mostly. Thankfully rocks were firm. Not a walk in the park, even though we climbed about only around 3,000 feet, I think. A good comparison would be Mt. Whitney climb past the camping area. They both have similar altitude and hiking effort.
Meanwhile Mr. Sir Chimborazo ji waiteth. And I waitheth too. Phase 2 though is Cayembe. At about 19,000 feet, a tough challenge by any means. Will need all that I can muster of my legs, lungs, heart and soul. And of course good guide and good weather. Have hope and gratitude in my heart this evening.
Mr Sir Chimborazo Ji : Phase 2, Day 1
Dec 25 9:00 am : Lazed in bed a bit this morning. Breakfast now done. Warmth of Equadorian coffee taste still lingers in my mouth as I pack to get on the road. Plan is to reach the refuge by 2 pm and the Cayembe climb will start midnight. Some nervousness, some excitement.
In context of the the overall expedition, at this point I am at mile 6 in marathon parlance. Race has started, legs are moving fine. Initial awkwardness is gone, but still in honeymoon phase.
10:00 am en-route to Cayembe, to meet the guide and the drive to the refuge(base camp). My old friend Will is here driving me. As usual Wlady’s arrangements are impeccable. Car ride is enjoyable. Good conversation with Will about Ecuador. Ecuador has free education for school and college available. However once govt. took over the education, the ave quality has come down. With the new govt. he says some taxes have come down, Minimum wage has gone up from $400 to $425/month, approx 5k/yr. For context a loaf of bread is about a dollar and a gallon of gas is $2.80.
10:48: First view of Cayambe Ji. Looks delightfully daunting. Some pictures taken, some dhuk dhuk in my heart. Thankfully the car rolls along with Will’s conversation.
A mountain is not an inert pile of rock. It has is eco-system, its weather patterns, its tumultous belly full of swirling molten rock, churning anxious as it does in these volcanic mountains, the stimulus of human behavior on it and so many other forces subtle and otherwise constantly at play on it and in it. Through the processing of all of those cumulative forces arises its net behavior. Today’s mountain Cayembe, from the looks of it, seems to be offering its benign side. I hope it stays that way.
A person, me here, has the lava of their thoughts churning too, (will the legs carry me through, will the weather hold etc), a whole ecosystem of support playing out, mental make up coming out of centuries of genetics and years of life experience providing the will and strength to succeed. And the final brew of this concoction will play out tonight, in the arms of the Cayembe.
Ah! the romance of it all.
Radio plays Funky Town as we enter Cayembe. It is a small town with a small town feel. Too many cars on too few roads, small stores on both sides. Some bikes, thankfully very little honking. Young Ecuadorians line the streets. Not very tall people. We look around for food for lunch and settle for a Pizza place. El Hornero! Lucky find. Nice Pizza that Will and I stack up, with some leftover for the evening. Food from Shere-Punjab last night and this one right here is a harbinger of good things to come.
Quick and dirty exchange at the gas station and the goods (me ) are on their way to refuge. Yet to set eyes on the a “Chosen one”, the guide, upon whose skills and judgement my wellbeing will depend this night. Coz the mountains are more secular that way, meting out similar conditions to all those who aspire.
The rough torn up path being used as a road has pretty much digested the food I ate. Still some ways to go through the villages, up the mountain. Many happy cows, a horse here and there and some wind blowing through the fields. A few kids, with sunburnt grimy faces and the joyful 1000 watt smiles, wearing colorful, intact sweaters, yell Feliz Navidad in harmony at the car. What a charmed life I live. Being here and then being able to go back home to a nice job and friends and family. Jai ho!
The Jeep continues to bullock cart through the foot, two feet and sometime three feet deep dirt holes in the path jerking like an unwieldy sack of potatoes atop a drunk camels back. Impossible to take pictures. Some holes are so deep that another inch or two and lava will spew out. Or we may see China.
The road, to be clear is not dangerous like a criminal. it is just really fucked up like a whore. What’s with these senseless allegories. Perhaps the thin mountain air ?
Anyways, we sight a Condor. take a pic and keep moving along. The mountain is getting closer and more real.
The road, it got worse. Now its behaving like a drugged up bitch with a rocket launcher pointed up your arse and the middle finger dangling by the trigger. My prayerful fucking heart is in my fucking mouth. Whose idea was this shit!! The mountain listens so trying to be polite.
Phew… the ride does come to an end and we miraculously are at the refuge and not in a ditch somewhere. Suddenly a lunar landscape opens up. I am at the foot of the mountain. Although the worship will begin tomorrow midnight, I am at the temple already. The priest doesn’t speak a word of English. But I take heart in the fact that he must be really good to still get the job. He looks rugged and tough. Thats what is needed. Rugged is what does it these conditions.
I walk about some, taking pictures of some tiny flowers and shrubs that brave these conditions and survive. Not sure they could survive a nuclear winter though. We humans have it figured out, to extinguish the hardiest life forms. What an accomplishment. More fog rolls in and I roll right back into the hut. It’s called refuge for a reason.
Dec 25th night/Dec 26: Phase 2, Day 2:
I get up at 10 pm and we start climbing at 11pm The going is slow but managed to reach the glacier in an hour and an half, which was supposed to take two. 15 minutes to put the crampons on and take some refreshment and we were on the glacier. Me and Fausto. My guide who was supposed to speak some English but did not speak any. I changed the mountain that I was planning to climb from Carihuairazo to Cayembe, after hearing about some weather stuff going on Chimborazo. This way I figured I will get atleast one big mountain done and hopefully two. Cayembe at 19k feet is just shy of 6000 metres. For me it is a big one.
Well, we climb through the night keeping good time. Weather is good, relatively speaking, except for some manageable snow and sleet. I am panting a lot, pretty much throughout out the seven hours of climbing. Altitude does a number on you. But thankfully no headache or nausea.
Some sections are steeper than others and I counts steps, before stopping to catch my breadth. Sometime I make it to hundred, sometimes only 10, depending on the gradient. I am acutely aware of time though. There is a window of 6-7:30 am to make it to the top, because equatorial sun shines so bright that by 10 am it is not safe to be on the glacier due to avalanche risk. We get to 5,700 metres out of 5790 which is the altitude of Cayembe, at 6 :00 am. Only 30 minutes more to summit. My legs are tired but summit push feeling is on. Another 30 minutes and 90 meters/300 feet of ascent I got it made. Except…
At 5700 meters there is a 60/70 degree narrow snow ramp to be navigated to get to a false summit and then some hiking to get to the main summit.. Other teams are doing it and the going is a little slow. This is a technical part. You only have your roped partner, your ice axe and crampons. Down below is couple thousand meters slopes of the mountain that we have just come up. It might as well be a million.
My guide decides to traverse the slope across and I am just following him. About 10-20 yards in, he is yelling some instruction which I don’t understand. He then starts punching the font of his crampons in the snow to show me. Since I was traversing my crampons are along the length of the traverse. This went on for a few minutes and he started yelling Chimborazo(Last week a guide died on another mountain in Ecuador and that is fresh on everyone’s mind here) and directionally started asking me to go back the traverse. I suggested we go up since thats where the destination was but, no communication could happen. Of course I listened to him. Now traversing on a open face 60/70 degree incline is hard work. Going back is even harder. The crampons have to dig in and take your entire weight. So we go back, lose 30 minutes, lots of energy and are shaken. He is nervous, in his mind has seen something that totally drained him. And I am tired. We still can’t communicate. 90 meters of altitude away, that is 1/3rd of Taminey(a small hill in NJ where we go for scenic hikes with kids and stuff). Folks that went up following the regular path went up, all of them. The guide went up first, digging in the ice-axe, tightening the rope around it for the climber to use his legs and the rope to haul themselves up. My guide says lets head back, pointing down the mountain. I tried to communicate, but can’t.
(Later on I found out that he was spooked at us not being able to communicate and was concerned at us being able to get up and down the slope for that reason. The death of a guide on Chimborazo last week, and fall of two climbers has been fresh on everyone’s mind. In my mind, I did summit. I had the legs and heart to go the next 30 minutes. No records here, but as a test with oneself, I scored. No doubt. And one has to be honest about these things. Else you suck in your own eyes)
But the disappointment and frustration is real at that time. We walk back over the next three hours hardly taking any pictures and totally exhausted. Combination of a 12 hour day at that altitude and the confused feeling of what happened has me drained. Still can’t talk to the dude.
Told you it was all romance, which cuts both ways by the way.
And how about Mr. Sir his highness Chimbo dada… Let me channel Scarlet O’hara from “Gone with the wind”, here as she looks at the devastated ruins of Tara, their estate, after the war. “Tomorrow is another day”, she said. I too will think about it tomorrow, although I am already in Riobamba, which is the city at the base of the mountain. So far as I know, the plan is still intact.
Dec 27: Mr. Sir Chimborazo ji, Phase 3, Day 0.
Had to make a call today on whether to continue on to Chimborazo or go visit Amazon or something like that. Decided to head to Chimborazo, with an extra day of rest in between, starting the climb on 29th. Its funny what a good night’s sleep will do. Hoping for good weather.
Got picked up around 11 am from the hotel, in a big beautiful van. Weather is crisp and clear, unlike last night which was stormy, both in my head and in the streets. Hope it stays that way for the climb as well.
The city of Riobamba that we are driving through sits at the base of Chimborazo. It looks clean with rows of flat roofed, colorful small houses, lined alongside the roads. In the market place were more formal looking shops than in Cayambe, and the city seems less crowded as well. Along the way we pick up more guides. We are headed to Chacana lodge a beautiful picturesque tastefully done set of scattered single story and double story buildings in the national park. Last year when we visited, we saw llamas walking about, fabulous views of Chimborazo and had good nutritious food at the restaurant. Its a little more expensive than usual Ecuador hotels but totally worth it. Plan is to rest and recuperate there for two days and then head to high camp on 29th day and make the summit bid, starting midnight.
Going back to Climbing, what draws us into this resource hungry, somewhat dangerous activity? The challenge, the views, the exotic locales, the awesome presence of a big mountain are all good candidates and clearly there is a combination of all of these. But there is more. You build a relationship with your last big climb. It is finite, bookended by a specific start and end. The feeling of effort and accomplishment, which are two sides of the same coin, gets embedded in your psyche. You forget the views after a while, only getting reminded through pictures. But that feeling never leaves you. Sort of like running a marathon. The last one that you put your heart into, that emotion never leaves you. Your system asks for more of its kind, as long as your body and resources can handle it. One can never fully understand the human psyche but there is a definite draw to experiencing more and uncovering more of oneself. A mountain becomes a fabulous means for the same.
Views have opened up now, with lush green mountain slopes on both sides, sparsely dotted with houses out in the fields on rolling hillsides, big and small. Spanish conversation among the guides continue. I only catch the name of a mountain, here and there. How many stories pretty and not so pretty they must have amongst themselves. How many people emotionally naked and drained must they have seen up top. How many must they have fallen in love with, and said good bye to, all in 24 hours. A climber only knows the heart or another, like a runner does for another runner.
So we arrive at a different lodge, Casa Condor. Much more modest due to some last minute changes by Wlady. No biggie. Bunch of other climbers here, checking their gear. Clearly they are climbing tonight. A little guy about 2 feet tall, in dark blue sweat pants and light blue sweatshirt emblazoned with Batman symbol, walking about with his bike that can’t be ridden because it is missing among other things, a handle. He just walks his bike through every puddle he can find, every hole in the ground. He is tailed by a local furry black puppy for sometime until they both lose interest, abandon the bike and get on with something else. Its is a beautiful sunny day, about 60 deg F. Climbers are checking their gear, out in the open, by the van that will take them up. Guides are with them too, making sure climbers know how to tie the crampons etc. Its a big group, of about 10 people from Oregon and Colorado, with another straggler from NY. Couple of them climbed Cotopaxi, others did Pichincha multiple times. Most are young in their twenties. Good colorful gear, and lots of enthusiasm. Its a beautiful life.
We get called for lunch.
Lunch done, suddenly everyone jumps in the van and leaves and I am left standing alone staring at a chicken that is walking about picking worms, popping its head back and forth as chickens do. I wonder how much of its forward motion is propelled by his neck muscles. If it is a meaningful percentage some of my crazy runner friends will happily make that adaptation to shave off another few minutes from their marathon time. These and other life’s imponderables will fill the void for next two days. Lord have mercy on my soul.
I find out that two climbers were left behind at the lodge because they got a stomach bug. Another variable to contend with, that never appeared before.
The mountain is shrouded in clouds right now. But for the 29th, the weather forecast is good. Happy to hear that for sure. Took a quick nap, now having some salty crackers by the fireplace.
The fine art of doing nothing:
Today is being spent in perfecting the fine art of doing nothing.
The foothills of the mountain is peace personified. Really quiet and pristine with farmlands on rolling hills. I have been at it for most of the morning, doing nothing, except necessary ablutions and reading a book and falling asleep again. But this is also too much. I need to up my game. So I decide to directly learn from the master. The best there is. I have been getting brief passing views of my teacher ever since I arrived in Ecuador. An apparition here, a passing glimpse there, they have continued to follow me where-ever I have gone. Quito, Cayembe and now Riobamba. They say when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Perhaps, just perhaps, thats why I am here.
So I take the narrow dirt road in front of Casa Candor, that slopes downward and snakes through the green countryside. I walk in slow deliberate steps, as if being pulled by an unseen force. A three legged dog fakes a rush from the next hut, but I am unfazed. She heads back to her puppies, proud of having shown them how its done. I walk further down the road and some bicyclists pass me. There seems to be serious mountain biking community here, since the 4 bikers were being followed by a SUV with two spare bikes on top. They must be on some big expedition. I keep ambling down, with only the silence of the fields accompanying me now. Thats when, there in the distance I first sight her in her meditative stance. The same Mudra( posture) that I have seeing intermittently. Very still. She faces away from me. Yet does she know I am here? Her aura tells me that she might. If she has brought me here, she must know.
I walk one tentative step after another till I am a few feet away. I stop. As if on cue she turns her head around toward me and looks at me and right through me. Her eyes are very blank. What was she thinking, I thought. Immediately realizing that she wasn’t. Thinking is an action and she had figured out a way to be so completely still that even her thoughts had quietened down. But how? What should I say or do without breaking her meditative repose. She heard me without me saying a word and started peeing. Without such a thing as a jitter or movement, it flows out of her. She peed a lot as cows do. For a long time, still staring right through me. She didn’t flinch or worry about the spray hitting her legs. She never let it bother her. Her first blink happened half way through her full one minute of giving me the most elevated lesson in becoming still. I blinked back, letting her know that I understood what she meant. “Spray be damned. Just be” she had taught me. I waited for the ritual to end, and started backing off. She turned her head away. She might have gotten hungry now, as I saw her biting into the grass and gently move along.
My walk back to Casa Condor was quiet. So quiet. Life’s spray be damned. “Just be” I said to myself as I sat down in relief and exhaustion on my bed.
Tomorrow I will be on the mountain.
Nitin, Shrishti, their kids and Shristi’s parents stooped by Casa Condor to have lunch. It was nice seeing some faces and chatting with them.
Dec 29th: 10:30 am Slept well last night, ate a good breakfast, had a shower, packed. Mountain is completely invisible behind clouds. Waiting for the van to come around noon. After lunch we head out to base camp, put on out gear and climb a couple of hours to high camp. Sleep for a few hours and start 11 pm for the summit bid, weather Gods permitting.
Noon: All packed and ready. Mind has slumped down into this numb state, which happens before a big challenge. Just an observer to the whole play. Sitting by the fire waiting for the Guide and team to arrive, have lunch and drive up to the base camp.
I feel good at physical and mental level. Legs are rested and so is my mind.
Two other climbers at Casa Condor right now. One is Keith, a Martial Arts instructor from Alburqurque New Mexico. He has an ambitious plan climbing 4 mountains, one every two days. Last night he summitted Cairhuairazo, without much difficulty. Seems same age as me or a bit older. The other person is a younger, less experienced climber from Belgium. We both went out for walks etc, I learnt more about weather in Belgium and the politics. Interesting tidbit is that Belgium also colonized Congo which is a much larger country and exploited the rubber resources from there and much more. Now though Brussels is the HQ of European Union etc.
My guide and team is here. Asta Lavista for now.
After a bellyful of lunch we head out. The raod is decent and landscape is rolling hills but more arid. We spot Vicunas that are beautiful furry deer sized animals, with longish neck, of the same family as Llamas, but wild. They are protected. The park entrance is just a stone gateway, with a small office and a cafeteria by the side. Six seven cars are parked here, mostly tourists I would assume. Climbers would have no reason to hang out here except to get their paperwork checked. My guide Paulo, who speaks good english does that for me. Paulo seems like a sophisticated type person. Inside the park roads are much more rough and we drive through thick fog. The driver seems to have done this route a million times before and is driving much faster than I would on these roads and through this fog. This ain’t the Cayembe ride by any means but some areas have a deep gorge on the side. The 4 wheel drive truck does take some abuse for sure.
The ride ends, we switch into climbing gear, except Crampons. The hike up take a little over two hours. The first part is more rocky and steep. The second half with thick snow cover but somewhat gentler slope. Its a solid two plus hour climb with about 25 pounds backback carrying sleeping bag, crampons and everything else needed for the climb tomorrow.
High camps are white tents braced with metal bars. Pretty sturdy. Can’t keep much cold out though.
Dinner at 6, wake up 11 and start climbing at 12. Thats the plan. Its 5 pm now. get the stuff sorted for a few and lay down. Head starts spinning. Altitude. But I had beaten this shit already, going to higher altitude than this on Cayembe and the sleeping at 4000 meters for two nights. May be its temporary. Dinner at 6, inwm just able to consume a bowl of soup over 30 min. Guide is asking, why I am not eating. I tell him nausea. We plan for the basics at midnight and go to bed. I go through constant headache and throw up multiple times. The risk reward has shifted against me. 11 pm Paulo comes. I let him know. I can’t climb in this condition. He understands. Now we just have to head down next morning, which we do, taking some pictures, talking a bit. The expedition is over. I enjoy the slow hike down, since legs are tired and body is not willing to accept anything except small sips of water. Other climbers made it to 6000 meters and turn back due to treacherous conditions.
Tens, may be hundreds of thousands of climbers have climbed here in Ecuador. Some with more success and some with less. I weave my own thread one climb at a time. I came here to enrich my soul and I did.
The world goes on, we observe some, participate some and get to the other side, hopefully worn out and not rusted out.
