When I left to go to Ecuador I didn’t think mountaineering would be on my list of priorities, especially in the first week. But I’m easily sold when the chance for a great experience pops up, plus, the list of stats regarding Cotopaxi blow one’s mind. At 5,897m Cotopaxi is the 5th highest active volcano in the world, it has erupted 50 times in the last 270 years and it is 2m higher than Mount Kilimanjaro (from sea level). The first European to attempt the climb was in 1802, but Mr Von Humboldt only reached a height of 4500m. The mountain was first conquered in 1872, when geologist Wilhelm Rajss reached the summit.
My friend Kamil and I first decided that we would attempt the climb on Wednesday, so we booked on Thursday and set out on Friday to the base camp. With such short notice we had no chance to prepare our bodies for the altitude. Most people take a cable car from Quito to a nearby peak, Pichincha (4698m), to shock their red blood cell factories into action. Not me, I have gone from my local mound, Musbury Tor in Rossendale at a pitiful 338m, to Quito at 2,800m before embarking on my first mountaineering experience to the ‘extreme altitude’ of Cotopaxi, all in the space of 5 days; not wise my friends, not wise at all.
On Thursday afternoon we were fitted with equipment for the climb. Thick plastic mountaineering boots, Ice axes and Crampons were on the list; this was becoming very real, very quickly. I didn't sleep well on Thursday night, instead I cooked up a nice big batch of pasta, tuna and sweet corn, with the hope of flooding my system with carbs. On Friday morning we headed to the tour company to pick up our equipment, meet our fellow climbers, and drive to the car park 4600m up Cotopaxi. No don’t be silly, of course I wasn't going to be climbing from the base, that would be mental. The drive up was fine, but at the car park I started feeling nauseous from the altitude. ‘Oh dear’ I thought, if I felt this bad at 4600 then there was no way I was getting to the summit. From the car park we had to walk up to the refuge where we would be spending the night. I had my 35 litre backpack crammed with supplies, camera equipment, sleeping bag etc. Kamil, on the other hand, had an 85 litre sack with all his equipment in and half of mine too. We agreed to swap half way to the refuge, and after 20 minutes Kamil was clearly struggling so we stopped and made the trade. I offloaded 2 litres of water which was unnecessary weight, considering we could fill up at the refuge.
We made it to the refuge no problem, my nausea went once we started walking so I was happy, but looking back, I don’t think my head was in the game for the entire weekend. The ‘hangover daze’ took over my mind and I wasn't thinking clearly. The snow was falling lightly and the sky was cloudy, we couldn't see very clearly, and considering the fact that climbers from the previous evening didn't make the summit due to poor conditions and a small avalanche, I wasn't in high spirits. After a hearty lunch we headed out to practice using the crampons (foot spikes) and ice picks on the snow. I found the ice pick fairly pointless because the snow was so deep that I needed to bend over 2 feet for it to grip. It proved useful later but we’ll get to that. After another meal packed with carbs we went to bed, it was 6pm. Most people didn't sleep all night, but I took my trusty eye mask and ear plugs, combined with my cocoon sleeping bag I was in my own little world so I passed out. At 8pm I woke with a cracking headache, a pain that would stay with me for the next 24 hours. At altitude it’s not just the lack of oxygen that’s a problem, it’s also the pressure on your body. Your brain presses on your skull and your bowels and bladder suffer a constant bear hug. I went for a quick trip to the outside toilet to remedy the issue, and whilst there I spent as long as I could endure in the minus temperatures gazing at the stars. I have never seen the starts so bright, Orion glowed like a gracious guardian; but the poor chap was upside down. I slept again until 12am when our guide of guides ‘Marco’ came to wake us to prepare for the hike. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that it was a night hike; it was a night hike. The snow is harder at in the night, plus, you get to watch the sunrise! After a quick breakfast of cereal and strawberry yoghurt we headed out; boots tied up, head torches fired up and multiple layers zipped up. Our group of 7, joined by 4 guides hiked together up to the start of the glacier at 5000m. Pink Floyd were great for motivation, I certainly felt like one crazy diamond. From there we separated into our groups, 2 people per guide and Allie; bless her, going solo with her guide Pablo. Kamil and I were joined together by rope, with our guide, Rafael at the front leading the way. The ropes were necessary because of the frequent crevasses we passed, if one of us fell in the then other two would dig in our ice axes and prevent his plummet.
After another 100m altitude it was clear that Kamil was struggling, I knew from this moment that with 700m to go, there was no chance we were making it to the summit. Our guide knew too and he checked on Kamil every 30 steps or so. I was gutted to say the least, not because we weren’t going to get to the top, I was fairly pessimistic about this feat anyway considering only 50% of people generally make it. I was gutted because I hadn't yet pushed my body to the limit, I knew I could carry on but with my fellow climber struggling, the group had to turn back together. We hadn't even made it half way when the sickness set in and Kamil thew up. We headed back, darkness dominated, we would miss sun rise. My dream was over, my adventure cut short, my money wasted.
After descending 50 meters a headlamp halo appeared, it was Allie trailing at the back of the pack, my saviour. I switched guides, hugged Kamil, and headed back up, the adventure was back on. Pink Floyd had been linked with the last 45 minutes, a moment of darkness, so I whipped out my iPod in high spirits to whack on some new motivation, Jazz Rock; Supertramp! We passed many crevasses, ice structures and sheer drops, carefully stepping in our peers footprints who were way ahead by now. I turned off my headlamp to walk in the moon light. The wind came and went, utter silence and stillness, contrasting with tough resistance and rosy cheeks. My headache was still pounding and at 5400m I too felt nauseous. Allie and I agreed from the outset that we wouldn’t make it to the summit, but we both wanted to go as far as we possibly could. I threw up at 5450m, a flavorsome strawberry phlegm. This reduced the pressure in my stomach and after a nibble of chocolate and a quick swig of Gatorade we pressed on. We had been walking for 5 hours when the sky lit up orange and the sun poked its head over the horizon, we turned and sat, taking photos, gazing in awe at the beautiful panorama.
As we walked on I got a little emotional, I’d come so far, after so much, and I’d accomplished my goal; to see a beautiful sun rise. I wept quietly at the back of the line, cold tears freezing on my balaclava, I was perfectly content. I could turn back happy, knowing that I had pushed harder than I ever had before, my body was ruined. We hopped over another crevasse and pressed on. After passing another false peak at 5600m the real peak came into sight, the guide told us it was an hour and thirty minutes away and Allie said she couldn’t make it.
We turned back and the sickness set in again, this time chocolate flavored, I tainted the mountain side making my own mini crevasses. I couldn’t keep anything down, water was my only ailment. With the sun beaming high in the sky we put on our sunglasses, the ice structures were dim under the moonlight, but in the sun light the icicles glistened in glory. I broke them off with my axe, making tunes by sweeping past 4 at a time, ‘ting ting ting tinggg’.
We descended quickly, I lead the way and used my lengthy legs to my advantage. Long steps digging deep into the snow, I didn’t turn round but Allie must have been practically jogging down behind me keeping the rope taught. ‘You’re my dogs’ Pablo said with a laugh, Scooby and Shabby. I threw up a third time, the most violent of all ridding myself of the banana I had eaten 10 minutes prior, I decided not to eat again and remained hungry until the evening. As we continued down I couldn’t believe the steep path we had taken, it was between 37° and 42° the whole way, 1’ steps on the way up, 3’ strides on the way down. We got to the bottom of the glacier and our ropes were removed, from there I slid down the remaining 200m on my butt. My ice axe came in handy for once, I used it to row, switching sides to meander down the slope and digging in when I went too fast. We were down in no time at all and I quickly got rid of my heavy boots and jumped straight into bed at the refuge, I was exhausted. An hour later the others returned, they made it to the summit, they looked down into the cone to see the wisps of smoke and smell the faint sulphur, they saw the full panoramic view and a Tungurahua erupting far away in Banos. I was a little jealous but hey, I had a great time regardless. Mountaineering was a great experience, but I'm in no rush to get back to altitude again. Imagine the worst hangover possible, add in shortness of breath, and a touch of stomach cramp, then go for a 7 hour hike in -10° wearing 4 layers of clothes, you get the picture. I'm sure I'll try again one day, but for now I'm happy to immerse myself in the photos, not quite believing that I was actually there!
