Boys adventure
Followed the gringo crowd and went down the most (hyped) dangerous road in the world. Bus up to a snowy pass at 4700m, kitted up with sun glasses and cycling shorts. Blasted down a good asphalt road, arse out, head down, tears streaming from my eyes, over took our guide. I hear "Moy rapido, mucho crayzee". Switched to the dirt road section, rocks and mud, slid round the front of a big truck coming the other way, trying to catch the pack after totaling my first bike; derailer went into the back wheel, snapped spokes, broken chain, derailer in pieces. There are some stunning vistas but my eyes are darting all over the path picking the most fun line. Arhh! white out, Im in a cloud, on my left precipitous drops into the jungle, I can hear the horns of the trucks but no idea if they are in front or behind. The path in places is just wide enough for the huge trucks, their outside wheels grinding the loose rocks over the cliff edge, like jam in a sponge cake. More Arghh, heard a scream, dumped the bike, and walked slowly back to the last bend, bracing myself, cluster of bikers looking straight down, held my breath, there she was smiling brightly in a stunned but gorgeous grin, bike in one piece and not a scratch a 7m vertical fall and nothing! bike and rider pulled up by rope and continued. The problem is most here have never ridden a mountain bike before. Its slippery but its a typical dirt road, stones, mud. I was surprised by the amount of traffic, and its two way, ever seen an artic reverse so it wheels are touching a 2000m void! We see smashed tangled trucks in the jungle below. A Peruvian beat me to the finish, Im covered in mud from streams, puddles and the occasional waterfall. 64km long and a drop of 3600m in three hours! Great fun.
Took on biggest mountaineering challenge yet to summit Huyani Potosi at 6088m. Started off in usual Bolivian haphazard way, forgetting to buy bread, hanging around then off past vivid lakes of green lapping against shores of purple. The refugio was warm and friendly, having coffee in front of the log fire watching curling clouds wrapping around the vast face above us, not really appearing as a real rock of ice and snow just a good picture.
Had a play on the ice peaks at the foot of the nearby glacier. Going up a near vertical face, trying to pull myself over a shelf I found flaky, unstable ice. My ice axe exploded the ice into nothing but sherds, eventually found some purchase. I moved up on the tips of my crampons and my axe gave way smashing into my head. Count to five, no, head against the ice, count again to five, okay, okay lets get on with it, find some good hard ice and finish the route. My hat took some of the blow but had a nice bump, hair sticky with blood.
Next day pack up all kit, boots, ropes, etc an enormous pile of awkwardly shaped gear and lug it up the mountain. Go through endless bolder fields, rocks rock, boulders bounce, the sun is hot, there is a lot of up. Finally dumping the kit enables us to appreciate the view. Our hut looked for a the world like a kettle and as was equally as hot. Food was a disaster but fortunately the altitude had robbed us of our appetite.
Teamed up with a swiss climber, kitted up at midnight having had a good nights sleep (ha ha ha). Pleased with our strong confident ascent, ice was firm and reassuring under foot, in this starless night the only indication of our progress was the slow diminishing of the head torches of others behind us. Very cold, wrapped in the best of modern materials, I pull out my old woolen scarf, pulling it over my face, trade off between breathing and freezing, it was that cold. Somewhere in the region of minus fifteen plus wind chill. Big holes in the ground, black and bottomless (well they look bottomless). Oh yes, lets leap over snowy cravasses in the dark, what a great thing to do at two in the morning . Great, now need to ice climb in the dark. Awkward move up and around a corner, bloody hard, head torch shining through the ice, dancing shadows, surrounded by emptiness. alone above a cravass, stuck to the wall by steel toes and a point of an axe. Nothing but me and the night, perched above the sky. I know im not going to fall anywhere, but you cant see anybody, anything tangible, nothing, an absence of reality. Its you alone faced by a bloody stupid abstract obstacle of contorted ice that makes no sense at all. Emotions go to the back and i give up figuring out what might be the best route. Its not that you can have a bit of a chat about it, besides the wind would just whisk your words away. Make one carefull wack, then another. And when after I finish the crux there is just a big wall above, great, whack whack whack, remember to breath. Get to the top no one says anything, you dont have the spare air, and besides no one is going say they were crapping them selves just then.
We round a crest and the yellow lights of La Paz flicker on. I forget what im doing, take in some good lungfulls of air and soak in the view. before moving on again. The night is long (actually madrugada, the time before dawn) but we are treated when the sky slowly lightens, casting pinks and purples over a low blanket of cloud, perfect untainted snow folding over the mountain smoothing all the edges, making it all look soft and fluffy. Looking back to our route ahead the black silhouettes of jagged teeth dont look soft and fluffy at all.
Legs feel stong, lungs work well, steady, clear head, pleased, i have no doubts. Sebastian slows, the Andean air making it taxing. Last pitch was determined, long 70 degree slope, required stamina, not finesse. Occasionally the axe would rebound off steel hard ice, or alternatively shatter into a million fragments. Every bit of energy is precious, I can only string a few actions together before forced to stop to fill my lungs.
Im first to summit. totally shocked, swore like mad, this is not a summit, this is a curtain of snow stacked high on a mountain top. Im hit by the wind and am leaning against a ridge no wider than the back of your sofa with a 2000m drop behind it. My life now depends on this ridge. Im roped, no im not attached, there is nothing here to attach to, i have run out of mountain. If we stick an ice stake here it will come out the otherside, (more swearing) Okay put common sense (any sense) to the back of my mind and with mad heart climbed the final parapet to the slightly higher bit. well if i am going to fall then im going to fall from the summit, at least get some glory. this felt insane, (no it was insane), i deploy every spike and point to guarantee purchase (id use my teeth if I could). By the way the rope is very clearly hanging loosely below me at this point as I traverse to the true summit. i clench buttocks, grit teeth, let go of the axe and take a photo. no standing room here for smiles and hand shakes. I turn around, bugger i had forgotten that i now had to do this backwards to go down again.
Mr Crampon who ever you are i truly thank you. Point both your feet, and now imagine walking down a slope that necessitates walking like this. what ever you do dont lean forward, at all, balance is everything. but your legs are tired and you quite fancy breakfast, and to possibly visit the toilet and not gymnastics at 6 in the morning.
Walk back in the hot sun, see airplanes flying below my feet. zig zag back and fore past long slashes of deep cravasses. stand on the edge, really, really on the edge and absorb the endless shades of blue flooding down the walls. The ice belongs to a devilish underworld and I leap to the other side.
Checked out the ice wall from earlier, try to make it look hard in my mind, but in daylight it looks a doddle. took a photo then deleted it.
Then it was over and the mountain went back to being just another pretty vista. I still dont know why people climb mountains, in retrospect it all seems very pointless and unpleasant but something in my heads tells me I enjoyed it. What actually "it" is I dont know.
Took on biggest mountaineering challenge yet to summit Huyani Potosi at 6088m. Started off in usual Bolivian haphazard way, forgetting to buy bread, hanging around then off past vivid lakes of green lapping against shores of purple. The refugio was warm and friendly, having coffee in front of the log fire watching curling clouds wrapping around the vast face above us, not really appearing as a real rock of ice and snow just a good picture.
Had a play on the ice peaks at the foot of the nearby glacier. Going up a near vertical face, trying to pull myself over a shelf I found flaky, unstable ice. My ice axe exploded the ice into nothing but sherds, eventually found some purchase. I moved up on the tips of my crampons and my axe gave way smashing into my head. Count to five, no, head against the ice, count again to five, okay, okay lets get on with it, find some good hard ice and finish the route. My hat took some of the blow but had a nice bump, hair sticky with blood.
Next day pack up all kit, boots, ropes, etc an enormous pile of awkwardly shaped gear and lug it up the mountain. Go through endless bolder fields, rocks rock, boulders bounce, the sun is hot, there is a lot of up. Finally dumping the kit enables us to appreciate the view. Our hut looked for a the world like a kettle and as was equally as hot. Food was a disaster but fortunately the altitude had robbed us of our appetite.
Teamed up with a swiss climber, kitted up at midnight having had a good nights sleep (ha ha ha). Pleased with our strong confident ascent, ice was firm and reassuring under foot, in this starless night the only indication of our progress was the slow diminishing of the head torches of others behind us. Very cold, wrapped in the best of modern materials, I pull out my old woolen scarf, pulling it over my face, trade off between breathing and freezing, it was that cold. Somewhere in the region of minus fifteen plus wind chill. Big holes in the ground, black and bottomless (well they look bottomless). Oh yes, lets leap over snowy cravasses in the dark, what a great thing to do at two in the morning . Great, now need to ice climb in the dark. Awkward move up and around a corner, bloody hard, head torch shining through the ice, dancing shadows, surrounded by emptiness. alone above a cravass, stuck to the wall by steel toes and a point of an axe. Nothing but me and the night, perched above the sky. I know im not going to fall anywhere, but you cant see anybody, anything tangible, nothing, an absence of reality. Its you alone faced by a bloody stupid abstract obstacle of contorted ice that makes no sense at all. Emotions go to the back and i give up figuring out what might be the best route. Its not that you can have a bit of a chat about it, besides the wind would just whisk your words away. Make one carefull wack, then another. And when after I finish the crux there is just a big wall above, great, whack whack whack, remember to breath. Get to the top no one says anything, you dont have the spare air, and besides no one is going say they were crapping them selves just then.
We round a crest and the yellow lights of La Paz flicker on. I forget what im doing, take in some good lungfulls of air and soak in the view. before moving on again. The night is long (actually madrugada, the time before dawn) but we are treated when the sky slowly lightens, casting pinks and purples over a low blanket of cloud, perfect untainted snow folding over the mountain smoothing all the edges, making it all look soft and fluffy. Looking back to our route ahead the black silhouettes of jagged teeth dont look soft and fluffy at all.
Legs feel stong, lungs work well, steady, clear head, pleased, i have no doubts. Sebastian slows, the Andean air making it taxing. Last pitch was determined, long 70 degree slope, required stamina, not finesse. Occasionally the axe would rebound off steel hard ice, or alternatively shatter into a million fragments. Every bit of energy is precious, I can only string a few actions together before forced to stop to fill my lungs.
Im first to summit. totally shocked, swore like mad, this is not a summit, this is a curtain of snow stacked high on a mountain top. Im hit by the wind and am leaning against a ridge no wider than the back of your sofa with a 2000m drop behind it. My life now depends on this ridge. Im roped, no im not attached, there is nothing here to attach to, i have run out of mountain. If we stick an ice stake here it will come out the otherside, (more swearing) Okay put common sense (any sense) to the back of my mind and with mad heart climbed the final parapet to the slightly higher bit. well if i am going to fall then im going to fall from the summit, at least get some glory. this felt insane, (no it was insane), i deploy every spike and point to guarantee purchase (id use my teeth if I could). By the way the rope is very clearly hanging loosely below me at this point as I traverse to the true summit. i clench buttocks, grit teeth, let go of the axe and take a photo. no standing room here for smiles and hand shakes. I turn around, bugger i had forgotten that i now had to do this backwards to go down again.
Mr Crampon who ever you are i truly thank you. Point both your feet, and now imagine walking down a slope that necessitates walking like this. what ever you do dont lean forward, at all, balance is everything. but your legs are tired and you quite fancy breakfast, and to possibly visit the toilet and not gymnastics at 6 in the morning.
Walk back in the hot sun, see airplanes flying below my feet. zig zag back and fore past long slashes of deep cravasses. stand on the edge, really, really on the edge and absorb the endless shades of blue flooding down the walls. The ice belongs to a devilish underworld and I leap to the other side.
Checked out the ice wall from earlier, try to make it look hard in my mind, but in daylight it looks a doddle. took a photo then deleted it.
Then it was over and the mountain went back to being just another pretty vista. I still dont know why people climb mountains, in retrospect it all seems very pointless and unpleasant but something in my heads tells me I enjoyed it. What actually "it" is I dont know.
posted by Richard at
8:27 pm
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