Monday 26 November 2012

Climbing Volcan Cotopaxi



COUNTRY: Ecuador
PROGRAM: GapBreak
PROJECT: Teaching & Care Work
WRITTEN BY: Ben Jacobs

The first stage of climbing a mountain is simple- deciding whether or not to climb it.

Volcan Cotopaxi is one of the most illustrious mountains in Ecuador, and indeed the Andes mountain range. Its stunning scenery in the surrounding national park attracting tourists from all over the continent. But only some attempt to climb it. Some locals told us only professionals attempt it due to its danger; whereas online resources told us it was physically and mentally demanding, but do-able. A challenge? Undoubtedly. Out of our comfort zone? Maybe. But did that attract it to us? Yes, yes it did. So the decision was made.

Unfortunately, my roommate Adrian broke his finger in the Amazon a couple of weeks before the climb, and doctors said he wouldn't be able to climb. So it was myself (Ben), Paul, Bettina, and Tarek who would attempt the climb. I am an 18 year old Australian with no climbing experience whatsoever, average physical fitness and no exposure to any significant altitudes. Paul, my other roommate, is a very physically fit 20 year old Australian with a wealth of rock climbing and canyoning experience.

He climbed Mt Pichincha few weeks ago, is very adventure-oriented, and makes difficult physical activities (such as climbing a 20ft tree in the Amazon) look like a piece of cake. Bettina and Tarek are two 19 year olds we met volunteering here in Quito. They are from Switzerland and Germany respectively, have both climbed smaller mountains in Europe, and Bettina also has significant experience at high altitudes.

The climb is a two day process. I shall detail both days individually below:

Saturday- Preparation

Woke up 7.30am, breakfast of pancakes and granola (all for the energy for the night climb). Our guide for climbing arrived at about 9am, he said he'd just come from the summit of Cotopaxi at 5.30am, the man he brought up had to be carried down by an emergency evacuation team after collapsing. The guide's name is Lobo- Spanish for Wolf- and his appearance matched his name. A physically imposing early-30's Ecuadorian with 15 years experience climbing Cotopaxi, who needs Bear Grylls when we had Wolf? We were told he spoke quite good English. I asked what the weather that night would be like, and he replied with "Yes, certainly, Cotopaxi is big mountain." Perfect. So we got fitted up in all the gear and headed for Parque Nacional Cotopaxi.

We drove to the 'carpark' at about 4500m, then trekked a steep 200m or so to the base camp. We had all our bags and gear with us, and the walk up was hard and took me about an hour and a half (Paul did it in 45 mins, Bettina and Tarek took just over an hour).

We had a hearty lunch of sopa y pan (soup and bread) and got ready for the practice glacier climb in the afternoon that we knew was standard procedure before the night climb. Lobo was playing cards, and told us to not worry about practicing, just acclimatise in the base camp. The 4 of us exchanged anxious looks to each other, then shrugged and joined in playing cards, while talking about what our will would be like if we died. Lobo told us of the 13 people that died on Easter Sunday in 1996, and of more recent deaths and injuries. We discussed prospects of getting to the top. Lobo told us 1 in 3 people don't make it due to weather/conditions stopping them. And 1 in 3 people don't make it due to sickness. And of the 1 in 3 people that do make it to the summit, 9 out of 10 of them have had significant climbing practice at similar altitudes. I've had none. I knew it was highly likely I wouldn't make it (I knew and accepted this already) so my goal was to go as far as I possibly could, maybe seeing the sun rise from midway up the mountain. Paul was determined to reach the summit (it was pretty clear he could do it) and Bettina and Tarek both thought they could, and I agreed with them, although they were maybe being a little optimistic.



Dinner was at 5.30pm. We were given a huge portion soup for starters, then as the pasta and chicken was brought to us Lobo held it above our heads and refused to put it down until we finished the soup. "YOU ARE TO NEED ENERGY TONIGHT!" he told us. We finished at 6pm and went to sleep. Sorry, let me rephrase that. We went to bed. Not to sleep. We were struggling to breathe, and the altitude (4700m) coupled with the anxiousness meant it was impossible to sleep. The room had about 25 bunk beds side by side, no gaps, with a thin mat on top and no pillows. Looked like army bunks. I lay there for 5 hours, staring at the roof while thinking about exactly the same thing as the other 50 people in the room. Most climbers get up at 11pm or 12am and leave at 12am or 1am, depending on what the guide told you. This allows time to reach the summit to watch the sun rise. 3 people wearing matching uniforms got up at 10pm and left at 11pm. Lobo told us he had never seen that before and was very confused by them. Anyway, we got up at 11pm and got dressed.


I had on 2 pairs of underwear, thermal pants, trackpants, climbing pants with suspenders. 2 pairs of socks, climbing shoes inside mountain shoes (yes, shoes inside shoes), crampons, thermal top, thick jumper, and raincoat. Gloves inside thick mitten things, neck warmer, and beanie underneath helmet. Harness, carabiners, head torch. Packed my backpack with water, powerade, snickers bar, gum, lollipop. Hooked ice pick (axe kinda thing) and rope to myself. Took a gastrostop so I wouldn't need to poo on the mountain. We were given tea, biscuits and granola as a snack just before we left. None of us ate a thing.

We looked at the clock on the wall. Midnight. Time to begin.

Sunday: The Climb

Try and remember the worst headache you've ever had. Double it. The thin air and temperature condenses your head so your skull is pushing in against your brain. Worst stomach ache? Double it. Throbbing ears. Chesty cough, like razor blades as it slices up through your throat. Now step outside into -10 degrees. Its pitch black. What's the coldest you've ever been? What's the hottest? This is both at once. Ever tried breathing through a straw while holding your nose? Try it. Ask yourself "Why are you doing this?". Actually no, don't ask. Because you know you don't have an answer. Look around, no one is speaking. Anxious faces. Frightened eyes. Now try and climb a mountain.

12.05am, 4810m - Lobo tells us weather conditions were absolutely perfect. Delighted that he wouldn't be part of the 1 in 3 people who don't make it due to weather, Paul confidently shouts "Let's climb this bloody thing!", thrusts his ice pick into the air, and walks in behind Lobo, who would be leading the way in a single file line. I slot in behind Paul, Bettina behind me, Tarek behind her, and a second guide- Christian- at the back.

The first hour we continue in this single file line, zig-zagging up through steep dirt and rubble at a consistent, but relatively slow pace. Each step forward you slide half a step back, there's no grip at this point. Lobo continuously emphasizes "Please, check the energy, check the energy. We need for death zone." Technically speaking, an actual death zone is where the brain isn't receiving enough oxygen to survive. You find this on mountains such as Everest or K2. Cotopaxi doesn't have a death zone, but the guides regard the 5700m mark as 'Cotopaxi's death zone', where the altitude and difficulty usually become too much to handle. The summit is 5897m. Paul, Bettina and Tarek are fine; I'm struggling to breath, coughing, my stomach was disgustingly painful to the point where I would've given anything to vomit, just to relieve some of the pain. The silence was deafeningly painful. "Why are you doing this?" Again, you don't answer. Because you can't answer.

1.00am, 4920m - We stopped for our first break, 5 minutes.

This was the start of the snow. We put our metal crampons on our boots for extra grip. This is the point teams have to split up. Lobo would go up with 2 of us, Christian (the other guide) with the other 2. Each team of 3 people would be tied together with rope. They told me if I wanted to go back down now I could go by myself, but from this point on if I chose to go back (or they deemed me too unwell to continue, which they made very clear they would have no hesitation in doing) then whoever I was tied with would have to go down too, even if they were fine to continue. The only other option would be if we passed people going down- I could join them. I knew the only people ahead were the 3 uniformed people I mentioned earlier who left early, but they were only an hour ahead and it would be a while before they came down. I looked down and could still see the base camp in the distance. There was nothing stopping me going back now. I knew it was selfish, but I said I wanted to continue.

Paul was undoubtedly the fittest so the guides wanted to pair him with Bettina or Tarek, with the other one going with me. I looked around, and could see in their faces no one wanted to go with me. Rightly so, I wouldn't want to be held back by someone else either. Lobo said Bettina had the better altitude experience, so recommended Tarek to go with me. It was deadly silent, very awkward. Tarek then said it was fine, but his eyes told a different story. Paul then says "Na man I'll go with Ben, we'll be sweet, you two go together." I couldn't believe it. This was Paul's dream, and I felt sick to the stomach because I knew that unless we got lucky and found a group on the way up or down, Paul would have to go down when I couldn't continue. He's not stupid, he knew this. He wanted the others to go on. It was incredibly kind of him. Bettina and Tarek roped themselves to Christian and set off at a quick pace. They were out of sight within 10 minutes. We got the Wolf.

1.05am - Wolf up front, with a rope attaching me a couple of meters behind him, and Paul a couple of meters behind me. We continued at a very, very slow pace. Every minute or so I stopped for 10 seconds to catch my breath. It was better this way, I knew the slower we went, the further we'd end up, and the more chance there was of a group coming up behind us with a spare place for Paul. Lobo seemed patient when I stopped, but I sensed he was a little frustrated. Paul was fine, he loved looking around at the views. I was so concentrated on breathing and taking each step at a time that I hadn't bothered to look around. Above us was the clearest night sky I've ever seen. There were thousands of stars. Venus was visible, clearly brighter than the rest. Behind us was an orange electric storm, but it was below us. Seeing flashes of lightening BELOW you is quite surreal. There were icicles everywhere, deep crevasses, stunning snow and ice formations. In the far distance below us, just through the clouds, we saw the head torches of 2 more groups ascending. Time for a break.

2.00am - Break. Water. Powerade. Energy. I put in my iPod as a distraction, and sucked on a lollipop for the same reason.

2.03am- Climb. This was the process for the majority of the climb:
Ice pick in left hand, push into snow ahead. Count one. Two. Left foot forward. One. Two. Right foot forward. One. Two. Ice pick. 1,2. Left. 1,2. Right. 1,2. Repeat. The iPod was serving its purpose. We were climbing at my pace, slow. I was starting to enjoy the climb. Or at least I was forcing myself to. I told myself I was fine, I told myself this was fun, I told myself I could go another hour, I had to. The power of the mind is a funny thing.

2.47am, 5300m- We stop for a 2 minute break, but this time it was Lobo's idea, not mine. "300m deep crevasse ice bridge." Lobo says. What does this mean? He calmly explains that we would have to sprint up for the next 20 seconds, because if we walked the natural ice bridge would break and we would plummet to our deaths. If he made it through and the bridge broke with myself and Paul falling, we had only a piece of rope and the power of the guide to try and pull us up, and there's only so much a wolf can do. We ran, we made it. It took a hell of a lot of energy out of us. A 20 meter sprint at this altitude is very, very tough. We asked Lobo if that's the scariest/most dangerous thing we would have to do.

He found it a very amusing question. 10 minutes later, we could see why. We had to climb round the side of an ice boulder on a 20cm wide snow ledge, with a sheer drop on our left, of which you couldn't see the bottom. Paul liked it, and asked how far down it went. Again, Lobo laughed, and said it didn't matter because you'd be dead before you reached the bottom. Now Paul loved it. Climbing a mountain evokes a lot of thoughts, emotions, and feelings. 'Scared' could not fit into any of those categories. We couldn't, wouldn't, and didn't allow it to. Once more, "Why are you doing this?" Just laugh, there's still no answer.

Another crevasse. 5th ice bridge of the night. Lobo's head torch fell. Paul and I knew if one of our head torches failed or was lost we would instantly have to go back. It was a non-negotiable rule. We didn't know what would happen if the guide's failed/fell though. Lobo clenched his teeth, Paul looked worried. Lobo got out his handheld radio, about to call down to base. He then had a sudden change of heart, put it away, and kept walking. We were seconds away from going back. Deep down, I wanted to have to go back due to the guide's error, or via his decision, not mine. I didn't want to be responsible for bringing Paul down. Even if I was too sick, I would wait for him to make me go down, him to male the final call, I wouldn't let myself turn back. I knew this would probably be around the death zone, so that was now my goal. That was a very commendable target, a lot higher than I thought I would get an hour or two ago. I would feel fulfilled if I got there. I had that goal in my sight.

3.15am, 5480m- We kept going at our very slow- but increasingly consistent- pace. After ascending yet another false summit, we saw something which I never expected to see, and it utterly shocked me. It was Bettina and Tarek. They looked as shocked to see me as I was to see them. Bettina was struggling. We overtook them. Slow and steady wins the race, ay?

3.19am - Lobo gets a call on his radio. It's Christian. They've had to turn back. Tarek is hugely disappointed. His dream is over. I don't know why, but it acted as motivation. We were doing it.

5600m - Ice pick. 1,2. Left. 1,2. Right. 1,2. Altitude. Lobo stressed again the need to save energy. He told us to count to 3 now instead of 2 between steps. Water. Powerade. 2 bites of snickers bar, frozen. Ice pick. 1,2,3. Left. 1,2,3. Right. 1,2,3. Repeat. Each step forward takes a lot of leg power, willpower, energy, breath. Each step brings you into thinner, colder air. You can't allow yourself to look up, you know you'll see an endless upward mountain. Stare down. Step by step. "Why are you doi-" Stop. Don't.

4.00am, 5700m, The Death Zone - Break. The summit is 5987m. I was incredibly proud of myself. 5700m is a huge effort. Lobo asked how I was. I lied, and said I was fine. I could tell he was close to making the call, but we'd come so far. I was determined now. When he turned away, I would gasp for air, crouched over, head spinning. My hands were purple and throbbing with agony, it was freezing. I felt my eyes close for half a second, I was slipping out of consciousness. I couldn't let Lobo see. Ice pick. 1,2,3. Left. 1,2,3. Right. 1,2,3. Repeat.

4.12am - This bit was tough. An 80 degree almost-vertical slope. Lobo said we were lucky, usually the wall is black ice which is very hard to grip, but there was an avalanche 3 days before which would give us slightly more grip. We asked if anyone was hurt. He smiled and moved forward. We had to shove the ice pick into the snow above us, dig our foot into the wall, heave ourselves up. My entire body was up in the wall, knees digging into snow trying to get more grip, knowing that if the axe came out, we'd all fall. The fall wouldn't kill us, but if we couldn't stop ourselves when it flattened out (when I say 'flattened out', I'm still talking about 55-60 degree angle slopes) we'd smash into a glacier, and there are hidden crevasses everywhere. It was physically exhausting. Completely draining.

I forgot that Paul was actually human too, and he was struggling. His fingers were killing him, throbbing feet, headache, freezing. Sore throat, thin air, huge effort to breath. And when Paul is agonising, you know it's for a reason. Lobo said (in slightly more broken English) "I don't care if you make it up this wall, if you don't have enough energy, finished, we go down immediately, impossible to go down with no energy, just as hard as going up, I not have emergency evacuation team again like yesterday. We can get to the top in 40 minutes, but this bit is the hardest. You have no choices now, I make the decisions. Are we clear?!" He seemed angry at us. His eyes were fiery. He'd been to the top hundreds of times, he couldn't care less if we went down now. He knew we were battling. And we were. "Why are you doing this?" This time I actually thought about it. The challenge? The experience? No, don't bother trying to answer. You can't.

4.30am, 5800m - 97 meters from the summit. Half an hour left. It was only now, at this point, did I know I had to do it. I had lied to myself the whole way up, setting stupid targets I knew would never be enough. I told myself before I started that if I got to this point I would let nothing hold me back. Paul's motto: 'Pain is temporary, pride is permanent' ran through my head. The summit was there, and we were going to reach it. We had to, we knew it. We've never been more determined for anything in our lives. The last 3 slopes were steep and tough, but pain was brushed aside. Our mental strength overcame our physical capabilities.


4.55am, 5867m, The Final Hurdle -
We could see the top. We'd passed so many false summits, but the one we looked up to now was it. I absolutely could not believe it. The summit. 5897 meters. 5 hours of hell, for 5 minutes of heaven. Adrenaline numbed the pain. For the final time, I asked myself, "Why are you doing this?" And as I heaved one foot in front of the other, for the final few arduous steps, I knew that the answer was about 10 meters away from me. I felt tears in my eyes. I looked behind me, Paul did too. We knew what we were about to see would probably be the most beautiful sight we have ever seen. It didn't disappoint.

No words or photos can do justice to what we saw. As we stepped onto the summit, there were about 6 others there. There was no need for words, although the language barrier wouldn't have allowed them anyway. They looked over to us, and the slight nod of the head and raise of their ice pick was congratulations enough. Unanimous silence and euphoria. We were 5897 meters high. Over a kilometer higher than the summit of Mt Blanc, Europe's highest mountain, and 2 meters higher than Africa's highest, Mt Kilimanjaro. Due to the bulge in the equator, we were about the same distance from the sun as the peak of Mt Everest. It was 5am, and there was a thin red line over the horizon. Just in time for sunrise. Miles below us was a sea of clouds, with various mountains protruding through the top. Lobo pointed to the right, he didn't need to tell us what it was. A mere few kilometers away, seemingly touching distance at this point, was the peak of Mt Chimborazo, the highest point on Earth. We were about 500 meters below its summit, but from where we were we seemed level.

We were on top of the world, in every sense of the word. Cotopaxi's enormous volcanic crater was right in front of us. The sun was rising second by second. The 3 uniformed people who had left early emerged from the other side, we now understood why they left early. It wasn't uniforms they were wearing, it was what appeared to be a commemorative army jacket. It was two men and a woman. All aged in their late 20's, and they were definitely all siblings. They removed an urn containing what I presumed to be a parents ashes, and together as one, they released them off the top of the mountain.

It was a touching moment, and the perfect setting. We later learnt that it was their father's ashes, who was a keen mountaineer who had died in a freak accident climbing Cotopaxi a few years before. The two sons and the daughter came to complete what their father had failed to do. Their guide brought them up free of charge, the staff knew the father. After they left, we took photos. Lobo showed a rare sign of positive emotion and congratulated us. He seemed genuinely surprised and pleased for us. We took in the scenery, and after 10 or 15 minutes at the top we headed down.

5.15am, The Descent - Apparently we needed sunglasses and suncream as the sun bounces off the whiteness of the mountain and leaves severe burns to most on the way down, but for some reason or another we had packed for the cold, not the heat. Lobo correctly informed us that 80% of climbing accidents happen on the way down. I could now see why. I had used literally every ounce of energy I possessed to go up.

I left nothing in the tank, every last bit of physical and mental energy put towards the climb had now evaporated into nothingness. I would say evaporated into the clouds, but we were above the clouds, so I guess I can't. Lobo was infuriated at me, understandably. If he knew this earlier, he wouldn't have let me go up. I knew that, and that's why I had to hide it from him. I was completely delusional, falling over constantly with zero motivation. Going up was my only thought for the previous few hours; going down hadn't even crossed my mind. Lobo was shouting at me, but his voice was a blur. I was out of breath, my head was throbbing, and my limbs gave up on me.

It was bright now, and going down Paul and I were gobsmacked by the actual steepness of the mountain. In pitch blackness you take it step by step, but now looking down and trying to grip on insanely steep (sometimes vertical) sections was extraordinarily difficult. Sprinting across the ice bridges almost killed me. I should have been looking at what stunning scenery was around me, and I did, but I hated every second of the descent. When the ice ended and we could un-rope ourselves, Lobo and Paul started foot-skiing down the mountain. I sat down, using a boulder in front of me to stop me tumbling down the mountain, and took out my powerade. It was frozen. My body then did what it had wanted to do for the last 6 hours. It shut down.

7.30am- I woke up in a daze, head spinning, bones aching. I started slowly making my way down to the base camp. I remember Lobo saying it was half an hour down from here, and i'm sure it should be, but it took me an hour and a half. I arrived back and Bettina, Tarek and Christian were there to greet me. They were all ecstatic, visibly surprised that I had made it.

9.00am- We went back to the hostel in Quilotoa at 3900m, which seemed like a heavenly altitude at this point. Paul and I politely asked if we could 'sit' on their couch for a few minutes. That was never going to happen. We slept.

5.15pm- We woke up, and got a free bus ride back to Quito. The other 10 people in the Antipodeans group coincidentally saw us on the bus at a traffic light a few streets from the terminal. We didn't see them, but they all came running after the bus. We got off and were very surprised to see them all run round the corner towards us. They didn't know how we went, but were thrilled for us anyway. Someone said, "Did you make it?" and all we needed to do was smile for them to know the answer. They were absolutely ecstatic, the kind of energy we forgot could even exist. Their support was quite simply fantastic. We went and got dinner together. We arrived home to our host family, who congratulated us on our success. They had told us not to attempt the climb, it was a stupid decision and very dangerous. I'm glad we ignored them.

Without a doubt the most challenging thing I have ever done in my life. Without a doubt the most rewarding. Paul described the ascent as being the most painful, petrifying, but proudest moment of his life. And his name is Paul, so the P theme works well. I had to agree with him. Antipodeans have opened the door for us all to undertake some truly unbelievable activities here in Ecuador, from the Amazon Forest to the Galapagos Islands. But for myself and Paul, Volcan Cotopaxi sticks out above the rest. Well, 5897m above the rest- to be precise.

4 comments:

  1. I'm out of breath just reading this. Well written and well done!
    Clare's Dad.

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  2. WOW, the strength (physical and mental) needed to do something like that is astonishing. Congratulations boys, very inspirational!

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  3. I attempt Cotopaxi in 6 weeks time and having read your blog I now have more questions than answers! My heart is racing! Brilliant reading though!

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  4. This is a really well written piece! I have plans to climb Cotopaxi in December. What company did you go through?

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