El Misti

One of the highlights of this trip (and my life) that I´ve not yet described was climbing El Misti, an 18000 ft mountain on the outskirts of Arequipa. (thats three Mt. Washingtons, or 3.5 Denvers)

We found a decent guide (but not porters!) in town, and headed out early in the morning for a long day of hiking. Our companions were pretty good folks, a brit, a french couple and a dutch guy who all had less mountaineering experience than either ben or myself, which was quite reassuring. We drove through town, up past the smoldering dump and to the highest point our 4x4 would go before finalizing our packing and hitting the road. Bens rented pack was falling apart, but our trusty guide managed to sew it up with dental floss and it actually held. The intial hike took us up about to 14000 ft, where the air became noticeably thinner even as the view became more amazing. Arequipa was spread out below us, canyons and rivers flowing into the city and beyond, and we could see ourselves growing increasingly paralell to other snow capped ranges and even barely make out a volcano (ampato?) lazily smoking in the distance. We made it to camp just before sunset, which seemed to light up the whole of southern peru in light golden and pink shades. Dinner was a meager chicken soup, but warm and delicious enough to feel filling and we attempted to sleep in spite of it being only 6pm.

Slept a bit, and woke up at 1am to our guide offering us a breakfast of coca mate tea and some bread and cheese. (summiting montains needs to be done in the morning to avoid being trapped mountaintop in afternoon storms) The stars were magnificent, the milky way was clear and bright, and all the millions of southern hemisphere constellations both comforting and confusing in their unfamiliarity. Arequipa lay sleeping below us, surprisingly large and spread out over the valley, the lights twinkling and bright yet so distant from our perch on the mountain. The climbing was even slower going when we hit the trail at 130 or 2, climbing over boulders was one thing, but the sand and volcanic ash was even worse. One step forward and a half step sliding back in the sand, but the air was almost impossible to breathe. We were hiking by headlamp light only, though it was possible to see by the stars. My lungs ached with each breath, and every ten steps we needed to rest for a few. Oh, did I mention the wind and the freezing cold negative degree temperatures? Thank god I had borrowed some gloves, not to mention wearing three jackets and two layers of long underwear. My mouth and throat were completely dry from the altitude and dryness, and drinking water was a chore given its frozen state and the fact thta it required removing gloves and such. Our guide of course, was practically jogging up the thing, carrying a transister radio to tune in local stations and listen to the big Copa de Americas soccer games.

We pushed on, approaching the snow at the top and the french woman had to turn back. The sun arose at 630 or so, lighting our path and creating an astonishing sunrise but hardly warming us. Because it was still behind the mountain, the sun created an enormous mountain shaped shadow stretching behind us and over arequipa. Every time we looked up the summit seemed the same distance. Our breaks grew more frequent, heads were pounding with altitude sickness, each step seemed like it would wind us. Finally we somehow reached the saddle below the summit, and rested for a while as we attempted to catch our breath. The summit was another forty five minutes, and only the french guy and I were able to have the random luck of not being burdened with altitude poisining. The feeling of summiting though was incredible, and adrenaline got me through the last half an hour. Ten o´clock in the morning and we were 18000 ft above the world, yet standing on it. I somehow expected I would feel like I would in an airplane, but it really was completely different and absolutely exhilerating. I shook hands with the frenchman, and lamented the fact that my camera was still in our hotel. Still, there was something nice about having it only as a memory. I did ask the frenchman about his mountaineering experience, and he said he had never been in the mountains before (and did I mention that he smoked the whole way up?). The downward trek was far faster, getting to base camp in about an hour and a half I literally laid down on a pile of rocks and fell asleep. I woke up about forty five minutes later, still out of breath from the altitude but absolutely feeling incredible. Chatted with the guide on the remaining hike, which was mostly just sliding down sand and volcanic ash. He was a pretty interesting guy, used to be a miner and now leads gringos up and down enormous mountains 3 or 4 times a week. Insane that such a triumphant day for me is essentially another day at the office for him!

Back to Arequipa for an enormous steak dinner and slept the sleep of the just.