Chachani 2

Saturday, October 25th, 2008

Day 118 on The Big Trip. “Climb The Mountain”

FORENOTE: I know it’s not my mom’s birthday quite yet, but I have a personal tradition of racing everyone else to wishing anyone in my family a happy birthday. As such, I am declaring a happy birthday for my mom right now (or rather, on the 25th from the summit of Nevado Chachani, 6075+m) in typical mom fashion: with a Halloween mask purchased the day before near the mercado in Arequipa. Watch the vlog below for the video log (vlog) that includes a brief Happy Birthday to Terri Ann Bourke, my mom and my provider. Mom: I hope teaching and studying and living it up in CA are all going as well as I expect they are for you! Come visit me in Chile! Also: for birthday presents for you, I hope to get 1) a good laugh for you with the Vlog and the picture up top that you inspired, and 2) a better president.


IT IS DARK out. I hear good morning in Spanish. It’s 2am and it’s time to get the day started. We have a lot of ground to cover to wind our way upwards and aroundwards from 5400 meters to over 6075m. Breakfast is bread and marmelada of the strawberry ilk, no milk. We chug water. I look for more layers of clothes to put on but remember that I wore all of my layers to bed. My hair could house a flock of flamingos and maybe even a lake if I took off this hat. For the warmth it provides I won’t lose this hat, though. Headlamps wrap around our hats and hefty shoes and boots are strapped up as we finish the meager breakfast and know that what awaits us is no joke. It’s a dream!

THANK YOU to the mice, and thank you to the air that turns your hot chocolate into a chilly cylinder of sweetness. For without the pair of you, I would have slept last night before the push for the summit! But you were there when I was tempted to close my eyes, relax and sleep! You were there making sure I didn’t overdo my 2 hour quota of dreaming!

VISIBILITY is low but we can tell that the slippery one-foot-wide path that we make as we go has consequences if it isn’t followed. Namely, a rumble-tumble down Ouch Lane. So our headlamps focus on the cool and unusual mode of stepping that we soon get used to: cautious steps made that are soon in another location than they where originally placed. As we come over the cross or dip in between peaks we can see the glimmering, seemingly flickering fingerprint of Arequipa’s streets formed by the street lights and fanned by the houses with people awake at 4:30 in the morning. Is it already that late? A cool picture shows Arequipa’s electricity hotspots in the distance, and a batter-powered headlamp close-up. It’s nice to be awake and high up when few people are awake and few people are high up. To contemplate this nicety, we stop to hydrate and snack as our lungs contemplate confusion. Where’s all the oxygen?

OXYGEN, on again, off again. Breathing comes in waves. The 5am sun is lurching through the oxygen-less air, but can’t quite strike us thanks to the many peaks around us that are now seen hanging out with pink and color-waving halos.

SNOW, ice, and sand seem to be the obstacles on this climb! We navigate these immediate traffic challenges with the likes of headaches and respiration road blocks and detours. Meanwhile, nearby El Misti (5700+m) seems to be bowing down to us as we approach 5800, now 5900. I go to the bathroom at 5900m. That makes me laugh. The guide and I chug through a patch of snow as Alisa snaps a picture with Mark.

CROSSING El Angel (not Angel Hair like the pasta we had for dinner) and Fatima offers ups and downs in breathing and in temperatures. It’s nice having a winding, changing view and a new set of physical points as goals during the trek eventually leading to Chachani’s summit, teasing us from criss-crossy, disappearing footpaths.

CHUTES and no ladders seems to be the name of the game with this climb. We slip our way up slopes of sand, some winding to make the path easier but longer, and others just straight up. I find myself leaning on trekking poles more than I expected! I used to scoff at the use of these sticks.

CHACHANI comes into view. Also in the distant periphery looms Ampato, a snow-capped mountain and the closer pair, Picchu Picchu. The views are just stunning. But we must keep moving. The sun is about to pin us down for the count! We must reach the summit! I can almost taste it!

THE GUIDE that I’ve been following as closely as possible this entire hike stops a few yards ahead of me. As I almost catch up to him, he tells me in Spanish that there are only 10 more minutes to the real summit. Looking back, I realize that he was taking a rest for everyone to join him for the final push. That rest was not for me. My heart was playing a beat in my head from my favorite Michael Jackson song. I think my heart was waiting for this very altitude to have the right timing to test out the bass for the song. Anyhow, if I’m going to pass out I’d like to do so at the summit after seeing the view and feeling the sense of accomplishment that accompanies sending a climb. I would not prefer to pass out 10 minutes from the top. Why would I?

I KEEP GOING, busting out a move to the top. I feel like I’m on an escalator. I’m not skiing, that’s for sure. I’m going up. Or am I? My feet are being placed one in front of the other. They’re definitely being patient and taking turns. No, I guess I’m walking. Breathing is full of noise and empty of reward. But I keep doing it anyway. 6075+m, here I come!

I CRACK OPEN a few pictures at the top. I’m not sure champagne would be a good idea. Claro (Of course)! Then I remember who has carried the daypack with all of the water and electrolytes and snacks all the way up to the top. I remember that it’s the same person who left Alisa behind a good 10 minutes: ME!

SO I SPRINT back down the mountain into the ocean and sip a gin and tonic on a hammock near my surfboard while listening to monkeys playing bongo drums. Or, I walk slowly but surely and dutifully back down to Alisa to offer her a drink. She’s nearing the top. She says she’ll drink when she gets to the top. I walk a little faster up beside her to take a cool, hip, family holiday postcard picture. Then I join her at the top, only to find that she’s lying down by the daypack. I coax her into sitting up and hydrating since I’m positively positive that we’re negatively influenced by dehydration. I don’t have my World Book Enclyclopedia set with me, so I just assume I’m that smart. Drink up, Alisa! After we relax and gaulk at the wonderful vistas, I have Mark film our Vlog entry slash birthday message to mom that I pasted at the top of this post. Then I have Alisa snap continuous photos of me with the mask on as I go through the motions of a heel-click on top of Chachani with El Misti in the background. I still laugh every time I look at it since it’s now my computer desktop/background image. What will it be next? We’ll have to wait to be in Chile to see!

TIMESTAMPS on digital photographs are awesome. You can plot when you did what and how long it took you to do certain things. For instance, thanks to timestamps I know that we left base camp at approximately 2:50am. I know that I arrived at the top just before 7:20am, meaning that it took me about 4 ½ hours. The guide tells us that 40% of the people who try this climb don’t even summit! One website says the average time for summiting is 6-8 hours; the brochure said 5-6. In other words, I’m happy with 4 ½. Alisa and Mark and the guide showed up 10 minutes later, giving them practically the same ascent time and still under 5 hours! Wow! We were cruising!

DESCENDING is great. You can breathe again. You can rest and rehydrate. You can run and jog-slide down the sandy hills that you so painfully winded your way up. The only con about going down them is that you get a mouthful of sandcloud if you run down too closely behind someone else! Oops!

THE VIEWS once masked by midnight’s leftovers are fully visible and clouds are playing hide’n’go’seek with us, leaving us be with the views! We leave the summit at 8:00am. After saying goodbye to Chachani’s summit views, we watch El Misti stand up and we curve around Fatima and Angel. The snowy, icy rows and columns we trekked through on the way up are softer now and warrant more caution since they are less attached to the ground and could give way easier. I’m just soaking in the experience at this point. I’m loving it. I’m exhausted. I’m paparazzi. I must have taken 100 pictures of Alisa or the three others from behind them. I stop, take pictures, then catch up! I feel strong except for my nagging headache that I can’t wait to literally drown out with liquids.

MERELY 10:30am and we are entering base camp. It feels like it’s been more than just a morning on this mountain. We are basically live-dreaming about showers, full meals, beds, lower elevations, and returning to comforts. The guide tries to phone the 4wd vehicle driver that got us here. Apparently he won’t be able to pick us up until 1pm. Oh my word. Can’t we just get back to Arequipa? Oh well. Our solution – our way of dealing with this – is to wait by resting in our tents. We shake out the rocks in our shoes and boots; sock-footed we lay down in our tents. Then I hear the tiny mice again and pop my head out of our tent to find a mouse running around the backpacks and boots.

POST-REST we pack up and hike down in the same jog and slide fashion 300m or so to the entrance sign for the reserve that Chachani resides in. There we sit and wait for our driver who is prompt. What a nice bumpy 2-hour ride back to the hostel. We eat mass quantities of delivered Chinese food, shower, and rest. What a full day! I’m glad we did Chachani.