NHESP 2011 Update 10

The mountains!

Quote of the week: “We made it! We all made it!”

¡Buenos días! Although I started writing this update whilst snuggled in the foothills of giant Cotopaxi, I now finish it at our warm home here in Palugo. However, rewinding a bit to so as to recount the past two weeks and our final adventure together, I will commence this update by saying that we all departed from Palugo on November 11—mountain-bound and giddy with the prospect of travel. Although it rained for the latter part of the day (a tradition of our group it seems), we enjoyed a treat toward the end of our rain-soaked journey: three liters of warm, fresh milk. As we had no conventional manner with which to compensate the kind and slightly surprised dairy farmers who we had stumbled on, we each traded them one square of the chocolate bar we had been given to last us through the expedition—a worthy and much appreciated trade.

            After drinking our fill of milk, we continued on our way, finally coming to rest for the evening in a small valley nestled in the heart of the mountains with the cool rush of a river by its side. We set up a tarp for sleeping and began dinner preparations just as the sun was bidding farewell behind the solemn mountaintops. That night, in spite of wet, icy feet and tired bodies, we were consumed with happiness over the start of a new adventure; singing to welcome the cool, starlit night and to bless the first meal of our journey.

            The following morning, after packing our temporary home into our backpacks, we realized that the only way to start our day’s trek was to cross the river whose waters were swollen with the previous day’s rain. Although many of us were able to cross it without a problem or were blessed with the magic of rubber boots, others, myself included, were not as lucky and, for the rest of the day, had our very own rivers lining the bottom of our mountaineering boots. However, we set off into the mountains, climbing up and up into the sturdy, sparse plants of the paramo (steppe); abandoning the strong eucalyptus and wise pines for hearty wildflowers and tufts of paramo grass.

            As the day wore on, to our disappointment, the first chilling raindrops began to fall. A storm came on us whose strength was such that we were forced to set up a tarp just to eat lunch. Furthermore, our next camping destination was still some distance away, and thus we were faced with a tough decision: turn back and camp under the shelter of the trees we had passed hours ago or continue on and make camp in the dark? After much discussion (something our group is very good at) while finishing our last bits of Isa’s delicious sourdough bread, we decided to find a middle ground, so to speak, and trek as far as we could toward our desired campsite of the night, and should it grow too late to reach the lake at which were supposed to camp, we would drop down into one of the valleys along the way and spend the night there. To our chagrin, this plan turned into a push all the way to lake; navigating through the night with the wind whipping around our bodies as we traveled up and down the rocky rises and dips of the ridge that would eventually bring us to our next home.

           
      We made camp at eleven o’clock that night after facing one of the most difficult experiences on the paramo in the semester. Nevertheless, we rose early the next day and set out to spend the day trekking once more; each day bringing us closer and closer to our goal: Antisana (the fourth highest volcano in Ecuador at 18,875 feet). That day, we were again graced with the peculiar weather patterns of the paramo: a beautiful morning beneath the sun’s revitalizing rays followed by an afternoon of precipitation. This particular day our afternoon precipitation consisted of thunder and lightening so intense and so close to where we were that we were forced into the lightening pose; all of us spread out, huddling close to our backpacks as it began to hail. Thankfully, the lightening did not last long, and we were able to continue on our way; the hail slowly switching to soft, fluffy snowflakes that clung to our hair and clothing as we traveled on.

            That night we were once more faced with the decision of pushing on or making camp early and, because of the challenge of the previous night, we decided to camp high up in the mountains, clearing an area of snow to set up our tarp and enjoying a dinner of hot, buttery soup that would keep us warm through the cold night ahead. The following morning, Ezra, Clayton, Robert, and I all experienced the punishment for wet mountaineering boots—our boots had frozen stiff during the cold night. We forced our boots onto our cold feet and set off for our final day of trekking toward Antisana, energizing our bodies for the journey ahead with flat bread that Clayton and Hytham had been kind enough to make the previous night.

            We reached the base of Antisana around noon, each of us reveling in the sheer magnificence of the mountain—the icy white of its glacier stretching for miles upward, touching the sky at its very tip, the rocky moraine of its center, and the tough grasses of its roots, which is where we established our base camp. We spent the remainder of the day making a home for ourselves at Antisana’s base, complete with a tent for all of our new mountaineering gear (crampons, gators, helmets, ice axes, and harnesses) as well as a chozon in which a stove was installed, a luxury we certainly all appreciated. After creating our home, we were given the mountaineering gear we would be using for glacier school the following day, each of us acquiring a set of crampons, three carabineers (one locking, two non-locking), a climbing harness, a helmet, an ice axe, and a pair of gators. Along with all of our exciting new gear, we had a new addition to our group, David, a friend of Marcea and Thomas’s and fellow mountaineer who would be teaching us how to properly use our gear and navigate the glacier.

            The next morning we voyaged up the mountain to attend glacier school, learning how to use all the fancy new gear we had received the previous day. We set up moraine camp about an hour’s walk from the glacier’s tip and, after securing our tents, departed for the glacier. That day we learned the various steps one must use when equipped with crampons: the ducky (with feet turned out), the side step, the French style (side stepping while crossing one foot over the other), the half-ducky (with one foot pointed out), and front-pointing (the manner in which one maneuvers up a vertical, only using the front few points of the crampons).We spent the day digging the points of our crampons into the ice of the glacier; even dancing in our crampons, as instructed by David, so as to become completely confident in our crampons. By the day’s end, we were so enchanted and in love with all that is possible on the glacier that we thoroughly looked forward to Cotopaxi.

            The following day we rose early for another day of fun on the glacier. The focus of this day was learning how to be properly roped in and maneuver in a rope team, a skill that we would need for our climb up Cotopaxi. We used all the various knots we had learned throughout the semester—the fisherman, the prussic, the Munter hitch, and others—so as to properly secure ourselves to our harnesses as well as to our friends who would be climbing with us. In addition, we learned how to self-arrest, which is the technique of being able to stop oneself from sliding down a glacier by thrusting one’s ice axe into the ice. It can also be used to save an entire rope team should someone fall into a crevasse. As serious of a technique as self-arresting is, learning it was the part of glacier school we all enjoyed the most: throwing ourselves down the glacier on our bellies and backs, headfirst and feet-first and then jamming the point of the ice axe into the snowpack over and over again.

            We concluded our time on Antisana’s glacier by voyaging partially up the mountain, each of us connected in groups of three or four in a rope team. We traveled up the glacier’s icy expanse, stomping our crampons into the ice with each step while our confidence and love of ice climbing soared. Eventually however, we had to set off down the mountain to pack up camp, picking our through the unstable rock and rich volcanic sand of the moraine. After once more packing our home into our packs, we departed from moraine camp to spend another two nights at base camp, resting and rejuvenating our minds and bodies from the previous week and preparing ourselves for our group solo and the road ahead.

            Soon we were on our way once more on our group solo: a strong, powerful community facing the intensity of the paramo together as one. The following three days we took it easy, trekking each day, yet having time to absorb the day as well as the time spent with one another. We continued to set up a tarp each night, although we also had two tents in our possession, which led to a few nights with seven people crammed into a four-person tent—certainly cozy to say the least. During our solo, each of us stepped up as a community member, whether splitting wood with a machete, preparing dinner, digging a poop hole, or making sure the tarp setup was sturdy and comfortable. By the end of the group solo, we each knew what needed to be done to create not just a temporary dwelling for ourselves but a home.

            We rejoined with Thomas, Marcea, and David on the fourth day and continued on our way toward Cotopaxi, experiencing what it was like navigating through the colorful volcanic sand that makes up Cotopaxi’s roots. Up and down we went, ridge after never-ending ridge, sliding and sinking our way through sand and rock until finally reaching a suitable campsite for the night. How disconcerting it was, as many of us remarked, to be both sandy and icy simultaneously—reminiscent of the river trip, yet freezing rather than boiling.

            The following morning we set off again, sand in our boots and sleeping bags, but excited for the prospect of a short trek to Cara Sur. Cara Sur is a lodge owned by Shiram’s (a Kroka NHESP alumnus) father at the base of Cotopaxi. The lodge is complete with hot showers, a kitchen, bunk beds, and even a living room. We arrived to the warm hospitality of Cara Sur at noon, able to relax for a time after the intensity and constant movement of the past week or so, as well as prepare ourselves mentally for climbing up Cotopaxi the next night. In addition, we were delighted to enjoy a few meals that were not composed of quinoa, oatmeal, arroz de cebada, peanut butter and jam, or salami and cheese, which had been our staple foods throughout the expedition.

            Although we had planned to depart from Cara Sur at one o’clock the next day, once more the weather of the paramo frowned on us and hit Cotopaxi with a thunderstorm. This posed somewhat of a problem as we had originally decided to climb Cotopaxi a day early (that night). After much debate, we concluded that it was best to wait at the lodge the remainder of the day, rather than risk our gear getting soaked through, recharge ourselves a bit more, and depart for high camp and Cotopaxi the following day. Not only was the option better weather-wise, but it also gave us the long overdue opportunity to brush up on our cooking skills. David taught Zoe his grandmother’s method of perfectly popped popcorn; Kestrel provided us with warm, delicious tea throughout the course of the day; Hila and Leo worked hard to properly cut meat up for dinner; Leah aided Ezra in his caramelized cabbage; and, in the end, despite a delectable dinner, we were still hungry. And thus came second dinner—the brainchild of Noah, Hytham, and Ezra, who created a giant pot of mashed potatoes as well as some creamy quinoa. Finally, with sated appetites and satisfied bellies we went off to bed, which would be our last full night of sleep before the climb.

            The next morning our dear Thomas turned 31, which, as is customary for an event this special, was a call for more delicious food. Thanks to Adella, we were able to enjoy Thomas’s favorite breakfast treat: llapangachos, which are traditional Ecuadorian potato pancakes served with fresh, seasoned onions, tomatoes, and avocados. We followed up with a chocolate-beet birthday cake created by Hannah with a manjar (dulce de leche) and coconut frosting conjured up by our fantastic kitchen manager Isa. It was a birthday celebration we will never forget.

            At the conclusion of our breakfast feast and after some cleaning up of Cara Sur, we left for high camp at Cotopaxi. On our way up, we faced yet another snowstorm—the wind whipping snowflakes at our faces with such a force that our noses were nearly numb by the end of our journey to high camp. We ate an early dinner that night, prayed for the weather to clear, and headed off to bed to get what little sleep we could before departing for Cotopaxi at eleven o’clock that night.

            To our delight, the weather could not have been better: a clear sky shining with the energy of all the stars the night could offer us, lifting our spirits and hearts upwards as we ascended the peak. We split into rope teams with Thomas leading Nelly, Leah, and me; David with Noah, Hila, and Zoe; Hannah with Clayton and Hytham; Marcea with Kestrel, Isa, and Ezra; and Roberto with Robert and Leo. Never before throughout the entirety of the semester had we experienced something quite as intense, as powerful as the climb up Cotopaxi—pushing our bodies past feelings of fatigue and exhaustion to another place. It was a place in which we could revel in the sunrise of blue, gold, and pink as we rested for a moment on the mountainside, a place that we could enjoy and grow from the challenges that Cotopaxi offered us both physically and mentally. In the end, we all made it the top of Cotopaxi, a feat that we had been dreaming of since the start of the semester. We are each thankful for every previous semester, paving the way and thus allowing us to finally be the first semester to have every single member of our amazing, beautiful community to summit Cotopaxi.

            As happy and in awe as we were of the entire climb, half of our journey was still not yet complete: We had to voyage back down the mountain. Quickly, as to avoid the sun’s capacity to melt the ice and snow, we shimmied back into our harnesses, roped ourselves in, picked up our ice axes and proceeded to complete our Cotopaxi climb. However, descending Cotopaxi was harder than we had imagined, for with each few steps, large snowballs accumulated in our crampons, consequently causing us to repeatedly having to smack the snow out of our crampons with our ice axes. This resulted in a lot of slipping, sliding, and falling down in the snow on our part, though, luckily, as annoying and troublesome as the snowball-crampons were, everyone arrived at the glacier’s end safely and happily—a journey completed; a journey completed together.

            Although we were done with the actual summiting of Cotopaxi, on our return to high camp, there was still quite a bit of work to be done. Clayton and Leo spearheaded the collection and organization of everyone’s mountaineering gear while Ezra, Zoe, Hila, Leah, and Kestrel took down the tents, and Isa attended to the dirty dishes left over from our midnight breakfast. Normally, such tasks would not have been too difficult, but running on about three hours of sleep and after having climbed a mountain, all of us were a bit out of it with exhaustion. Eventually, high camp was deconstructed, and we made our way back to Cara Sur and, from there, back to Palugo.

            The mountain expedition . . . there are, in many ways, no sufficient words or means of describing such a powerful, crazy, beautiful experience. Through it, we each came closer to ourselves, growing as individuals; we came closer to each other, growing as a community. Now being back at Palugo, there is a certain groundedness, a centered feeling to our lives that was not there before and had only been birthed as a result of the challenges faced throughout our last expedition together as a group. We now know what each of us is capable of, our weaknesses and strengths, and we used both to do something great—something that had existed previously only in our dreams: summit a mountain. To quote Hytham “when you reach the top of a mountain, so much more is visible than it was before; so many doors are opened.”

Antisana Poem

 by Leo

Right in the midst of this arid grassland,

A mountain that’s covered in glacier stands.

The ice and the snow make up beautiful form.

I know underneath them it is so very warm.

And thus are my thoughts as I climb the ice higher,

That not far below me lies a pit full of fire.

Oh what a contrast, between unbearable cold, and fiery heat, of which cannot be told.

It’s a powerful Goddess, who’s slumber is deep.

                                              But low and behold if she wakes from her sleep.

Candid and not so candid photos of the effects of mountain living: 

Messages:

To any Schnetzels it may concern: You are more than welcome to come to graduation. I would be honored and excited to see you.—Nelly

Hey it’s Isabelle,

Hope everything is well. If you get the chance to write a letter, could you please tell me how Fiona is doing? She has been in my thoughts the last couple of days. Thanks.—Isabelle