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Published: October 12th 2008
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Southeast from below Cirani
You can barely make out the path leading from 15,000 pass above Mina running near the stone enclosure. It's 6:30 a.m. Edison and Mario talking over by the camp fire. Twigs snap, fuel for the wood fire, and the hiss of the propane burner starts. Cups are getting rinsed with hot water for the next round of coffee and coco. After that night of water letting, I'm not altogether rested, but here's the day and I vow to be ready. Five minutes pass before I emerge from the tent.
Hot chocolate is ready, and I take a few tentative swigs.
There are Mario's mules, Vincente and Juanita, a hundred yards distant, munching on that course brome-like grass that populates this valley with its brow grey clumps. These mules, in contrast to the neighing donkeys I've heard in every village, seem almost unflappable, except for those pole bridges lined with mud and straw over the small streams where they can see below. That was causing me slight consternation as well. They've been on this drill before.
Edison comments on the frequency he has heard the zipper of my tent through the night, and I try to say in Spanish that my preocupation with hydration has ended. Sips are the order of the day on the way up
Snow remnant
Looking north as we proceed to Cirani and over the pass by Mt. Cirani.
But first, the body has some adjustments to make. At this altitude, it does not seem to appreciate the sweetness of the hot chocolate. The sensation of nausea coming on is one of those shared human experiences, and I've got just enough time to stumble over to another section of the stone enclosure to matter of factly puke. There's no need for pride on these treks, so afterwards I rejoin my companions. I say to Edison, "Do we have any of that chachacoma tea?" He's already got some steeping. The breakfast of rice, lentils, and skillet toasted bread tastes fine, but my intake is slight.
Edison asks after the state of my head ache. He’s been monitoring my level of altitude discomfort since we’ve started climbing in earnest after Mina. In spite of the stomach issue, things are feeling pretty good, and the headache is present, but not bad. I’ll be moving slow on the ascent, but I don’t think I’ll put myself in harms way.
Breakfast over, Edison and I are off. Mario will load up. Yesterday, I relinquished most of gear in my backpack. Today, I’ve turned over
Zoom southeast
A portion of the upland lake and path we took from Aho Mayo above Mina. my entire back pack, which Juanita will carry. It weighed all of 20 pounds, but I’m happy enough to be free of it for the day. Edison has commented on how much I’m carrying. This being the first time for such a trek, I explain, I brought a few too many clothes and loaded up on the “snacks.” I had sufficient snacks to feed me for a week, but the crackers would taste like cardboard by the end. I can hardly swallow them. The sweet graham cookies and chocolate coated sugar cookies are pretty darned good.
I now have time to appreciate the awesome scenery. After 45 minutes we pass a lake, now just a small pool. I’m also amazed that this valley is habited by a few cattle, although I’m glad we didn’t have to share the enclosure with them last night. I couldn’t have moved on much further, although Edison says that sometimes his groups camp near this lake. It certainly would have made the ascent to the pass a little less tiresome, but the real climbing starts after the lake, on our left as we are moving west up the valley to the pass. We pass
Approaching Cirani
Intrigued by the green blobs called yareta and my beating heart. through the brome grass zone and into an area where a vivid green moss lichen grows over almost ever larger boulder in sight. I expect them at any moment to move. They have that look of being alive and present to the moment. How living things adapt to their circumstances is mysterious and essential.
Meanwhile, the fact that I’m a gringo from a united state that boasts a high point of just over 1,000 feet, reminds me that adaptation takes time. Edison leads the way, often ranging out 100 or more yards. Every thirty minutes he stops to allow me to catch up. And while we had a 30 minute lead on Mario, Juana and Vincente, they pass me soon after the glacial lake. The stops I’ve been making to photograph our progress up the valley become necessary halts to catch my breath.
As we get closer to the pass, which Edison says is 5150 meters, or 16,995 feet, I take 10 steps and stop. While part of me wants to push harder, I have sense enough to realize there’s no need, and little in reserve. Mules are stubborn but can come to their senses. Juanita and Vincente
Almost There
Soon after I pose for this photo, I 'sprint' the last 50 feet to the top. have lived their entire lives in this realm. So have my guide and the muleteer. We all have our paces and arrive near the pass early enough to make our destination for the day the village of Chachas. This may be as much a desire to descend on my behalf as it is to avoid another night sleeping in the open.
Edison, a humorist, sprints the last 200 feet to the pass at Mt. Cirani, then runs back down, saying, as I’m within 50 feet of the top of the pass, “Let me photograph the last 5 minutes of your ascent.” I hope he’s used this statement before. It did take me almost 5 minutes, but that included time for photos.
We take 30 minutes at the top, with the mules calmly waiting at the north side of the pass. Cirani is an unremarkable peak, though we can't see the top from here, though we see where the snow begins. As the mules wait, Edison passes out the most tangy best tasking oranges I've ever had. The views are wonderful, looking back down where we've come, through the valley. Peaks of Mismi and others in the Colchi area
Success to Cirani
Poetry in slow motion at Cirani pass. are there. I'm surprised by the lack of snow at almost 17,000 but we are on the western edge of the corderilla and there's much sun exposure at this latidude of 15 degrees south. I recline and for brief time, doze off.
Soon it's time to move, and I'm on my own two feet. Mario has kindly suggested I could ride a mule down, but the hard work is over. Or so I think.
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