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Published: August 18th 2006
The Jack on the Summit
First things First. 6088Metres, 20 000ft. Got to be up for seven thirty to get ready. Damn only five thirty so I have two more hours left. Two hours of sleep left though I knew I wouldn’t get any of it as I was too excited and nervous about what was to happen when I did get up.
So the hours turned by slowly as I uncomfortably twisted in my bed, listening to the clock on the wall rhythmically tick the seconds by. All this time my head was filled with the thought of the task of climbing a 6088 metre mountain, having never been this high before I was worried mainly due to the expected lack of oxygen and my asthma but that wasn´t going to stop me getting to the top. Excepting bad weather I would be there at 6:30am in two days.
Seven Thirty finally came an I sprang out of bed on an adrenalin high and woke David up much to his distain. Our room was still a mess, but by 8:30 we were ready to leave and the three of us (Dave, Zander and I) waited for the guide to pick us up. Zander is a Canadian we were climbing
with and also in business for the States end with. He was also from the Harvard mountaineering club, and so had a slightly better idea of what he was doing than us. We had booked with Vicunia Tours the day before. The tour operator was a stereotypical German (Bald, slightly fat, rude, with a harsh northern accent, and very direct), he came out with some great quotes.
Zander-“so how cold does it get at the summit”
German-“Very cold! Minus fifteen! You from Canada, you fine! Your British friends, THEY DIE!!”
At least we new it would be efficient.
We arrived at the mountain base camp at 4700m in the late morning after taking some photos from the dusty road on the way that took in the vista of the mountain through an old cemetery that belonged to an abandoned mining town. Once at the base camp which is at the highest point in the Zongo valley (a major hydroelectric producing area) we took a small walk an took in the local amenities. At this height most of the water in the stream was still frozen at near midday, and we could see right down the valley to where the
Cemetary of the deserted town
The graves of the many who have tryed before us. clouds hung several thousand meters below.
After a quick but hearty meal we set off to do our ice training on the glacier that came down to around 4850 meters. This was optional but seeing as none of us had ever ice climbed before rather necessary. The trek up there was hard enough even though it was only a 150 odd meter climb, at that altitude you can feel every steep. The glacier itself is very jagged and sharp so that if you touch it without gloves (as I did) it pierces your skin like a knife before you even realise you’ve touched it.
With crampons on and ice axes to the ready we began to ascend. We got a hang of the basic technique quickly as we made our way up the gentle lower slopes. I found the crampons surprisingly easy to use. Just have to dig them in a bit harder than normal shoes, and for the shallower gradients we used the ice axe as a walking stick on the upper slope. We soon came to a small gully where our guide told us we would try some steeper gradients as there were small parts of
Arrrr....
David dressed and ready to go. the mountain that had an incline of more than 70% and the last 250m was between 55% and 65%. We watched him effortlessly "walk" up the next section and the stand upright with knees bent and slowly come down in a style resembling the movement of a robot. We all tried the robot step which was difficult as we had to get our crampons in with force parallel to the 50 degree slope feeling uncomfortable and odd, but after a while we all got the hang of it. Moving on to steeper climbs where we were roped up was interesting and he explained to us the basic belaying and repelling technique as well as the preferred method of climbing. We had a couple of runs scurrying up and down the ice in a loop and then headed down to the bottom of the glacier where we manage to persuade the guide we were good enough, and had enough time to try a vertical bit of ice wall. It took some persuasion.
This vertical bit of ice would have been a challenge at any altitude, especially at nearly 5000m as we now were, but tied up with our guide providing a
Dave trys the crampons
Its one small step for dave, one giant laugh for the rest. belay and having shimmied up moments before to put in an ice drill, we felt confident and able enough to give it a go. The climb up was difficult but fun and got to the top easily enough following the outer ridge. At the top the only way down was basically an abseil on ice which, as always you´re apprehensive about leaning back and taking the tension at first but once that first step has been taken it becomes alot easier.
At the bottom our Guide tells us that we need to "run" back to camp so that he can prepare dinner for us in time. In time for what I don´t know and never found out. Dinner again was good then climbed through a window to a store room for a bed. - Ian
And for me about 4 trips to the loo as my travellers illness and general stomach pain refused to go away. The next day feeling better with a few drugs inside me we had set off early but late and were soon mounting the ridge overlooking our practice site the day before. As the altitude increased we began to talk to each other
less an the American travel game “Botichelli”, that Zander had taught us began to fizzle out. Every so often I found myself needing to remind myself to look up and remember that despite the onset of a headache and general pain, there was some pretty spectacular scenery around.
We reached high camp early afternoon and pretty much collapsed, slowly reviving ourselves to a new game of “Name all the countries in Africa” and other such thrilling activities, which inexplicably seemed tremendously funny at the time. Our Guides had begun to prepare lunch but told us to eat a little, so we did, and retired to our tent to nap, chat and read. We had a dinner around 7 and began to get to know some of the other climbers in the camp, before heading back to bed in anticipation of beginning our bid for the summit.
Up at midnight there was a bit of a buzz to our preparations as the Germans claim of “Your friends British, they die” led me to pile on 7 layers, before wolfing down breakfast and getting on my equipment. As there were three of us we had two guides, and being first
ready I was tied alone to the deputy, while Zander and Ian were tied to each other and the chap who´d done the climb 400 times before. We would essentially travel up the last phase separately, though sharing rest stops in order to give us a chance to rotate the two bags of kit we were taking up with us. My guide set off at a rapid pace and being tied to him I had little choice but to follow. We soon caught another group going quite slowly and slowed to their pace, my assumption being it was bad form to overtake on the mountain, especially when the caught up groups head was a Californian whose ego seemed to be riding on the skill set he had been big timing around high camp. In fact it turned out he was waiting for the gradient to about double (And he later claimed, for the ground around the track to turn firmer) before uping the pace and steaming ahead. Over the first crest we stopped to rest and wait for the others. I decided to test my Spanish skills.
How long does it take to get up the mountain? (In my best
Spanglish)
About 4 - 6 hours. You I think 4, you very quick.
My jaw hit the ground as I politely requested elucidation as to how I could go slower. It turned out if I kept close to the guide he went faster, if he felt tension on the line he slowed down. So I´d beasted myself up the first ridge of the mountain. The others caught up and I began a banter series by repeatedly making sure our chief guide was feeling ok. Zander, whose Spanish is a little more sophisticated began a conversation about the weather. Ian signalled, by way of throwing the bag at my feet, that it was my turn to take the load. We began to get into a routine of walking separately and stopping together to update each other on which bits of our body were in particular pain at that particular moment. Both Ian and I began to get bad headaches, though Zander seemed less punished by the altitude.
The further up we got the more every step began to tell. Memories of Sandhurst Sergeant Majors screaming at me began to push me up the mountain and the poetry of John Donne,
a book of which I had been given by a friend at Exeter and which I had been reading in the tent, went round and round in my head to the pace of foot steps. His love of writing about death left me thinking it a more unfortunate choice as I continued to ascend. La Paz came into view after about an hour and it was all I could do to raise my arm and grunt, which my guide acknowledged with a nonchalant flick of the head. We reached the first steep face and without waiting for the others my guide began to scramble up, as much using his ice axe to pull as his crampons to push. For some reason this managed to kill the pain in my stomach from the Travellers sickness and I was blissfully left with just the altitude to deal with.
At one point jumping a crevasse I managed to half fall in but pulled myself out with a little help from my guide. So the routine continued for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality about 3 hours. By the time we reached the final face all poetry had gone, though
memories from the Army, the only time I have been in a similar amount of pain, continued to linger.
The last face rises around 250metres vertically, at an gradient of around 65%, which if it doesn´t seem much on a protractor, does at 5800metres (About 19 000ft) with the nerves in your hands and feet having given up for the duration. A Swiss mountaineer was being quietly sick at the base of the summit and not wanting to rest to long because of the temperature, soon had us cracking on. I ended up climbing next to the Swiss climber and pretty soon was resting after every triplet - driving the ice axe in and moving up each foot. The Swiss climber managed to be sick another 5 times on the way up, just about allowing me to keep level with him while I could hear Ian and Zander ascending below. Cliches about how slow the half hour up this face went don´t quite make it. Essentially I lost all concept of time and only became fully aware of the pain I´d been in when the gradient began to level off and I began to think again. After about 5
minutes Zander and Ian appeared, the three of us and the Swiss climber congratulated each other, took photos and Ian and I put the Jack on the Summit.
The main guide, who we´d really connected with, and whose son we´d got on well with at the base just stood there grinning at the three of us, my guide pumped my hand said congratulations David, again and again. In the back of my mind was still the old Colour Sergeant asking “What do want, a F***ing medal?” and I laughed randomly out loud. Zander was close to tears, while Ian continued snapping photos as is his wont. After about 10 minutes the sun rose over the Yungas jungle to the east as the full moon slipped the corresponding horizon past La Paz and lake Titicaca and I was the happiest I’ve ever been.
And then we realised we still had to go down. The descent involved repeated repelling which managed the smart trick of leaving me feeling even colder. Back on the yomping stretch the sun was now truly out and by lunch time we were back at the high camp. Another few hours and we were at the
bottom. Food was laid out and after a short drive and fond farewells to our guides we collapsed into bed.
About the week afterwards was occupied almost entirely with sorting out our business in La Paz. Without going into details we managed to have a bit of fun at the same time - we were taken to numerous business dinners and lunches, (Including a chopstick lesson in La Paz´s only authentic Sushi restaurant). We also managed to be interviewed about what we were doing on Radio and by a National magazine. It´now mainly over to our partner in the UK, but it´s looking likely I´ll be flying back a few weeks early to help with that end.
With our final meeting done and contracts exchanged we headed on last night to the shores of Lke Titicaca, After a refreshing breakfast we managed to find a man who will lend us a sailing boat for three days, but we have to wait for the wind to be right, which should be some time tomorrow morning. So now we’re just relaxing in Cococabana, sitting in Cafe’s, waiting for the wind to change.
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Katie C
non-member comment
Wow