Cotopaxi, Ecuador - Doubled Back !!!
I first saw the majestic outline of Cotpaxi in National Geographic when I was growing up - oh yeah, I forgot I'm still growing up....so I guess it was around 30 years ago. I was struck by this lone symmetrical pyramid rising from the valley floor to a height of 20,000'. Cotopaxi is reputedly the highest active volcano in the world and the second closest point on earth to the sun; or the second furthest away from the center of the earth - whichever you prefer. Cotopaxi is located in Parque Nacional Cotopaxi, approximately 2.5 hours south of Quito, Ecuador. It is centrally located in the Avenue of the Volcanos and is a major mountain climbing destination on anyone's list that enjoys alpine mountaineering or for the purist "alpinism".
After returning from Argentina in 2006 with frost-nipped toes, (...a future post), I began researching the central Andes for perhaps a little warmer climate for my next expedition....The glaciated volcanos along the equator and access to the Amazon Jungle quickly moved the country of Ecuador to the top of my list. (Although I must admit that Bolivia was a close second.) I began to research various expedition companies and outfitters and decided upon the Ecuadorian Alpine Institute www.volcanoclimbing.com as a clear choice. My priorities were: English speaking guides, locally owned/operated organization and keeping the expedition team to 6 or under with a guide to client ratio of 2 to 1. Ramiro, the owner of EAI assured me that my requests would be honored, so in a leap of faith I wire transfered money through Miami and down to a bank in Quito and hoped for the best. I signed on to climb 4 mountains in a little less than a month with Cotopaxi being my primary target.
After acclimatizing through successful ascents of both Pichincha (15,740') and Cayambe (19,550') I felt fairly strong and was ready for my Cotopaxi summit bid. Climbing glaciated volcanos in the Andes is new to me...I'm accustomed to approaching mountains for at least a week and then preparing for an assault on a 6000 + meter peak. Typically after base camp you climb high, cache supplies, then downclimb and sleep low, returning in a day or so to move "camp" up the mountain. In Ecuador you drive your 4x4 vehicle up to 15,000' and stay in a "refugio" a type of hostel on the mountain. This was indeed the case with Cotopaxi and the Refugio Cotopaxi. We drove to the car park, unloaded our supplies and trekked up 45 minutes to the refugio. The refugio is not heated, has generator powered lights for part of the evening and no running water. However it does have bunk beds with mattresses - and they'll sell you a semi-cold beer !
Since most of Ecuador's glaciated volcanos/mountains lay in close proximity to the equator, we must climb in the evening with headlamps. This allows for the glaciers to "harden" to hold our weight and also significantly reduces the risk of rock fall and avalanche. Most tall mountains worldwide are climbed at night as a safety measure. So a typical schedule for climbing in the Ecuadorian Andes is to go to bed between 4-5 PM, then rise between 10-11pm and begin climbing at midnight when the glacier is the coldest on the lower part of the mountain. Of course, sleeping is a little bit of a stretch the night of a summit attempt...
Having summitted Cayambe a few days prior to my Cotopaxi attempt I was full of confidence. I also had a pretty good idea of the gear I would be utilizing. I was fairly lightweight on Cayambe and my plan once again was to go as light as possible on Cotopaxi. On top I had 3 nylon wick dry layers with a lightweight breathable rain jacket, on bottom I had on a nylon base layer with my Gore-Tex bibs. Of course double plastic mountaineering boots, one pair of waterproof outer-layer gloves and two inner liners (1 spare), hat, helmet, headlamp, crampons, 70cm ice adze, harness, biners, etc., etc. My pack was less than 15 lbs. as I planned on returning to the Cotopaxi Refugio in 12-15 hours.
I stepped outside the refugio at midnight and was greeted by a 30 mph wind and a blast of snow in my face as a wake-up greeting. We will spend the first hour making our approach to the glacier and at that point will fix crampons and "rope up" in teams of 3 - 2:1 guide ratio. Our guide, Wilson, had gone over the route several times with us the day before and I had a good picture of it in my minds eye. However, once on the glacier it was evident that this was not going to be a normal climb. The visibility was less than 10' and the headlamp was all but useless. We began kicking steps in earnest, first on a 30 degree incline and then onto a 45 degree incline - a 45 degree incline is the same pitch as a 12/12 roof, for every 12" you move forward, there is 12" of vertical. We stayed on the first 45 degree incline for more than two hours. At this point, approximately 4.5 hours into the climb I was having great difficulty with my gear. It was obvious that I had not brought along my Alti-Mittens and expedition weight socks, the ones I usually keep for going over 20,000'. My sad excuse for a hard shell jacket was a lightweight breathable rain jacket - fine for Cayambe, probably OK most the time on Cotopaxi...but not tonight my friend. At this point I had no feeling in the tips of my toes or my fingers - a common affliction with me, but I was only at 18,700' elevation !!!
The next step was the hardest downhill step I've ever taken in my life. I was retreating from Cotopaxi and heading toward the warmth and comfort of the Refugio. I was tremendously upset with myself for turning around, but knew deep inside this was for my safety - I was simply unprepared for the full force and fury of this mountain. Before I left the States I had promised a good friend of mine that I would "climb smart". True, I was making a smart decision by turning around, but my preparations did not include all contingencies for mountain weather, therefore I didn't feel very smart. I was so upset with myself that I did not speak more than a sentence or two to anyone for a couple of days. I noticed that the guides treated me differently, or at least I though they were...All I could think about was getting back to the Cotopaxi Refugio and making a "full on all or nothing attempt" at the summit of Cotopaxi.
We moved on to the next mountain on the agenda - Chimborazo. Which will be the subject of a future post. Once off the mountain I started straight away on our lead guide, ..."So, Wilson, what do you think the weather is like on the summit of Cotopaxi today"....and so forth. Wilson took the initiative and made a call back to Quito to begin the arrangements for us to double back again to Cotopaxi. As we pulled into the car park I knew that you don't get many second chances in life and I was definitely going to make this one pay off - in spades. I knew that to climb this mountain with the existing wind and snow conditions would require an incredible effort and I was of the mind and physical condition to give it everything I had... and then go another 20%.
Wilson and I stepped out of the refugio at midnight and were once again greeted with a cold slap of wind. I had ALL of my high altitude gear with me, there was nothing else to carry. I had even brought along a re-breathing mask designed to warm copper coils on exhale, then introduce warm air into the lungs on inhale - thus raising one's overall core temperature. We quickly moved up to the first glacier fields, put on our crampons, roped up and began the slow and arduous process of kicking steps for hours on end up 45 degree inclines. Climbing glaciated volcanos is different than an alpine ascent on a mountain. The volcano's slopes are constant, there are no ledges to rest, no flat spots to cruise on - it just keeps on getting steeper. By 5AM the conditions were very cold and windy, ambient temperature was far below zero and the winds were 30-50mph. We had reached the "caldera" or outer rim of the volcano, perhaps 700' vertical from the summit, but still hours to reach the summit.
"Wilson, What do you think ?" for the tenth time in the last hour. "We will go slowly, slowly and check the conditions !" By now there was a steady stream of mountaineers down climbing past us and heading for the safety of the refugio. I was in waste deep snow, swimming my way up a 30 degree incline - the ice adze was useless, a canoe paddle would of been useful. We continued to push forward, one step, breathe twice, next step, breathe twice and then rest. All of my water was frozen, my re-breather mask had iced over and was discarded into my pack. I had pulled my collars up as high as I could and was peering out of my iced-over glacier glasses. I have been at this elevation before many times, just under 20,000' and have even slept several nights higher than this altitude...but the snow and wind was debilitating.
Ahead I could see a group of 4 climbers making a go at a traverse across the bottom of the summit cone. We followed in their swath, thankful for the little bit of snow clearing that they provided. We caught up to them ! No, they were turning around and had met us. "It's a no go mates !" said their lead guide, "We cannot push our way through the deep snow !" I felt dejected and once again asked my oft repeated question, "So Wilson, what do you think ?" he again answered "We will go slowly, slowly and check the conditions !" Onward we slowly moved to within 20' of the groups turnaround point. Wilson looked at me and I could tell he was smiling under his mask, "We will climb direct up the glacier for 60 meters and then access the summit ridge !" as he raised his ice adze high. He had found a way around the deep snow, we were going to front point, (use the front points of the crampons and gain purchase with the ice adzes), our way to the summit. The headwall was over 60 degrees vertical and it was too steep for the snow to stick - the guy is a frickin' genius!!!
Toe kick, toe kick, slam with the right handed titanium ice adze, breathe twice and repeat. This is what I call "ignore and focus". Forget completely about the fact that you are clinging to the side of a glaciated volcano at 20,000' with little or no feeling in your numb body and focus on the immediate environment around you and the task at hand. I'll bet that 60 meter headwall took a half hour to climb before I could stand on two feet. "Krugie, the summit is right there" Wilson pointed with his adze 50 ' away, "Walk toward it".... "Not without you walking with me my good friend !", I replied smiling.
Wilson and I summitted Cotopaxi that morning and two other climbers arrived on the summit ridge as we were descending. There were over 80 climbers that attempted the mountain that evening and only four of us stood on the summit. I had given my 120% and had my Cotopaxi summit; but not without a price. I had once again frost nipped my toes, along with the left side of my nose and the left side of my upper lip. This was a result of my re-breather mask getting full of ice and discarded in my pack in 55 below wind chill. As I write this post, 2 1/2 months later, I have 95% feeling in my toes. I hold my head high when I view the profile of Cotopaxi... I'll always remember it as the one I doubled back on !!!
Breathe & Believe - Krugie
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