Huascaran--the summit eludes me, but a great experience nonetheless.

Nevado Huascaran is the highest mountain in Peru (22,200')

I would encourage you to first view the Alpamayo blog before this one of Huascaran, which will put photos and events in the correct chronological order.  You can find the Alpamayo blog by scrolling down below.  You can click on the pictures to enlarge them if you want a slightly better view.

After coming down from Alpamayo and resting for a day in the small city of Huaraz, Douglas, Victor, Luis, Evert, Maricio, and I packed up our gear and headed out for Huascaran, the highest mountain in Peru at 22,200'. Our goal was to summit the south peak (Huascaran Sur) starting from the trailhead at Musho (about 9,900' in elevation) and establishing a basecamp at 13,800, a morraine camp at about 16,000', and a high camp at 19,300'. I was happy to be with the same set of climbers from Alpamayo and to also have Douglas and Maricio with our group. Douglas, an American living in Peru, is an exceptional person, with many years of special forces military service, extremely fit, and an avid adventurer as evidenced by his passion for para-sailing off mountain tops. Having another English speaker in the group added substantially to the social aspects of our adventure.  Maricio, like Louis and Evert, is a strong young Peruvian mountaineer with an infectious smile, who shouldered substantial loads as we made our way up the mountain. 

Basecamp

Douglas begins the ascent of the rock slabs just above basecamp.

The first day was a trail hike through foliage from a wide variety of botanical families, with our basecamp established at the foot of massive rock slabs and ledges, scarred and smoothed by many years of glacier coverage and movement, but now sans any sign of snow and ice.  There were only a small number of tents at the basecamp, so we had our choice of spots to set up our tents. After a great meal and restful sleep, the followng morning we packed our gear and several days worth of food and set off to establish our next camp at 16,000 feet, about 500 vertical feet above where the glacier began.  After pitching our tents, it began to snow heavily, and we knew the next part of the climb would be much tougher because of the deeper snow.  Still our spirits were high and Douglas and I were excited for what lay ahead. 

The rock slabs above basecamp on the way to establishing our next camp on the glacier.

Rock slabs meet glacier, where we put on our crampons.

Luis and Evert start their ascent on the glacier, avoiding the first of many crevasses.

A brief rest on the ascent

Victor and I moving up

It was too cold to wear my Colorado State University cap, but I wanted it along for the experience.

Luis preparing some food at our camp at 16,000'.

Our camp at 16,000'.  This is not the kind of weather we were hoping for!

After only a little sleep, we packed up camp in the dark in the early morning before dawn, again encountered the usual difficulties in putting on our climbing gear in frigid temperatures, roped up, and took off to establish our high camp at 19,300' on the col between Huascaran Sur and Norte.  The climb involved navigating around crevasses, crossing some crevasses on narrow snow bridges, and jumping a few others.  We also encountered some short 70 degree sections that we found both challenging and fun.  The Garganta (throat) between the two Huascaran peaks is an area of frequent avalanches, so we moved through this section as quickly as one can at this altitude.  I felt quite good during the ascent until the last 200 vertical feet before high camp, when the altitude made another assault on my physical and mental vigor.

Douglas tackles a steep section on the way to high camp.

Can someone take up the slack in the rope in case I fall over backwards?!

Victor takes the lead on a near-vertical section.  

The Garganta, an area of frequent avalanches through which we moved quickly!

Upon arriving in the early afternoon at high camp, surpisingly we found only one other group present on the col.  The weather was initially good, but then snow, wind, and bright sunshine took turns battling for supremacy. I found myself exhausted as we pitched our camp, probably a combination of the altitude and only 1-2 hours of sleep the night before.  I was short of breath just taking off my crampons and unpacking my sleeping pad and bag.  Knowing that we would begin our attempt to summit at midnight, I crawled into my sleeping bag as the sun set about 6:45 that evening, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep.  I monitored my heart rate and my oxygen saturation with a pulse oximeter, and found them to be within normal limits given the altitude:  resting pulse (84 beats/min compared to 48 beats/min at 5,000' in Fort Collins, and O2 sat at 85% compared to 98% at home).  I also monitored Victor's heart rate and oxygen saturation, and found them to be similar to mine.  I just wished I had as many red blood cells as he likely has given his work as a high altitude guide!!

You can't drive your SUV to this campsite!!

Altitude at high camp.

Douglas and I at high camp. 

Despite my exhaustion, sleep escaped me and I wondered if I would have enough energy to even crawl out of the tent, put on my climbing boots, crampons, harness, etc. at midnight.  Unable to sleep, I read parts of Frances Chen's book, 'Crazy Love' and even watched episodes of the Office and and NCIS on my IPod, all the while dreading having to soon leave the warmth of my sleeping bag (knowing that Huascaran is at a higher altitude and would be colder than Alpamayo, I borrowed a better bag for this part of the trip).  At times like this, I sometimes question why I put myself in these situations of bone chilling cold, exhaustion, and difficulty breathing, with risk of avalanches, falls, and high altitude sickness. I don't believe that my reasons for engaging in these activities include stupidity or an unusually large ego.  I just like to challenge myself mentally, physically, and spiritually, and these sorts of high altitude experiences help me maintain a more wholesome perspective on life at lower altitudes.

After absolutely no sleep, I was up at midnight and in donning all of my necessary clothing, plastic boots, and equipment, I realized that I actually felt quite good under the circumstances and thanked the Lord for some renewed strength.  I roped up with Luis and we started off about 12:30 AM with our headlamps the only source of light as we moved up the snow and ice.  We climbed ever so cautiously along a narrow crest between two gaping crevasses, with their depths unpenetrable by our handlamps.  As we climbed higher, I was thrilled to feel stronger than I had even hoped and believed the summit was attainable, although I knew it would take at least 4-5 more hours of strenuous climbing to reach.  However, after several hours of climbing and postholing in deep snow from the most recent storm, I began to question the safety of our climbing conditions.  We were having a difficult time getting traction with our crampons and I was concerned that our ice axes would provide little security in arresting any falls, as the snow was too deep and powdery to sink them securely into the underlying ice.

After reaching close to 21,000', I decided the conditions were not safe enough to continue.  I am sure this disappointed Victor, but I kept thinking about Ed Viestur's quote from his Himalayan experiences, "Getting to the top is optional, but getting down is mandatory".  I had promised my family that I would make wise decisions and I also did not want to jeopardize Victor's safety if I were to fall. Although it was a difficult choice which I still question, I probably made the correct one in turning back.  By then, Victor had switched ropes to be with me, and we were the last ones to turn back.  It was quite a surreal experience down climbing the steep slopes in heavy snow, belaying each other in almost total darkness, knowing we were the only ones on Huascaran above high camp.  I savored the sense of good fortune in being able to experience this incredible solitude.  However, I also admit to having the occasional intrusive thought that the solitude was synonymous with being totally alone and on our own, with no help available should either Victor or I slip. Conflicting emotions are common in mountaineering--mental toughness demands that positive thoughts take center stage!

Moving upward from high camp at night I made a futile attempt to capture the sights.  The black in the photo is a deep crevasse, not the black sky. 

After returning to high camp about 5:00AM, without any photographic evidence of our attempt due to the darkness, Victor and I managed to sleep for an hour or two.  We ate a quick breakfast of tea and bread rolls, dismantled our camp, and then our whole group began the descent.  We rapelled some and down climbed most of the 6000' to our basecamp, arriving in the late afternoon.  Below are some of the pictures taken on our decent. The basecamp was buzzing with activity and I had some enjoyable conversations with other climbers, including one from Colorado who works at the CU Medical School in Denver with one of my former graduate students, Dr. Stacy Schmidt, who is also an avid Colorado mountaineer. Small world! 

Papa and his four sons back at basecamp.  Evert, Luis (the cocinar), Maricio, and Victor were all half my age, so they started calling me Papa and they become mis cuatro hijos.

The following day, the burros were late getting to basecamp to help haul our gear down to Musho, so after a breakfast of pancakes and honey, we read, talked, played cards, and enjoyed the bright sunshine and beautiful views of the valleys below. 

A second failed summit--first Alpamayo and now Huascaran. I was clearly disappointed to fall short of my goals.  However, in my older years I am quicker to realize that reaching the top of a peak is often beyond my control, and the experience need not be viewed with regret.  I had the opportunity to be on two mountains that are spectacular in their grandeur, hone my climbing skills, test my stamina and endurance, meet many other climbers, experience the genuine comaraderie and friendship of my climbing partners, deal with emotional extremes--elation, joy, laughter, fear, frustration, and intense loneliness.  I also got to experience utter exhaustion, frigid temperatures, loss of appetite, sleepless nights, a 12 pound body weight loss, and the incredible handiwork of God.  The entire experience was what I now call 'miserable fun'! 

Alpamayo--one of the most beautiful mountains in the world

Southeast Face of Alpamayo looking from basecamp

Southwest face of Alpamayo looking from our high camp

 My wonderful wife, Barb, knowing my enjoyment of mountain adventures, gave me a 60th birthday present this summer with the opportunity to spend some time mountain climbing in Peru in July. I had previously climbed Ishinca and Tocllaraju in the Cordillera Blanca Peru in 2009 with Victor Sanchez Caldua, and had a great time on those mountains.  After returning from this first trip, I was keen to attempt 2 more difficult mountains, Alpamayo and Huascaran, either this year (2011) or in 2012.  I wanted to have some friends along on this adventure, so I dutifully went down my list of climbing/hiking companions, coaxing them to join me by sending beautiful photographs and trip reports of other climbers successfully summiting the high peaks in Peru. Alas, I was unable to coerce anyone to join me. I considered waiting another year, but realized there was no guarantee any friends would be available to join me in 2012 and that this summer I was relatively injury free for a change.  I also figured that at my age I don't have too many years left to pretend I'm still a youngster, so this was the year for the adventure.

I contacted via e-mail the same guiding company I used before, Peru Mountain Explorers in Huaraz, and arranged an 18 day trip from July 5-23rd. The price was quite reasonable and included an experienced mountain guide, a cook, a porter, burros to carry loads to basecamp, and all the food needed for spending many days and nights in the outdoors.  This is an excellent company that goes out of its way to make the experience positively unforgettable.  In fact, I was unaccustomed to the extensive service I received and felt a bit embarrassed by all the amenities like the hot tea delivered to my tent in the early morning each day and the delicious meals available at base camp with soups, entrees, and desserts prepared from scratch.  When climbing in Colorado, I'm far more independent and not having a well refined palate or the patience to cook, I am more accustomed to just eating cold food like nuts, raisins, berries, crackers, etc.  But the food was great and I certainly appreciated the knowledge, climbing skills, and the infectious smiles of my Peruvian climbing compadres, Victor, Luis, and Evert.  Their genuine desire to see me have an exceptional experience was a good reminder of how important it is to live and work for the good of others. I almost always find my time in the mountains to be an excellent opportunity to recalibrate my life purpose and priorities.    

I prepared for my time in Peru with plenty of exercise including running, basketball, stair climbing, lifting weights, ice climbing in the winter with my CSU colleagues Matt Hickey and Adam Chicco and my son-in-law, Rob Breshears.  My training suffered a minor set back with a broken forearm in April, but by June I was rehabbing my arm and felt confident I could adequately swing an ice axe in July.

Ice climbing in Colorado in preparation for Peru .  I wish Matt, Adam, and Rob could have joined me.  Maybe another year. 

Rob tackles the beautiful ice fall in Rocky Mountain National Park

To begin the early acclimitization process, my son-in-law, Rob, and I spent the night at 12,000 ft on Torrey's Peak in Colorado and together climbed the Dead Dog Couloir, a steep snow route to the 14,250 foot summit on July 4th.  I departed Fort Collins to head to Peru the following morning on July 5th.  I said goodbye to my wife, Barb, at the Denver airport, confident that I would return breathing and in one piece. I promised her I would make good decisions and put safety above ego, but I had every intention of accomplishing my goals of summiting both mountains. 

I arrived in Lima shortly after midnight in the early morning of July 6th and caught a taxi to the Manhattan Hotel near the airport and slept for a few hours. That same morning I took a taxi to the bus station at 6:30 AM and got my ticket for the 8 hour Cruz Del Sur bus ride to Huaraz. I tried to sleep on the bus, but the road was so tortuous as we moved from sea level to over 13,000 feet in only a few hundred kilometers that it was difficult to get comfortable when being constantly rocked from side to side by the many hair pin turns.  I enjoyed some conversations with a few other American climbers and trekkers on the bus and spent much of my time looking at the sights outside the bus.

I arrived in Huaraz (elevation about 10,000') in the late afternoon, was met by Yessica from Peru Mountain Explorers, and checked into a hotel.  The following day Yessica and I took a leisurely hike in the morning, with her practicing her English and me my Spanish. 

The view from the San Sebastian Hotel in Huaraz, where I spent my first two nights prior to heading for the mountains

An acclimitization hike outside of Huaraz at about 12,500'.  It was winter in the southern hemisphere but being near the equator, the climate is mild until one climbs much higher.

Yessica helped organize my trip and accompanied me on my acclimitization hike

That afternoon I met the young man who was to be my guide for the next two weeks, Victor Saenz, a very friendly and accomplished climber. I immediately felt comfortable with Victor and enjoyed getting to know about his life in Peru as well as learning about his technical climbing expertise and his many mountain ascents in the Cordillera Blanca. The following day after a pre-climb meal of Cuy (roasted guinea pig) the night before, Victor and I, along with two incredibly strong young climbers masquerading as cook and porter, Luis and Evert, respectively, began our journey toward Alpamayo. Alpamayo, with two of its faces pictured above this narrative, is one of the most beautiful mountains in the world.  It is 19,500' high, and requires a long trek of about 22 miles to get to the basecamp location. 

The trek starts in Casha Pampa (about 9,000' elevation), which is also the start of the famous Santa Cruz Trek.  We hiked for a number of hours to Llama Coral where we set up our first camp, and the following day hiked to the Alpamayo basecamp (4300 meters, 14,000' elevation).  Pictured below are some of the sites on the way to basecamp.

This young girl siitting near the trailhead of the Santa Cruz Trek made me homesick for my grandkids.

Preparing our gear for the long trek to Alpamayo basecamp

The beautiful valley through which the Santa Cruz Trek winds

Lake on the Santa Cruz Trek on the way to basecamp

We had several burros to shoulder most of the heavy gear and food

After several days of hiking, we arrived at basecamp, set up our tents and settled in for some rest and good food prepared by our cocinar (cook), Luis.  The following day after a breakfast of pancakes and strawberry jam, we left basecamp in the late morning and hiked up to 16,500' on a combination of a scree-filled trail and a large, steep boulder field.  Here we established our third camp in the early evening on the morraine at the base of the glacier. The weather was great and we were able to find a level spot for our tents, at which time it started snowing and became quite cold and windy.  I found it difficult to sleep with the snow pelting my tent and its sides flapping in the bitter wind.

Morraine Camp was quite frigid

After a mostly sleepless night for me, we navigated to the base of the glacier, put on our climbing gear, roped up and began our ascent to establish our high camp at 18,000' on the col between Alpamayo and Quitaraju.The climb to high camp is an adventure in itself, as the glacier is steep and laden with many large and deep crevasses, and massive ice falls. The pictures below show parts of the mountain we encountered on our way to high camp.  I found the more technical parts of the climb to be most fun, but as expected, having not been at this altitude for several years, I was exhausted as we tackled the steeper pitches near where we were to establish the highest camp.  I usually feel fine and fit until about 17,500' and then the altitude wacks me hard--in the legs, lungs, heart, and mind!  Or maybe the fatigue is just a function of my age! 

Victor, the guia grande, on the ascent to high camp

The ascent  to high camp required maneuvering around large crevasses.  It's the hidden ones covered with a thin veneer of snow that pose the greatest danger. 

Deep snow made for slow going on the steep slopes toward high camp. Luis and Evert were amazing in their ability to climb in the deep snow with incredibly heavy packs. 

If you look carefully, you can see a couple of climbers with their rope near the horizon just left of the rock band on the right

Natural ice sculptures on the way to high camp

Luis enjoying a brief rest at the base of an ice wall

 The clouds parted for about an hour in the evening as we established our high camp, which enabled us to see the west face of Alpamayo.  It is this beautiful wall of snow and ice that is coveted by avid climbers from so many different countries..  Ascending this wall would be the goal of Victor and me the following day.

The first view of the beautiful southwest face of Alpamayo

The spectacular southwest face of Alpamayo

Normally, the high camp col is crowded with tents hosting climbers from all over the world.  However, possibly owing to the bad weather and the tragic death of a young Polish climber only two days earlier on Alpamayo, we arrived at the col to find only two tents, the domiciles of an Ecuadorian climbing team and a Swiss team. I actually knew one of the Ecuadorian climbers having met him when my daughter Hannah, and my friends, Matt and Kris, and I climbed several mountains in Ecuador about 7 years ago.  It was fun to reconnect with him and to realize how small is the world of climbers.  We quickly pitched our tents, had a hot meal prepared by our cocinar grande, Luis, and prepared for a short night, with the intent of starting our summit bid at 3:00 AM the next morning. 

High camp at 18,000' on the col between Alpamayo and Quitaraju

Looking toward Quitaraju from high camp

  The night at high camp proved to be another mostly sleepless episode for me.  My sleeping bag rated to 15 degrees Fahrenheit, failed to keep me toasty, and I resorted to putting my feet in the arms of my down parka to keep them warm.  Also, there was plenty of wind pounding my tent to provide yet another reminder that my environs at this altitude had no regard for my personal comfort.  At 3:30 AM I crawled out of my bag and began the arduous task of putting on additional layers, stuffing my cold, stiff feet into even colder and stiffer climbing boots, slipping into my climbing harness, and securing my crampons on my boots all the while wearing thick gloves that sabotage any dexterity left in cold fingers. As usual, I had to take the gloves off to accomplish the final tasks of knot tying and clipping in my slings and caribeeners.  I've never figured out how to accomplish these preparations efficiently and warmly!

 After roping up, Victor and I left camp to begin our summit bid in the face of extremely poor visibility. A thick cloud had engulfed our high camp and our head lamps provided little illumination of our surroundings. The Ecuadorian and Swiss climbers apparently decided the conditions were not favorable and remained in their tents.  So, Victor and I had the mountain to ourselves, which would have been an ideal situation under favorable conditions.  There is less risk of ice fall, avalanches, etc. when the summit is not being assaulted by large crowds of climbers. However, with the poor visibility we would have enjoyed the additional head lamps of other climbing teams.  The climb to the Alpamayo wall first required almost a full pitch of steep belayed down-climbing in total darkness, save the light of our headlamps. Being on this particular section of the mountain for the first time, it was a bit unnerving for me not knowing if there were any crevasses prepared to accept me with open arms as I proceeded downward.  But I reminded myself that Victor had me on a tight belay and he knew the darkness below held no treacherous surprises.  After reaching the bottom of the steep pitch, we began the upward slog through deep snow for a few hours, regaining our lost altitude and more.  However, there was no sign of improved visibility and with the deep snow sapping our strength, our frustrations began to mount.  We then came across the body of the fallen Polish climber, which had not yet been recovered, and Victor and I decided to sit down and discuss our situation in regard to the weather and snow conditions.  We decided the other climbers had probably made the correct decision to stay at high camp in their tents, so we reluctantly began to retrace our steps back to our tents. 

I experienced conflicting emotions, being simultaneously disappointed and relieved.  I was frustrated that I would not get the chance to attempt the French Direct route on the steep west face,a classic climb that was the major goal of this Peru trip, but I confess that I was also somewhat relieved to return to the more favorable and safe environs of my tent.  I was also unusually tired and unfortunately I will never know if I would have had the stamina to climb the classic ice wall of Alpamayo.

After returning to high camp, we decided the poor weather and snow conditions were not likely to change within the next 24 hours, so after a breakfast of hot tea and granola, we broke camp and began our decent to basecamp.  The climb down included three 200' rapells using fixed snow stakes as anchors--quite a bit faster and more fun going down than up!  Funny how the altitude seems so much less severe when one is working with, rather than against gravity!  Our return to basecamp was uneventful, but we found the camp alive with activity including many Peruvian climbing police officers who were heading up to recover the body of the fallen climber.  While I love the adventure of climbing, this experience was quite sobering and reminded me again that climbing these kinds of mountains is not without some risk. I found myself in an acute state of loneliness, missing Barb and the rest of my family.  I actually considered foregoing an attempt to summit Huascaran, the second mountaineering goal on this trip, as I was both mentally and physically spent, and I knew my family was worried for me.  However, after returning to Huaraz a few days later, I recovered well with a good night's rest.  Also, with some encouragement from Victor, the knowledge that another American climber, Douglas would be joining our group for Huascaran, and reading portions of the Apostle Paul's epistles, my zest for climbing returned in full force. 

Return to high camp after our failed summit bid due to poor visibility (and my promise to Barb that safety would be a higher priority than summiting). 

Rapelling down from high camp

The following day after returning to our Alpamayo basecamp, because the burros would not arrive for the trek back to Casha Pamap for another day, Victor and I hiked a good portion of the Santa Cruz Trek to Punta Union (the highest elevation on the trek at 15,500').  On the trek I met many hikers from Europe, Australia, Asia, and South America.  If you enjoy hiking, this is one of the most awe-inspiring treks in the world, with numerous 20,000'glacier-covered peaks to be viewed.  Below are a few pictures from the trek. 

Recognize this picture? The name of this moutain is Artesonraju (19,700'), which is the graphic symbol for Paramount Studios

My last views of the southeast face of Alpamayo as we leave basecamp.  Good weather returns. Poor timing

 The next day, after the burros arrived, we left at sun-up to hike the 20+ miles from the Alpamayo basecamp to Casha Pampa and headed back to a Huaraz for a day of rest and a lecture at the University.  Will I make another attempt to summit Alpamayo sometime in the future? At my age, it likely won't happen.  Unless, of course I can coax a friend or two to join me on such an adventure in the near future while I am still young! :)