Climbing a Mountain: Huayana Potosi

Among the alluring treks and climbs along the Andes mountain range lies Huayna Potosi (with a summit that is 6,088 meters--19,973.75 feet--above sea level), the "easiest climb for beginners" I have been told (though, I haven't a clue as to whom is quoted with that*).  Regardless, it's still a heck of a climb.  Mental toughness and water consumption, more than anything else, I think, is needed to summit the mountain more than physical fitness.  Granted, don't live off of doughnuts and Netflix for a few months and act like you're in any shape to climb this thing, but that's besides the point.

I remember FaceTiming with Mom to tell her about the trip, once it was over.  The fist thing she asked when I told her I had climbed a mountain, was, "Was it a goal of yours to climb a mountain?"  My immediate response, "Oh, no.  And it still isn't."  My ambition for climbing the mountain wasn't really derived from personal whims, but because Michael and a friend of mine (whom I met at I.E.)  here wanted to climb it and it sounded like something neat to do on a weekend.  Why not?

There were eight of us in our group: three Americans, three Australians, and two French-people (trying to get away from the masculinized, "Frenchmen", but we'll see how that goes). Our group was hilarious and incredibly easy-going, which was wonderful.  The bus ride up was filled with our gear, lovely scenery, and conversation.  When we got to the base camp, at 4,700 meters (15,419.95 feet) above sea level, we ate lunch and geared up for practice with walking in grampons (crampons in English), using ice picks, and ice climbing.

 

Day two, we marched up to high camp, walking along the same trail as before, but further this time.  High camp is set at 5,200 meters (17,060.37 feet) above sea level.  A day of cards, cocoa tea, and rest, we would be waking up at midnight the next morning/that night to begin our ascent at 1am.  This is super important because the avalanche risk increases significantly when the sun is out, which is (obviously) no good.  After the large meals our company had been feeding us and around two bathroom trips to the outhouse each night, my body queasily rebelled against waking up at midnight, eating a piece of bread and jam and drinking some tea, but I did my best to get it down anyway.  We were all groggy and excited.  One of our group members jokingly asked our guides, "Vamos a la playa?" when we were all ready to start the ascent.

Each guide was attached to two people by a rope, in our group.  No guide, in any group, was ever attached to more than two people.  Michael and I were paired with our guide and, after all adjustments were made, we began to breathe the crisp, thin mountain air, gaze lovingly at the clear, star-filled night, and climb the mountain.  Having no mountaineering experience myself, it was a little struggle to figure out at what pace I should be walking to have a steady rhythm--I normally went too quickly, but I was trying to step with the guide's footfalls and icepick-falls, so I could figure out his routine.

It was slow going and before I knew it, I was day dreaming about what my friends in the states were up to.  Abruptly, I realized that it was around 2 or 3 in the morning on August 3rd--warm, muggy August--and I was dressed in FULL ice and snow gear wondering when my water bottle would begin to freeze in my bag!  It was definitely a bizarre realization for me.  Eventually, I stopped thinking about the breach and brought myself back to the catch-phrase with which we began our ascent: Vamos a la playa?  We'd soon see a new "beach" of our own.

However, that "beach", for me, was not the summit.  My guide seemed worried about me (because I hadn't drank enough water before the ascent and would waver to the side every now and then, not to mention I needed to rest a little more often because I couldn't quite figure out my gait).  He took my pulse and, (according to Mike) sensing that we may not make it to the summit by sunrise, decided to take us along a slightly different route that involved scaling an icy chute.  To climb the chute, there were some accommodations: it had some holes that could be used as footholds, three vertical, one-foot-long pieces of rope with two knots tied in each one on your right, and your ice pick for your left hand.  It. Was. Terrifying.  I cried before climbing it.  Not because I didn't think I could do it physically, but because I didn't think I could do it mentally--I kept imagining pulling the guide down and on top of Mike, who was climbing this thing with a broken hand... I did it, though, and it was wonderful; I'm glad I did, but it was scary!

There are more side-stories to the trip--ascent and all--but to make a long blog short, I did not make it to the summit.  Of 6,088 meters (19973.75 feet), I climbed around 5,850 meters (19192.91 feet) before admitting that I needed the rest of my strength to get back down the mountain.  Fortunately, though, we still got to see the sunrise on the mountain and WOW was it amazing!  Plus, we didn't have to share pictures at the summit with 30 other people.  It was stunning.  Ultimately, that was good enough for me because I had no real ambitions of mountaineering, but I did feel incredibly bad for holding Mike back through it all.  Of course, he says it was all worth it for him because it was something we could do together, but (while I greatly appreciate the encouragement) I know he was dead-set on summiting and would have if it weren't for me. BUT, I'm sure he'll do it again--he's said so himself.  It was an absolutely amazing experience--AND we saw at least 10 shooting starts throughout the hike!

Here's the company we went through, if you'd like to check out the itinerary to see exactly what we did.  The climb down was just as hard as the climb up, plus, you had to go the entire way down, back to base camp so you could be transported home that day.  It's a long day, but certainly worth every bit of it.

Climbing South America Company Website: http://www.climbingsouthamerica.com/country/bolivia/activity/climbing-and-mountaineering/pakage-tour/climbing-huayna-potosi-6088m-2-days 


*According to Wikipedia:

"Perhaps, the main reason Huayna Potosí has been called the easiest6000m climb is that the elevation gain from trailhead to summit is less than 1400 m; with easy access from La Paz. Since La Paz is at 3640 m, climbers have an easier time acclimatizing."

Website: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huayna_Potos%C3%AD 

Alicia (Pronounced /Ail-ee-see-a/)

Last week I was walking to the apartment to grab some lunch before my last few classes at I.E. when, as I walked, I saw many things and people and ate some chocolate I'd purchased from a lady selling them along the street (there are kiosk-y tiendas EVERYWHERE along all sidewalks).  On the second-to-last block, though, there was an older woman with, a cane and a small satchel, who unsuccessfully stopped the young man (he looked to be about mid-to-late teens, but no judgement; it was lunchtime, after all) walking in front of me and then made eye-contact with me.  I slipped a piece of chocolate in my mouth and wondered what in the world she was saying in such exasperated Spanish, but her gestures were clear that she needed help to go somewhere.

So, what was I to do, but let her slip her tiny arm through mine and adjust her weight to the nearest, then the second nearest pharmacy.  She talked the whole time and didn't seem to mind my limited knowledge of Spanish as she handed me the bag she was carrying.  Along the way, she mentioned how the first store wouldn't have what she needed because she checked there yesterday, but the second would [she hoped] carry the medication.

On the way back to her apartment (yes, we went the whole way--it turned out that she only lived roughly two blocks away from me), she told me of her time as a dance instructor--she LOVES meringue--and about how she lost her husband and son to cancer.  I'm not sure if she lived alone or with someone, but she was very much walking alone that day.  The only specific people she mentioned in her stories were her husband and son and she disregarded my question about living alone at the beginning of our journey.

In the end, Alicia reached into her pocket and I immediately protested any form of payment.  Hesitating ever so slightly, she proceeded to pull out a ragged piece of wrapped chocolate.  It was opened on one side from being in her pocket for some time, but it was something she'd intended for herself.  I couldn't refuse her as she extended it to me.  All-in-all, I'm glad I met Alicia that day.  She really made me refocus my day and I was glad to have been able to help accompany her on that errand.