Soy consado

Its dinner time in the dining tent, I sit in the chair ostensibly assigned to me because that’s where I sat for the first meal of the week long trip. Lauren, a climbing parter at the time, sat next to me and our guide Marco across the table. The weather was looking great for probably the first day of the trip. We were discussing the following day, a climb up Nevada Ishinca a 18,143’ mountain in the Cordillera Blanca range in Peru. I asked “how many ice tools? One or two? How early are we starting? How far is it?”. “Just one, about 1:30am…” I think I stopped listening after hearing about a 1:30am wake up. Im sure Marco went on to say the distance and elevation for the day but it’s not like the kilometers and meters we were going to gain would have made sense to me anyway. Shortly after I stepped out of the group dining tent and the stars I had waited for all trip were finally out. Arguably the worst possible time to stay up late taking pictures of stars would be before a 1:30am alpine start. Quickly I grabbed my tripod and frantically set it up. Lauren was in the tent packing I could see her headlamp moving all around, lighting up different parts of the tent. It was perfect the tent was lit up, Tocllaraju was the perfect back drop and I had carried my tripod all the way to basecamp, which was at 14,500ft, higher than the summit of Mt. Rainier. I start taking pictures as fast as a can battling with exposure finding the ideal balance. Battling with Lauren who was unwittingly making the tent too bright or too dark depending on if she looked at the side of the tent with her headlamp. It was a 25 second exposure, if she had her head buried stuffing jackets or her extra gloves in her pack I was out of luck. In the meantime I’m standing behind the camera pacing, waiting, staring at the tent until the camera clicks and the exposure is complete. That tent wouldn’t move for a week but a night clear sky was far from a guarantee. We had all been turned around on a climb a day earlier by a sudden snow storm after starting the climb early in the morning under clear night skies. I might not get this chance again. I got one that was “good” or as good as it can look on a 3 inch LCD screen on the back of a camera. I packed my bag and put that memory card in a safe spot and got in my sleeping bag and went to sleep. (That picture did in fact turn out and you can see it above.)

It was not a great night sleep, as anyone would have guessed, it was like adult Christmas except the gifts were pain and suffering. Oh and Santa was a Peruvian mountain climbing badass that was going to show us the way to the top of one of the tallest mountains id ever seen, much less been on. Just another day at the office for Marco. The morning was still, perfectly still, the stars were back out, and I say back out because I heard it raining in the middle of the night. The three of us started hiking by headlamp, the type of hiking where all you see is six feet in front of you and only where you look. There’s nothing to do but walk, almost nothing to look at, unless perhaps you like looking at the ground where your feet are going. I personally don’t mind, I can just let my mind wander I’m very ok spending A LOT of time alone up there. After all you’ve been walking your whole life just let your body take over and do the walking and get some thinking in. The alternative would be using precious oxygen to talk to each other. I’ve learned that not everyone likes to spend that much time alone in their own head. If it wasn’t for bathroom and snack breaks or other people talking to me I’m not sure I wouldn’t have said a word that morning. The trail was pretty mellow until we got to a large shallow river to cross. Lauren had to use the bathroom and Carlos and I stood there and talked. I saw on my watch we were almost at 5000 metes. I reflected that this was the best I’ve ever felt at this altitude. He pointed out all the peaks that were silhouetted by the stars and the night sky. “That’s where we’re going. Up those rocks then across the ridge”. We started up the frozen rocks carefully they were coated with ice and I was still in my approach shoes, not that crampons would have made it easier, its not fun regardless. Starting to near the top of the rocks a party of three came up behind us, they were definitely moving faster than we were. As they approach Marco starts talking to the other guide in Spanish, they all know each other, it's a brotherhood up there. There’s no rescue service in these mountains and I knew that. I was talking to a guide earlier in the trip who told me if someone gets hurt they all just help each other. Which to me is a given, but as anyone would know who’s read anything about Everest people will walk right by a person who’s dying. That doesn’t happen here, these are different mountains. Marco finishes talking with the other guide. A conversation I did not even attempt to follow with my oxygen AND sleep deprived brain. I sat on a rock doing my absolute best to breathe. I don’t think my heart rate had been under 130bpm since the bathroom break at the river that felt like lifetime ago. We obviously let them go right by us. Their guide passes, we exchange nods, client number one passes and we do the same. Next climber walks by slows down a little, looks at me and says “Como estas?” (How are you) I smile breathe in, “soy” (I am) another deep breath later, “consado” (Tired). Then he laughed and kept walking. I thought nothing of it I assumed he was just laughing at how beat I looked, very understandable. Several days later I was thinking about the trip and remembered that conversation. If you passed Spanish 1 in high school or have some basic Spanish knowledge you’ll know there are two ways to say “I am” in Spanish. The “I am” you’d use to say I am American or any other characteristic that doesn’t change. Then there is one for saying how you feel. I of course used the wrong one. I had said literally I am tired, I am literally the embodiment of tired, I am as tired as I am American. To be fair I don’t feel like it was that far off from how I was feeling. It wasn’t correct Spanish but was it really wrong either? The point of language is to convey ideas and I made it incredibly clear how I was feeling.

The day went on we finished out climb up the rocks and onto the glacier. We found a spot put on crampons, harnesses and for me put on my big nice warm boots. The sun was just starting to come up and it was beautiful. I was the slowest to get my stuff on and together and when I stood up after I saw my friend, maybe not my friend but close enough, it was the guy that asked how I was. They were roping up right below us. Its pretty rare that I inconvenience other people, anyone who knows me knows I hate feeling like I’m slowing down the group. When you have a moment as good as this one, you slow everyone down. I turned around “I want to take a picture” before anyone said anything I was digging in my bag. I grabbed my camera and turned back around and snapped a pic (see below). It looks like a REI advert. A group of climbers in the foreground preparing for the glaciated part of the climb. In the background was whispy cloud that was catching the light and Ranrapalca a 20,000ft mountain shooting up behind them. I snapped away. As always with these moments I know it was beautiful but did I capture it? Am I going to get back to my laptop in a little less than a week and see it was slightly out of focus because I unknowingly bumped the auto focus switch on the side of the lens to manual focus. I didn’t have much time to think about it, in the moment my fingers were already freezing from being out of my glove. I threw my gloves back on and my camera in my bag, tied in and started moving. The group I was taking photos of was already in front of us and we had nice boot tracks to follow. Up the steep section gaining the ridge, where we were blasted by the first warm sun rays of the day. In those moments I always think about how it makes sense, ancient cultures worshipped the sun, nothing felt better and it was time for a snack break. I wasn’t hungry, I barely eat at sea level much less at altitude. Later this trip Marco told me while we were eating dinner “uh you have to eat more” but I was doing my best. From there on it felt like every single step got substantially harder but we could see the summit. I got to the point of taking 20 steps then stopping and catching my breath. After what I think was too many breaks for our guide we arrive at the technical crux. It was maybe 100 feet of exposed steep snow with basically no run out. After an exhausting few minutes of stepping up, kicking my crampons into the snow and stabbing in my ice tool and pulling on it then repeating I pulled over the lip. We were at the summit we shared it with the previously mentioned party and one other group of five. Very few words were shared there was a high five or two then we just admired the views, we made it.