Climbing Trail

The Andes Part 19

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Roberto called me again. "Nando?"

"I'm ready" I said.

We waved our hands one last time and started climbing.

There's not much we talked about while down the ice river slope and up the low mountain slope. We thought we knew what lay ahead of us, and how dangerous this mountain was. We have learned that even the weakest storm can kill if it shuts us in the open. We understand that snow in high areas is unstable, and that even a small avalanche can roll our bodies down the mountain like a broom sweeping through crumbs. We know that deep snow chasms are hidden under a thin crust of frozen snow, and that rocks as big as televisions often come crashing down from large rock shards far up the mountain. But we knew nothing about climbing techniques and strategies, and our ignorance was enough to kill us.

We do not know, for example, that the Fairchild altimeter was wrong, that the crash site was not two thousand meters high, as we thought, but close to four thousand meters. Nor did we know that the mountain we were about to conquer was one of the highest in the Andes, towering nearly five thousand meters, he said, with very steep and difficult slopes that will test even climbing experts.

Experienced climbers, in fact, will never approach this mountain without being armed with special equipment, including steel pythons, ice screws, safety ropes, etc, and other gear designed for them to climb the slope safely. They should carry ice axes, weatherproof tents, and crampon shoes.

They are in peak physical condition, of course, and will climb according to the time they set themselves, and choose the safest route to the summit. The three of us hiked in just casual clothes, with simple equipment we made from items we found on the plane. Our bodies were devastated by months of fatigue, hunger, and exposure, and our background did little to help with this climb. Uruguay is a warm country and is located in the lowlands. None of us have ever seen a mountain before.

Before the plane crash, Roberto and Tintin had never seen snow. If we knew anything about climbing, we would see that our situation right now is completely doomed. Fortunately, we knew nothing, and our ignorance gave his one-on-one chance.

Our first task was to choose a path to climb the slope. An experienced climber will quickly select a ridge of mountains that extends from the summit towards the river at a distance of less than a kilometer south of the crash site. If we knew enough to climb up that ridge and keep climbing it, we would find a better footing, a flatter slope, and a safer, faster path to the top.

We never even looked at the ridges of the mountains. For days I marked with my eyes the point where the sun was behind the ridges of the mountains, and, thinking that the best route was the shortest route, the sun was behind, we used that point to map the road directly to the west. It was a fatal mistake that forced us to climb the steepest and most dangerous slope.

Our start, however, is quite promising. The snow from the lower side of the mountain was hard and quite flat. The spikes in my rugby boots stuck well in the frozen snow crust. Controlled by my tempestuous adrenaline, I moved swiftly up the slope, and within a short period of time had been fifty meters ahead of them.

But at once I had to slow down. This slope is getting steeper, and it seems to be getting steeper as it goes further and further. The effort left me gasping for breath in thin air, and having to rest, with both hands holding my knees, every walking a few meters.

When I looked back, I saw my friends also struggling with difficulty. I stared at the sun above us, and realized that we waited too long this morning to start climbing. According to logic, it is better if we hike during the day, so we wait for the sun to shine. Experienced climbers, on the other hand, know that the right time to climb is before dawn, before the sun makes the slopes a pulp. This mountain made us bear the mistakes of an amateur. I wonder what mistakes will come our way, and how many will survive.

Eventually, all the ice crust melted, and we were forced to hike through thick snowflakes that were sometimes as deep as my hips.

"Let's try the snowshoes!" I'm yelling.

The others nodded, then we took out Fito's snowshoes from the mountain bag and tied them to the feet. It worked well at first, making it easy for us to climb without sinking into the snow. But the size and the footwear forced us to bend our feet while walking, and to swing our feet in a wide circular fashion to prevent them from bumping. Worse, the bottom layer of the shoe quickly became wet by the melting snow. In my weary condition, I felt like I was climbing a mountain with a manhole cover stuck to my shoes. My spirit quickly dimmed. We are on the verge of exhaustion, while the actual climb has not yet begun.

The mountain slopes are getting steeper. His gloom forced us to take off our snowshoes.

By noon, we had reached a very high place. All around now was not only snow and rocks, we were also enveloped by blue clouds and sunlight. We really climbed up into the clouds!

The stretch of slopes visible from our heights amazes me. The extremely steep height and the expanse of the slopes stunned me with disbelief. Now this mountain is sliding steeply behind me so that when I look at Roberto and Tintin below me, I only see their heads and shoulders against the background of a stretch of sky as high as six thousand meters.

The slope angle of the slope is as steep as the stairs to the roof, but imagine the stairs that can be climbed up to the moon! The height made my head float and gave a spasm along my knee veins and spine. Looking back is like dancing on the balcony of a skyscraper.

On this steep and open slope, where the height seemed ready to derail me from the mountain surface and the handle was hard to get, an experienced climber will use a safety strap to tether his steel pegs into rock or ice, and they use iron spikes on his boots to give him a foothold. We don't have those things, but only with arms, legs, fingertips, and toes getting weaker to keep us from falling into the empty abyss behind.

Of course I was very frightened, but I would never deny the beauty of the wild world around me, the empty blue clouds, the snowy mountains, the thick expanse of untouched snow.

Everything looks so vast, so perfect, so silent and majestic. But something unfriendly lurks behind this beauty something ancient and threatening. I looked down at the accident site. From this height the place was only as big as a small spot that littered the surface of the snow. I see it as something completely out of place, how fundamentally wrong.

All about us being wrong in this place, our violent and rowdy arrival, our suffering, the commotion and chaos we put in to survive. Nothing is appropriate here.

Life is not appropriate here. All of that is a nuisance to the perfect tranquility that reigned in this place for millions of years. I felt it from the first time I observed this place. We have broken the ancient balance, and that balance must be restored.he is all around me, in silence, in the cold. There is something that wants that perfect silence back to the way it was, something in these mountains that wants us to be quiet.

(Connected)