Climbing Trail
The Andes tragedy Part 23
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The highest mountain in the west
it was covered in snow with very steep slopes, and the scenery below us was terrifying, a sight no human had ever seen before.
The steep slopes and heights that make us dizzy. And going down through the clouds scares me, and I have to force myself to move. As we left the top of the mountain and started down the slope, I realized that walking down was more terrible than climbing it.
Climbing a mountain is a struggle, and each step is a small victory against gravity. But going down the mountain is a surrender. We are no longer against gravity, but trying to beat the price of our lives that is bargained cheaply, and while humbling the body carefully on every dangerous footing to the other footing, giving it a little chance to survive, it will push our bodies down from the mountain and plunge into the hollow blue clouds.
When I descended a few meters from the top of the mountain, I could not believe all this.
"Carajos! I'm a dead man. What are we doing here?
It took a great effort to rediscover my courage, but I succeeded, I began to walk by
be careful down steep slopes at the highest peak of this mountain. The slopes of this mountain were too steep to be able to withstand the snow, the wind blowing on the surface of the mountain and the rocks, so we lowered our bodies very carefully, holding the edge of a large rock protruding out from the surface, then clasping the boots on the gaps between the small stones. Sometimes we crawl down the slope, with our backs as a pedestal, and sometimes down the mountain in a prone position.
Every step was a risk, the hard-looking mountain rocks would be easily crushed by our footing, and we had to find a handle to hold the body.
We have no experience in strategizing and planning hiking trails. All we thought about was surviving each step, sometimes our travel route leads to an impassable path, or to the tip of a reef jutting out of a mountain slope like a terraced balcony of a house, with bated breath look at the base of the mountain which is at a depth of thousands of meters. None of us understood climbing techniques, but we tried to pass or circle the rocks that blocked the road, or down through narrow rock crevices. Sometimes we have no choice but to jump from one stone to another at a height of thousands of meters in thin air.
For more than three hours we only walked for fifteen meters, but eventually these stones gave way to an open slope under a thick heap of snow. It was not too scary to walk through the thick snow instead of having to go through the path like the one before.
But passing through the thick snow was exhausting, and we were often caught in holes that were invisible because they were covered in snow. Again, what was initially seen as a sloping slope turned out to be full of ice walls, derivatives
the steep and hidden abyss. Every dead end we encountered forced us to follow our trail back and look for another route.
After walking down the mountain for several hundred meters, we unexpectedly had to change our route. Because the surface of the western mountain is always exposed to sunlight, a lot of snow is melting, and a lot of rocks are
visible on the surface. The dry surface of the mountain is easier to travel than the snow-covered surface is thick, but this place is full of loose stones and deep holes. These rocks were a very dangerous footing, and many times I almost lost grip and had to take pains to grip the rocks and mounds of ice to keep from slipping.
When possible, we lay down and slide down, or bow our bodies under some sort of cavern of boulders and follow them down the mountain.
At noon, after being on the mountain for about five hours, we arrived at the area where the mountain slope was facing towards the western mountain. The surface of the mountain was filled with a deep layer of snow, and when I saw the white and smooth surface, an idea flashed through my mind. Without much thought, I took the seat I had stored in the bag, threw it on the snow surface, then sat on it.
Holding an aluminum stick in both of my hands, I pulled my feet, pushed my body forward and began to slide up the seatbelt down the mountain slope. I knew I was doing something really stupid. The surface of this ice was extremely hard and slippery, and within a few meters, its speed grew to be extremely fast.
Being used to riding my motorbike on the streets of Uruguay gave me a sense of speed, and I believe I have been sliding down the slopes at sixty miles per hour. To slow down the speed, I moved my aluminum stick in the snow, and held it with both of my heels, but this effort had no effect whatsoever, only making my weight more forward. I knew that if I fell off my seat and rolled down the mountain then all my bones would break so that I would no longer try to reduce my speed and just hold on, sliding past the rocks, he said, then it darted past the mounds, without being able to control or stop it.
Finally, a wall of snow was visible, and I realized that I was sliding right into it.
And a few moments later I crashed into the snow mound at high speed, but even though the impact made me dizzy, the heavy snow had dampened the rigors of the impact so that I could survive.
As I was trying to get out of the snow, there was a loud roar from above. I could not hear him clearly, but I knew he remained where he was when I did that reckless deed. I waved to him so that he would know that I was fine, and rested while he walked down slowly to meet me.
We continued down the mountain slope, and by dusk we had managed to descend two-thirds of the mountain's height. At the location of the plane, the shadow of the western mountain makes the day quickly dark. But here, on the west side of the mountain, the sunlight continued to shine until nightfall, and I wanted to make the most of every moment that was left before dark.
"We have to keep going until sunset" I said.
Roberto shook his head. "I need to rest."
Roberto looks tired. I was also very tired, but the anxiety and despair within me felt stronger than my fatigue. For months, I resisted my desire to be free from this place. And, now I have walked towards my freedom with overflowing feelings. We had conquered the mountain, and now a valley lay before us, leading us home. How could I stop just to rest?
"We'll rest for a few more hours" I said.
"We have to stop! " Roberto yelled at me.
I know there's no point in arguing. We spread the sleeping bag over the dry surface of the rock and rested for the night.
The night was not too cold, perhaps because we were in a low place, or maybe because the heat of the sun was still stored in the rock that became our bed.
The next morning was December 15, the fourth day of our trip. When the sun came up, I woke Roberto up and walked back down the slope. By noon we had reached the foot of the mountain, and it turned out that we were on the road to the valley that we had expected to go to a place where there was civilization.
Ice rivers flow slowly along the valley floor, winding through the mountains that stand firm around it. From a distance, the snow covering the ice river seemed clear like glass, but it was just a trick of the eye. Up close, it turns out that the snow covering the surface of the ice river looks cracked, becoming chunks of ice and jagged.
The journey was not easy, several times we almost fell as if we were walking on concrete debris. Huge chunks of ice rolled and shifted under our feet. Our ankles were unable to move, and both of our legs slipped and were squeezed into the narrow gaps between the chunks of ice.
The journey was difficult and painful, and we had to be careful for every step we both knew that in this wild, a broken leg meant death. I wondered what we would do if one of us got hurt. Am I going to die, Roberto? Or will he leave me?
All day long we were stuck in this river of ice, until it didn't feel like time had passed. We both fought hard through the difficult path, and I let my pace go further and further away from Roberto. Sometimes he yells at me, "Slow down, Nando! You can get us both killed!"
I kept going faster and angrier every time I waited for Roberto to catch up with me, I thought he was wasting time. But it is true. Roberto's power is running out. So does my strength that is starting to thin. The spasms in my legs were painful and slowed my pace, my breathing thin and gasping for breath. I knew we were walking toward death, but I couldn't stop my steps.
The time was getting narrower, my body was getting weaker and I was getting scared to keep going. The pain and my body are no longer a problem for me, my body is just my ride home. And I will curse myself if my body becomes a barrier for me to go home.
It wasn't so cold that we could keep going after sunset, and sometimes I managed to persuade Roberto to keep going at night.
Even in a state of brewing, we are still fascinated by the beauty of the Andes at night. The sky is dark blue in the decoration of a sparkling cluster of stars. The moonlight gently shone on the mountain peak, and illuminated the stretch of snow with a terrifying light.
Once, as we were descending the mountain slope, I saw faint shadows before me, like a group of hooded saints praying together under the moonlight. When we got to those shadows, it turned out to be tall snow pillars, geologists called it penitente, which is formed at the base of the snowy slopes by the rotation of the wind.
There were so many pillars in that place, lined up in silence, and we had to find a way through it as if we were passing through a labyrinth. Sometimes I see my own shadow moving on the surface of the snow, proving that I am real and alive. However, many times I feel like a ghost wandering in the moonlit snow, like a soul trapped in a world between life and death, guided only by hope, memory, and hope, and longing for the hometown.
(Connected)
