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Climbing the glaciers of Chimborazo was the second time I had used crampons and an ice axe. The first time was up a forty-foot sledding hill in Michigan...
You might think you can guess what the furthest point on Earth from the center is. The summit of Everest? Not quite. You have to go to South America for this one. Stand on top of Mount Chimborazo, in Ecuador, and you are as far from the center - or as close to the sun - as you can get without flying.
Climbing Mount Chimborazo isn't highly technical. How hard could it be, considering I went higher than 20,00 feet the first time I put on crampons and used an ice axe? Okay, I used them once before, on a sledding hill near my house in Michigan. I dug the points of the crampons in and climbed forty feet while people walked by with their sleds, telling their kids to stay away from me.
It is easier to climb to 20,600 feet when the guide drives you to 15,000 feet, but don't get me wrong. Going up that last 5,600 feet was incredibly difficult.Why? Not because of the skill required. The problem is that the air was missing half of its oxygen, as is typical at these elevations. That's what had me struggling, and quitting twenty times on the way up. It just plain gets difficult to move up there.
All the monuments near the first refuge weren't for climbers without skill. This simple graveyard is a warning about the unpredictability of all high places. Chimborazo is very high, and randomly shrugs off large rocks that can kill. It also has weather that changes by the minute. Hiking to the second refuge, I listened to rocks and pieces of ice falling somewhere above.
The second refuge, "El Refugio Edward Whymper," is an unheated hut at 16,000 feet, named after the English climber who first made it to the summit. Actually, it isn't entirely unheated, if you count the large stone fireplace. And when somebody feels like carrying wood up to 5000 meters (16,000 feet), they can build a fire with pathetic little flames that are gasping for oxygen like the rest of us. The fire might even raise the temperature in the hut by four degrees.
We drank several hot mugs of "mate de coca," or tea made of coca leaves, which are also used to make another product - one that's taken up the nose. This helped with the altitude, so we went hiking for twenty minutes. That was my entire acclimatization routine. After we ate, I slept for an hour. We started the ascent at eleven that night.
Chimborazo is near the Equator (100 miles south). The elevation in the center of Ecuador, and the moderating effect of the Humboldt Current along the South American Pacific coast, gives Ecuador near perfect weather. Maybe it's a bit hot in the lowlands, but it's spring-like in Quito (the capital) , with highs in the sixties to low seventies almost every day of the year. There is great weather almost everywhere in the country, until you get high enough.
As mentioned, the summit of Chimborazo is the furthest point from the center of the Earth. Our planet bulges at the equator, making Chimborazo even further out there than Mount Everest. Despite the distinction of being the closest point to the sun on the planet, it's also the coldest place in Ecuador.
My guide, Paco, didn't care for my lightweight gear. He frowned at my sleeping bag - it was packed up smaller than a football, and weighed a pound. My frame-less 13-ounce backpack didn't impress him much either. It was below freezing in the hut that night, just as he said it would be. Fortunately, I stayed warm in my fluffy down bag, as I said I would - no problems so far.
It would have been better if Paco spoke at least six or seven words of English. As for myself, I had just started to learn Spanish a couple months earlier. With our whole group consisting of him and me, we had a few communication problems. I thought that the $11 fee for the "night" (a few hours) in the hut was included in the $130 guide fee, for example, and he thought I was an mountain climber - which I only understood later on the glaciers at about 19,000 feet.
I believe he was saying that he didn't like the papery rain suit I was using for an outer shell. He frowned at the ski mask I had made out of the sleeve of an old thermal shirt. Then, when he saw my insulating vest, a feathery piece of poly-batting with a hole cut in it for my head, well, I just pretended not to understand what he was trying to tell me.
It wasn't like I wanted to climb Chimborazo with such lightweight gear, but I'd come to Ecuador on a courier flight, and could bring only carry-on luggage. I had 12 pounds in my pack for the entire month, including warm clothing. One advantage was that by the time I put on all my clothes that night, the weight on my back was irrelevant. But the weight of my body wasn't irrelevant, even for a skinny guy like me. Paco had to really coax me up that mountain.
The glaciers start near the hut, so our casual walk quickly became mountaineering. I put on crampons for the second time in my life (there was that sledding hill), and they almost fit well. Then, a few minutes later, I tore my rain pants with the sharp spikes. Fortunately it was too cold to rain in any case.
During one of my many breaks ("demasiado" - too many, which I pretended not to understand), I noticed that my tiny thermometer had bottomed out at 5 degrees Fahrenheit. I never was cold, but I was exhausted at times - mostly the times when I moved. When I sat still I felt great, like I could run right up that hill.
We went up the glaciers, hiking, climbing, jumping crevasses, until I quit at 20,000 feet. I had also quit at 19,000 feet, and at 18,000 feet. In fact, quitting had become my routine. But lying had become Paco's, so he told me straight-faced that the summit was only fifty feet above us. I believed him, perhaps because the lack of oxygen had scrambled my brain. I started climbing up the ice again.
We stumbled onto the summit of Mount Chimborazo at dawn. Well, at least I stumbled. Paco, who, to be honest, had seemed slow and tired down at the refuge, was suddenly energetic at 20,600 feet. Dirtbag Joe, was waiting for us, smiling. He was a nineteen-year-old kid from California with ten bucks in his pocket, and borrowed equipment, and my noodles in his stomach.
I looked around. The sky was a stunning dark shade of blue, one that you can never see at lower elevations. It reminds you that you're above most of the atmosphere on the planet. Cotapaxi, that classic snow-covered volcano, was clearly visible 70 miles away. Then, as the sun rose, the shadow of Chimborazo reached out across the valleys and clouds below. Seeing the shadow of a mountain on top of clouds is another of those little reminders that you're really up there.
The three of us shook hands, and enjoyed the view. Then it was time to head down. Previously, someone had explained to me that you don't want to be on Chimborazo when she wakes up - and she wakes up at nine each morning.
Paco kept looking at his watch and frowning. He was further and further ahead of me, and I felt like he planned to abandon me on the mountain. Unfortunately, my knees refused to cooperate, and my legs wobbled with every step. I couldn't keep up with Paco.
Note:
Want to climb Mount Chimborazo? It's
cheapest to wait until you get to Ecuador to make arrangements.
Just ask almost any hotel manager in Riobamba about it. He or
she will find a guide for you. It's cheaper if you're part of
a group.
