domingo, 22 de abril de 2007


Huaraz


and The Cordillera Blanca



When I woke up on my first morning in Huaraz I jumped out of bed and threw on my clothes, I was deadly anxious to get outside and see what sort of view awated me. Arriving the night before at 9 PM there was nothing but dimly lit streets soaked by the ongoing rain. As I left my hostel and came around the corner from its door I was greeted with my first view of the Cordillera Blanca. Amongst the scattered cumulus clouds building against the range I could see a few icy peaks and high hanging valleys coming out from under them. The landscape was verdant green, soaking wet and thriving with life. I was very pleased with what I saw.

I decided that to get to know the town that I should hike up to the cross high above on a hill. I began towards it but instead I ventured off into the countryside making my own route through the farms of campesinos and up onto a large green hill that had a bowl shaped canyon of red earthy rock. Across from there I had a spectacular view of the mountains north and south. After only a short period of time walking through the countryside I declared Huaraz as the most beautiful place Id been in South America and possibly the most beautiful place I have ever visited. A landscape undeniably peacful and warming while backdropped by the most dramatic and exhilarating peaks in the Andes mountains.

My primary goal was to meet some other trekkers and head into the mountains. I could have left the next day on my own but I was much more interested in having some company after way to much solo hiking and travelling. It was lucky then that dreary and rainy night led me into the warm and hospitable ¨Vagamundo, Travel Bar.¨ There I met a Saskatchewaner named Paul and an English girl named Tina who were planning on starting a trek in a few days. I switched my hostel where there was absolutely nobody over to theres where there was atleast them. It was still well into the rainy season and a long time before the crowds and tour groups arrived which in a way is very nice. Every day was relatively clear in the morning as cumulus clouds slowly built and obscured my view of the mountains from the terrace at Jo´s Place hostal. At around 2 PM the clouds would sweep in over the city delivering a torment of rain and thunder. The night before we left on our trek we were shopping around for groceries when a horrid storm came in overflowing the streets in an instant. Geez I thought it must be raining twice as hard where were going tomorow deep in the mountains.

Despite the nasty weather the next morning we hired a taxi to take us high above town to the base of one of the hanging valleys, our plan to hike to its head, summit the pass at 5100m and descend into the Cojulp canyon and hike out making 4 days in total. The weather was fine that morning and as we shouldered our packs and began into the deep hidden valley with its formidable walls of granite on each side I felt a great feeling of promise and excitement as I realized that there was no where else in the world I would rather be. The valley streamed deep into the range dissapearing behind a curve. Being the rainy season waterfalls were gushing down all the valleys walls, tropical plants clinged to their vertical cliffs as high as 4700m up. So strange it seamed to have life thriving at such a dizzying altitude, back home in Vancouver the trees run thin well below 2000m. Afterall though we were now in the highest tropical mountain range in the world, just 9 degrees south of the equator enormous glaciers and icefields poured off the mountains. Below them pristine lakes and verdant valleys inhabited by grazing livestock but also natural animals like the Andian fox and Andian deer.

This majestic range is the land of the andian condor, the largest flight bird in the world with a wing span as large as 10 feet and is sometimes seen soaring past 6000m peaks. The odd endangered vicuñas still inhabit some of the most remote and natural valleys. Primitive civilization has existed here since the Chavin people 2800 years ago and the valleys are full of ruins mossed over some of which are not so old but some defintly thousands of years. The people who still inhabit the valleys seem as ancient as the ruined huts, occasionally in blue jeans but more often in purely traditional clothing and living directly off the land grazing animals and growing corn and potatoes. Most people speak good spanish but for all of them Quechua is still their first language and what you here them speaking with one another. When I dreamt of South America this is what I most wanted to see, for me this is the defintion South American Andian lifestyle. A world so different then what we know in Canada.

Anyway the hike went off perfectly. We didnt get hammered to bad by the weather, usually we would wake up well before sunrise and make our next camp at 1 or 2 just before the rain swept into the valley. Going over the pass was a thrill, carrying our packs over the 5100m pass we were trudging through thigh deep snow all well exhausted and light headed but loving it. It had snowed on us the night before and avalanches were rumbling down the glaciers of nearby 6000m peaks. It was more snow then Tina had ever seen in her life which me and Paul thought was rather hilarious as we watched her nervously but very happily follow our deep sunken steps. The next day we hiked out the narrow canyon and made it back to town in time for a shower and an outragoeus friday night. Paul really likes to drink and Tina certainly doesn´t object, I was pretty happy to go along with it and we made it home at 9 in the morning.

The mystery that surrounded that night was the mysterious and bitter destruction of my cheap Bolivian tent. Cheap as it may have been it survived the raging desert winds in Argentina and Chile only to end up destroyed in a nice tranquil garden of my hostel. I went to bed at 9 AM and everything was fine. I woke up at noon and a pole was broken, when I woke up from my nap the other was snapped clean. The next day the third was obliterated and a large hole was in the roof. (Thats how I remember it anyway). I bought a new and much better quality tent for $135 which was probably a good thing anyway.

A couple days later when the smoke had cleared Paul left to meet a freind to Lima. Steve an Australian took his place in our tekking trio and as it turned out he was planning on being in Huaraz for a long time to climb. Fully equipped with a rope, ice, snow, and rock placement pieces and well experienced mostly from climbing in New Zealand. We made plans right away. Originally I hadn´t planned on doing any climbing in this range because the mountains are rather technical and dificult, I felt I had spent enough time in the high alpine and it would be smart to take a break for a while. From the local guide book "Classic Climbs in The Cordillera Blanca" by Brad Johnson we found out there was plenty of easier peaks for warming up. Nice and easy routes but with spectacular scenery and dramatic glacier features. It was still to rainy and the mountains snow laden for climbing so we had plenty of trekking to do to get into peak shape.

We went for a one nighter up the Ishinca Valley, one of the popular climbing spots, just to check it out. After that we decided to do the world famous Santa Cruz Trek. Popular because its just so pretty and also it passes under the peak of Alpamayo 5940m, dubbed as the most beautiful mountain in the world by the German Mountaineering club. We left our hostal to grab a collectivo down to Yungay, a name that may sound familiar to some people. The tragic history of this valley is something I should mention before I continue. 37 years ago in 1970 the most tragic and devastating natural disaster in the history of the Americas rocked this corner of northern Peru. A 7.7 earthquake oblitreated the soft adobe towns, houses and buildings collapsed, infrastructure dissapeared and even the grand colonial cathedral in Huaraz was reduced to a pile of bricks. The beautiful colonial city of Huaraz built from Spanich gold mines was obliterated and 20000 were left dead. But most tragic and unescapable is that the the nearly vertical mountains crumbled and slid in horrific land slides reshaping the mountain topography. An enormous chunck of rock and ice broke off the west face of Huascaran 6750m, the highest mountain in Peru. The ensuing slide travelled down the slopes at 300 miles an hour and 300 meters high washing the town of Yungay clean off the mountain side. Of over 18000 people only a lucky 200 survived by safety of the cemetary above town. In total over 70000 people lost their lives throughout the region and all of the elegant colonial buildings gone forever. Present Yungay was built a few km down valley from the old site where it will hopefully be safe from the next disaster. Already 37 years have passed since the tradgedy and life has not yet returned to normal. A New cathedral and the main plaza are along way from being constructed. The previosly charming colonial city of Huaraz was rebuilt with bricks and concrete, protruding rebar and monotnous arquitecture try its best to uglify the city. Nonetheless the mountain views are unescapable on any street or alley and keep ones eyes off the architecture. To me anyway it is still one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Anyway our bus shot through Yungay and began a 2000m climb up past the spectacular LLanganulco Lakes up to El Paso Portachuelo. After our bus dropped down from the 4800m pass we scambled with packs from the bus under the roof of one of the only houses in tiny Vaqueria. The rain was falling by the bucketfulls and rather than head into the torment we decided to stay the night in a little adobe house where a family had a room for rent. The weather cleared in the afternoon and we enjoyed a sublime day sitting in the tiny Andian town laughing with the children and generally doing nothing except a few beers in the evening. The next morning we set off down valley passing more campesinos houses until we were past them all and in a natural valley. I had met a friendly dog in Vaqueria and he decided to come along for the trip. We figured if we didnt feed him that he would go home but he would not turn around. At the pass he found a dead donkey and feasted until he was full and his white coat was stained red with blood around his face. We passed by Alpamayo and admired it indeed although calling it the most beautiful mountain in the world is perhaps a bit of a stretch.

Our last day was very pretty. We spent the night on a flat terraced patch of grass with deep green cliffs towering above us, a mighty waterfall was gushing off a cliff and we all algreed that it was one of the finest campspots that we had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. We made it back to Huaraz via a packed collectivo(minivan) with well over 20 people inside.

For the last couple weeks the weather was improving considerably and rain was no longer a timed daily event. It was time to climb. We would kick off the season in La Quebrada Ishinca where two popular and non difficult peaks would be our first acsents and if all went well me and Steve would have a go at the west face of Tocllaraju over 6000m. We decided to bring Tina along, despite being a city girl from London and had never even smelt the mountains she was enthusiastic and in good shape. We would do her a favour to stick her in the middle of the rope and bring her up the easier ones. Sporting heavy pack we trudged up the valley and set base camp on a sparkling glacier fed creek. Above us in all directions fantastic peaks shined white and unclimbed as the season was only starting.

After a rest day to acclimatize we set out for the peak of Urus Este 5440m. Our start was delayed by heavy rains but at 330 they subsided and we began up the steep 900m slog to the glacier toe. The weather swirled around us and visibility came and went. We roped up and traded leads plodding through ankle deep snow up to the summit. The clime was not especially thrilling and barely a moment of view opened up for us but it was still a 5400m peak and our first in the cordillera Blanca. The next day without rest we woke for another early start for Ishinca 5550m. This time the stars were spakling over head and the air was dry and chilly. A quick hike by headlamp and we were on the glacier roping up. The sun came up and we had a very enjoyable climb on the glacier, route finding was not a problem in the clear morning but it was still a relatively featured glacier with some epic cravasses and ice cliffs that might be hard to negotiate in later season. We were rewarded with spectacular views from the dramatic summit point. For the descent we climbed down a small cornice and decsended to the col with Ranrapalca making a full traverse of the mountain.


We were lucky to have that clear morning as most other days were not very pleasant. Me and Steve were thinking about going up to high camp on Tocllaraju but the weather encouraged us not to. The night before we would leave was a heavy rain storm that dropped heaps of snow on the mountains. All night thundering avalanches pored down the west face of Tocllaraju.


Our next climbing trip was to be on a grander scale, we were now very acclimatized and in top shape. Just me and Steve this time left Huaraz on the morning bus to Llangunulco and jumped off at the trail head for Pisco. Pisco 5700m is a very popular peak because it is situated in probably the most spectacular mountain group of the Cordillera Blanca. The route up when in good shape is an easy hike up its glaciated west ridge. Nothing more than 45 degrees and no serious obstacles. It would be our warm up peak for our next objective Chopicaqui 6355m just across the valley.

Our plan was to be going for 7 days straight so we decided to move very slow and take short days whenever possible. Our first day up to Pisco base camp at 4600m was easy and we found that camp was rather spectacular. The next day a short climb and an epic morraine crossing, basically a river of rock thats constantly shifting as the ice under it melts and shifts, brought us up to morraine camp at 4900m. Morraine camp is in a spectacular bowl of morraines hanging right below the stunning faces of Huandoy norte and Huandoy Sur. Across the valley our next peak Chopicalqui stood dauntingly rising high above most other mountains except of course for the mighty bulk of Huascaran Sur and norte unmached in height nor shear size by any other mountain in the range. The slow going put us into excellently acclimatized mode and we figured we could be up on the peak in 3 or 4 hours. It was a perfect opportunity to try to make top for sunrise.
We woke up at 2 AM and in just 40 minutes we were picking our way up to the glacier. The route turned out to be in superb condition, rock hard ice and no dangerous cravasses. It was a purely glorified walk not an ounce of danger and as the horizon began to light up a spectacular world began to come into view. Shadows from the night as big as anything started to take light, sharp ridges and plunging faces surounded us. The first rays peaked over the horizon hitting the top of Huascaran Sur and gradually all the mountains lit up shimmering pink then gold then blastingly bright white as we put on our glasses and thick sunscreen. This all happened as we were finishing the last 40m of the powdery summit ridge. The views were breathtaking and the weather was all to perfect. We shook hands and sat down on our packs. The air was cold but there wasn´t a breath of wind and not a single cloud was present as far as the eye could see and let me tell you the eye could see far. The sun was coming up on the far east past where the Andes dropped down to the Amazon Basin. To the west still in shadows the Cordillera Blanca looked miniscule below us and we could see well over it to the Pacific and coastal desert obscured by clouds. The mountains we could see was mind blowing. A perfect view across to Chopicalqui and the Huascarans over 1000m higher then Pisco. Huandoy was right up in our faces and looked all the bigger and meaner. To the north we could see everything, Alpamayo, Artesonraju, Santa Cruz grande and atleast 5 or 10 other 6000m peaks each one dramatic and unique. As I admired the view I though that this was surely one of the best collectiones of mountains in the world. No question in my mind that it is the best in the Andes




We spent a solid hour on the peak something that you dont get to do very often on 5700m peaks before making a quick and safe descent. How brilliant it was, my 5th highest and Steve´s highest. A summit for sunrise on a calm and perfect day, this is a good form of mountaneering, very little risk and extremly high reward. A shame I think it is that only so many people get to experience such a sensational experience. Ironically though as we came down we met two guided parties plodding labourously for the peak. They were hours behind us and wouldnt arrive if at all until much later. The sun had hit the glacier and things were heating up. Each one of the guided climbers was short roped behind a guide and each one looking tired and unhappy. Paying loads of money to get painfully dragged up into the high altitude late in the morniung. That is a bad form of mountaneering, they will still be glad they did but why didnt they stay at Morraine camp if they are unacclimatized and why didnt they start earlier. Often suffering and exposure are inherent in the mountains but why not avoid it if you can by a little thinking and efficiency.


We descended to base camp and then the next morning out to the road. We caught a taxi for 5 dollars up to the trailhead for Chopicaqui and camped at base camp a short hike in. In the morning we watched with dismay as a low pressure front moved in from the north and sure enough the sky turned brown. This was not good, if we were to climb this enormous mountain we needed some good conditions, ideally some freezing cold nights to harden the snow up. As far as we new and affirmed by many guides we met we were going to be opening up the route for the season which meant we might be charging throungh thigh deep snow up the 50-60 degree slopes on the west ridge. We moved up to morraine camp again crossing a jumbled mess of rock and then onto an incredible morraine rising that took us up to morraine camp at 5000m just off the glacier. Again the view from here was amazing but the weather was not clear and only at sunset did it open up a bit. We woke up early to get to high camp on the glacier at 5600m before the sun scorched us. We ended up for an hour and a half in full sun light. It was scorching hot and only cooled off with clouds when we finally made camp and jumped in the tent. The wether was uncertain but we were obviously still going to go for it so we set our alarm for 1 in the morning planning on peaking in about 7 hours if the conditions and route finding in the dark was not a problem.


I had not slept much at all when the alarm shook us awake. No please no I thought, I was pretty cold the whole night and the thought of getting out into the frigid cold and disappearing into the night seemed rather unappealing. A quick thought of the peak got me into it and adreenalin replaced any energy that I was lacking. We roped up and set off. The snow was alright, sometimes windblown and hard other times soft to the knee. The slopes steepened and remained in the range of 40 - 50 degrees. At around 6000m light began to come in while I was leading up an extremely steep face. All of a sudden I was on top of a knife edge ridge that dropped overhanging on one side and 60 degrees on the other. I traverseed along the 60 degree slope with the shaft of my ice axe dug deep in top of the ridge. The snow was straight fluff and I was sinking in to my waist. I got into an incredible rythm and became lost in my movements. I would plunge in the shaft of my axe and then drive my gloved hand into the snow. Raise my foot kick, kick step and up, raise my axe and plunge it deep, then my hand, raise my foot kick kick step, again up. Between kicks I would look at Steve through by legs directly below me, a glance to the side at the world below me, and continue. I was in a trance and I felt great, in the mountain groove where the complexities of life vanish and suddenly one step at a time becomes the thing that matters, just up. Kepp it going, keep it going a few more hundred steps and wed have it I kept thinking. Slowly but surely I drove up that ridge and in no time we were right onto the summit shoulder. The views were spectacular. It was cloudy but we were sandwiched in between two layers of clouds. We were lost in some sort of ultra surreal mountain world where above and below the clouds didnt seem to exist or atleast didnt matter.




We did it! or had we. The summit pyramid had an awful crevasse running below an ice cliff, we were ready to have to climb an ice wall but the problem was that it was caked in snow. An Andian specialty where powder snow clings to vertical walls. We had no option to set protection in the form of ice screws and climbing it was as hairy as can be. An open crevasse under one part the other shear snow slopes. It the end we said to hell with it this is our summit 25m below the true thing but were not going to commit to any of theses crazy scrambles with dangerous possible consequnces.


We unroped for the descent as a fall would be impossible to arrest on the 60 degree slope and walking unroped we moved very smooth back to high camp. We packed her up and followed our tracks back to the morraines. It was heating up brutally on the glacier and every step we would sink right to our thighs. When we got off I felt really good. I had enjoyed the climb but I said to myself that that was it, no more climbing. Steve was off to Bolivia in a few days anyway so I had no partner.
In a way I was sick of the mounatins, over the last 7 months I had spent a great deal of time at high altitude. In that time I had amazing experiences and seen mind blowing views. But also a harsh number of sleepless nights, shivering in my tent waiting for the morning. Cracked lips, burnt nose, and numb fingers was the way of life for me. On Chopicalqui I suffered some minor frost bite on my big toes which would remain numb for several months and the nails would eventually turn black and fall off. My knees were soar from heavy packs and although I was feeling sensationally fit and capable I sometimes had the feeling of being very worn out. After so many cold nights and high altitude exhaustion days I promised myself no more suffering. Yet each time after a days rest and a review of my photos I was as anxious and commited as ever to climb the next high summit. To push hard and suffer hard just for that view and the feeling of satisfaction and appreciation when I return to town for a warm meal and cold beer. Its absolutley ridiculous! This I know. It seemed to be almost beyond my control like it was my destiny and it could not be changed. One must follow his or her destiny.
After having said all this you can probably guess that Chopicalqui was not going to be my last mountain nor my most difficult. Despite my numb toes I wanted to go back up there to the high alpine. Back into the ultra surreal mountain world with clouds below and clouds above. I wanted one last view of the Cordillera Blanca and once again to savour my struggled breaths. One cant imagine what it is like until they find themselves there on top of the world, on the high peaks of South America where they will surely realize the true meaning of the word beautiful but also perhaps pain and suffering.


Huaraz





Nevado Urus Este 5435m




The West face of Tocallaraju 6100m as seen from Ishinca Base Camp



The South Face of Tocallaraju as seen from Ishinca



Mountain Biking down the LLanganulco Valley 2000m descent

A view of Chopicalqui from Pisco base camp





Steve backdropped By The Impressive East Face of Huandoy Sur Climbing Pisco 5700m





















Climbing Chopicalqui