Patagonia: Chop Chop

Admittedly, I tend to use the word adventure like it's another vowel. There isn't much that I enjoy doing that doesn't involve a healthy dose of adventure. But there is one word I secretly reserve for that rare breed of adventure, the EPIC adventures if you will. To me, an epic is an adventure that hides itself in the folds of moments that contain it, occurring when what you imagined and what reality is are two slightly (but profoundly) different things. But instead of failure or defeat you sharpen your focus and pull out some grit to overcome.

With this, I feel that nobody chooses to have an 'epic' day, but rather the epic days choose us, blossoming out of the conditions that we subject ourselves to. They happen when the situation presses us to our limits when all we have is the moment we are in and all that we can feel is alive...Without further ado, I share an epic day in the mountains of Patagonia.

It's 4:30AM. The alarm sounds sooner than expected. I cancel mine and within a minute my brother's echos our premeditated start to the day...I lie awake recounting our preparation from the night before and the somewhat unknown adventure we are about to depart on...Wakefulness transitions into movement and finally into breakfast (dehydrated granola and blueberries - 280 Calories/Kirk). 

We hit the trail with gumption. My brother sets pace for the route we embark upon, a mile of which we had explored the evening before. Within 20 minutes we are hanging inverted from our harnesses completing the first of the days obstacles, a tyrolean traverse across Rio Fitz Roy.

Tyrolean Traverse - is a method of crossing through
free space between two high points
on a rope without a hanging cart (googled it for ya).

We scouted out the traverse the day before.

As we near the first of our ascents we pass two camps; one whose inhabitants have already started out for the day (a group of three) and another preparing for their departure (a group of four). Today, Cerro (Mount) Solo will be visited by our collective company and not a soul more.

The day before, during our hike into camp, we were graced with the presence of a lad named Boyd from Montana. He had much to share during our 6 mile journey into Laguna Torre. As a professional photographer he happily enlightened (pun intended) us on the topic. To summarize, the most important aspects of taking a good photo were lighting, composition, and the right moment. Here goes Boyd! :-) 

Hiking and learning with Boyd

Cerro Solo is a 2221m (7287ft) mountain lying about 7 miles from El Chalten. It caught my eye as a 'warm-up' objective pretty soon after we arrived. It is set off by itself (hence the name) and is glaciated from the summit down a few thousand feet. According to the guidebook it is considered a moderate mountaineering climb.

Cerro Solo (framework compliments of nature)

Kirks (left), Solo (right) - photo cred: Boyd

Co. Solo profile (this is the side we'll ascend)

Once we arrive at the designated campsite we begin preparations for tomorrow's climb. The mantra is 'light and fast'. Without old man altitude slowing us down we will be able to move at a 'normal' pace for this type of terrain. Each Kirk will be carrying 4 cliff bars (250 cal/ea), random snacks in the form of cheese, crackers, olives, and cookies (mas o menos ~1,000 cal), 2 liters of water. From our ultra running experiences we are privy to the fact that you can get by with far fewer calories than you might expect for such an endeavor. Replenishment, not replacement is generally the idea. In addition to this fuel we'll have harnesses, glacier travel gear, one ice axe each, and layers for the lack of degrees or wind we may encounter. Oh, and many devices for capturing them rascally moments. :-)

Campamento

Din-din

Alright, enough fluff, so we were on this mountain in Patagonia, right? When we came across this cascading waterfall just beyond the second group of climbers...

'This is it' Ethan said. 

Nick, following somewhat blindly, agreed, 'OK'. 

We take a hard left and begin the ascent up alongside the waterfall. Our headlamps are the window into where we are and where we are going, straight up, or that's what it feels like if you asked any one of our four legs. We spot the twinkles from the groups above and below us.  

Getting our scramble on

Sunup came between 7-7:30. Boyd's words rang in our minds as we took the opportunity to capture several light sculpting shots of the surrounding peaks.

Cerro Torre (left), Fitz Roy (right)

Bam!

The scrambling was mostly 4th class (ie a rope is optional). Our route entered a narrow shoot where there were two or three 5-8' sections of 5.2-5.3 rock. 

The playground.

The shoot plopped us out right on top of our first ascent, onto a short ridge where our second ascent began in full force. At this point we had passed the group of three that was in front of us. I glanced down to see everyone's whereabouts and noticed that they had crossed over into the shoot we just ascended.

Nick: "Looks like they are taking our route."

Ethan: "Hah! They're following the clueless."

Nick: *giggles*

The second stretch was more of the same with the exception of two 8-10' 5.5-5.6 sections 

Second ascent

Backpacks make climbing more interesting

Fascinating rock formations
(note: this photo was actually from our descent)

11AM: Upon completing the second ascent within 2 miles from our campsite (think steep!) we break for some nourishment and to switch modes of travel. From here we will be traveling as a rope team in glacier travel mode. The purpose of roping up on a glacier is to ensure that if one person on the team falls in an unsuspecting void the other can arrest the fall and provide assistance in recovery from the fall.

Future framed photo for the loft?

I take the lead on this section

After a short section of glacier travel we embark on our third and final ascent. This time we will be on rope in simul-climbing mode. Simul-climbing is generally performed on easier climbs where protection is minimal and speed is desired. We decided on this mode of travel over pitched climbing (where one person climbs at a time and the other belays) for precisely the reason that this was supposed to be relatively 'easy' and because the protection (placement of screws or snow anchors) was going to be difficult due to the slope and conditions (the guidebook described the slope as 50 degrees).

The sun is shining brightly. The snow exposed to the sun's rays is soft and slightly packy.

Kick, kick. Step up. Swing, pull. Repeat.

The terrain is varied enough to keep the movements from being monotonous. I continuously adjust my grip on the ice axe as I move from low slope snow to rock to higher angled snow slopes. The pitch remains sustained at nearly 45-50 degrees interspersed with outcroppings of rock and the occasional section of ice where the melt from off the rocks has refrozen. As the movement takes us higher the risk takes resemblance. To increase purchase for my spare hand and feet I begin to chop holds with the Adze of my ice tool. 

The grandfathers of mountaineering know this type of travel well. Before the existence of the more modern style front-pointed cramp-ons, Alpinists had only their ice tool and boots with primitive traction devices attached. It was with this ice tool that they were able to carve out steps of which to gain their objective, the summit.

After about 200' of climbing we got to the head wall of almost vertical ice/snow. We consulted on our situation. Going down carried the inherent risk of slipping on the unprotectable slope as downclimbing is often much more precarious than climbing. Our prevailing decision was to continue climbers right across a section of softer snow to a bulge where we could then continue up. The traverse again involved chopping depressions for added security as we were now entering a no fall zone.

Traversing

Once across I belayed Ethan in with the Prussik on our glacier travel setup. Graciously he offered me his water and a clif bar. My nerves being a little tense considering the exposure and the gravity of our situation wouldn't allow me to obtain mine from my pack.

Now, we go up. The surface: gritty ice with a light coating of mushy snow. The slope: 60-70 degrees. My nerves: TENSE. I began chopping a step for each foot and one for my left hand, took one step and chopped another for that same side. The adrenaline was like blood running through my body. The soaked gloves, continuous swinging of my axe, tense legs, burning calves - almost imperceptible. The degree of focus on getting to the summit safely was unlike what I've ever experienced.

Ethan: "Dude, you're a hero!"
Nick: *mumble* - (thinking, 'I'm a dumbass')

There was a moment when the seriousness of our endeavors started to well my eyes with tears, I quickly refocused my energy on the next step, the next hold. The fear of falling made the risk feel as though life and death were existing in the same moment...After 2+ hours of ascending, the slope begins to shallow.

Ethan: "It might be easier to standup and walk from here."
Nick: (Still in the zone) "I'm not sure I would feel comfortable standing up."
Ethan: "Well you could turn around and look at me for encouragement."
Nick: Turns, looks, *smiles* - emphatically (still unable to speak)

From here, thankfully, Ethan takes the lead to the summit.

Heading for the summit (apparently my phone thought this would be better in Sepia)

You couldn't have asked for better weather, fairly warm and partly sunny for all 13 hours of daylight, 6.5 hours of which we had to hedge our descent.

Nick: "I feel like our adventure is just beginning."

Ethan: "Yup, getting up is optional, getting down is mandatory."

After a quick respite, a few photos, and a change of my shorts we head down.

(Sigh)

We decided to scout out a different route down, one with less sustained pitch and potential for rappelling. Towards the south East edge of the glacier we find a slope covered in softer snow. We were able to view photos of this section from Ethan's phone from the hike a few days prior. It appeared that this was our ticket out of here the only question was if there were any drops further down that we couldn't see...

Again, kicking steps for better purchase

After a rope and a halfs length of downclimbing the surface becomes hard and precipitous. Without much choice Ethan stops and builds an anchor out of the two ice screws we have. Ethan rappels first and determines that there is a drop in the glacier of about 15'. I pull one of the screws and bail off the second. All told the mountain captured one screw and a carabiner.

Rappeling

Our descent

Our ascent r

4,900' - 7 miles - 15.5 hours

Needless to say we are both thankful to be alive! And were especially happy to step foot back into town to engorge on pizza and beer the following day. What adventure doesn't end with pizza and beer? :-)

Up next? 5 days of trekking, camping, and trailrunning, oh my!

Patagonia: A return to the deep south

Hola!

It's been a week since Ethan and I left the comforts of the northeast and there's much to report! First off, 'the bags' safely made the journey. Yes all 170lbs of said bags completed the car ride (thanks Becca), the two bus rides, and five plane rides. When asked their one remark after the ~50 hour journey was 'oofta'. Consequentely the two Patagonia bags (thanks Justin and Jenna) are happy to be in the shared Chilean and Argentinean region known as 'Patagonia' that they are named after. 

The aforementioned 'bags'

Our destination is the quaint little trekking and climbing town in southern Patagonia named El Chalten (please excuse the missing apostrophe). Total population is somewhere around the square root of 100 (I would have googled it quickly but the internet here is at or below that of dial-up speed of the mid 1990's).

The self-proclaimed trekking capital of Argentina

Proof!

Our paid accomodations thus far have been at the one and only Rancho Grande set at the base of a rock cliff of which we have climbed on twice. The Rancho is a hostel not a hotel. For those out there less familiar with this type of lodging you often pay per person and are placed in a bunk room with several others. In our case we have been in four-bunk rooms with lockers for storing belongings safely. The facilities include shared bathrooms, showers, a cocina (aka kitchen, and for the record, yes, I did just max out my two word spanish vocab...), and a common area. Three observations I have made about hostel living in El Chalten: 

1) It's country soup. I've met people from Australia, the UK, Germany, New Zealand, Argentina, Chili, the US, the Netherlands, and even the Yukon Territory for fuck's sake. And that's only the ones we've talked to. 

2) Quiet hours is optional. 'Bedtime' is somewhere between the loud rukus American group checking in around midnight and the early morning cleaning shift...

3) If you suspect there to be a communist amongst the group keep your veggies and cooking oil with you at all times (RIP fellow delicious looking pototoes and onion and bread and salt and...).

Rancho Grande!

Our first stop after the arduous two days of travel was a vegetariana resto to get our bowels back on track with a little fiber. The seven airplane meals of ham and cheese (hold the ham) sandwiches left something to be desired (veggies).

Curried veggies and rice

The next few days (Saturday-Monday) we spent getting to know the area and what resources El Chalten has to offer. Which lead to more observations:

1) Holy restaurants! It seems like every other building is devoted to feeding the masses of hungry trekkers. To note a few, we drooled past two cervecerias (aka brew pub), two vegetarian cafes, a waffleria (yes Jenna, the Chalten version of the Creperie :-) ), a bistro or two, two Panarias (bakeries), and one sandwicharia (seems like what Ethan and I would call a sandwich shop if we opened on down here...).

2) The other 50% of the buildings are hostels. Travelers galore!

3) There's a car for every 100 pedestrians (for a town smaller than Boonville it is clear that walking is actually a fine way to travel in a rural area)

4) My spanish is worse than I thought, thankfully Ethan has been killin it.

5) Not every 'fresh' vegetable is actually fresh. Not to sound like a priviledged American or anything but dang some of the vegetables on the shelf look worse than those in my compost bin. Maybe it's the lack or perservatives (ie wax covering) or maybe these veggies are just waiting for their proper afterlife within someone's digestive track?

6) The supermercados smell like the central mercado in Peru. I'll leave it at that.

7) The weather is delightful this time of year! With the occaisional wall of never-ending wind we have enjoyed many hours and days of sunny cloudless skys, an occaisional sprinkle of rain, and temps in the mid 60s and lows in the mid 40s. Granted our sample size is small, so far we haven't a complain.

Food and lodging as far as the eye can see!

Ethan and I quickly realized that our budget wasn't realistic if we continued to eat out for every meal. Fortunately we have a kitchen to help us reduce our living expenses.

Chef Beek

If you search hard enough there is good ingredients everywhere

As far as the physical adventure goes, from when we arrived (Friday the 4th) to Monday we climbed 7 sport routes (out of a sea of hundreds within walking distance) and hiked to a few of the iconic view points near the village. We have been trying to hold our excitement at bay due to a bum knee I acquired just before leaving the US. Needless to say I've been throwing every trick and the book at it to get it to reliquish it's grip on my appetite for adventure. Enter icing, vitamin I (ibuprofen), stretching, trigger point release massage, compression, 'rest', and happy thoughts...I think I've made it through the worst of it.

View from the south of town

View of the Torre and Fitz Roy massif

I realize that I'm leaving out the past three days as today is Friday. For good reason that chunk of time is going to have to be captured in its own post...Cerro Solo awaits the Kirk brothers...

Dispatches From Peru: Ishinca Valley and Vallunaraju

Que tal amigos!! (what's up friends)

There is much to share since the last update! I'm going to try my best for brevity with this post because a: we're going to be back in the states in a day and b: I'm writing this whilst sitting on the side of a street in Lima looking rather homeless (it's quite amusing the looks one gets huddling on a sidewalk wrapped in technical gear and surrounded by 300 pounds of luggage).

Our trek back into the Ishinca valley was rather pleasant due in part to the fact that it boasts stunning scenery and also because we had three Burros (donkeys) hauling a large majority of our gear in. At the conclusion of our four hour hike in to base camp we began wondering what our next move was going to be. As was the case several times before, we thought we had an itinerary fleshed out, yet it was once again dashed. The weather was not cooperating as we would have liked, and neither were Jenna's lungs. As a result we decided that Nick and I would climb Nevado Urus while Justin stayed back with Jenna and hopefully gave her some time for her to heal up. 

Base camp in the Ishinca Valley. Tocllaraju is gracing the background of this image.

Our attempt at Urus started at 4:40 in the morning - about the time that my stomach said uh-uh. The beginning part of the climb was very steep and a large portion of my concentration went to keeping my dinner not on the ground in front of me. My stomach eventually cleared up allowing me to enjoy the grandeur around me. We busted onto snow slopes about two thirds of the way up and sailed from there to the summit cone. And by sailed I mean took ten steps then stopped to suck air. At 18,000 feet, Urus is shorter than it's nearby peers but is still by far the largest peak we have ever attempted, and by the time we pushed through the last rock band for the summit, it certainly felt like it.

From below the summit of Urus

A mild headache, one upset stomach and 4 hours later Nick and I were officially the highest we have ever been and on the summit of Urus. We spun around 360 degrees on the tiny summit cone and basked in the majesty around us. We spared little time as we descended (making full use of the glissade where it was possible - glissading is basically a controlled slide on your butt down a snow slope) as we were eager to check on the status of our sick friend. A knee breaking pace down brought us to base camp in a hurry where we found Jenna not much better of than when we departed. After much deliberation we decided that Justin would attempt Urus solo the next day while Nick, Jenna, and I rested.

Beautiful horses we encountered on the way up to the Refugio on Ishinca

After Justin's successful bid at Urus we all discussed our options as a team over a hot meal. With Jenna's lungs not getting any better, the conclusion was drawn that her and Justin would go out the next day with a burro and nick and I would stay another two days and attempt either Ishinca or Tocllaraju. The latter was not coming out of the clouds for us so we settled for the former. As the better looking half of the team departed Ishinca valley for Huaraz, Nick and I headed up in elevation to a refugio (refuge/hut) to get closer to Ishinca mountain. The refugio itself was very nice, yet it was lonely as it was just the two of us staying there. Where was our other half when ya need 'em  to play some cards! We passed the time until eventually it was our shot to bring down Ishinca. The route we chose came at the recommendation of a few Italians we met at base camp a few days before - that being a direct line up the face of the mountain rather than the walk up the Northwest ridge. This climb started much like the last, with an unhappy stomach. Except Nick's was in the same boat. We blamed the powdered soy milk we put in our oatmeal and continued the slog up the moraine to the steep snow that was awaiting us.

Once at the snow/glacier line we stopped, threw on crampons, drew our ice axes brandishing them like swords (ok, perhaps that was a bit dramatic), and roped up. Nick led the first few pitches of steep snow, placing snow pickets where necessary. I led The next couple and after plenty of huffing and puffing (going up this 60 degree snow is tough work!) we found ourselves sitting on yet another summit in the Cordillera Blanca. Around us the giants Tocllaraju and Ranrapalca dominated the skyline. We spent some time on the summit taking pictures and made quick work of the descent (I was in a hurry... I felt another one of those dreaded altitude headaches coming on). We only saw two people the entire day and they were a few scientists working for the American Climber Science program taking readings on the glacier. If you have some time you should check it out, seems like a really cool idea, you can learn more about it here: http://climberscience.wordpress.com/

Nick following up one of the steep snow slopes on the flank of Ishinca

Once back at the refugio we ate lunch, packed and headed for base camp, where we ate once again (our appetites were insatiable!) and crashed for the night. In the morning we loaded up our absurdly large packs and busted our humps back to Pashpa. Before we knew it we were bouncing in a van headed for Huaraz.

The next few days were spent in town and at several rock climbing areas around the Huaraz area. It was during this time that the four of us decided that we would make one final attempt at another mountain - Vallunaraju - and hopefully Jenna would be healthy enough to participate. The route was an audacious one up the North ridge and is seldom traveled. The night before rolled around and the decision was made that Jenna would stay in town, her lungs had not gotten significantly better which was an incredible bummer. The three of us packed up, gorged on some burritos and hit the sack early, our planned 2am wake-up was going to come quick.

A hitchhike out of Antacocha after a day of rock climbing.

The next morning arrived and we found a taxi waiting outside for us. This was one of the closest mountains to Huaraz but the taxi ride still took two hours due to the absolute horrid state of the road. There was a section where we were in first gear for almost an hour! At most times this road appeared (and felt) more akin to a dried river bed than an actual road. Regardless, our taxi driver faithfully got us to the trail and asked what time we would be back to the road so he could meet us there. It was here that the greatest mistake of the trip was made. We unwittingly told him to meet us at 4pm (it was 5am right now, that was plenty of time right?) Oh how we were wrong, oh so wrong.

We left the road and were immediately barraged with a very steep trail that was unrelenting for the greater part of the morning. This part was slow going and intermittently broken up by bathroom stops for Nick and Justin (their bowels were untimely stricken with a certain something that made matters even more interesting - as to what that something was, I'll leave it to the readers imagination : ). Our "trail" to get around to the North ridge was more or less non existent so we made our own and traversed across the rocky mountainside to a notch which required snow and ice gear to surmount. This was followed by a small descent and another traverse across a large talus field. We grossly underestimated how long the journey up to this point would take; altitude simply exacerbated things and made the going even slower. The crux of the climb was now before us, we roped up and once again equipped ourselves with snow and ice gear and began climbing a very steep snow/ice ramp that is used to gain the ridge. We congregate at the base of the steepest section and Justin prepares to fearlessly lead it. As I belay, Nick expertly manages the rope and in a jiffy Justin is calling off belay and belaying Nick and I up the pitch. It was a remarkable climb, incredibly varied (think steep snow, fun ice, and a little bit of rock thrown in there) and over altogether too quickly.

Nick on one of the lower steep snow pitches of the ramp.

From the top of the ramp we picked our way up the ridge carefully avoiding the visible crevasses as best we could. The time was getting late and we were still over an hour from the summit! More steep snow culminated in a small rock wall that was bordered by a sketchy crevasse on one side a a several hundred foot cliff on the other side. Luckily we brought a very small rack of rock protection that we used to aid ourselves through the awkward positions. This short stint burned up a lot of time. At this point it was already past the time we were supposed to meet our taxi driver...oops! One final push put us on the summit of Vallunaraju, the views were nothing short of incredible. We hit it almost perfectly to see the horizon on fire from the setting sun. It was hard to leave this place but the hour was late and we had pressing matters to attend to, namely getting off this mountain alive! Right at the summit we had to do an interesting maneuver which included jumping over a VERY deep crevasse which had a width between three and four feet (don't worry, we were safe about it). We high tailed it down the mountain the whole time wondering if we were going to have a ride. As the sun set, a beautiful blue aura filled the sky and Huaraz could be seen brightly twinkling away below us. It was about this time that Justin was able to send an email from his phone to Jenna to let her know we were still alive and on our way down.

Justy on the summit, preparing to jump the newly opened crevasse!

As we drew to the end of the glacier the path became less discernible, with apparent boot prints scattering in almost every direction. We were rapildly fatiguing and now had no clue where we were supposed to exit the glacier and pick up our trail through the moraine. After more precious time was spent searching Justin found a few cairns below - we were on track again! After resuming the knee-bashing descent we quickly grew suspicious of our trail, it seemed to be taking us away fro the general direction we were supposed to be heading. We stuck with it however because it beat the hell out of the alternative, which was picking our way through the moraine without a clue....in the dark. After what seemed like many spirit crushing hours of descending and traversing away from our endpoint I reached a certain point of desperation and decided to head straight downhill - the road had to be down there somewhere! Sure enough, I came across it not too long after I left the trail. I went ahead on the road (which turned out to be a long, long way) to get our stashed water and see of there was going to be a taxi waiting for us.

Nick leading us down Vallunaraju in the setting sun.

When I got to the refugio where we were supposed to meet our driver I didn't see his car. I met back up with Nick and Justin and shared the news. Together we went back to the refugio and tried to see of we could talk to someone, but alas, it was locked. We sat down in the lot dejected from being on our feet for 17 hours straight (it was now well after 10pm) and not having a ride back to our beds. It was just then that a Peruvian fellow came out of his tent and made small talk with us (all of our Spanish talk was small, incidentally that's what happens when you suck at speaking another language). We told him we missed our taxi and he quickly replied that no, this van right here was waiting for us! He went over to the refugio -apparently the driver was sleeping in there - to fetch him. Our driver didn't look too pleased (it was a different guy than the morning before) but loaded our sorry asses up anyway. He was more than happy when he got double the pay out of us once we were back in town. The only thing that separated us from our beds was that miserable road. The jostling was even worse than before; I was bounced so hard that my entire body left the seat at least 5 times. We got back to Huaraz though, that's all that mattered. Jenna wasn't a happy camper, and for good reason. The proprietor of the place we were staying stayed up and tried contacting us as well. Apparently our original taxi driver was concerned for us and was in contact with both her and Jenna.

While the climb itself was absolutely incredible, our gross underestimate of how long it would take was a huge mistake, one that caused people to worry needlessly for our safety. For that I apologize.

Well, that more or less brings us full circle! So much for brevity eh? Thank you everyone for your support! It was a hell of a trip, one that none of us will ever forget I'm sure. Now that's it's over I'm already anxiously awaiting the next adventure :)

Stay tuned to the blog for a video Nick is currently working on, it's sure to blow my boring blog posts out of the water! Thanks again!

Much love,

The Team

Dispatches From Peru: Santa Cruz Trek

As a preface to this next post I would just like to say that I apologize for the mockery to the English language that was my last blog post. A medley of grammatical errors and clumsy sentences was brought to my attention by a certain member of the team, which I must confess was my own fault. A little proof reading can go a long way.

However, I digress. What I really should be writing about is not the lambasting I took from a certain someone (who, I might add, claimed that it sounded as if I wrote that post using English as a second language :) but rather the success of our trek through the Santa Cruz and Hauripampa valleys.

This leg of our journey begins with yet another nauseating encounter with Peruvian public transportation. Our minibus left Huaraz at 7am and didn't roll into Vaqueria (the start of the trek) until a stomach wrenching 4 and a half hours later. I personally enjoyed the ride up insanely switchbacked and steep mountain roads, the decsent, however, certainly tested your stomachs mettle.

A quick baño break and some organizing of gear and we were off. We left Vaqueria behind leaving only our foot prints in the dust. It wouldn't be for another 4 days and 55 kilometers later that we would emerge on the other side.

The first day of the trek was unique compared to the others in the way that we got to see first hand the native peoples that lived deep within the valleys. Their way of life is nothing short of amazing - based almost entirely off the land they tilled and the wares they crafted. It wasn't long, however, until even these settlements were a thing of the past and the only thing on all sides of us was a raw wilderness consisting of rocky, snowy peaks and lush green valleys. And the occasional cow pie. Well, there was kind of a ton poop. Everywhere.

The first night was spent at 3850 meters. One of the main purposes of this trek was to continue the acclimitization process, and that was certainly happening. Almost all of us were suffering to a varying degree from altitude induced headaches, though this wasn't enough to stop Nick from going out for a 40 minute run, even after a full day of bus riding and hiking. Camp was set, dinner was made, and card games were played. This night must be a restful night, for tomorrow is potentially the hardest day of the trek.

They're the cutest 

Day two starts off with some moderate climbing before we take to the switchbacks. Those headaches that we managed to get rid of during the night came back. Justin had a great idea the day before to come up with a scale to rank our headaches, a 1 being barely there and a 10 being a full blown, debilitating migraine. At the point of the steep climbing most of us were sitting around a 1 or 2, some worse, some better. The climb to the high point of the trek brought us to Punta Union. At a whopping 4750 meters (~15,000 feet) it was officially the highest the four of us had ever been on foot. The views at this pass were mind boggling. On either side we could see from whence we came and to where we were headed (the Hauripampa and Santa Cruz valley's respectively). It was at this point that my head felt the worst (duh), but a break for lunch did wonders. Justin whipped up some of the most delicious freeze dried burritos I've ever had, while Nick hauled Moms very nice camera to the top of the pass to capture some stunning photos. The combination of full stomachs and knowing that we were at the top of the trek acted to raise spirits and propel us onward.

Relaxing at Punta Union

We somewhat regrettably left this beautiful place to find the location of our next campsite. A knee-busting descent through a fairly arid region meant we ran short on water supplies for a few miles before our camp.

Camp was erected before the sun disappeared behind the neighboring peaks and thus plunging the valley into darkness. It's amazing how cold it gets once the shadow falls across the valley floor. It goes from comfortable shorts and tee shirt hiking weather to frigid, below freezing temperatures. Dinner is prepped with a surprisingly delicious dessert of cheesecake with Graham cracker crust (though, to be fair, an old boot would taste delicious in the backcountry) and a friendly game of rummy ensues. Nick's come-from-behind win was impressive.

The next morning we are up at 6am, shovelling breakfast into our mouths, breaking down camp, and hitting the trail by 8. The initial objective of the day is to traverse over to a trail that leads up to the Alpamayo base camp. A quick Google search of Alpamayo will shed light on the allure of spending extra time to travel to it. The mountain itself did not fail to please, but the glacially fed lake nearby was also a sight to behold. After some time spent in the area we once again hit the trail, leaving the alpine atmosphere for one that more closely resembled the Gobi desert. The floor of the valley was covered with sand and when combined with the hot sun overhead it made for a unique experience.

The Gobi desert portion of the trek 

A full day of trekking brought us to our last camp site. This one came complete with a concession stand that was run by one of the natives. Jenna, Justin, and I may or may not have splurged some of our soles on junk food... :) After Nick got back from a run (crazy bastard) Justin and I served up dinner and dessert. Another game of Rummy (Justin mopped up) preceded sleepy time.

That was unfortunately the last time we saw our stoves. We left the pots and stoves out right near our tent door every night, unfortunately this time an opportunistic soul absconded with them. The bright side? It was the last day of the trek and we really didn't need them (a very courteous couple we had been leap frogging the entire trek lent us a stove for tea). The down side? They were both expensive stoves that are imperitive to the success of our future endeavors. And stealing really sucks. Don't do it, it's not cool.

That was fast and away the only negative of the entire trek. That day we spent hiking out and traveling back to Huaraz, which was considerably less scary than the ride to the start. All in all the trek was a great success, I personally felt stronger each and every day.

Today was spent as a rest day in Huaraz. A very productive rest day, however! Bus tickets back to Lima were bought, a stove was rented (and one bought), we bought a ton of groceries, and packed our bags for the coming expedition.

Our last dinner before departure

The plan is to leave tomorrow morning around 8. After much deliberation and a flurry of changing plans, we have settled on heading to the Ishinca Valley. The conditions on one of our initial peaks, Chopicalqui, have not been very conducive to climbing, therefore we have decided to axe both it and Pisco (the other mountain initially planned). The Ishinca Valley has a great range of peaks that vary in difficulty. The plan is to pack for 9 days and make attempts at three mountains: Ishinca, Tocllaraju, and Ranrapalca. Each offer a greater challenge than the last. We are praying for good weather-as of right now it isn't looking the greatest, but mountain weather is as predictable as....something that isn't very predictable.

This will be the last update for a while, hopefully the next will be of good news!

Love Always,

The Team

North.

Huaraz:

Huaraz. The "Chamonix of South America". After a jostling 7 hour bus ride from Lima the four of us roll into town, hurrying off to secure our luggage -which has transformed from large,cumbersome, inanimate, objects into what feels like our children. We are constantly lugging, always worrying about their welfare, incessently checking on their status. It's all for good reason, for the well being of that gear is imperitive if we want to accomplish what we've set out to do in Peru.

The gear is secured.....now what? We decided in Lima that we would stay at a hostel called Jo's Place. It appeared to be reputable, and hey, its name was so easy to pronounce! As we walk up to the curb we are immediately assailed by locals trying to vie for our money in exchange for their taxi services. After beating back several we settle on one that can for our luggage and bodies (barely) and head off to Jo's. The driver is paid his 5 soles (the currency in Peru is the Nuevo sol - the exchange rate is roughly 3 to 1) and we walk into a quaint courtyard filled with exotic looking flora.

We crash and burn for the night, the excitement of being in a different country in a different part of the world finally burning off for the time being.

We plan on staying at least  three  nights in Huaraz which is at 10,000 feet to begin the acclimitization process. Our fist day is spent getting to know the city. The bustling nature of Huaraz makes New York seem like a buddhists Zen garden. It turns out that Peruvians are quite fond of their horns, the air is filled with incessant beeping. Add to this the smells of freshly cooked meats from street vendors and the pungent odor of diesel exhaust and you have a unique atmosphere that is called Huaraz.

Chancos:

Day two in Huaraz finds us heading north to Chancos. As it turns out, the aforementioned diesel exhaust can prove to be quite overwhelming so we elect to ditch the city and head for rural Peru. A 3 sole ride in a "combi" (think passanger van crammed to the max with humans and luggage) followed by a quick taxi puts us near a small cliff that is home to a few rock climbs. This little crag proved to be entertaining, we didn't leave until we had more or less climbed everything it had to offer.

Following our rock climbing adventures we embark on another voyage in search of the chsncos hot springs. We were under the impression that there were natural pools, but it turned out to be more of a spa deal. So instead we found a river framed in by pastures, with the white behemoths of the cordillera Blanca in the background.

The walk back to the village through the Peruvian countryside was a refreshing change to the hectic energy of Huaraz. It was a land of farmers and buildings made of mud bricks.

Rock Climbing at 14,000 feet:

Finally, our last day of acclimitization in the greater Huaraz area was spent at Hatun Machay (pronounced huh-toon muh-chay), or "the rock forest". This rock climbing area is an hour and a half drive from town and has almost 300 routes. The drive to this destination tested ones gastrointestinal integrity almost more than the highly featured rock that we climbed - with the mach speed approach to turns and bumps.

After surviving the drive we were immediately stunned by the beauty of the the rock forest and the surrounding highlands. The greens and yellows of the grasses and the browns of the rock coupled with the brilliant snow covered peaks of the cordillera Negra made for a truly enchanting experience...and we were going to be rock climbing i

n this stunning scene! The rock was amazing, and truly unique. All of us climbed about 5 routes - hey, lunch carried on a little longer than anticipated - most of them amazing. Climbing and hiking around at 14,000 feet (think rock climbing at the summit of Mt. Rainier), provided a great opportunity at furthering the acclimitization process.

The next chapter:

As far as the acclimitization process goes, the next step is the 4 day Santa Cruz trek. This will see us through some of the most beautiful scenery Peru has to offer, not to mentioned we'll be sanwhiched in between the massive peaks of the Blancas - the very mountains we hope to be climbing in the coming weeks.

So stay tuned for fuurther updates!

Love,
The Team