Nailing the summit

Made it

As a brief aside, yesterday I went with my Swedish friend Petter to try and break into San Pedro prison. We didn't succeed but had a fun time trying.

This is probably the most nuts prison in the world, picture a place where prisoners must pay for their own cells, manufacture cocaine and run drug empires from inside. For information (and some photos) about this crazy place, see the wikipedia article. Also a famous book called "Marching Powder" was written by Rusty Young about a British inmate called Thomas Mcfadden who used to give tours of the place, it's a good read, I'd recommend it.

About a year ago the government really cracked down on tours after the BBC published an article exposing the crazy corruption inside. That didn't deter us from trying to get in. We hung outside the entrance for a while trying to figure it out, saw a lot of Bolivians coming in and out of the gates but the guards kept telling us to move on and eventually got pissed so we had to make a bit of a retreat. I started approaching people coming out of the jail and asking if they knew someone inside that could help us get in for some appropriate "compensation". Third time I figured I'd hit the jackpot, a fat shady-looking Mexican guy with a HUGE moustache said he thought he'd be able to help us, and disappeared for about ten minutes. Then he came back and after a shifty look to each side said he could do it and if we would just wait a few minutes he'd come back with a precio (cost). He talked to the guards for a loooong time and seemed to be having an argument with them, then finally he came back with a disapointed look and said it was too hard, he couldn't help us.

Not to be phased, I tried asking yet another likely suspect who had just come out of the prison, but he couldn't help. Then a taxi driver parked up next to us beckoned me over and said I needed to talk to the gobernador (governor) and offer him a little something directly. The governor's office was through a small easy to miss door on the left side of the prison block. So I went and gave it a good bang, it was opened a crack by a surly guard. I asked to see the governor but he said brusquely that he was at lunch and slammed the door in my face. Petter and I went to the markets for a while, then later I came back with a story ready. This time I told the guard we were journalists and had a meeting with the governor at 3, so sorry we were ten minutes late. This time he hesitated, looked a little worried and said with all apologies, the governor was still at lunch, perhaps we could come back later.

After this I gave up. I was fully prepared to bribe the governor to get in there but I was bored of trying at this point. Never thought I'd be putting so much effort to getting INTO prison. Would have been much easier if I'd simply got myself caught smuggling cocaine out of the country. Ah well.

So anyway, onto a little account of my adventures climbing Huaynu Potosi. Apologies, it is pretty raw because it's just typed up straight from my journal and it's more how I write to myself than to anyone else.

17/4

Driving up the rocky road to the mountain. It is dark and forbidding with patchy snow, shrouded by grey cloud. Looks like bad conditions. I hope it allows us to climb it.

At base camp at 4600m. Today we went to a glacier to practice ice climbing with crampons and picks. The air is noticeable thin here. Funny how on a mountain there is arto wind but nada air to goddamn breathe. We practiced climbing some steep slopes and then a vertical ice face with rope support. CHRIST that was exhausting, just five meters of height and my lungs were heaving and I had tunnel vision. Afterwards my arms were so cramped up I couldn't even grab my gloves properly to take them off. We returned to camp through spectacular scenery and will sleep here ready for an uphill hike to high camp tomorrow.

Just went off for a little walk on my own to look at the nearby hydroelectic dam but it is hard to walk fast up here and it was much further than it looked. Halfway there a thick mist rolled up the mountain and enveloped me completely. Despite being barely 500m from camp, I was instantly completely lost. Luckily it cleared again quickly and I was able to find my way back but it shows just how fast things can get dangerous on a mountain like this. I had to brave the icy outhouse after I got back. Shit came out like a firehose, so that's not good news for my impending climb. If I had to place the blame on something, prime suspect is definitely the burger I bought yesterday from a scummy-looking street vendor. Hot, greasy and probably contained more parasites than a starving african child. I hope it clears up before tomorrow.

18/4

So we reached rock camp (high camp at 5130masl) this morning in good time. Rock camp is a grim little stone hut perched on a rocky outcrop and surrounded by snow. The ply boards on the inside are plastered with the scramblings of climbers who previously made the summit (the guides only allow people to write who made it all the way).

It is BITTERLY cold up here. I am shivering in two pairs of trousers, thermal socks, t-shirt, two fleeces, jacket, gloves, scarf and a hat. It is 11am and there is nothing to do for the next thirteen hours until we leave for out summit push at midnight.

The hike up wasn't bad, just a little slow. We spoke to some guys on their way down from the top, most made it but two didn't. They trotted out their excuses (dizziness and sickness) but nobody could look them in the eye and I felt ashamed for them.

I will NOT be one of those guys. Quitting is simply not an option. There has never been a grain of doubt in my mind that I will reach the top, and there never will be.

19/4

Dawn from summit

So I made it to the summit obviously. I would have either managed it or died trying probably. But it turned out to be about the second toughest challenge I've ever attempted.

We left high camp at midnight. I actually managed to sleep quite a bit beforehand despite my excitement, I think that really helped. Pulled on snow shoes and crampons in the dark and left trudging up through the snow with only the light of our headlamps. The stars were out and it was beautiful.

The first couple of hours were fine, then the altitude started to make itself felt. We were walking up 45 degree or steeper snowy slopes, and for every six inches of ground made, the snow would give way and you'd slip down three.

All I was focussing on was my feet, steps and breathing. If I looked up at the unending slope ahead it would have been too demoralising so I just focussed on putting on foot in front of the other. Every step felt like I had a small child clinging to my leg, I had become one giant lung, getting enough oxygen became my entire world.

At 5am we arrived at a very high rock. I was cold and completely exhausted, but my heart lifted when I saw it because I thought we were at the top. Not so, the summit was another two hundred meters away. What stood between us and it was this ridge:

The ridge

Less than six inches of packed snow to walk on and almost vertical drops on either side of at least a hundred meters. We arrived in the dark and when we reached it, my head already swimming from altitude, I had serious doubts about whether I could make it to the summit. Our guide Mario told us at this point that if we had vertigo, we couldn't go on. I had MASSIVE vertigo. But I couldn't allow myself to give up after I'd already fought through those five hours of pain, so what came out of my mouth was "si, puedo hacerlo" (I can do it).

It took about twenty minutes to traverse the ridge, dark slopes dropping off to God knows where either side. I spent every single second with the spot of my headlamp fixed on the tiny ledge and continuously repeating to myself on a loop "focus on the ridge, this is your world, one step at a time". I made the mistake of looking over the edge a couple of times and it made me sway dizzily. The snow heaped up to the right was very fluffy and my ice pick just went right through it - it would be no help to lean or step on. This was some of the scaredest I'd ever been, we were connected by ropes but if one of us made a bad slip all the others would be dragged down with them.

Before I had been feeling woozy and lightheaded from the thin air, but I was razor sharp for every step of that final push. When I made it to the top I collapsed in a heap, utterly spent.

The summit was... tranquil. And beautiful. As dawn broke we could see lake Titicaca, La Paz and Mount Illimani. I felt like the highest thing in the world. This was the highest I'd ever been outside of an airplane. It was all over too soon though because once the sun was up, the snow started to melt and we had to get off that ridge fast.

I hated every inch of that fucking ridge on the way back. At one point my foot slipped and I was weightless and sliding for a split second before Mario yanked the rope hard and caught me.

The journey back down the mountain was... pain. I had nothing left after I reached the summit, sucking huge lungs of empty air and with burning lead weights in my leg muscles, yet now we had to trudge back through melting snow for two hours down to high camp, then a further two hours all the way to base camp at the bottom.

To be honest the descent has blurred into a mass of exhaustion and pain in my head, funny how with the summit so fixed in mind, you forget that you have to come down again. But its surprising that, no matter how far you push your body, your limit is always just a little further. Our real limit is about ten times further than where we think it is.

Right now I am unbelievably exhausted. I feel like I got beaten up by a steam roller. It hurts to breathe, stand, sit, lie, talk or move. But I fucking made it. And I wrote on the wall :-). I won't be climbing another mountain for a few weeks or months, but... I'll be back one day. And I'll be higher.