Pichu Pichu

Remember when learning how to write a paper the teacher/professor always said that you need an great opening sentence to capture the reader’s attention?

‘I climbed a volcano in the Andean desert’

HOW ‘BOUT THAT TEACH! Also, Peruvians are like mountain goats. They sorta hop around till they reach the top. I also found out that Pisco (a Peruvian liquor similar to rum) is not only used to liven up the scene at disco clubs, but also to temporarily cure altitude sickness. I took several shots. Yay for tipsy climbing! I’m just glad that I finally have something worth bra..Blogging! about.

The recount:

My roommate and I planned on hiking El Misti this past weekend, yet that proved to be a little too pricey. Well, not really. We’re just kind of cheap. We made a friend at the coffee shop we frequent most afternoons that happened to be in an adventure club called ‘Expediciones de Peru.’ She filled us in on a potential hike up to Coranado – the highest point on Pichu Pichu (a nearby extinct volcano). For transportation there and back plus group services, the whole shindig cost us 70 soles per person, which is about $27. Of course, it cost us a little more than that with food and rental equipment and what not, but I won’t bore you any longer with logistics.

After a morning filled with scrambling, searching and stealing (jk), we met with the rest of the gang who were waiting at the Plaza de Armas. The ride via bus took nearly 3 hours being that the country roads aren’t in the best shape. Despite the seemingly long and dusty road, my soul was already beginning to smile. The small villages and fields filled with traditional Peruvians working their land and tending to their animals was absolutely divine. With every passing second there was something else to be seen. Note to self: go back. take lot of pictures. 

Though we arrived to the drop-off point rather late, we partook in some night time trekking. Nothing like watching the sunset over the mountains at about 11,000 feet (unless you’re watching it rise at 14,000!). Between the high altitude and the temperature, the Andean desert planes were already starting to mess with my head a little. I believe that true mountaineers might indeed be a different sort of druggie that depend the on the lack of oxygen to fuel their hallucinations. With nothing but a small headlamp to light my way, I began to see some weird shadows. Of course I was excited! I tried muttering things in Spanish to my fellow group members, but my mouth was rather frozen. If I could imitate the sound via text, I sure as hell would, because that shit was hilariously embarrassing. Or the look on their faces was for that matter.

We arrived at the base camp after about 3 hours of night trekking where Phil and I set up shop and tried to get some sleep. Tried. The altitude was starting to become noticeable. With the temperature dropping to about zero and my intensified breathing, I didn’t sleep worth a damn. Yes, worth a DAMN. But, my GOD! The stars! By the time people started to awake for the ascent, I had been awake for 36 hours. Score? We started the second assault on Pichu Pichu at 4:00 a.m. sharp leaving our tents and sleeping bags behind. With a shot of Pisco and a bar of chocolate in my system, I began to feel strong once more. Little did I know how much I truly needed that vigor for the climb ahead. Watching the sun rise over the surrounding mountains and lakes while hearing absolutely nothing but the sound of your fellow hiker’s heals was truly a moment to behold. Life is nothing but moments, ya know? Soul smile.

After the sun rose completely, I began to feel my body working harder with every step. As we climbed higher and higher, the group began to separate more and more. It reminded me of my morning runs with my old running club, really. A strong pack in the beginning only to be separated with every passing mile until, eventually, you are alone. Not that I was complaining. I found a small nook on the side of the volcano where I managed to scarf down a little food and water. Although, my stomach didn’t like me too much at that point (nor did everything else biological, really). 

Nearing our targeted peak, I really was noticing how hard it was to breathe let alone climb up an ever increasing slope that was now covered with splotches of ice (that tasted pretty good). In an effort to keep going, I began taking more and more breaks. Originally, each break was just that: a break. However, they quickly begun to turn into arguments between my pride and my rationale. Pride says, “keep going you frieken’ wimp!” (recounted politely).  Rationale says, “Jonathon, you do KNOW (always talking down n’ stuff) that you haven’t slept, and this is your first REAL climb. It’s ok to turn back. I won’t say anything.” Of course rationale did nothing but piss me off. I tried my best to keep fighting reason, but eventually, it won.

I stared at the final ice drift that lead to the top for what seemed to be hours.  At about 18,000 ft. with less than 500 ft. to go, I turned back. Shit, I was pissed. But, I knew that if I were to climb the rest, I would not have been able to climb back down. I was hurtin’. Physical and mental exhaustion. Good thing I didn’t have to traverse down and hike another 6 miles to the pick-up point, right? Not right. Least it was still incredibly pretty. 

Though my body hated me, and still does for that matter, my soul shine has been replenished with a battery that should last for some time. I breathed some of the freshest air that one could breathe, and listened to some of the quietest nothing that one could hear. I’m a happy man.

Hopefully this weekend I will be headed to a small surfer’s town in Northern Chili. It IS my birthday weekend, ya know.

I MEESH YEW!

Jonathon