Cotopaxi –

Several weeks ago (26, 27 Oct. 2007) I had the opportunity to lead a group on a summit bid of Cotopaxi, the second highest mountain in Ecuador. I was discussing going rock climbing with a friend who is the assistant program director at El Refugio when he mentioned that a friend/guest of his who had come down to help with the Huairasinchi adventure race really wanted to climb Cotopaxi. Thus the plan was born.

Like nearly all the groups that climb Cotopaxi we stayed at the refuge, arriving about 4:00 pm. After supper we attempted to sleep, for the most part with little success. Though I had slept at 13,000 ft. a few weeks before, 15,900 ft. proved to be a bit much and I would awaken every 15 minutes or so nearly gasping for breath.

At 11:00 pm the alarm went off. The mix of emotions at that moment is interesting – you’re grateful that the torturous sleep is over yet filled with fear and anticipation of the climb. Part of you wants to go, the other part knows it’s going to be painful and would rather stay where it is. We began to layer up, much more comfortable doing that in the refuge than in a tent, your fingers actually work when tying your boots. By 12:25 am after eating a quick breakfast we shouldered our packs and began winding our way up the mountain under a full moon. Apart from route-finding here and there we walked without using our headlamps. An hour or so up we donned crampons, tied into a rope, and started up the glacier ice axes in hand. The horizon expanded as our elevation increased, revealing the surrounding peaks. Not a cloud to be seen.

We moved slowly. I tried to find a consistent pace that all could maintain but it was difficult. The cold of the dawn penetrated my limbs. Pain seared through my feet several times as my toes unthawed. Occasional stops for water, rest, a snack. Still we moved up.

The warmth of the sun was a welcome feeling when we finally crested a ridge that allowed its rays to penetrate our layered clothing. Hours had passed since dawn, the cone shaped shadow of the mountain stretched below us. The moon that had cast shadows only a few hours before sat as a faint spec in the blue expanse of the sky.

The expanse of the mountain remained a challenge, every ridge looked to be the last, every crest revealed another. Finally at 9:40 am we ran out of glacier with nothing left to climb. Puffy clouds had rolled in to dot the landscape below us, the taller mountains poked through. A few photos, a few moments taking in the wondrous expanse of the landscape, a brief puff of smoke from a distant volcano reminding us of the potential activity of the gaping crater next to us, and we headed down.

Going down can be fun, this time it wasn’t. The snow had become a sticky glop that stuck to the bottom of our crampons and prevented the points from doing their job of keeping us on the mountain. Despite efforts to maintain contact with the mountain several members would fall dropping the others into arrest on their ice axes. We became quite good at this technique by the time we reached the base of the mountain, tired, hungry, and ready to go home.

As we made it to the car and began to drive out of the park that skirts the giant volcanic dome of Cotopaxi, the clouds and icy precipitation cleared enough to give a spectacular view of the mountain. I mentally reviewed the experience and was awed to have been permitted a view from the top, from the other side, the one that many might want but few are willing to pay the price for.