VICE

Hello from Mendoza!

I am currently struggling to type with a Spanish language keyboard at the computer in our hostel.

So far we are on pace with our planned itinerary. Last night we met with the mule service company, Andesport, and arranged mule service to our base camp, Plaza Argentina. At first they tried to get us to push back our trip a few days because the muleteers didn´t want to be working on New Years Eve. To solve the problem we said that we didn´t need them to stay with us for the full three day approach. Instead, they will go ahead of us and drop off our stuff at base camp and leave the mountain before the 31st. We will pick up our stuff once we get to base camp.

Last night we went to dinner at 11pm. We ate at one of the many outdoor restaurants. On the way to the restaurant, we passed by a guy who got mugged as he sat on a park bench. We didn´t realize what was happening until it was over. Three kids walked up behind the young man, grabbed him by the throat as they punched him and took his wallet. Then they walked off. I felt bad that we didn´t do anything, but it was hard to tell what was happening. We decided that we would avoid confrontation until after we had successfully summitted the mountain. Then it would be OK to get into some fights. Needless to say, we were on our guard for the rest of the evening.

Dinner was delicious although pricey by Argentinean standards. We ended up each having three massive entres and 2 pitchers of beer for $30US. Dinner consisted of a massive chunk of meat and french fries. Ahhh, Argentina.

Today the first priority was to get permits. The process is quite complicated. It involves finding the permit office, which changes in location every year (and is very difficult when you leave the map and directions in the hostel), then filling out a form and getting an initial permit. You take the initial permit to a place where you can pay to make phone calls (a bunch of phone booths). Behind all of the phone booths there is a money collector who takes your initial permit and money ($330US per person!) and gives you a receipt. You take the receipt back to the permit office and they print off an official permit. This whole process is classic Argentinean efficiency. Somehow, though, we managed to pull off the whole process successfully.

Right now, Mike and JLo are getting bus tickets to the trailhead (Los Penitentes), getting white gas, and buying the last food items that we need. I am feeling a little under the weather. I seem to be having some allergic reaction to something. I have a suspicious bug bite on my right bicep that has some redness around it. I itch all over, although have no rash (yet). I am also feeling a little light headed and faint. The symptoms are slight, but enough to make me take it easy for the remaining time we have before we leave.

Jlo´s spanish speaking skills have been invaluable. He was shy at first about using it, but now is our official translator as he haggles with vendors and asks directions.

We had one hiccup this morning as Mike experienced some difficulty in withdrawing money from an ATM. It is indeed a challenge when you forget your pin number.

Other than that, things are going very smoothly here and we are enjoying the 80 degree weather, wide boulevards, and beautiful women of Mendoza.

So long for now.

-edventure-

Friday, December 28. 2007

We have bought our bus tickets ($5 US) for a 4 hour trip, packed our backpacks, packed the packs that will go on the mules, and have arranged the final details of the mule service. Our backpacks weigh between 45 and 65 lbs. By sending two bags with a mule (each bag is 65lbs) are packs are a very manageable weight. On the way down from base camp, however, we will not have a mule service and will have to carry everything on our backs.

JLo went to buy white gas for our stoves. We got three gallons for the trip. When he got to the hardware store he found out that two of the three gas tanks we had brought from the US don´t seal very well because I threw away a key piece as an attempt at saving weight. Instead, we will be using 2 liter plastic water bottles! (4 of them).

We leave tomorrow at 6AM. We will take 4 days to get to base camp. Normally, people take three days. We will use the extra day because we will get right off the bus at 7000 ft and start hiking. Typically, most hikers stay a night at the hostel at 7000ft before beginning.

The approach to base camp will be very hot. Over 70 degrees. This means that we essentially have to pack for two trips - four days of very hot weather and then 10 plus days of extreme cold.

Mike did an amazing job with the food. We have quite the gourmet menu for the next few weeks including spice kit, summer sausage, cheesy pasta, and thousands of energy bars. Our trip slogan is already, ¨well, we always have bars!¨

I am feeling much better. I took a nap and guzzled 4 liters of water. It helped alot.

We are going to go have dinner now. Can´t wait for the beautiful outdoor restaurants with massive amounts of cheap food and booze.

I will update the blog again in 4 days when we are at Plaza Argentina (base camp).

Have a great New Year’s!

-edventure-

Note: After hiking for three days, we arrived at base camp. Mike brought a satellite phone, which I used to send text messages to my good friend Andy Valenzuela who posted the following blog entries.

Thursday, January 3. 2008

HIKED 2 CAMP 1 AND DROPPED OFF CACHE. RETURND 2 BAS CAMP. MIKE FELT VERYBAD. OVERALL, GROUP IS STRONG. WE WERE VERY CLOSE 2 GLACIER

Saturday, January 5. 2008

CARRIED FROM C1 TO C2. VERY CHLLNGING. REACHED 19200FT. HAS BEEN GREAT WEATHER, BUT FORECAST IS BAD 4 NEXT FEW DAYS

He also says that Mike is much better

Sunday, January 6. 2008

THIS WILL B FINAL TXT MSSG. MIKE IS OK NOW RELATIVELY AND WILL B DSCNDNG WITH SUPRT. AN IMPRSV EFFRT. HE GOT 2 18000 + HAS GREAT ATTITDE. MIKE WILL HV PHONE SO U WONT HEAR FROM US UNTL WE R OFF MNT. MIKE WILL B VRY MSSD. CU ALL SOON. ADIOS! ONE LAST IMPRTNT THING: THNKS SO MUCH 2 MY GOOD FRIEND ANDY VALENZUELA 4 POSTING MY MESSGS! ANY OTHER UPDATES 2NITE WLD B GRT!

Sunday, January 13. 2008

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For any of you that are actually reading this, here are the details of the trip between the time that we lost satellite phone contact and when we left the mountain.

Day 9

We left camp 1 (16,700ft) and descended to base camp due to Mike´s ridiculous vomiting. The night before he had been projectile vomiting and spent the entire night huddled in his sleeping bag outside of the tent. I have never heard someone throw up so loudly. He literally screamed at the top of his lungs every time he hurled. I am sure he would have felt bad about waking up all of camp 1 if his innards weren’t spewing every which direction. Needless to say, by the morning of Day 9 we decided to descend back to base camp to see the doctor. It turns out that Mike had coupled the food sickness with some Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) and needed to descend quickly for his health to improve.

Day 10

Mike headed off the mountain with a guide and another sick climber. He was sick the whole way to Mendoza so it was a good thing that he descended. JLo and I headed up to camp one. We had been hearing from guides and park officials that really bad weather was coming in, including high winds. They said that it would be coming for day 11, 12, and 13. We figured that camp 1 was secure enough to hunker down and ride out the storm. We also wanted to be higher on the mountain so that when the weather did clear, we were in a position to go for the summit. Because we had already cached about 70lbs of gear at 19000 ft (camp 2) we were pretty well acclimatized.

Day 11

The night of Day 10, JLo and I changed our minds and decided to go up to camp 2 and ride out the incoming storm up there. The storm hadn’t materialized by the morning of day 11 and we weren´t sure how much we trusted the bad forecast. We also figured that the trip had been too easy so far and it was time for some excitement. So the morning of Day 11 we pushed up to camp 2. We spent most of the day building a massive stone wall around the tent to protect our site from the winds which were supposed to be incoming. The project took a few hours and then we hunkered down inside of the tent. As the winds began to pick up slightly (although not very much) we started to here rocks outside of our tent shifting and falling. We looked at each other with trepidation. It sounded like our rock wall was about to fall on the tent and crush it. I raced outside. Although the wall was still intact, I realized that we had built it on a very shoddy existing foundation. I should have realized this, but was too lazy the first time around in building it. As I stood there with my hand on top of 4.5 ft rock wall, I realized that it seemed to be getting progressively more unsteady. Suddenly it lurched. As it did I pulled it towards me to keep it from landing on the tent and jumped backwards. The massive wall came completely crumbling down, mercifully sparing most of the tent and myself. In shock and frustration I called to JLo and we went to work, completely rebuilding the wall. It was exhausting (being at 19000 ft) and annoying, but this time we made it bomb-proof. Tired, we collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

Day 12

The morning of day 12 (Jan 9th) it was still nice out. We were pretty frustrated that we had missed what seemed to be a good weather window to summit, but also realized that we were too tired to have made a decent attempt at summiting. However, by the afternoon of day 12 the wind started to really pick up. By evening it was a full blown gale. If it wasn´t for our rebuilt wall, it would have been really rough on the tent. Even so, the tent shook and shimmied so hard that if felt as if the top was going to rip off. Fortunately, North Face makes good tents, and it held together despite its groaning. That evening, another American named Tony who we had been hiking along side for the past few days stumbled into camp 2 with the wind. He had come up from camp one and looked pretty exhausted and wind-battered. I invited him to stay in our tent now that we had an extra space so that he wouldn´t have to go through the misery of trying to set up his one man tent in the horrific wind. He readily accepted. Although tired, he was doing remarkably well considering the weather. We enjoyed his company (as well as his gorp and mp3 player) that night. His presence made the mood lighter as the wind continuously battered the tent.

Day 13

Day 13 presented nothing except high winds and a bit of snow. We barely moved from the confines of the tent. We were worried that if it snowed too much, we would be delayed or possibly stymied in our attempts to summit via the polish glacier. Any significant snowfall can present a serious avalanche danger and copious amounts of snow can make the glacier completely impassable. We desperately hoped that the snow would stop. Fortunately, it turned out to be limited precipitation with a lot of wind that made it appear like it was snowing more than it actually was. However, we were hoping for Day 14 as our summit day but the winds weren’t dying down. The weather forecast said that the 11th (day 14) was suppose to be good but by 2AM (morning of the 11th) neither JLo or I had slept a wink and the winds didn´t seem to be diminishing.

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it) JLo and I had very little up-to-date information about the Polish Glacier. Up until that point we had only met one group that had ascended that route and had only heard rumors of two others so far this season. (To give a little perspective, 4000 people summit Aconcagua each year by the less technical Normal and Traverse routes but only a handful do so via the polish glacier). The one group that we met that had was from Seattle and had taken 20 hours to summit. It seemed to have been a grueling experience that completely wiped them out. They seemed pretty hardcore, so this surprised us, but it also excited us. We were ready for a challenge.

Finally, just before 3AM (Day 14) we fell asleep amidst the wind.

Day 14

I had set my alarm for 3AM to wake up and start the ascent. Either because of the wind or due to my exhaustion, I didn´t wake up when it when off. At 3.23AM I woke up on my own. There was no wind. I cringed. I realized that if the storm had indeed suddenly stopped, that we had to get up immediately and start pushing for the summit, since we didn´t want to miss a precious good weather window. I pulled myself out of my warm sleeping bag (Mike´s actually - he lent it to me when he went down because its newer and warmer) and unzipped the tent door and vestibule. Every star in the sky was twinkling ironically down at me. I took a deep breath and made the decision to go for the summit. "JLo" I said "Its game time." Before I finished the clichéd slogan, JLo mumbled in his sleep, "Its too windy, Ed". "There is no wind," I simply replied. Remarkably, JLo sat up, rubbed his bleary eyes, blinked, then said, "ok." We were going.

We had arranged all of our stuff the night before, just in case the weather did improve and today really was our summit day. Even so, by the time we made ourselves breakfast, heated some water, and packed our things, it was nearly 5AM. Although it was generally calm, every once in a while a powerful, residual gust of wind would come rumbling up the distant scree slopes and then would slam into us as we stumbled through the dark towards the foot of the glacier. It would send swirls of blinding snow across our narrow cones of headlamp light. Although camp 2 is right at the base of the polish glacier, it still took some effort to find its bottommost flanks among the frigid temperatures, inky darkness, and unstable snow. Soon, however, we were roped up and moving up the base of the glacier. The rest of camp 2 (20 tents) was fast asleep.

We didn´t say much as we tried to focus on route-finding and warming our hands and toes. Because of the wind and snow received over the past few days any footprints from previous expeditions were completely covered up. We were on our own to navigate up the 4000ft glacier perched atop this 22,841ft mountain. For a few hours, we climbed quickly in silence. I led and Jlo followed. As the sun rose and the terrain steepened, however, I became quite tired from kicking steps and asked JLo to alternate leads. JLo graciously took the lead and we continued trading off every time the leader became too tired from kicking steps in the thin air. In the first few hours we covered significant ground and about 1000ft. However, as the glacier steepened, our progress slowed. The terrain was about 45 degrees, although it got progressively steeper as we climbed higher.

By noon, we were at a major rockband that cut across the entire right side of the glacier (our route) and connected with the seracs and crevasses of the middle of the glacier. At the leftmost point of the rockband (what we called the "bottleneck") there was about a 15ft wide passage of rotten ice and dense snow of about 70 plus degrees. We knew that this would have to be our route if we were to get past the rockband. However, at this point, I was more worried about JLo who, although strong, seemed to be getting quite tired considering how much climbing we still had left. The rock band is at about 21,000ft. However, JLo´s determination and enthusiasm dwarfed his fatigue, so we continued. The steep climbing between the seracs and rockband proved relatively easy, although we had limited protection so it was a still an endeavor which required serious concentration. Above the rock band, I established an anchor and belayed JLo up. The trickiest part was a small bergschrund (crevasse) at the base of the bottleneck that required acrobatic climbing to get by safely.

Having gotten through the bottleneck, we re-roped up on an abbreviated rope and continued as a rope team with a running belay. I had expected the terrain to become much less steep after the bottleneck, but it persisted at about 65 to 70 degrees as far as I could see up the glacier. We pushed on. At this point, breathing was becoming a serious issue for both of us. We would climb 10-20 ft then stop and gasp for air, trying to get our breath back. It was full body climbing that included using both ice tools and kicking steps. Low on the glacier, JLo had ingested too much cold air directly into his lungs as he tried to "pressure breath" and consequently had a painful case of dry lungs that hindered further efficient breathing. Our progress slowed significantly but we kept pushing.

Slowly, we approached a second rock band at about 21,800ft. This rock band showed no clear path so I weaved between the rocks and snow trying to find the easiest passage. I worried about the stability of the snow on the rocks, but the pickets seemed to be holding well, so we pressed on. On top of the rocks I found sloping rock which made a relatively stable belay platform and belayed JLo up through the rocks with my prussik. At this point, the fact that I hadn´t slept much in the last couple of days was catching up with me. My lack of sleep combined with my physical fatigue, was making it difficult for me to keep my eyes open. Because climbing is so slow at altitude, there were long pauses as I belayed JLo. Multiple times during these pauses, I dozed off. Fortunately, with the slightest movement of the rope from below, I would wake with a start and continue belaying without any real negative effect. Although tired, JLo was climbing powerfully and consistently, showing no signs of faltering or falling. What worried me the most was that when I dozed off, I might fall off my belay ledge. I envisioned myself waking with a start as I toppled off sideways and plummeted by JLo with rope in hand. I opened my eyes really, really wide and sucked in a big breath of cold air. That helped.

Fortunately, I managed to stay awake enough and JLo cruised past me and towards the summit ridge about 200ft above. This section was particularly steep but was fun climbing as the icy snow had a styrofoam-like quality that had a freakish ability to cling to the 70 degree slope. JLo reached the summit ridge and belayed me up. Finally we were on the summit ridge! Although we were still 800ft below the summit, it was a gentle, wide slope to the top.

We took a break and ate some Balance bars. When we stood up and continued along the ridge, I realized how hard JLo had been pushing and how tired he was. His gas tank seemed near empty and the undulating ridge proved to be a major obstacle. I was also tired, but feeling a little better than Jlo. However, he valiantly pressed on and we finally made it to the summit somewhere around 7PM. As we crested the top we received a round of applause from the few people still on the summit at this late hour that had come up via the non-technical Normal route. Worried about the late hour and the long descent we had before us, I rushed our time on the summit and insisted we head down.

I particularly hate descending. The emotional let-down after a hard summit push often leaves me unable to deal with the cumbersome pack, unsure footing, and sore knees that come with the process of going downhill. After a childish display of frustration, including alot of profanity, I finally gained some composure and perspective. At this point, JLo was really, really tired. He was having a hard time getting his crampons on and off, and I knew that I had to refocus if we were going to get down safely. We descended via the normal route, which, although non-technical, presents very steep terrain directly beneath the summit. Surprisingly, it had snow almost continually along its route (it hadn´t when I ascended that way 2 years ago).

Our packs were one of the most difficult aspects to deal with on the descent. They were small but were overstuffed with down jackets, ice screws, snow pickets, rope, cordelette, cramons, helmets, and much more hanging off them, turning them into a nasty thicket of sharp metal points that had a tendency to swing around and gouge you in the side of the face as you stumbled down the ice and snow. Multiple times I nearly flipped out and hucked my pack off the face of the mountain. In addition to this, I had hand-sewn my summit pack and it threatened to burst apart at any moment under the excessive strain.

Slowly, we made our way down the mountain. JLo wasn´t saying much and was doggedly following the path down. However, I knew he was nearing the point of complete exhaustion due to our frequent stops and his unstable footing. Our plan was to take the normal route for a short stretch and then cut across the Traverse and back to our tent at camp 2. When we reached Independencia (a tiny old hut in ruins) at 21000ft we left the normal route and began route finding down an icy and rocky slope. This proved very challenging considering our condition and could have been avoided if we had followed the normal route a little bit longer, but this was unbeknownst to us at the time. After a couple of scary tumbles down the icy snow slope, we joined the traditional Traverse path and slogged our way back to camp. At nearly 10PM we collapsed into our tent. I made some hot cider for JLo who seemed to be particularly feeling the effects of dehydration and exhaustion, exacerbated by his soar, dry lungs which caused him to cough heavily inside the tent. Soon we both passed out, successful at last.

...ok...its 4.30AM here in Mendoza and i am pretty exhausted considering 24hours ago I was just waking up as I slept in my sleeping bag under the stars at La Lena camp. Although this is very enjoyable to write, I am going to go to bed now and will finish updating the blog tomorrow. The rest isn’t very interesting, anyway. Mostly, its just a painful slog off the mountain with packs that are way too heavy.

-loving being back in civilization, drinking beer, and eating Argentinean lomo!

edventure

Day 15

When we woke up on the 12th JLo was still feeling pretty under-the-weather so we decided on a rest day. Spending another day at camp 2 meant that we spent a total of 6 days at 19,000 ft. People rarely do that. The human body really isn´t meant to live for a week in such an inhospitable place. We actually were relatively comfortable. Sleeping and eating were definitely less than normal, but other than that we generally felt good. Needless to say, by the time we headed down on the 13th, we were VERY well acclimatized.

Day 16

Because Mike had been forced to descend after we had already done a carry to camp 2, his technical stuff was still there. This meant that JLo and I not only had to bring all of our stuff down but also Mike´s technical stuff. It obviously wasn´t Mike´s fault, but simply meant that we were carrying ALOT of crap off the mountain. The worst part was that we had to carry down all of the poop that we had generated in a couple cheap Mendozan plastic bag over the six days we were there. To keep the heap of fecal matter from swinging around and accidently encountering my face, I chose to stuff it in one of the internal pockets of my bag. If it wasn´t for my oxygen deprived brain, I probably would have been very nervous about the possible ramifications. Fortunately, it didn´t end up being a problem.

We got a relatively late start, but finally hoisted our 80lbs packs onto our backs and began the descent. Our bags included warm clothes, snow pickets, deadmen, ice screws, tent, sleeping bags, water, stoves, pot, mugs, rope, harnesses, carabiners, webbing, poop, first aid kit, repair kit, odds and ends, and more. We stumbled down to camp 1, picked up the buried poop bags we left there (yay), gave away our extra fuel, and continued down to base camp. At base camp we picked up our final cache and inquired about the cost of lunch at one of the guide service tents. We ended up getting a pizza for $20 as well as a pitcher of tang. It was absolute heaven. The ability to sit in a chair in a cool tent at a table with a tablecloth was a heartwarming and truly relaxing experience after so much hardship for so long. As we ate the simple pizza, we giggled with delight and satisfaction. We never wanted to leave.

That night we made ourselves some spanish rice with salmon and sausage. It was a rather hideous mix that tasted absolutely amazing to our deprived bodies. The major challenge was to give away all of our extra food. To make sure that we did not go hungry, Mike (who was in charge of food) had packed us copious amounts of meals. This meant that we had plenty to eat during the trip, but also had excessive amount left over since we finished the trip prematurely. By the end of Day 16, I had given away about 50lbs of food. We were worried that no one would accept it (no one wants to be stuck carrying out more weight that they have to), but finally it was all given away.

Day 17

When we woke up on the 17th day of our expedition and had packed all of our belongings, including the cache of stuff at base camp, we came to the painful realization that we would be hauling excessively heavy packs for an exceedingly long distance. Our plan was to slog the 23 mile descent off the mountain in two days. This meant that today we would be humping our 90plus lbs packs for over 15 miles, doing 2 days worth of ascending in a single day of descent. We tried not to think of it in such large terms and shouldered our behemoth packs. My bodied crumpled under the initial weight. I wondered how I would every manage the first 100 feet, much less the next 15 miles. Regardless, we set off and made a decent pace. Within a couple of miles, we were already tired and our bodies were failing under the strain. But without any other option we carried on, swearing (in my case) and singing (in JLo´s case) to deal with the discomfort and fatigue. Within the first 8 miles, the pack managed to do a number on JLo´s hips, causing them to bruise and bleed under the excessive weight. JLo barely muttered a single word of complaint and simply rapped his fleece around his waist for a measure of comfort. We continued.

Day 17 Continued...

At this point we were half way done with our brutal 15 mile torture session. We passed by camp Casa de Piedre (for those of you who don´t know Spanish this means "house of rock," which is literally what it was - a rock house half made from a single boulder.) We had stayed at camp Casa de Piedre on the approach but were now skipping it and heading on to camp La Lena. The different camps along the approach consist of multiple tentsites distinguished by incomplete half circle rock walls. They also feature an outhouse, which is nothing more than a metal box the size of a porta-potty with a 10 in circular hole in the bottom. The box is perched precariously above a 55 gallon drum that collects the camps´ "waste." Every outhouse features a desperate plea by the local park guard to please have good aim as you relieve yourself. There is a park guard at each of these approach camps, and his responsibilities mainly include checking permits and facilitating a helicopter to remove the drum of dung periodically.

As we continued hiking beyond Casa de Piedre, our bodies really began to tire. We realized that we had a full day of hiking ahead of us, and considering we had already hiked a full day, and were quite miserable already, this didn´t stike either of us as a particulary fun situation. We would hike as far as our bodies would allow and then collapse for 5 or 10 minutes. By this time, my hips had joined JLo´s as bony projections of chewed up flesh that got progressively worse with every step and shifting movement of our packs. For the next few hours we hiked in silence repeating our routine: hike for as long as we could stand the pain, stare at the next ridge hoping it is the last, think to ourselves, "there is no way I can do this for 4 more hours...it can´t possibly be 4 more hours. Maybe its 3...no...it can´t be three...dont be overly optimistic...just hike...oh god, my body hurts." At least that was what I did for the whole dusty, rock strewn descent. JLo was probably being really optimistic and having a grand ‘ole time. However I doubt it, considering multiple times I looked behind me, it seemed as if he was ready to battle with the mountain. His teeth were gritted, sweat poured down his face, and he panted with fatigue with each hill we pushed up. I was in the same boat. We didn´t like stopping because it took as much pain and energy to get the packs on as it was to simply keep hiking. Every time we tried to hoist our leaden burdens onto our backs it was all we could do to stay standing and not collapse backwards under them, giving ourselves a hernia.

At this point, although I was tired, my main problem wasn´t physical, muscle fatigue, but simply pain endurance. My hips flared with a sweaty mix of blood and nylon waist belt. I was sure that the bottoms of my feet no longer resembled a regular human appendage, but instead looked more like raw hamburger. My shoulders and neck seared under the strain of the pack which pulled down and backward. Fortunately for the repetitiveness of this blog entry and my excessive complaining, there was nothing to do but hike on in silence. By 7PM, we finally, finally stumbled into camp La Lena.

Once in La Lena we became aware of our rather heroic condition: we were absolutely disgusting. Compared to everyone else in camp who were spending their first night on the mountain, we looked like we had just crawled from the depths of hell. Our eyes were sunken and tired inside of our sweat smeared faces. Sun burned skin from summit day was sloughing off our faces in massive quantities. Our hair was so greasy that it was difficult to reposition from its wild, hat-tossled disarray. As we walked across camp to get water, we swayed and staggered, looking like desert wayfarers who might pass out from dehydration and exhaustion at any moment. People stared. For the most part, we avoided eye contact. We couldn´t help being annoyed by everyone who was strutting around getting their tents and heavy gear off of the mules that their guiding services provided. Their situation was so much different than ours. Whereas we were carrying every single thing off the mountain on our backs, they were bouncing along with nothing more than daypacks slung over their shoulders. Everything else they needed was being hauled up the mountain by stoic mules.

At one point I nearly flipped out at one group that was dining at a table with tablecloth and wine glasses that had been carried by mules and set up by their guides and porters. Their smiling, vibrant faces made my hips hurt. Although my self-righteous ideals of self sustained mountaineering conflicted violently with their behavior, my deprived body couldn´t help longing for the steak, roasted peppers, and onions that they were being served. I simply scowled and walked by.

In contrast to everyone else in camp, JLo and I flopped our sleeping bags down in the dirt and mule poop and lit our stove. We had left-over beans.

Before we fell asleep, JLo asked a park guard what time the bus picked up at the trailhead 8 miles from camp La Lena. The park guard said at 9:45am and 4:45pm. Despite my aching body and the little sleep it would require, I really wanted to try and catch the 9:45am bus. As I figured, the sooner we could be done with this hellish slog, the better. JLo wasn´t so keen on the idea, but eventually consented. We figured that if we woke up at 4:30am and started hiking by headlamp and maintained a pace of 2 miles per hour, we could make the 9:45am bus.

Before falling asleep, we looked at each other and agreed that this early morning final push was absolutely insane, would be even more painful than today, and was a genuinely stupid idea. We also agreed that it would be epic. Moments later, we fell asleep under the gorgeous, twinkling Milky Way.

Day 18

Generally, I slept well that night, although I remember waking up multiple times and being awed by the star strewn sky of the southern hemisphere above me. Each star popped out of the sky, twinkled and flashed, and if I craned my neck backward as I lay on my sleeping bag, I could see the dusty swath of infinite stars making up the Milky Way. It was startlingly gorgeous. However, the proposition of waking up 4:30am to continue our death march was startlingly painful, so I forced my eyes from the heavens and continued to sleep.

When my watch started blaring at 4:30, I shifted in my sleeping bag, reached blindly for the stove bag, justifying to my sleepy mind that if I did something to start getting ready, I could rest for a few more minutes. I fell asleep again with hand still outstretched towards the stove. At 4:45 my second alarm forced me awake again. There was no more procrastinating. If we were going to catch a bus in 5 hours, we had to move as fast as humanly possible to eat breakfast, pack our stuff, hike 8.5 miles mostly in the dark, and find the bus stop. Oversleeping really wasn´t an option.

I sat up quickly, moving sharply to get my focus back and get the blood flowing. I started up the stove and shook JLo awake. "We are really going to have to move if we are going to do this" I said. As the hot water and floaties from last night´s dinner heated, we packed up our sleeping bags and began stuffing our bags. Because this mad morning dash was my stupid idea, I took some more weight from JLo and put it in my bag. When the water was ready we tossed in 4 packets of oatmeal and began scarfing it down. Our stomachs had shrunken considerably. At one point during the trip we had been able to eat 7 packets between the two of us, but now it was a struggle to finish this smaller amount.

We finished eating, rinsed out the pot, packed our final things and were ready to go. It was 5:30am. We had essentially 4 hours to get to the bus stop across from the trailhead of the vacas valley. It was still pitch dark. We flicked on our headlamps and started off.

We knew we had to hike fast, but our bodies were still battle weary from the day before. My muscles and joints felt tight and brittle, ready to crack. I envisioned them looking much like beef jerky. That was probably a result of my meat-deprived diet, however. My feet felt better, although by the time we left camp the bottoms were already burning and every time I stepped awkwardly on top of a loose rock, I felt as if the bottom tissue was going to shear off from the rest of my foot. Immediately, my hips were in worse pain than they had been at any point the day before. I found out later that the skin had finally ripped open under the strain.

I kept thinking that we had to maintain 2 miles per hour, but between our sluggish bodies, the total darkness, the indistinct trails, and the dust filled air, route finding was a serious challenge. Under the weight of the packs, I felt like we were running. I really started to feel the physical strain. Perhaps it was the additional weight or maybe it was simply the fact that my body had nothing left, but within a half hour I was already exhausted.

We continued striding through the darkness, following mule paths and the dusty odor of mule poop. The paths branched off and rejoined each other, but mostly followed the valley of the Vacas river. We could hear its powerful rumbling through the darkness below us on the left. Frequently, the trail would wind so close to the river that it seemed a single misstep would send us toppling down its steep scree banks into the muddy turbulence far below. Despite the difficulty, we were managing to just barely stay on pace to make the bus.

Our descent down the Relinchos and Vacas valleys had presented us with a recurring decision to make. There were often two distinct trails. One that followed the river closely, often requiring some wading or river crossings and one trail that steered clear of the river, following much higher ground that avoided river crossings but was far hillier and indirect. Because river crossings take so much time, we had typically elected to follow the higher path. However, with all of the different mule paths that separate and rejoin, it is easy to accidently get stuck on the lower path. The problem here is that sometimes the terrain between the lower and higher paths is so shear and unstable that you cannot change your mind and cut up to the higher path to avoid a river crossing. It is an all-or-nothing gamble, unless you want to backtrack significantly.

In the darkness of the Vacas valley, picking the right trail was proving more challenging that we had expected. The roaring of the river was intimidating so we wanted to stay on the higher trail, as we had done on the approach, but we found ourselves getting closer and closer to the fast moving river. Finally, we got to a point where the trail turned sharply down towards the river. We knew that that was not the way we had come 18 days ago, but because we were so pressed for time, we were unwilling to backtrack and find a different trail. We descended the steep bank. As we lowered ourselves between the walls cut by the glacial runoff, the thundering vibrations of the river completely surrounded our senses. It felt that at any moment we would find ourselves in the river itself.

The mules have no problem getting a little wet, and thus the lower path is typically used by them. Hikers and guides consistently use the higher path to avoid the dangerous river and water crossings. In our fatigued state and with limited time we were in no condition to be wading down stream. Sure enough, the river suddenly appeared in the beam of my headlamp. The trail edged along the torrent of water and at times dipped below it. The vertical walls of the river bank rose steeply on our right. The farther we walked, the narrower the passage between river and bank became. I figured that we would keep pressing on until there was truly no way to continue without actually getting wet. If we were to catch the bus, we did not have time to go back. If it turned out that the path really did become impassable, we would toss in the towel and accept that we gave it our best shot. We would backtrack in that case.

In the darkness the river roared on our left and the cold wall of silt and rock pressed closer in each minute. It got to the point where the space between river and wall was no more than a foot or two wide and we were squeezing between boulders and the thundering current. Each section we would come to seemed impassable, but somehow we kept managing to press through with our unwieldy packs. Soon the flat space on the riverbank began to widen, and then we realized that we had managed to pass through the hardest section. In fact, because it was so early in the morning, the glacially fed river was lower than it had been when we approached and that had allowed us to get through.

Excited by our success, we pushed on across the wide, washed-out riverbank of rounded stones. The sky had also started to glow faintly within the last few minutes and we could just begin to make out the basic contours of the terrain in front of us. With the dim light, we came to the unfortunate realization that our luck along the riverbank was about to run out. We could definitely see that the river met the vertical bank precipitously and there was no possible way of continuing directly next to the river.

After consulting with JLo, I decided that we should try to cut up the steep river bank, which although not vertical at that juncture, was still exceedingly steep and covered in loose scree. There also appeared to be very indistinct trails that cut across the slope in strange directions. I tried to follow these as we painfully hauled ourselves and our packs up the 300ft high bank. The going was slow and exhausting and we knew that if I had made the wrong decision, we wouldn´t make it to Punta de Vacas in time to catch the early bus. As I approached the top of the bank, I came to the discouraging realization that there was no "high trail" that existed parallel to the trail we had just been on. Somehow, I had led us up a non-existent trail. I called down to JLo, telling him that I had been wrong and we had to go back down. We both slumped down in exhaustion and stared back at the supposedly impassable section which had caused us to divert from our lower path. By now, the sun had nearly risen and there was enough light to discern that there was a path that cut up and away from the river directly before the rushing river met the vertical bank.

Overwhelmingly frustrated with myself for making such an error, we slowly descended back down the bank and reconnected with our original path. My mistake had caused us incredible effort and fatigue that could have been avoided and we were now hopelessly off the pace necessary to catch the bus. JLo mercifully didn´t blame me and, in fact, consoled me as I swore at myself for my mistake that seemed exceedingly great to my exhausted mind and body.

At that point we decided to just continue hiking at a sustainable pace and "get there, when we get there." It was unfortunate that we would have to sit around the desolate Punta de Vacas for hours waiting for the second bus, but at least we would be off the mountain. We continued plodding slowly along.

It was a good thing that we finally decided to stop torturing ourselves by hiking so quickly. I was completely exhausted. I am still not sure how much of it was pain from the pack and how much was fatigue from carrying it, but either way, my energy reserves seemed near completion. It got to the point where my brain seemed dizzy from the swirly effects of exhaustion and discomfort and each stretch of trail was a challenge to overcome.

JLo offered to take back some weight and reduce my pack which now weighed in at about 100lbs, but I stubbornly refused. I was still very angry at myself for having caused us to fail our goal that morning and I felt that to be unable to carry this excessive load would be another failure on my part. I wanted to salvage the morning by hauling that pack no matter how miserable or suicidal it was. In fact, the more pain I experienced, the more appropriate it felt and the less I was angry at myself for taking the unnecessary detour. When the suns rays finally reached us down at the bottom of the valley and we applied sunscreen, JLo surreptitiously took the empty bottle which had been in my pack and placed it in his. I almost made a stink about it, but through the fog of my exhausted delirium managed to realize that doing so over the one or two ounce bottle would represent true insanity. Instead, I grunted, mostly at myself, and began the laborious process of putting my pack back on. "Let´s go," I muttered and motioned JLo to lead the way.

As we pushed our way up another hill in the new sunlight, things just got worse. I could barely manage 100 yards without having to stop and bend over grimacing. Now the sun was beating down on us and pouring sweat was added to the concoction of dirt and peeling, sun burnt skin that already covered my face and hands. "This will someday be over," I told myself.

Adding to my frustrated and fatigued mind was the fact that JLo was feeling stronger than me. It shouldn’t have been something that bothered me, but as the leader of the trip, I felt that I should always be the strongest. Its an impossible standard, but one that is hard not to impose on yourself when you take a leadership position. If I had been more mature, I would have embraced the fact that I could have leaned on JLo when I was feeling weak. After all, that is how a healthy climbing partner relationship works. Instead, I just got more angry at myself and quietly plodded on.

As we crested the rockstrewn hill, in the far distance we spotted the low lying buildings of Punta de Vacas. JLo let out a whoop of celebration. I scowled. I was so deep within my mental state of self deprecation and intense focus that to celebrate over the hope offered by visualization of the finish line seemed premature and inappropriate. As far as I was concerned, I could drop dead at any moment or tumbled down the riverbank and drown under the grip of the fat death monkey that relentlessly clung to my back. Needless to say, I was being irrational.

Instead, I allowed myself the small pleasure of acknowledging that Punta de Vacas did exist, lowered my head, and kept chugging.

Ever so slowly, we approached Punta de Vacas. Soon we were descending down the final hill. Then we were on the flat final stretch. Groups of smiling hikers with bounce in their step were just starting their trek and passed us as we stumbled by. Not a single one carried more than 15 lbs, and they looked at us as if they were afraid we might collapse on them with our heavy packs and crush them. I hoped that we did. If I was going to die in the next few yards, it would be a nice way to expire.

At the trailhead itself a large group of Scandinavians stood around a plush van as guides and muleteers arranged their bags to be carried on the mules. As we neared them, I could tell they were staring at us. They were all wearing light, clean collared shirts. They had big sunglasses and noses and toted high-tech cameras dangling around their necks. They were taking pictures of the van, the dirt, the mules, the guides, and the bags of food. When we got close, they unabashedly turned their digital cameras on us and started snapping pictures. They must have thought we were some strange park wildlife.

I rolled my eyes and at JLo´s suggestion decided that we were going to hijack their van and drive it back to Mendoza. Unfortunately that didn´t work out, but the head guide did offer us a ride up to Los Penitentes where we could clean up a bit while we waited for the bus. At some point the Scandinavians must have figured out that we weren´t some exotic species of mule, because they motioned for me to take a picture of them. I did so, but didn´t bother to look through viewfinder.

We were done.

The head guide gave us a ride to Los Penitentes in his beat up red truck, and as we shook and shimmied along in the bed of it, JLo and I finally smiled and congratulated each other on a great trip.

When we got to Los Penitentes, it turned out that there was no 9:45am bus after all. There was only a bus at noon and we were just in time. Pretty ironic.

Five hours later I was showering in Hostel Alamo back in Mendoza. A shower has truly never felt so good. When I finished showering and dried myself off, I held up the towel. It was brown with dirt. Despite the 20 minute shower, there were layers of filth still coming off. I laughed. I had never been so dirty.

As I stood looking in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My hair was long and unkept. I had a dirty, thin mustache and mangy, sparse facial hair across the rest of my face. I was also unbelievably skinny. I must have lost 15lbs. Every rib was defined in my chest. Every scrawny muscle on my body popped out under my skin awkwardly and sharply. My waist looked like I could reach around its circumference with both hands. Frankly, it looked like I had been starving for months. When I slipped on my pants, they slipped right back off. My waist size had gone from a 33 to a 30. I kind of liked the look, although when Mike met back up with us he called me, "terrifying."

Unfortunately in the last few days, I have been eating nothing but the fine Argentinean cuisine of steak and potatoes, and have been guzzling exquisite wine for a fraction of the cost that it would be in the states. I´m fat now.

We will be leaving for the U.S. tomorrow and have thoroughly enjoyed our relaxing time here in Mendoza. We have done little more than eat, drink, and sleep for the last few days, although we did visit some nice vineyards and I have spent the bulk of my time on a quest to find a single, rare bottle of wine.

I am ready to come home and get back to work.

I hope you have all enjoyed reading and are inspired to go out and find your own adventures.

Adios!

-edventure