This photo shows the base camp area for climbs of Cerro Plata. This photo is courtesy of Elias Segovia.

Huh!!! What’s that?! Jeez, it’s only my alarm. I reach out in the dark and find it, homing in by sound alone. No choice, it’s too dark to actually see anything. Picking it up is almost painful, it’s so cold. I pull it back inside my sleeping bag and clutch it to me, trying to blink away sleep. My eyes adjust. Now I can see the dim outline of the tent fabric above my face. I lie there, wakefulness returning. Where am I ? Oh yeah, in that exposed little saddle between Lomas Amarillas and Cerro Plata. This is my highest camp so far, about 16,700 feet. I don’t know what day of the week it is, or the date – who cares anyway – it’s getting close to Christmas, I do remember that much. Now it all comes back to me – I’m here to climb!

I check the time – 3:00 A.M. God, only a climber would be dumb enough to get up at such an hour! Do I really have to? Maybe the weather is lousy and I can spend the day here reading, sleeping and eating. Unlikely, though – it’s been perfect for over two weeks. I venture one arm out of my cocoon and unzip the tent door. Hard, bright stars stare back at me. Well, I can’t use the weather as an excuse.

Okay, so let’s get to it. That’s why I came here, right? As much as I hate leaving the warmth of the sleeping bag, I know that there are a lot of little things to do to get ready. First things first. My bladder feels like it’s ready to burst. At least I know I’m drinking enough. I crawl out of the bag. I’d use my pee bottle, the single most clever item of climbing gear I’ve acquired in the last decade, but it’s already full. And frozen solid, so I can’t even empty it. I slide into my boots and out the door I go. As I stand there, I see a shooting star – a bright one. The Milky Way is so nice down here in the Southern Hemisphere, so thick and full of stars. And the Southern Cross is beautiful.

Back into the tent and the warmth of my double bag. Very thirsty, I grope for my water bottles at my feet and wrestle them up to my face. Frozen! I’ve never been able to figure out how you can sleep warmly in a sleeping bag and yet have your water bottles, in there with you, freeze. One of climbing’s great mysteries, that’s for sure. I don’t feel like starting up the stove and cooking anything. Besides, I’d have to fetch snow and melt it just to have any water. Never have much of an appetite at this hour anyway. I chew on a bit of something close at hand. Had a huge feed of noodles last night and that should carry me for quite a while.

I toss a few things into my pack, including the eight pounds of ice in the water bottles. Most everything else, I’m wearing. Three layers – polypro long underwear, a down suit and Gore-tex. Double mitts and socks, too. The tent rustles – the wind is picking up as dawn approaches. Hearing it makes me glad that I’ve decided to wear so many clothes, even if I do look like the Michelin man.

This photo shows the summit of Cerro Plata as seen from the nearby lower summit of Platita. This photo is courtesy of Janne Corax.

One final check – seems like I’m ready. Outside in the cold, I make my tent promise to still be here when I return. Switch on the headlamp and away I go. I’ve eyeballed a fair bit of the route the previous day. Seems straightforward enough. It’s 4:00 A.M. Four thousand vertical feet to the summit.

As I start, I notice a few clouds scudding up the valleys and bunching around nearby summits like huge wads of cotton. No surprises, please! After a few minutes, I realize I’m puffing hard – slow down, no hurry! I settle into a better rhythm. All I need to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, right, and I have to reach the top eventually.

The ridge I’m ascending is gritty – a lot of broken rock, but the footing is good. A headlight really tends to localize your world – everything is confined to that eerie circle just a few feet away. What you can’t see doesn’t exist. But what I’m seeing now is strange. Seems like I’m walking on some soft dirt – feels almost rubbery. It can’t be snowmelt – it’s way below freezing and everything should be frozen solid. This stuff seems to have a funny smell to go along with it. Is that smoke? Aha, I’ve got it! I knew these peaks were all volcanic, but here I am actually walking through an area of fumaroles, at 17,000 feet. Their heat keeps the ground thawed, and apparently snow-free. Neat! Rusts and ochres stain the surface, coloring an otherwise-dull slope. I’ll check this out when I return and can get the whole picture in broad daylight.

Directly above me is something white. It’s too far away for the headlight to illuminate. As I continue on my ascending traverse, I realize it’s the lower edge of a pocket glacier tucked into the steep slope. I could save a lot of time by climbing straight up to it, over its lower bulge, and then up and across it to the open, flatter slopes at 18,000 feet, which I need to cross anyway. But, I’m carrying as little as possible, and have neither crampons nor ice axe, both essential if I am to try such a stunt. Oh well, I’ll just continue as I am, outflank it, then double back. In this eerie half-light, I can’t even say for certain how far above my present position the ice starts.

The wind is picking up. Right now, I’m on a steep side-hill, but as I near its top, where a large plateau begins, I am buffeted by stronger gusts. It is just over 18,000 feet where I level out. As I walk from the relative protection of the side-hill on to the open plateau, a fierce gust hits me. I protect my face with my balaclava and pull the down and Gore-tex hoods over my head. It’s as if, in a matter of seconds, I’ve emerged into a different world.

This photo shows two nearby summits – Vallecitos on the left and Rincón on the right. This photo is courtesy of Ian Lewis.

There’s now enough daylight to see. I stuff the headlight into my pack and huddle with my back to the wind. I eat a few cookies and some chocolate. It’s interesting how so many foods seem tasteless and unappealing at higher altitudes, but chocolate is always good, even if it’s frozen solid. Being a lifelong chocoholic helps, I’m sure.

Please stay tuned for the continuation of this article.  

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