Aconcagua – it seems like I had been thinking of it forever. As a child, I had read that it was the highest mountain in the Andes, and I had even memorized its height – 22,837 feet above sea level. The name itself didn’t mean anything to me, it was just a funny-sounding word. Much later, I would learn something more about the meaning. The origin of the name is contested: it is either from the Arauca Aconca-Hue, which refers to the Aconcagua River and means “comes from the other side”; the Quechua Ackon Cahuak meaning “Sentinel of Stone”; the Quechua Anco Cahuac meaning “White Sentinel”; or the Aymara Janq’u Q’awa meaning “white ravine” or “white brook”. In the 1970s, the thought first occurred to me that it would be an amazing thing to go and attempt to climb it, but that’s as far as it got, just a thought. Fast forward – years passed, I changed wives and then countries, and found myself living in the desert in Tucson, Arizona. Perhaps a watershed moment in my thinking was when two climber friends, Barbara Lilley and Gordon MacLeod, both California peakbaggers, visited me. Barbara had climbed it way back in 1974, and she had proof – she brought her slides and gave me a blow-by-blow description of her adventure! If I had been needing some final impetus to go and try it, that was it.

In late 1989, I made the decision to go and see if I could pull it off. I remember carrying a heavily-laden pack high into the local Santa Catalina Mountains, to get myself used to what I was sure the mountain would demand of me. Something you need to know about me is this – I hate carrying heavy loads, always have. As I toiled up steep trails, I wondered if I were really cut out for such an undertaking. Jeez, the higher altitudes in the Andes would be much harder, for sure, so if I was finding it to be such hard work at 7,000 feet, how was I going to feel much higher up? Ever the optimist, I convinced myself that I could do it, so I went ahead and bought my ticket.

The big day finally came – January 18, 1990. My wife drove me to the airport in the pouring rain and we said our goodbyes. I was surprised that the agent checked my two huge duffel bags with nary a word about being overweight and oversized (hard to imagine that happening in today’s world!). We flew above the clouds nearly all the way to Los Angeles, but as we neared the city I could see plenty of fresh snow on the highest mountains, and that made me wonder what I would encounter in the Andes. The plane landed on time, and I was happy that my big adventure was getting off to such a good start. However, after I took the shuttle over to the international terminal, I was told that my Aerolineas Argentinas flight would be late. Well that turned out to be the understatement of the year – it was a full seven hours before we took off! What a drag!

Once aloft, plenty of good wine from Mendoza lightened my mood considerably. They served a great lunch and more wine, and I was soon socializing with my fellow passengers. When I first boarded the plane, I thought it was full of Americans flying to Argentina. I say that because everyone was very fair-skinned, many of them blonde and even blue-eyed. What I didn’t realize, in my ignorance of the Argentine people, was that the vast majority of them are of Italian, Spanish and German descent. I had been thinking that there would be a lot of Indian blood in their makeup, that probably they would be more dark-skinned. That might be the case for most other South American countries, but not for Argentina. As a people, they were indistinguishable from norteamericanos.

For some ungodly reason, after about three hours of flying, we landed in Mexico City and were all ushered into an incredibly ugly room, a sort of holding cell for international passengers in transit. It was as if we were being punished for our sins. What a relief to finally be freed from that Black Hole of Calcutta and get back on board our own, sweet plane. The crew appeased us with more free wine, plenty of it, and soon we were in a festive mood. Supper was served at 3:00 a.m., which I thought was just about the strangest thing I had ever experienced, but it was good, and so was the wine which just kept coming. I was meeting people from all over South America and loving every minute of it. By the way, unless otherwise specified, all conversations in this story occurred in Spanish. This plane had a big screen which showed a continuous display of our exact location, outside air temperature, altitude and speed – I had never seen such a thing before, and, as I love such details, I enjoyed every minute of it.

Our flight from Mexico City was over eight hours non-stop. They served us breakfast before we landed at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires. Before long, I had claimed all my gear and was enjoying a free hour-long bus ride through the city to the other airport. Man, what a huge place, filled with big old buildings.

The bus took me to Aeroparque Jorge Newbery, the airport which handles domestic and regional flights. Wow, here I was, my first time in South America and the Southern Hemisphere – it was hard to believe, after all those years of thinking about it. At Newbery, I exchanged some U.S. dollars into the local Argentine currency – the day’s rate was 1,700 australes to the dollar. I even called the Canadian Embassy and informed them I would be climbing in the country for some time, and would they please take care of shipping my body home in case something bad happened.

After a hot, sweaty hour in the terminal I boarded a plane for Mendoza and enjoyed the flight next to two nice ladies from Porto Alegre. It didn’t take long to realize that the plane carried lots of climbers, and, upon landing, that the Mendoza airport was clogged with them.

Wow, this mountain seems like a popular place! For some reason, I was surprised to learn that fact – almost as if going there to climb was my own original idea, one that had not really occurred to anyone else. There were even signs in the terminal which advertised guiding services to Aconcagua.

Well, first things first – I needed a shower and a bed. A line of cabs was waiting outside – I wrestled my gear into one and, on the driver’s recommendation, he dropped me off at the Hotel Milena downtown. I was surprised how cheap the fare was, only 3,300 A (Australes, for future reference). Jeez, that was less than two dollars, for a long ride into the city – I felt guilty, so I gave him 5,000. Already, I was thinking I could get used to these prices in a big hurry. The hotel was pretty full, the only room they had available was in the basement for 9,000 a night. It had no window, and was spartan but clean, and had its own bath. The location was great, near downtown, and the streets were shady, lined with many trees. Mendoza has about the same population as Tucson, and sits at the same elevation.

There was so much to do before I headed to the mountain, so I headed out. Soon, I bought postcards and stamps, then I found (after much asking) a hardware store that sold me 5 liters of nice clean solvent for my mountaineering stove. That may seem like a lot, but better safe than sorry. Back at the room, I fell asleep for a while, then went out again and bought some fruit juice and yogurt. Hunger appeased, I made my way to the Mendoza Alpine Club, one of several such organizations in the city. The place was crowded with climbers, all locals, and they dispensed much good advice about getting to and climbing Aconcagua. I also learned that I could not apply for my climbing permit until 7:00 a.m. on Monday, and today was only Friday – what the heck was I going to do until then? While at the club, a young fellow by the name of Rodolfo Molesini introduced himself to me. Without any hesitation, he invited me to spend the weekend with his family, at their summer home in the Andes foothills. He said we could even do a little climbing while there. This young man was only about 14 years of age, and I was quite taken with the kindness of his offer.  He hadn’t even told his family, but assured me it would be fine with them. He said he would arrive for me at the hotel the next morning. I said goodbye and returned to my hotel, marveling at my good fortune – this adventure was getting off to a good start! I decided to keep my room for two more nights, more for the convenience of having a safe place to leave all my gear than anything else. I turned in early and slept like a baby.

To be continued…………………

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