This is the first installment of a story about my return to the Andes Mountains in South America 25 years ago. I will continue to publish installments for the next few months.

In early 1990, I traveled to South America to try to climb Cerro Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Andes. Even though I spent nearly a month on the mountain, my poor acclimatization and a lot of bad weather foiled my attempt and I came away empty-handed. I was pretty disappointed and vowed I’d never return. It’s funny how things work out, though, because ten short months later here I was back in Argentina to try again. During the course of my first trip, I’d learned two things which, I’d come to strongly believe, could greatly increase my chances of success. The first was that I should get well- prepared for the altitude by doing a lot of climbing up high in other places before trying Aconcagua itself; the second, that I should go earlier in the season, as most of the pundits said it’d be colder but less stormy. Those months of mulling it over must have convinced me, because December 3rd,1990 saw me boarding a flight out of the Tucson airport.

At Stapleton airport in Denver. There’s my plane, waiting to fly to Miami

I flew to Miami via Denver without incident, cooled my heels in the airport for quite a while, and, an hour late, finally departed Miami. I was using LAP (Lineas Aereas Paraguayas), at the time a bargain carrier offering attractive fares. My stretch DC-8 had plenty of empty seats – I had three to myself – so I was able to lie down and sleep for much of my 8-hour, non-stop flight to Asunción. Even though the flight arrived an hour late, I still had to wait two hours to depart after getting my boarding pass. The plane was filled with Brasileños on our 1 1/2-hour flight to Buenos Aires – they informed me that LAP was the cheapest way to get to North America. Once we landed at the Ezeiza airport, I shared a cab into the city with others for ten bucks each.

December 4, 1990

I needed to get myself to Mendoza, Argentina in the western part of the country, the jumping-off point for many climbs in the Andes, including Aconcagua. For some reason, to this day still a mystery to me, I’d decided that taking the train there would be a good way to go, so I got myself to the Estación Ferroviaria de Retiro. I bought a first-class ticket and checked my duffel bags, then spent a long time chilling out in a nearby park with a tall bell tower, the Torre Monumental.

The front of the Torre Monumental

When I returned to the station, I badly needed to take a dump, so I found the men’s room and discovered it was pretty rustic. You put your feet on two outlines, dropped your drawers, squatted and aimed for the hole in the floor. No stalls – you were out in the open in a big room with several other such “stations”. There was nothing to hang on to, so your balance had to be good. It was a little disconcerting to see the female attendant wandering around the room in plain view, tidying things up – what a crappy job. But hey, if you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go, right?

That evening I finally boarded the train and we pulled out of the station – it felt good to be moving again. Man, if this was first-class, I’d have hated to have seen coach. My seat didn’t recline, and the car was filled with smokers who blatantly ignored the “no smoking” signs plainly posted – even the nine ceiling fans didn’t help. I opened my window for fresh air, but the exhaust from the engine crept in. By the time we’d covered the 1,040 KM to Mendoza on the 16 1/2-hour journey, my eyes were burning and almost swollen shut.

December 5, 1990

My next surprise, one that would affect the entire trip, was to learn that in the ten months I’d been gone, Argentina had experienced high inflation. Previously, I could take a taxi from one side of the city to the other on slow surface streets and not spend a dollar, no matter how hard I tried. Today, a short cab ride to the Hotel Milena, where I’d stayed on my previous visit, cost me 41,000 Australes. At 5,050A to the US dollar, I was looking at almost eight bucks. Was this an example of what to expect? The same hotel room ended up costing me $24 compared to the $5 only months before. Yikes, I hadn’t budgeted for costs like that! Okay, I’d spring for one night, but would look for something cheaper right away.

I slept for a few hours, then hit the pavement looking for more affordable digs. Helpful folks directed me to a street, Martín Guemes, behind the main bus station, which had a lot of really cheap accommodation. Residencial Betty filled the bill at 35,000A per day. I paid the man for tomorrow night, then walked back through town to the Club Alpino de Mendoza (CAM). Mendoza is an important jumping-off point for Andean climbs and there are several large, enthusiastic climbing clubs there. I met Fito Molesini, a friend from my previous trip. I told him I was back to try Aconcagua again, but wanted to do a lot of other climbing first to get acclimatized. He said he and his friends wanted to go and climb some 16,000-foot peaks that weekend and I told him to count me in.

After a good night’s sleep, I checked out. Fito and his two friends came to the hotel, we piled ourselves and all my gear into a cab and moved me over to my new room, which I knew was going to be just fine. The owner of the place said I could store stuff there while out of town and if, upon my return, there was no room, I could crash there in my sleeping bag for free until one came available. Little details like that mean a lot when you’re in a strange place and trying hard to sort things out. If I were simply there as a tourist, that’d be one thing, but trying to arrange your life around climbing is more complicated.

On the right side is Residencial Betty, my rooming-house at Guemes 456 in Mendoza

It was now Thursday, December 6th. I bought some food and started taking Diamox for the weekend trip – it can help you acclimatize for high elevation. After several more hours sleep in the afternoon, I walked back over to CAM and enjoyed time meeting other climbers. One of them kindly offered to make copies of topographic maps of the Cordón del Plata for me. After several hours of enjoyable conversation and poring over maps, I returned to my room to pack for the four-day trip to the mountains.

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