This is it: Huascaran 6768m!!

The Big One will be the Huascaran, or will not be. If you have read my last post, I have now found some suitable boots, and have booked a similar trip to Peru to attempt the climb of the Huascaran, Peru's highest mountain and South America's third summit. Maybe slightly less technical than the Alpamayo, but 400m higher than the Chopicalqui, that should be challenging enough. Apparently, 3 people who summited on the Alpamayo+Chopicalqui expedition last summer are now attempting this Huascaran, so it certainly is serious enough an objective!

I don't know a lot about this expedition, except that I have to go now. If I stayed home 2 more months I probably wouldn't get much fitter, but would have 2 months to create opportunities to get unfit. My girlfriend will be busy in July but free in most of August, so if I'm back on 2^nd August it works out perfect. At work there will be a whole new lot of things kicking-off in August and September, so probably a good call to be here in that season.

All-in-all timing is good, just a little bit unplanned and unexpected, but I have the luxury of flexibility, a rewarding prerogative. I'm also quite happy to just go, not think and stress about it for another 2 or 3 months. There's lot of fine-tuning to do before I go, keeping me busy enough to not overthink it.

The gear:

I tried my brand new Spantik boots on, learnt how to tighten them in such a way that they respond to the command of my feet, but don't squeeze the feet to death – the last thing you would want at 6700m of elevation. The rest of the equipment I either have or will borrow, mostly from Ulf my colleague from Mannheim who has a little palmares of 6000m peak climbs. Being my first one, I don't even know what I don't have but should have, so I'm highly relying on him for the equipment checklist, and for the equipment itself!! I thought my alpinism gear was starting to be decent, but I realise that 6000-7000m climbing is a whole different class. Not playing around in Chamonix any more, boy!

The organisation:

„Terres d'Aventures“ is the organisation I used in 2010 for the Kilimanjaro trip. I kind of trust them, also because they are well-known in France. When you spend those sums on a trip to the extreme, you want to be a bit wary of who you give it to. I had a shortlist of 4 organisations which I somehow had some trust in. Terre d'aventure is one of them. You can find the trip description at:

http://www.terdav.com/Produit/Fiche/ASC010/huascaran-6768-m

The costs:

All this is costing me a fortune in equipment, late flight booking, transfers to Paris and airports, leave time, but with the idea of „The Big One“ I knew it would cost a lot, so I try not to think about it when I throw a big part of my savings into various websites... International banking is not making this whole aspect easier: the german debit cards are useless, the german Visa card also happens to not work on most websites, the french Visa card sends you a text message with a confirmation code for internet transactions, except it only takes french phone numbers... It reminds me the time when I bought my car in Germany, or the time when I booked the Kilimanjaro trip in 2010... It's hard to earn money, and it's hard to spend it the way you want too!

Practically:

I am flying on Thursday, I will already go to Paris on Wednesday night. Of course communication will be difficult while I'm over there, and I don't think Terre d'Aventure have a page with updates from their ongoing expeditions. I'll try to keep my girlfriend updated, if you're anxious you can ask her what I'm up to, but I also suspect I might only be able to send a text message every 5 or 6 days! Unless you read in the news that some french people have frozen to death in Peru, I'm fine!

Option #6: Alpamayo 5947m & Chopicalqui 6354m - close call

After hours and hours looking for the right peak, my attention was caught by South America (with some advice I must admit). And all of a sudden I saw this picture of the summit of the Chopicalqui (see below), a 6354m summit in Peru.

Photo from Mountain Madness

I immediately wanted to be there giving an assault on the beautiful summit. This expedition also involves climbing the Alpamayo at 5947m, a more technical climb graded AD, involving prolonged front-pointing at amazing altitude.

Photo from Terre d'aventures

So last night I sent a text to my girlfriend asking for her permission to go. I got it later in the night. Today is monday, my boss was back from holiday and I cheekily asked if I could get 3 weeks leave starting this Friday. Given the holiday planning of our whole team and the current status of my projects, this could work. I called the agency organising the expedition, the guy said a dropper left one place empty for this expedition, he checked my climbing history, and said he would get back to me about flight availability. He rang me later in the afternoon with the good news: for "only" 130€ extra, I could be in. Compared to the costs of flying, hiring the guide, buying the gear, this was a detail so I asked him to send me a final proposal. He needs my final confirmation and payment by tomorrow 12pm. For an insight into this expedition click on:

http://www.terdav.com/Produit/Fiche/ASC084/alpamayo-5947-m-%E2%80%93-chopicalqui-6354-m


In the mean time a checklist was running through my head. Kitbag and sleeping bag both suited for high altitude, I can probably get from a colleague. Boots... Bummer I need some boots. So after work I went to this place the colleague recommended in Ludwigshafen, clearly stated the objective: I'm going to Peru climb Alpamayo three days from now, I kind of need some boots. I had already had a brief discussion about boot models with my mountain guide, so when I pointed at one of them I looked like I knew what I was doing. Then I looked stupid when I didn't know which socks I would take. Now with two pairs of socks on, I started trying out some astronaut-like boots. both of the makes and models I wanted were not available in my size, and the other ones were not fitting right either. Tried about 5 pairs, some with additional saules, but some hurt and some were too wide.

I decided to not take a flyer with my feet's safety. On the Mont Blanc last year I understood that cold could be stronger than me. My left big toe is just about back to normal sensation (no worries it didn't look or feel bad, just weird). At 6000m, when front pointing for hours and hours, if the toes hit the front at every banging of the crampons in the ice, you finish with broken toes or something. If the shoes are too tight, you finish without toes. If you haven't had the time to practice with your boots, wear them to walk around and climb, it hurts so bad you can't finish and have to turn around half-way up. Not good enough. You'll always hear stories of people venturing in mountains with insufficient equipment and still succeeding, but nobody relates the embarrassing losses of toes, fingers or more which happen all the time at 6000m.

Would have been beautiful to embark on such a trip at such short notice, but anybody with an ounce of wisdom would not do it. Today's learning point is: equipment for summer mountaineering in Chamonix has nothing to do with winter mountaineering or high-altitude expeditions.

The Alpamyo and Chopacalqui remain interesting objectives. My guide confirms the Alpamayo would be an appropriate challenge for me, not overly difficult but a good start for 6000m climbing. Let's say the Mera&Island Peak idea might well have revealed disappointing. South America might be better suited for technical 6000m mountain climbing. However July/August is the season, but I'm not free in August. September is slightly late, still a couple of options in Bolivia (for a next post!), October woudl be Nepal. To be continued....

Alpamayo, not overly technical, but at almost 6000m that will be enough of a challenge for me!

To lead or be guided?

 
I have had the feedback a couple of times that climbing mountains behind a guide is almost buying success, or playing too safe, or overrating yourself, or being a pussy etc... Some of the people sharing this kind of opinion have never put crampons on, or have only played around on glaciers. So before telling me all about guided mountaineering and its flaws, they should probably try it themselves.

Guides give you access to a different dimension. You can pretty much climb and progress at the best of your ability, without much buffer. This brings two massive rewards: first, you are climbing routes you would never have dreamt of, you get to places very few people have been to. The motivations of alpinists to climb vary within a broad range of emotions, but in practical terms they tend to translate among other things into the will to access such unique places. Second, climbing long routes close to your limit makes you improve and learn faster than anything else would. For instance: if you start ice-climbing by yourself, you will make slow progress. With a guide, after a couple of routes you will find yourself climbing ice walls in altitude in the middle of a long mixed route, a whole different ball game and a different kind of fun.

Guides are inspiring. Beyond their experience and knowledge, it is probably the fact that you trust them with your life that makes the relationship special. They can take you on any route you pick, can get you out of virtually any situation, and when they climb without clients they achieve major mountaineering feats. My guide opened a ridiculous route in the North face of Les Droites the winter before I started climbing with him. The summer before that, he opened a route on an Alaskan summit. When we were together in a hut I picked two mountain magazines one after the other. In both of them there were articles with photos relating his climbing successes. Following this guy makes you feel special, a bit like playing football in your garden with a professional footballer.

There is a very particular relationship in a team of alpinists. The fact that you pay the guide to be roped with you can slow down the process of becoming climbing partners, and the share of responsibility is highly unfair. You can't really call a guide and his client "partners". But still, once you've been out on many routes with the same guide, he knows you in a way that nobody else ever will.

What a guide does when out on a mountain is first of all look after your safety. He interprets the route, the snow, the temperature, the weather, the altitude to adjust the climb to thes safety-affecting parameters. He accelerates all rope manoeuvers by setting up belays and placing protection like it's second nature, a bit like when we type a text message without really thinking about our fingers. He also makes sure you are still in condition to carry-on and finish the route, knowing what's best for you, slowing down or pacing up when required, choosing the progression mode, the length of the rope, the clothing to put on or take out.

A guide fee for a challenging route requires rigorous budgeting, but one must understand that the guide can only work when weather permits, and when people want to climb mountains or ski down them. Apart from the peak weeks of winter and summer, only week-ends are really source of revenue. There's no client to pay him if he's sick or incapacitated. The Lamborghinis you see in the palace villas of Chamonix do not belong to mountain guides! Additionally, the responsibility that the guide accepts has a price. He will not leave you to die alone, even if it means simply diing together like it regularly happens.

Of course leading a party of alpinists is the best experience ever, but unless both are completely nuts, you can only lead on terrain much easier than your maximum. The responsibility of the leader is tremendous, all those things guides do you have to remember and apply. You must evaluate objective dangers, make the calls and be able to lead your partner out of trouble, even if it means climbing an ice wall or jumping crevasses. Coming back to the initial comment about the "almost too easy" solution of guided tours, the picture above illustrates the meaning of it. The little rocky bits on the left is what I currently feel confident leading. The rocky triangle on the right is where I feel confident following my guide through. Different story, different fun. I have started taking my uncle or a friend on easy routes, and I must say breaking trail where there is no track is exhilarating (see below pictures). I would love to do more leading on manageable routes, but I'm missing partners. However, nothing will replace the undertaking of challenging routes with the support of the man that can make it happen.

So many of them

So after I heard I might suffer disappointment and even boredom by attempting the Mera Peak, I am on the hunt again for 6000m peaks to climb in October/November. I'm pretty sure I want to go to Nepal, and I could probably attempt a 7000m peak, but such expeditions cost a LOT of money, take a bit longer than I can afford off-work, and the acclimatisation challenge makes any technical difficulty a gamble in the short time most expeditions give you to attempt the climb. So not the safest bet, although in the future if I had money and time I would definitely try one of these.

More "affordable" are the mountains classed as "trekking peaks" in Nepal, a good part of them above 6000m. Now it's really difficult to gauge the technical difficulty of each of them, and their levels of objective dangers. Once you get out of "everybody's mountain", the most climbed peaks in the region, it's really difficult to find the right one for you. Just like it's difficult to find the right expedition provider.

A couple of people have told me I should consider South America, which offers a number of 6000m mountains with slightly technical climbing. For some reason I want to go to Nepal, but now I'm looking at mountains "from which you don't even see the Everest", one of the most fascinating features of the area. Although you're never far away from an 8000m peak, the advantage of the Mera Peak is that you're right next to the Everest&Lhotse, Makalu, Cho Oyu etc...

Pictures and websites all look very black and white, a mix of snow, ice and rock. Maybe it's because I keep researching when I get back from work, spending a few more hours in front of a computer screen in fading daylight, that it all looks pretty grim. It's when I'm in the mountains that I actually feel the thrill, and I know it's what I enjoy most. Over-organising and over-thinking is starting to get me!

Should I stop those projects and save the money to try the crazy routes I dream of in the alps, the Aiguille Verte, the Kuffner, the Innominata, why not even the Jorasses? If I'm going to follow a guide anyway, it might as well be the one I know and I'm happy giving money to! For trekking and climbing in Nepal you can find never ending lists of mountains, you just look at numbers and grading to make your mind up. I like the size of the Mont Blanc range, it's big enough to offer almost endless opportunities (for someone who doesn't work there), but it's got a kind of cosy atmosphere. You're always in sight of the Mont Blanc, and although I only wish to be alone on my mountain, I like to have around me some peaks I've been to. Going to Nepal or South America feels a bit like climbing somebody else's mountain...

Right now I'm looking at the Naya Kanga (5844m), the Hiunchuli Peak (6441m), and some expeditions doing a combo of "trekking peaks", like: Yala Peak and Kangja La, Yanapaccha and Chopakalki, or even a 29 days marathon up Gokyo Ri/ Kalar Patar/ Pokalde/ Lobuje East/ Island Peak.

And all this time I spend looking stuff up is some time I don't spend training or sleeping, both much needed for the success of my mountain week-ends, which in turn are part of the training for the big mountain climbing... Any clues, anyone?

Chamonix: a new start for my Big One project?

 So in Week 22 of this year, after a nice resting week with my girlfriend in Bretagne, I got the opportunity to refine my mountain climbing. These 2 weeks of holidays explain why this blog didn't develop much recently! I made the most of one week of good weather in the middle of a long dark stretch of grim weeks. The winter has been dragging very late, so we had superb snow conditions up there, combined with brilliant weather. A little account follows, I tried to limit the number of pictures to avoid overloading the blog.

It all started with a day on a little cliff above Argentière, rock climbing with my uncle. I even led on a 5a rope length, surprising myself. A climbing team doesn't become a team in a day, but we certainly achieved something on that day. If only that, we have learnt the hard way about each other's capabilities, as until now we were only comparing two different grading systems from our local climbing spots. My uncle can just about lead on routes where I can just about follow, so sounds like a good way to both get our challenges! 11 or 12 ibexes were around, making the day even more special in the Mont Blanc range scenery!

In May only the Aiguille du Midi lift is open, limiting thereby the options if you want to avoid spending the week on an approach march to your route, carrying water, tent, food etc... So on the Sunday we abseiled from the bridge between the north and central pitons of the Aiguille, then down a couloir to reach the base of an ice gully "La Passerelle", TD- with M5 mixed climbing. Very good warm-up hammering the ice tools into ice&snow and hooking on rocky edges. Up to 85° upright, just scary enough but relatively safe when you follow a guide! The top of the route is about the halfway point of the Arête des Cosmiques, so a little hike to the summit ends a perfect day!

The fine weather on monday saw my uncle and I for our first tour together in high-mountain without guides. We refined our rope techniques and protection placing flair in the Traverse of the Pointes Lachenal. Very nice acclimatisation day at 3600m above sea level. Quite an experience as well to be out there with your uncle!

Tuesday afternoon, having rested quietly, my guide and I get up to the Plan de l'aiguille to stay overnight at the refuge. 4am wake-up, and up the snow-covered moraines to the base of the "rectified" Mallory-Porter couloir. Followed by three parties of military high-mountain apprentices, we get up the couloir on easy snow slopes. Technically easy, only a good test of stamina and even of acclimatisation as you near the summit of this 1500m height gain route. Beautiful AD+ route, and in fantastic conditions that day, just the way you would want it to be!

This confidence build-up saw me accepting to attempt the Frendo spur on the Saturday. A clear night on Friday evening guaranteed decent re-freezing, but only partial as we experienced soft snow on the approach after a 3am wake-up. There were still lots of snow, making this "D" route with up to 5a free climbing easier on the rocky sections. Ice axe catching well in the ice/snow, and some rocky lengths coudl even be avoided by taking snowy slopes. There were still a fair few lengths of rock sections, to be climbed mostly with crampons. Rock climbing is definitely my weakness, although I can really notice some improvement against a year ago (OK I didn't even have my own climbing shoes back then!). At the end of it, after a couple of painful nkee hits and a bit of swearing, I joined my guide below the snow and ice top section. After a power break, we attacked the snowy upward arete with void on both sides, which I never realised could exist on the Frendo spur. There I noticed the acclimatisation difference with Wednesday, as at the same height and with more hours of climbing in the legs, I had no issue getting up the snowy slopes. Spending the Thursday resting at 3800m was definitely a good call! At the top of the route you have to get around a big piece of boulder, usually to the East, but because of the burning sun and its effect on the snow we took a right. On the western side, the snow was quite hard and in 4 rope lengths we reached the top. The last 60m length was a simple ice wall, maybe up to 70°... Good job we had our gully practice the sunday before! ANd all of a sudden you're on the magic ridge leading to the Aiguille du Midi, in the midst of all alpinists going back or going down, where guides salute each other, going in 30 seconds from total wilderness to a get together on the Midi ridge!

My holiday with Anja in Bretagne was fantastic, but as this blog is geared towards mountain stories it is here more relevant to tell you how fantastic my Chamonix week was. Later discussions made me realise that I could be disappointed by the Mera/Amphu Lhapcha/Island expedition I have in mind. There are no technical difficulties in those climbs, compared to what I've done this week. So I suppose I'm now on the hunt again for a summit to climb that will be one or two grades more technical, more challenging. Maybe the Baruntse just won back some credit? to be continued.......

My Big One?

As I started talking to people about my blog and more importantly my project itself, I found 2 of them who summited the Mera Peak. There is a debate about the actual altitude of the summit, currently estimated above 6400m. The more I think about my project, the more I think my decision will favour the Mera Peak, but „with style“. By this I would mean crossing the Amphu Lapcha pass after conquering the Mera Peak, and then climbing the Island Peak.

The Mera Peak, although pretty high (very subjective statement on my behalf), is known as an „easy“ wander up a glacier. If you take care of your acclimatisation in the previous days/weeks, the Mera Peak should not be too much of an issue, allowing you to conquer the „highest trekking peak“ of the Himalayas. Meaning without ridiculous effort you can summit a 6400m+ mountain. I make it sound like a walk in the park, but in further posts I will have to explain that it's still far from easy to summit at that kind of altitude. These days the real summit is sat above a roughly 50m wall which you need one last shot of power to ascend. From „base camp“ and from the summit you can see the Cho Oyu, Everest, Lhotse, Makalu and Kangchenjunga. This alone is good enough a reason to go for this option!!

 The sight from the Mera Peak over a bunch of 8000m Mountains.

This Amphu Lapcha pass seems like an interesting challenge. No real technical move expected, but ease with crampons and ice axe is required to progress through seracs up to the pass. Then some abseiling and a walk down to the area below the Island Peak, which involves walking past the Baruntse. This sounds like an amazing experience in itself!

Amphu Lapcha Pass is not a walk in the park!

Island Peak, unlike I've said earlier in this blog, is slightly more technical, only because of this „little“ wall that has to be ascended. Doing the trip in this sequence, acclimatisation shouldn't be a problem anymore at this stage, so Island Peak should be doable.

This little wall on the Island Peak would not be an issue at 3000m, but at 6000m it's a different story!

This expedition would give me the best chances of success on a 6000m peak that requires basic mountaineering skills. It would show me some of the most amazing mountains on the planet, allowing me to claim Nepal on my beginner's mountaineer resume. I might be able to go bigger and higher, but like I've done in alpine adventures, a decent build-up starting with reasonable objectives carries the least risks of me giving up at the first try because it's too crazy/cold/dangerous/tiring etc... I regard a Mera Peak + Amphu Lhapcha + Island Peak expedition as something crazy enough anyway, totally fitting the purpose of my „The Big One“ project.

Now I'm pretty sure about what I want to do, the next steps are:

- Pick the organisation that will work the best for me, the most practicable compromise of quality, safety, price, dates, service. Definitely a subject for a further post.

- List and procure the required equipment. Also definitely worth a couple of posts. Seems like my alpine gear will not do the trick!

- Train hard enough to be fit for purpose, but easy enough not to be totally broken when flying to Nepal (nor 10 years later when my knees can't take any more of this!). Also a good point to discuss on this blog!

Altitude

In a number of activities, going the extra yard tends to be harder than the couple of yards just before. If you run a 10K, it will be very demanding to add another kilometer onto it, although running one kilometer might sounds like a piece of piss for you. If you work 50 hours a week, the 51st hour will be extremely painful, a lot more than the first hour of that week (well, depending on the night before I suppose!). For a number of natural reasons, it goes the same with altitude. I regularly jog 450meters of positive elevation here in Heidelberg, but when you're at 3000m, the next 450m will take you a lot more energy. If you're at 4000m you might start wondering if you're even able to do the extra 450m and you don't stand a chance if you didn't prepare. At 5000m, you might actually put yourself in real trouble by attempting further elevation gain without adequate acclimatisation.

The following website is amazingly interesting for those who want to know more about high altitude: http://www.altitude.org/high_altitude.php

Basically air gets thinner with altitude, and the closer you are to the poles the less oxygen you will find at a given altitude. Your body needs the oxygen to keep going, so you start breathing harder and faster and your heart starts beating harder and faster to keep muscles and brains fed. With lower air pressure, a red cell will carry less oxygen than it would at sea level. At a certain altitude this won't suffice, as your lungs and heart cannot race forever. This is where you need long periods of rest so that your body adapts to the fact that there is simply less air to breathe. Your body starts producing more red cells, so that you can capture more oxygen out of a given amount of air going through your lungs. With more red cells, your blood becomes thicker and therefore harder to pump.

The best way to acclimatise is to rest at high altitude, ideally spend a night up there. In the alps you can stay over at one of the huts, try ot catch some sleep. After a couple of days going around in the mountains, you might attempt to climb up to 4000m, maybe 4200m, but to have a go at a Mont Blanc and its 4810m, you need almost a week of acclimatisation, making this summit more challenging than it looks. On the Kilimanjaro we spent the whole week accliimatising at altitudes between 3000m and 4600m before attempting the summit (5895m). On the website above, I read that this is nonsense and we were not properly acclimatised when attempting the summit. Testosterone might get you there, but you're putting yourself in danger!

Some medicines might help you bear the effects of altitude for a given amount of time, but the only way to keep going is to spend time acclimatising. On the summit day (or night) of Kilimanjaro our little group was affected in various ways by the high altitude: cold, headache, belly ache, dizziness, loss of balance, loss of consciousness, heart&lungs limit.

On summits above 6000m, you would typically set-up a base camp around 4500-5000m, and wander to higher altitudes on one or two days-trips to further stimulate your body acclimatisation process. Depending on the altitude you're trying to reach, you will then move to your advanced camps and have a go at the summit. For Mount Everest there are typically 3 or 4 acclimatisation climbs from base camp before climbers attempt the 8848m summit, most of the time with additional supplies of oxygen.

Of course the temperature falls with altitude, so you don't only fight the lack of oxygen, but also arctic temperatures. Altitude complications include hypothermia (dying of cold), acute mountain sickness, high-altitude pulmonary oedema, high-altitude cerebral oedema. Above 7500m your body is not able to acclimatise, it can only deteriorate. This is called the death zone, a countdown to your death. Depending on people and on your preparation, you have a certain number of hours to live before you die. If you can't reach your summit before then, you have to hurry back down the mountain. And by the way, forget helicopters. Above 4000m-4500m, there is not enough air for them to fly.