We did it! 5,100 metres!!

After a few days in Quito to rest after our puddle adventures in Papallacta, we hopped on the trolley bus to get to the bus station to get the bus to Cotopaxi. After a rather hectic run, with our packs on, to get on the bus that the hustler was determined to put us on, we had yet another first for our trip – we managed to jump on a moving bus, and off it again when we got to the park entrance.  From here we had to get a “taxi” – a 4×4 pick up truck that would drive us into the park for the small fee of 15 USD for a 15 minute journey. TO put things in perspective, the bus that took over an hour cost about USD 1.50.  We asked to be dropped off at the camp site on the south side of the park, as this seemed to be as close to the volcano Cotopaxi as we could get, without actually camping at the refuge, which you can’t drive too. It was a glorious day and we set up our tent, all on its own in that area of the camping, and set off to explore a bit more. We huffed and puffed up towards Ruminuahui, a volcano just behind the camp site, and then slid our way back down towards the lake, startling many wild horses and tagged cows along the way.  Although we had been in Quito, which is almost at 3,000 metres, it was still making us breathe rather heavily as we walked up the hills.  We got back in the evening and had a gorgeous gormet meal of couscous mixed with chicken soup and some soya flakes, and a packet of tuna stirred in.  It was quite a celebration though, as after a few days of trying to get our new MSR Whisperlite burner to work with diesel in Papallacta, and failing miserably as the black smoke poured out all over our food, we had switched to “super” fuel. Its the closest you can get to unleaded petrol here, though still heavily leaded. It worked like a dream, despite the fact that you aren’t supposed to use this fuel type. As it was, it was our only option here, as the white fuel that is recommended has been banned in Equador as it is used in making cocaine… great. So we had a very happy, hot, leaded meal and then shortly after the sun went down crawled into our tent, which was gloriously neither in a puddle nor on a slope. As we lay reading that night with our head lamps on, we suddenly heard a sound. After checking that it was neither Fab nor Oli, we realised that the heavy breathing was in fact coming from right outside the tent, circling it and snorting as it did, looking for an opening. Taking a look outside, under the flaps of the tent, with the headlamp revealed nothing (although Oli did not have her contacts in, so it was to be expected). Slowly though, the beast circled around our tent to Fab’s side, so he could see it as it stood there, the mist circling around its legs as it panted heavily by the tent opening. There was a plaintive cry a few metres off, as one of its pack members was charged by what must have been the alpha male, defending its new found territory. There were 5 beasts in total in the pack, mostly strong creatures, who were clearly displeased that we had also marked our territory by a nearby bush. Fab expressed his disgust as the beasts did whatever they could to wipe out any sign that we had thought for a moment that it could have been our land, but we stayed in the tent, allowing the beasts to have their way. Oli by this stage had found her glasses, and as she looked out, the beasts cried out. “Moooooooooooooooooooooo!”, said the alpha male. “Don’t stick your head out so far!” said Fab, “You’ll scare them off!”. Too late. The cows that had been eating the grass by our bush  trotted a few metres further off.  As we snuggled back down in our tent, feeling relieved that we were not to become the prey of a ravenous bear or other unknown beast, the cows came back to circle our tent. We rested peacefully though, only hoping that they would not fall over any of the guide lines for the tent and run off with us attached to a leg.

We awoke the next morning, in one piece, as rain dripped through the tent onto Fab’s bag. It had sagged during the night, and outside our tent was a thick mist. Even if the cows had stuck around, we wouldn’t have been able to see them. Nor could we see Cotopaxi.  Fab finally dragged Oli out of her sleeping bag, despite protests that it would be to wet, too cloudly, too snowy up Cotopaxi to make it worth while. The protests gained her about 2 more hours of sleep, but that had to be forsaken in the end as the intrepid explorers prepared to make their first attempt on foot up to the ice line above the refuge on Cotopaxi.  With their bellies full of porridge and hot chocolate, the one happy explorer encouraged the grumpy one to keep going, as they forced their way through the mist, cloud, thick fog and general dampness. We popped out of it for a moment, only to see the wall of it swirling behind us like the “nothing” in “the neverending story”. Soon it overtook us again, yet we forged on. This was the reason we had come back to the park, and we were determined to get to the top. We met a park guard along the road, who popped out of the mist and was not a stone as we thought at first. He told us it was snowing up Cotopaxi at about 4,000 metres. Our climb was going to be miserable. We went on until we came to a cross roads. Left to climb up Cotopaxi – what was going to be probably an 8 hour return trip in the rain, cloud, snow and ice – or right to a restaurant hotel inside the park. Thinking that it could perhaps be dangerous to attempt to climb in such bad conditions, and that the view anyway would be nonexistant, after a few minutes of deliberation we turned right and walked to the north side of the park, where the sun was shining.  After another hour of walking, we enjoyed a wonderful 3 course meal, all the while Cotopaxi was covered in clouds. The waiter assured us that the next day was going to be better weather, so we went back to our tent after assuring ourselves that we would climb the next day. When we returned to the campground and turned the corner, we were greeted with a grisly sight. Our peaceful campground had been overrun by other tents! A whole tour group, bus and all, had turned up and pitched tents right next to ours.  The campsite had several separate areas, completely untouched, and we promptly showed our disgust at their lack of respect for our space and peace and quiet by picking up our tent, bags and all still inside it, and carrying it over about 400 metres off with a copse of trees blocking us from hearing their late night revelry.  After much huffing and puffing of a different kind, we settled down to cook yet another hot meal (mashed potatoes with chicken this time – i.e. powdered chicken soup mixed with potato puree and soya flakes) and then went to bed. No cows came to visit that night, although there had been plenty of evidence of their visit to that area, not to much earlier. Unfortunately we had also managed to walk in some of the evidence, but it didn’t smell too bad.

The next day, we awoke to water almost dripping on Oli’s sleeping bag. It was even worse than the day before. The cloud was even thicker, wetter and colder. We packed up the wet tent with our red, numb fingers, and almost left the park.  We changed our minds though and considered the fact that the north side of the park had been totally clear the day before, so we headed off, packs and all, to see if the hotel had a room so that we could warm up for the night. It did have a private room for USD 100 – a problem we had discussed on the walk over. The consensis was to camp, rather than to fork out this amount per night. Luckily though, we were saved from another night in the wet tent when we found out that they had dorms too, which we gladly took. It was a small dorm, and we were the only ones in there. We took wonderfully hot showers, ate another 3 course meal, and settled down to read for the afternoon, resting ourselves for the big climb the next day.

Slowly we emerged the next day to blue skies over Cotopaxi. The south side of the park was still covered in “the nothing”, but our way was clear. We feasted on a hearty breakfast (eggs of course, again, what else?) and set off. We hoped to make the car park in 4 hours, the refuge one hour after, and the glacier an hour after that. We figured it would only take us about 3.5 hours to get back afterwards though.  We reached our crossroads from the first day, and turned up the volcano. About 30 minutes later, our legs started to feel leaden and our arms felt just as heavy.   We had taken some snacks with us called “battery” bars, which we could eat if necessary along the way. After walking for another hour, we sat down for a rest. Fab asked if Oli fancied a battery, which she completely misunderstood, thinking he meant that there was a dead battery on the ground. Pointing out the chicken bones next to her, she said she didn’t need a battery.  It was only on the way down that the mistake was realised.  We could have done with the snack too, considering what was ahead. It is one thing to climb out of the car at 4,500 metres and climb 300 metres to a refuge.  It is another matter entirely to walk from 3,800 metres and over several hours to 5,100 metres. The altitude starts to affect you before the 4,000 metres, even if you have acclimatised. If you haven’t, good luck! Our shoulders ached as much as our legs as we used our poles to urge ourselves on. When we finally reached the car park, we took a short cut straight up the volcano. It was like walking up a close to vertical sand pit. Each step you take, you slide backwards almost the same distance. After taking many breaks though where we tried to offer encouragement to eachother through our heavy breathing, we finally reached the zigzagging path that lead to the refuge. It seemed about 4 times as long as the first time we walked up it, although this time the weather was on our side. We only had a short while when the snow and ice was drilling into our cheeks like pins. (Reading this back, I am wondering why we do this… I’m getting to that though). After probably about 7 “last bends to get around before we get to the refuge”, we finally got to the refuge and sat flat on the ground with our backs against a wall while we sent out the first “ok” on the spot. It was snowing and wet, our backs and most of the rest of our bodies ached, but we were almost there. After the spot finally sent after 15 minutes of us sitting outside in the snow (hope you looked at it!) we went inside and drank hot chocolate and ate lots of chocolate bars to regain our strength for the final push. Or at least, the final upwards push. We left the refuge behind and climbed up the path behind the refuge, stopping to look at the wonderful views of where we had come from.  The park looked tiny below us, and the hotel looked so far away! We benefited from these views to catch our breath every 20 metres or so, but still made it to the glacier in good time – probably only 20 minutes as opposed to the hour we had thought.  We kicked the ice of the glacier as we had planned, feeling truly elated that we had made it that high! 5,100 metres! It was incredible. We have taken many photos to mark the occasion.  After sending another spot, we started our descent back down the volcano again, down the vertical sand pit that is right in front of the refuge, and back onto the trail that leads, slowly, all the way back to the hotel.  That night we drank beer and feasted, for a while at least before we fell asleep very early, to celebrate our victory over the un-iced north face of Cotopaxi.

A brief aside regarding the height of the ice – it might look on the spot map that the ice was at 5,000 metres. However, while we were climbing Cotopaxi, a van was coming down the volcano and pulled up beside us. It was a German couple that we had met the day before who had climbed the volcano that night with a guide. They had the biggest grins on their faces after a successful ascent! We said we were just going to the ice at 5,000 metres, and not climbing it. “Nein!” exclaimed the German, “You vill go higher! Ze ice is at 5,100m!” So you can judge for yourselves. Personally we are going with German precision.

We’re now in Ibarra, resting and planning our next stops. We expect it will be the bus train – a bus that has been converted to run on train tracks out towards the northern coast.  Before that though we still have a few more crater lakes to look at, and we have to wait for our very dirty laundry to be clean!

Bisous,

Faboli xxx