Tuesday, July 13th at 3:50 AM, Garry's alarm went off. The two of us began rummaging around in the frost lined tent gathering parkas and beginning the always uncomfortable process of pulling on the Gore-Tex shell pants while lying on your sleeping bag.
Over in the mess tent everyone was beginning to gather to make tea or coffee with the hot water that had just been brought in. I found a cold cereal agreeable with my body's not yet functional sense of hunger at the early hour. After downing the bowl of cereal I picked a few more candy bars from the community candy bag that was always available in the mess tent, stuffing them into my parka.
By 5:00 AM we began the hike up the moraine. The anticipation of the spectacular climb we were undertaking let me easily suspend my dislike of the initial slog up the familiar and slushy trail. At 5:45 we reached the glacier and sat down to don crampons and harnesses and then rope up. My rope team, lead by Juan, included Scott and Liz. Though it was still completely dark, I knew the eastern sky above the top of the glacier would soon show dawn's glow. On Cascade peaks in the Pacific Northwest I was used to typically getting most climbing behind me during the cold night hours allowing the highest and steepest parts in the descent to take place on still firm morning snow. I was hoping softening snow wouldn't become a problem for us here on the way down.
Looking down the glacier when our team stopped for a moment, I could see short strings of headlamps from the other two teams in our group as well as several other groups. As we began moving again my attention centered in pool of light before me from my headlamp. The crunch of crampons in hard snow along with the sound of my pressure breathing drew my thoughts into the familiar self pacing monotony so important to be able to continue upward progress indefinitely. By 7:00 AM it was quite light as we approached the top of the glacier. We stopped to shorten the rope leads between each of us in order to safely move up the steeper ice ahead.
This route took us to a wide flat ridge where Pequeno Alpamayo's graceful and steep upper ice slopes came into view for the first time. It was just like the pictures I had seen. Here the reality and excitement of climbing a large exposed ridge became clear when we saw tiny figures of four other climbers already moving ever so slowly up the 600 feet of exposed corniced ridge of ice. This was definitely beyond anything I had climbed previously, but I felt comfortable with it. Each technique we had practiced the day before would come into play on these three final pitches. First things first -- we had to move down a steep 80 foot rock face in our crampons. Juan, who had been leading up the glacier, belayed and since I was last on our rope team, I became the lead down the face. Once down we traversed an arrete to another rock face where we left our packs. From here it was three pitches up the 50° corniced slope of the ridge line to the top. Juan set the belay and we began slowly working our way up, front pointing and using our axes. The second pitch was the steepest, at perhaps 55°, and the longest. Moving up the exposed face was exhilarating and exhausting with a seemingly endless repetition of driving the ice ax pick in for stability followed with kicking crampons in for a solid stance. I found my world reduced to complete concentration on each crampon and ice ax placement, hardly aware that the earth was slowly falling away to either side of me. Time was lost until the angle finally lessened and we had a chance to rest a moment before beginning the final pitch.
Another group was descending toward us and we had to move to the right closer to corniced edge. Moments before we made the top, Andrew, Garry, Craig and Jeanine descended along side us. They had been waiting for us on the summit hoping all 12 of us could celebrate together, but they had gotten cold and decided to head down. I continued focusing on setting all ten points of my left crampon in the ice and following that with kicking the front points of my right crampon in. Then I had to pull the ice ax pick out and ram it in as deep as possible a foot further up the slope. The sequence was repeated countless times.
Finally the angle lessened dramatically and I could see no frozen slope beyond. There was nowhere higher to go. We had made the summit of this magnificent peak at 17, 618 feet. I felt great with the realization that I had accomplished a mental and physical challenge beyond anything I had previously done. We congratulated each other and then Mark, Linda, Dick and Tom arrived to great us. I began snapping pictures and then put the camera in its movie mode and recorded a short panoranic sweep of the view from the summit.
At the moment we were enjoying the sun's warmth, but clouds were moving swiftly up the north face of Peqeuno. Mark, Linda, Dick and Tom prepared to descend with Mark setting up a belay. Soon the three were out of sight down the ridge, but then the rope stopped moving through Mark's belay. Since Mark was at our position he was also unable to see his rope team and he finally called down to them to get moving. Mark was aware that they had to complete the first pitch before we could begin ours and the dark grey clouds were now swirling up over the summit blotting out the sun. Finally Mark was able to move his belay and did a quick graceful descent to the next point as Juan set our belay. I lead the descent, since I was on the other end of the rope. Once again I focused on careful and firm placement of each crampon, mindful that I had to monitor the rope tension between myself and Scott, adjusting my speed accordingly. Although I felt comfortable with Juan's solid belay, I did not want to experience a blundered step which would send me sliding and likely pull Scott and Liz off as well were we would all be dangling from the belay. The thought brought renewed focus on my balance, foot placement and movement.
It took an hour to descend the 600 feet of the three icy pitches and get back to our packs where I added a layer of fleece over my thin polypro shirt. We quickly moved back across the arrete and began heading up the rock face. Once on top we made our way across the snowfield and then began moving down the upper portion of the glacier. The rest became a long downhill slog as the wind picked up and it began snowing lightly. The lightly crevassed glacier necessitated that we remain roped which kept movement relatively slow.
Finally stepping off the glacier we began the familar hike down the mile or so of muddy, slushy, rocky moraine to camp. We arrived at 3:40 PM, an hour behind the first rope team. Exhausted, but elated from reaching my highest summit to date, I changed out of my Gore-Tex and into my hiking pants and trekking shoes, relaxed and waited for dinner.
--Gary
