Mexico - Pico de Orizaba

I have never been a huge fan of Jeep until this trip. We drove up to the Orizaba base camp in Wagoneers. I personally think they are awesome, and I really want one. 

There are two huts, a small one and a large one. We all split up between the two huts and a couple of tents. As soon as we arrived we began to hear bad news. One guide had just arrived after not summiting. He said the ice was too hard. Another group had just left with tons more ice gear than we had. Furthermore, a tent was sitting there, missing its owners for the second day now. All departing groups were now preparing for possible rescue. At this point we all knew it would be a body recovery if anything. Exposure would kill anyone on this mountain overnight. The tent contained sleeping bags so everyone assumed the worst. 

We dialed back our plans and let go of our hopes for the summit. It was decided that we would leave early in the morning and play on the glacier rather than leave at 10pm and attempt a summit. 

The three guides, Doug, Joe, and Marty headed up to the glacier for high camp. I joined them. As we hiked we met several people descending who had summited with no problem, with minimal gear. As we learned more and more about the conditions, our hopes for the summit returned. We decided to stick with our original plan, except leaving at 11pm instead of 10. Marty and I saw the entrance to the labyrinth. Doug and Joe began to flag a path through this confusing rock jumble with survey flags we had marked with reflective tape. Marty and I turned back down hill to prepare the group for a start in a few hours. It had begun to snow, and our elevation was wrapped in cloud. I could hardly see 50 feet in front of me. I hoped the visibility would be better later tonight as I lead a group alone up this route. When we returned, everyone was in bed. I went around and woke everyone up and explained the plans. Then I went to bed myself and ate some nuts and dried fruit. I had a feeling the next 24 hours had a lot in store. 

I couldn't rest. I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag. I didn't sleep, but I had nightmares nonetheless. The voice of the guide who turned back haunted me. "Don't die on Orizaba, die on something like K2." I could hear my heart pound against the wooden platform I lay on inside the hut. The wind howled and snow beat against the tin sides of the hut. Then I dreamed that our guide Joe died. It was too much. I frantically clawed my way out of my sleeping bag to fresh air, away from the stuffy fright and guilt. Then I began to calm down. I didn't think that God played the guilt card like that. I wondered if the devil was trying to discourage me, frighten me, and mess up whatever awesome things God had in store. He tipped his hand when he made me feel guilty for something that hadn't even happened. I asked for mustard seed faith by which to experience this mountain. The wind could blow, the snow could fall, we could turn back from the summit without reaching it, but God was going to be there the whole way. 

I still didn't sleep. Haro went to the bathroom and when he opened the door I could see that fog had set in extremely thick. When other people left for the bathroom I worried about them getting lost. A sleeping bag would rustle. Someone would check their watch. A mouse would chew on my food. I eventually moved my food up next to my face. Eventually my alarm went off. 9:55pm. Every fiber of my being wanted to call off the summit. I didn't want to go. But I rolled out of bed and started waking people up. I stepped out to pee and was met by a crystal clear sky with bright stars. The wind had died down. The ground was not icy or snowy. The weather was perfect except for a strong wind. But I knew the wind was probably keeping the sky clear. 

We gathered everyone together in the small hut and briefed for our hike. Aaron, Pablo, and I headed out first. My motivation was still low and it was very adult of me to trudge straight up the steep scree slope. I worried about finding the route and wasting time. Eventually we made it to the labyrinth and my spirits lifted as we spotted flags with reflective tape placed by Joe and Doug the night before. The hike all of the sudden became a game, jumping from flag to flag, counting each one. 

I stayed in radio contact with Marty and the group below, on the hour. We eventually ran out of flags, and turned our noses up hill to find the glacier. Fog had been intermittently blowing over, but now we were socked in thick. We couldn't make radio contact with Doug and Joe, but it was 2am and we had a scheduled contact at 2:30. I reasoned we would shoot for the glacier and wait for our 2:30 contact to get directions to Doug and Joe's tent. Then we saw headlamps. We started running, and found Doug and Joe on their bathroom break. They weren't expecting us until 3:30 or 4am. We crawled in their tent at 16,700 feet, 3 hours after leaving base camp at 13,900 feet, 1.3 miles horizontally away.

We huddled for warmth while Joe and Doug had breakfast, then we began our trek up the glacier part of the mountain. We spent a lot of time adjusting crampons and learning to walk with them. Then we headed up hill. Crampons are a very new experience for me. I had to readjust mine several times. This was a real pain because the pair I was using was ancient, and did not have an ergonomic adjustment.

We hiked up hill forever, and the hill kept getting steeper. Soon I was being extremely careful not to fall off the mountain. It seemed like I could fall a long way, but I really couldn't tell at 5am in the fog. Then the sun rose, and I realized that I really could fall a long way. As the slope of the mountain approached 35 degrees, we roped ourselves together and began to use ice axes. The sunrise was beautiful in a way I have never experienced before. We suffered as we climbed. This was an almost vertical climb to 18,500 feet. The air was thin, and although I wasn't nauseated or having a headache, too much exertion caused light headedness and loss of muscle control. These were conditions where stumbling, or triping could be fatal. The key to working at altitude is to work slowly, and allow time for the body to replenish O2 and remove wastes. After what seemed like forever, we stumbled to the rim of the volcano. The cauldron was a light tan color and smelled like sulfur. We hiked along the rim to the highest point, the real summit. It took a conscious effort on my part to not fall in. I almost did fall in while taking a picture. It seems that my body needs lots of oxygen to survive.

The hike down the glacier was the worst. Again we were roped together. After the first couple hundred feet of decent, my knees were killing me. Still had to hike down 2000 feet on this sheet of ice. By the time I had descended over 4000 feet to base camp, my feet hurt so bad I could hardly walk. Mountaineering boots are not built to be comfortable. We passed most of the rest of the group practicing glacier travel at the base of the glacier. I think it's really cool that most of our group got up above 16k feet. Some people are bitter that they didn't summit, but I don't think they realize how much they actually accomplished.

We all decended to base camp and rode back to the hotel. Now we are cleaning gear and getting ready for supper and Sabbath.