After the pyramids on Friday, we stopped at Walmart and stocked up for the next several days.
We arrived at a resort at 10k feet on La Malinche after dark. The original plan was to tent camp, but we ended up in cabins instead. This reduced some stress and increased the comfort. The girls were assigned the evening meal this day, and we all eagerly awaited their creations. It was worth the wait.
A hot shower and a good 8 hours of sleep was a welcome preparation for the hike on Sabbath. I anticipated a meandering walk up the hill. The summit is only 2,000 feet above the resort, I thought. Then I saw it. The monstrosity towered above us, very near, and very high. It was not going to be a walk in the park. Rumors circulated of hikers leaving early in the morning carrying oxygen bottles. No bother, it would all be conquered in stride. I waited for breakfast, wandering around the grounds and savoring the tantalizing and familiar scent of high desert coniferous forest. La Malinche breathed. The needles of towering pines served as her alveoli, her slopes her lungs, the smog saturated, people packed, valley below receiving the life giving air. These sounds reached deep inside me and slowly turned an unidentified knob in the right direction.
We started hiking around 10k feet. Every step required more energy than I thought it should. The trail did not meander. It drove straight up the mountain. No switchbacks, no flat spots, just a steep sandy path through the woods. As we went further the path became steeper. I was definitely feeling the altitude now. The group quickly split into packs traveling various speeds. Joe, one of our guides, Pablo, Aaron and myself established the lead and held it unchallenged. Joe is a cool guy, and at 50 something he was handing our asses to us on this hike. The whole time he would say stuff like, "thanks for letting me keep up." We were panting too hard to respond most of the time.
The original plan was to meet at tree line, about halfway up the mountain. It soon became evident that waiting around for everyone was going to make summiting impossible for anyone. After enough of the group caught up to communicate with, the four of us in front attempted the summit. It looked so close. In reality it wasn't far away. At a lower altitude I could have ran most of the way up. But today each step required extreme motivation. Most of this section of the hike was scree field. Every 2 steps forward slid back 1 step. I began to get a headache. I began picking 20 foot sections of trail and conquering each section individually, without thinking of the mountain as a whole. After the scree field was a boulder climb, and then the summit. It was amazing to be this high. I definitely had a headache now, and I was borderline nauseated. We took pictures, rested, and then headed back down. We were already racing daylight. I felt like a wimp, succumbing to the altitude. But I soon I felt justified as the guys with cell service found out that this mountain was taller than any in the contiguous United States. I here to say that the air is pretty thin at 14,600 feet, at least for this Florida boy.
On the way back down we passed another cohort of our group making an attempt for the summit. They would make it, but they would be hiking off the mountain in the dark. A third part of our group had turned around at the tree line, a respectable 12,500 feet of elevation. My headache got worse as we descended. Every jolting step bashed my brain against its cage. By the time we were back at camp I felt like my head was going to split open.
Back at camp we began to set everyone's tents up and start cooking supper. I could hardly move. I had already had 5 liters of water, but I quickly loaded a liter of water with electrolytes and down it. After half an hour the water took an edge off of my headache, and I continued to push through the pain as we set up camp for the rest of the group. The altitude sickness was kind of scary. I worried if I would be able to sleep. I wondered if I had compromised my aclimitization, jeopardizing future summits. I wished I had read the high altitude chapter in my Wilderness Medicine textbook.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, uncomfortable, and not really worth mentioning. Suffice it to say that we went to bed way passed my bedtime. I slept well though, even though I was up to go to the bathroom twice in the night. I guess that's what you get for drinking 7 liters of water in a day. Each time I was up in the night, my headache was a little better. By the morning, I felt pretty good, with just a residual frontal discomfort.
