Equatorial Ice
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After pretty much no sleep and what seemed like an eternity 2300 came around. The wind had all but died, and the summit was again clearly visible. Nick prepared coffee and everyone was set by midnight. As I was getting ready outside it struck me that I was having real problems talking, getting complete sentences out in the right order or using the right words. It took four or five tries at one point to get one sentence out - really strange. I was completely aware I was doing it, but wasn't really aware of what words I was using. Even when I slowed down and concentrated I struggled to summon up the correct words.
We reached the glacier up the scree path but the walk up was horrendous for me. I felt light headed, disoriented and nauseous. I couldn't get over the difference from yesterday. It was just such a struggle to get up that slope. There was no way of getting through the next 7 hours that I could see. I knew I couldn't do it. I eventually struggled to get my crampons on - bending over making me feel light-headed, out of breath and sick. We all spoke of how we felt; nobody believed I should turn round - I don't think I suggested this plan though. Once we got going, roped up, on the glacier things started improving. Maybe I was warmed up at last, maybe the easier, steadier footing helped, maybe the pace up the slope was just fast - whatever, I was feeling much better and capable of continuing.
Head torches were surplus in the bright moonlight; the landscape was just magical. Crevasses were everywhere - not just small holes in the snow, but soaring great ice walls dripping with icicles. The snow was hard, good walking, and a well trodden path made for trivial navigation - just follow the trail straight to the top. Steve played dad and retrieving my water bottle from the side pocket and pulling on my right mitten (my bandaged left hand was useless when mitted for anything other than gripping the axe). It was so cold, whenever the wind blew it was bitter, barer exposed hands had to be covered within a minute.
As
the hours passed we reached further up the route, the wind strengthened and
increasingly frequent cloud banks rolled onto the volcano. As we gained height
each metre seemed to stretch in length, we seemed to never close on the summit.
This was turning into a bigger mental exercise than I had anticipated. Just
200m from the summit, with a single long, steep section remaining we stopped
to assess the situation. Cloud was over us again, and the wind had picked
up significantly. We had already just passed several cold and exposed sections,
and what lay ahead looked steeper and tougher.
As we had no local knowledge of typical conditions so we decided to sit out the wind and wait for a calmer period in which to continue. By now I was very tired indeed - mentally more than physically. While everyone waded in and dug out a snow shelter I more weekly began scraping at the growing depression in the snow.
Again I was feeling close to quitting. As we sat, huddling together, I experienced
my second low point. I hadn't steeled myself for the possibility of sitting
out bad weather, (all my ascents have been straightforward). As I grew colder
and began shivering, I began to wonder if I had enough left to get down from
this point; the summit still frustratingly far away. I was becoming too cold,
lazy, to get my water and food. It hadn't occurred to me that daylight and
warmth would bring new spirit.
Within 40 minutes of shelter a group arrived on the scene. The guides seemed
to take quite an interest in us, but we reassured them we were fine and just
sitting out of the wind. Over the next 15 minutes a stream of roped groups
wombled past us. Clearly the conditions were not as serious as we had thought.
We abandoned our snow shelter and got back on track. Seeing these groups seems
to lift me, and I became much warmer as soon as a I stood and got moving.
Now
we were stuck behind 10 roped parties, just like circus day in Chamonix. The
trail was thin and steep, and progress became slow, with periods of dead stop.
We passed through a spectacular ice cave, like a frozen snapshot of surfers
riding pipe. The ground steepened significantly, good snow on maybe 65% slopes.
An hour later we came to a bottleneck, a short 3 metre vertical ice chute
requiring an ad-hoc belay. Beyond this a final slog to the summit.
The sun was already up as Nick led us, step by exhausted step onto the summit.
The school group were already there. The cloud had gone, the views beautiful
and just immense. Only a few photos were taken, the wind ferocious and cold.
After 10 minutes on the summit, (and a radio call to base camp), we hastily
set off down, ahead of the group. To get caught amongst them at the bottlenecks
would add at least an hour to the descent.
Retreating from the glacier seemed to take an absolute age. We were all shattered,
and agreed a slow and careful descent as there were so many opportunities
for errors. At base camp I buzzed with adrenaline and achievement. We basked
in the sun, rested for a short while and beat a hasty retreat. We broke camp
within an hour, and were awaiting our taxi home beneath the refugio at 1330.
Steak dinner and a luxurious evening. Absolutely shattered.
By ‘Uncle’ Duncan
