“Right foot, left foot, ice ax, right foot, left foot...I don't think I can do this!”
These were the thoughts running through my head for the majority of the seven hours and 19,347 ft up to the summit of Cotopaxi Volcano. But let me rewind a little bit...
After summiting Santa Isabel in Colombia, we were anxious to do some more climbing. We had about five days before Brian's brother, Allen, would arrive in Quito and we would leave for the Galápagos Islands. Unfortunately, we got unlucky with yet another holiday and most businesses were closed for the four days surrounding the Day of the Dead. After countless e-mails and trips to closed outfitters, on the last possible day we walked by the agency Brian used to climb Cayambe Volcano last year. They were open and said they would be able to guide us to the summit on Tuesday (the morning Allen arrived and the day before we left for the Galápagos). Although the timing wasn't perfect, we said yes and eagerly began preparations.
The next morning we did an acclimatization hike up Rucu Pichincha (16,695 ft). This is the dormant volcano Brian and I attempted to hike last year, but due to the teleférico (cable car) up to the trail head being closed, we spent a very interesting three hours just getting to the start and had to turn back due to late afternoon weather that rolled in. This time, we took the easy 20 min teleférico ride to the top and set out on the hike nice and early. We got most of the way to the top before a big hail storm rolled in. Not wanting to attempt the steep descent in mud (and cringing a bit from the pelting of ice) we decided to turn back about 30 mins from the summit and save our energy for Cotopaxi. Maybe next time Rucu Pichincha, maybe next time...
The following morning marked day one of our two-day climb up to Cotopaxi's summit. It felt like everything was coming full circle as we made the hike up to the refugio (high camp - 15,960 ft) that afternoon. When Brian and I were in Ecuador last year, we had planned to climb Cotopaxi, but it was closed due to volcanic activity. We couldn't let it evade us again now that it was open!
We spent that evening resting in the refugio and chatting with the awesome American couple from Wyoming that were also doing the climb. At 6pm we laid down in our bunk beds for a fitful few hours of sleep.
At 11pm we awoke to eat a quick breakfast, don our climbing gear, and question our life choices. By midnight we were headed off into the darkness. We set into a good rhythm for the first hour and a half of the climb as we approached the start of the glacier segment. Slow and steady, we made our way up the mountain in complete darkness as we passed and were passed by other teams of climbers, their headlights trailing off into the distance. We were lucky to have good weather on this night and hoped it would persist. Upon reaching the glacier we strapped on our crampons and roped in together to begin one of the more dangerous sections of the climb. We weaved our way over crevasses and seracs, taking fewer breaks for the next couple of hours to limit our exposure to the ever shifting and unpredictable ice below and snow above – speed is your safety here.
I quickly realized why Brian had said his two previous 19,000+ ft summits were the hardest things he had ever done. The enormity of the task at hand kept creeping into my head, but I tried to focus on the rhythm of my footsteps.
Four hours into the climb it seemed impossible that we would be able to continue for another three to reach the summit. Our bodies were definitely feeling the effects of the altitude and overall exertion required for the climb. I must admit, there were many times I wanted to give up and turn back, but my desire to reach the summit prevailed and I pushed on. Around 5:30am, the sun began to rise, lighting up the gorgeous scenery surrounding us, and we took a moment to pause and take in nature's beauty.
At about 7:00am, we took the last few arduous steps and finally reached the summit! After catching our breath, we were rewarded with an incredible view of the numerous sun-covered and snow capped peaks in the distance, high above the clouds, and an ominous view down into the smoking caldera at Cotopaxi's active center. Many photos, videos, and high fives later, we began the precarious descent down the volcano, rejuvenated by the success of our summit.
With the sunshine beating down upon us, we were frequently reminded by our guide to traverse the steep declines and small ice ledges with enormous drop-offs “faster,” to avoid the dangers of the quickly melting snow. Luckily, we took a different route down the mountain and did not have to scale as many crevasses. Even still, descending proved a somewhat difficult task as we tried to maintain the grip of our crampons in the snow with our increased pace. About an hour into the descent, Brian began to vomit what we thought was blood, but soon realized was just red powerade (phew!) as the altitude and the exertion caught up with him (there is GoPro footage of the entire incident for anyone interested lol). Three hours later, we were back at the refugio.
After less than half an hour of rest, we hurriedly packed up our gear and descended the remaining 650 ft from the refugio to the parking lot as we were greeted by a hail storm – better here than on the summit we thought.
We then drove for two hours through Cotopaxi National Park and back to Quito, struggling to keep our eyes open as we descended down to 9,350 ft (Quito's altitude).
I would agree with Brian's assessment that it was by far the hardest mental and physical challenge I have ever overcome. Would I do it again?...Ask me in another couple of months :)
Cheers,
Erin and Brian
Two words on seeing the difficulty of climbing Cotopaxi: HOLY SHIT