Stephen Appleton's Climb of Mt Aconcagua
December 13th, 2004
Stranded at 6,000m
The wind screamed through high camp, giving a voice to the storm that had been raging for more than 10 hours with no sign of letting up. By day, the world outside at 6,000m meters was a void of white, with nothing discernable but a growing sense that we were very alone and very cold. By night, as darkness enveloped the small tent that I shared with one of the expedition’s team members, that sense grew into an ominous reality.
“How are we going to get down?” I thought. It was the recurring question that whipped through my mind as I lay there in my sleeping bag—the vestibules outside his tent filling with snow, my discarded boot crampons encased in thickening ice.
Less than 24 hours earlier a small group of us had successfully climbed Mt. Aconcagua, at 6,962m the highest peak in the Southern and Western Hemispheres located by the Argentinean/Chilean border.
December 4th, 2004
A Soul Destroying hike
The journey was divided into two halves, the easier half was the initial mule assisted hike into the main Base Camp known as Plaza De Mulas located below Aconcagua’s main peak at 4,400m with the second soul destroying half which was ascending and deceding the mountain itself rising from 4,400m to 6,962m sans Mule, carrying all your own gear, food and fuel.
It was Dec. 4, 2004, and the team completed our first all-day hike from the Mendoza – Santiago highway to Camp Confluencia, some 3,500 meters in elevation. Spirits were high we joked among themselves. Our legs felt fresh, buoyed by enthusiasm for the mission that lay ahead.
The following day dawned bright and cool. It was ideal weather for an acclimatization run to 4,000 meters, intended to prepare our bodies and minds for the extreme conditions and lack of oxygen we would soon experience. From there, we were afforded our first fantastic view of the dramatic south face of Aconcagua.
After a day of rest on Dec. 6, our team, which included 4 guides, endured a grueling 20-kilometer hike into Plaza De Mulas at 4,400 meters elevation.
This was a 14-kilometer stretch through a glacial valley that seemed to go on and on forever. It was a nine-hour walk and it was just soul destroying. And the worst thing about that valley was that you knew you had to walk through it again on the way out.
With the lunar landscape of the glacial valley behind us, we took a day to relax at the well-appointed base camp. Aside from a small snowstorm, the next three days offered good climbing weather and enabled the team to make the gradual ascent from base camp to high camp, situated just below 6,000 meters.
The first step was to make a load run to 5,000 meters and back, hauling food, fuel and tents to the higher elevation. That day served as a second acclimatization day, and was followed by another rest day before we returned to the 5,000-meter camp for one night.
By Dec., 10, the grade was becoming steeper and each step had become a more focused, deliberate effort. Breathing was a chore, and most of us had begun to experience the debilitating effects of the headaches and nausea brought on by altitude sickness.
Yet by nightfall, we had successfully earned itself a rest day after eclipsing 5,500 meters. By the Dec. 11, they had reached an area known as ‘White Rocks’, 6,000 meters.
December 12th, 2004
Summit day
We were awoken by the Guides at 4am with the Guides yelling ‘get up, get up’, the pre dawn air was frigid but stars were at least visible in the night sky indicating clear weather. The summit had no cloud cover, and there was no spindrift of snow plumbing off the peak. The conditions were cooperating, and the team set out at 6 a.m. in order to reach the peak and return to high camp before nightfall.
Summit day went by in a haze of fear, exhaustion and exhilaration. The first three hours I was certain I would have to turn back because my fingers went numb and I could not rewarm them. Despite two pairs of gloves my hands were frozen, the minus 25 to 30 dawn temperatures cutting like a knife. However, once the sun rose in the sky the problem eased and I continued.
By mid morning our diminished team were crossing the lofty ‘grand traverse’ at 6,500m in single file. By now we were down to a core group of seven from our original fourteen that began the hike into base camp two weeks earlier.
We paused for a brief break at one pm at 6,700m where we stored our back packs and spare food for collection on the decent and we committed ourselves to the final challenge, the awesome ‘Canaletta’.
Climbing the Canaletta is hard to describe; the guide book describes a 33 degrees slope, but it seems steeper. The snow and ice left over from the winter storms was a blessing, proving a ribbon of ice to dig our crampons into for some of the distance. So up and up we went, so slowly that it was unbelievable. Rough estimate that it took us about two and a half hours for this final 250m of gain to the summit.
And finally, at long last I moved round a rock and stepped onto the rooftop of the southern hemisphere, the summit mound with its cross and plaque was there! My team members greeted me warmly, we stopped for photos I was so exhausted at that moment, I could not talk.
It was 7:30 p.m. by the time we all had returned to the high camp, and the weather was already turning for the worse with close to white out conditions with an increasing wind, so we piled into our tents and began to wait out the storm through the night.
December 13th, 2004
The way down
The morning of Dec. 13 brought a faint light through a raging blizzard outside the tent.
By mid-day, the storm had been blowing for more than 16 hours, when one of the group’s guides rushed into the tent.
“Get ready to evacuate at any point in the next hour!” he barked. “We’re watching the weather and if there’s a gap, we’ve got to get out of here!”
At 12:30 p.m., the call came to evacuate. A mad scramble ensued, as team members pulled on their boots, frantically knocked the ice out of their crampons, and beat the snow from the tops of their backpacks.
The group hastily assembled and began their way down the side of Aconcagua. For five-and-a-half harrowing hours we followed our guides through the thin, freezing atmosphere, leaving our tents behind for the porters to retrieve at some later date.