A proper mountain

I always feel a certain amount of nervous excitement before setting off for a summit, but with Pequeno Alpamayo this was amplified somewhat. This little peak of 5425m was going to be more technical than anything else I’d done before.  I had done lots of homework on it and taken impartial, expert advice to make sure as far as possible, that it was within my capabilities. I was also in pretty good shape, (there is always plenty of room for improvement where I am concerned) having summited 5 mountains in the last 4 months and done plenty of trekking. I’ve also been at altitude for some considerable time now, so that wasn’t going to be a problem.

Why was I nervous? I have a confession.

 I’m scared of heights.

Well not exactly scared of heights, scared of falling. There’s a big difference. I’ve also managed over the last 18 months to overcome this fear to quite an extent. It is both rational, given the activities I’m doing, and irrational at the same time. The suddenness with which the fear can grip and immobilise is scary. I didn’t want this to happen half way up a steep icy wall.

I had done as much as I could with checking the credentials of the agency and guide and Id also managed to find a climbing partner, a German lady called Lillian and then finally there was the equipment.

We were taken to the equipment store on the morning of departure. (Mental note, always check this before).

 I wasn’t impressed by what the agency had to offer. Most of it was tatty and dirty. I have to say, this wasn’t a good start. I have all my own decent mountain clothing and once I selected some plastic boots I managed to find some decent crampons and a harness.  It wasn’t helping with my nerves, the fact that the equipment was questionable. At least I had a bit of a clue in what to choose.  It was only the fact that the guide was so nice and professional that I didnt bail out at this point. This is a reflection on the guide (Felix) and not the agency.

We set off for the mountains, up out of La Paz and towards the Condoriri range. Heading out along the straight road through El Alto the city disappears behind us and the road is lined on one side with the mountains. The land around is shades of brown, flat, infertile. There are mud brick dwellings scattered like cubes in the dirt. People live here. There are not much signs of life. The odd animal and person scratching around in the dirt, the odd piece of earth dug into furrows and planted. The owners trying to coax some type of sustenance out of this barren land.

After an hour or so of bumping along a dirt track we arrive at a couple of houses near the foothills. Here they have donkeys, which are loaded up with our tents and food and we begin our trek into the mountains.

Our camp is the Wasi Condoriri campsite. There is one other tent. There is a hosepipe coming from the ground spouting fresh water and some little toilet huts dotted about. Felix told us that in high season it not uncommon to have 80 to 100 people here. I’m glad its low season. We are surrounded on one side by various peaks of the Condoriri range. 

After an early dinner we go to bed and wake up at 3am to start our hike to the glacier. In the dark and at a distance the glacier looks like a sheer wall in front of us. The first section is old and dirty from dust, its surface scared and pocked. Eventually we are onto the pristine white slopes of Pico Tarija, 5300m. We must summit Tarija in order to get to Pequeno Alpamayo.  The hike to the top of Tarija is a fairly easy 3 hours. The sun is up when we arrive and the sky is blue. We can now see Pequeno Alpamayo clearly for the first time. It’s a very aesthetically pleasing mountain to look at, with a clear ridge line in 3 distinct sections up to a pretty snow cone summit.

I can do this, I thought.

We sat on the summit of Tarija for about 20 minutes, having a snack and taking off our crampons. I could see ahead of us, the occupants of the other tent. They were on the second section of the ridge of Pequeno Alpamayo, when I saw them heading over the edge, on purpose. They were taking the difficult route. They had no ropes or other protection than their ice axes and crampons and were free ice climbing on slopes of 85 degrees, spider men like towards the summit. It was scary to watch. I was glued to the spot until I saw they had both made it up safely. Crazy.

We had a steep scramble down the other side of Tarija, about 50 meters to a ridge line that connected us with the start of Alpamayo. Then the fun began. Felix went ahead of us and fixed protection into the ice, clipped us in on the rope, and we went up. Section by section. The last two sections seemed very steep and although only a maximum of 60 degrees, when you are on an icy ridge, it feels like 90! We had to use the front spikes of our crampons and our ice axes to haul ourselves slowly up the slope. It was really hard work! Finally we made it to the top. It was warm but the cloud was coming in fast and the visibility suddenly got poor. I was happy to be at the summit, really happy, but I was worried about getting down.

Our decent was epic. Partly due to the fact that we were starting to feel a bit tired and partly due to the fact that a storm had blown up, with was snowing and there were great claps of thunder around us. I could tell Felix wanted us down as quickly as possible. It was harder than the way up. The snow and ice was softer, making it difficult of get good grip on the icy slopes, and the visibility was now really bad. Section by section we made it back to Tareja and started back down the glacier to the camp.

It had taken us six and a half hours from the camp to the summit, it took us 5 to get back due to the weather conditions.  Never did a cup of tea taste so good!

You might ask why I do this. I ask myself sometimes when Im staring down a deep crevasse which must be jumped, fear in the pit of my stomach. The only answer is it makes me feel alive, the adrenalin, its like an addiction.

Isla de Sol

I boarded the packed tourist bus in La Paz. As soon as I got on it I knew this was going to be a journey of endurance. The only seat left was next to a fat Japanese looking guy, who was taking up far more than his fair share. I squeezed in next to him. The bus was hot, it trundled along really slowly, and meanwhile the Japanese man kept exclaiming to himself and then puffing up his piggy cheeks with air and blowing it out rapidly. He had really bad breath.  There was a girl in the seat in front with some kind of chest infection whose hacking and gurgling cough was making me concerned about getting off the bus without catching some tropical disease. Then there were the two American girls behind my, having the most mundane conversation, loudly, each word it seemed followed with the word like.

“We like had like a really great time, like it was awesome”. You get the gist.

Thankfully, although I had only packed an overnight pack for my excursion I had brought my iPod and head phones. I plugged myself in, shut my eyes and turned the volume up.

The odd time I opened them, I was rewarded with stunning views of the snow-capped mountains and an almost fiord like coast line with deep blue water.

At some point we arrived at the edge of the Tiquina straight. We had to get off the bus, board a small boat which took us over to the other side and then wait for the bus that came across on a large floating plank of wood called Titanic.

We continued our journey to the small town of Copacabana, right on the edge of Lake Titicaca. It wasn’t very pretty. There were lots of tourist shops and agencies selling bus tickets and boat tickets. I walked down to the beach, where there were rows of large plastic swan shaped pedalloes bobbing up and down in the water, and brought myself a boat ticket for the Northern harbour of Isla de sol.

The whole place was full of hippies of all races and ages. All dressed in the obligatory brightly coloured, tie dye outfits. There were lots of feathers and flowers and an alarming amount of musical instruments. Once on the boat, I was surrounded. Some had started singing, badly. Others were passing round a toy microphone, taking turns to say something not very profound about the state of the world and the "system". Others were discussing ceremonies and the sunrise and the importance of such a significant moment in time. Trying to appear interested I asked about the ceremonies and the “significant” time.

“Don’t you realise tomorrow is the 11/11?” they said,

“Remembrance day” I thought, “surely not”,

“It’s the 11/11/11, so at 11:11 a very special portal in time is opening which will allow the wisdom of the children of the light to shine through”

“Oh”, I said

“Oh no!” I thought, what have I got myself into.

The boat docked at a tiny wooden pier on a beach in front of a small village. There were donkeys and piglets roaming the beach as well as one or two tents and some spiritual types playing their instruments. It was slightly surreal. The coast line was steep, rocky and planted with eucalyptus trees. It reminded me of a Greek island. The deep blue waters of Lake Titicaca were like an ocean around us. It’s so huge it’s easy to forget you are in a lake.

Julie had recommended a place to stay. It was a little outside the village up a steep slope. It wasn’t in the guide book. I kind of hoped this would save me from being surrounded by the hippies.

 No chance.  They followed me!

My room was a really pretty adobe hut with a straw roof. It was very basic but had the most stunning views of the lake and the mountains beyond. It cost one pound fifty a night.  Luckily once all the hippies had gone off to start their ceremonies I met up with a Canadian guy, Greg,  whom I had met briefly in Banos and a group of 9 French people.  We had a really nice evening and after a little bit too much bad red wine I fell asleep to the sound of the waves lapping at the lake shore below.

Even though the lake is still at 4000m I had a really good night’s sleep, and didn’t feel too worse for wear considering the wine. The island has no traffic other than boats and it was such a pleasure to wake up to the sound of the waves and the odd donkey eyoring in the distance.  I had decided to hike the North section of the island that day and I was planning to walk from north to south the day after. After trying and failing to get some bread from the local shop to make myself a packed lunch. I ended up setting off with a packet of savoury crackers and a couple of bananas. There are various paths around and down the spine of the Island, I had a basic map, and the paths were easy to follow. It’s easy enough to navigate when you have water on either side.

It took me about 45 minutes to get to the end of the Island, where there are some ancient ruins. A temple,  an altar to the sun and the remains of a settlement. I could hear the drumming and chanting before I got to them, then as I came over the brow of the hill, the most bazaar spectacle of literally hundreds of people mostly dressed in white, some sitting, some standing or dancing. Some gesticulating wildly, many chanting or drumming around this stone altar. I checked my watch. It was 11.00. Eleven minutes to go.  Much as I was fascinated by what I was seeing, I decided to carry on right to the tip of the Island. There was a really lovely beach and once I found my way down to it, I could no longer hear the drumming, I was completely on my own and the sun was shining. It was a lovely place to be for an hour or so.

Later I walked back past the Hippies who were still in a frenzy, and I hiked down the centre of the island, over all the highest points to about half way and the village of Challa. From there I made a loop back to Challapampa. I met up with Greg and then the French group returned from their walk. The French were seemingly on a mission to get very drunk again, so Greg and I decided to go into the village for an early meal as we were both still feeling a little jaded from the night before.

Food and water is pretty limited on the island, and the north side is much more remote than the south. Usually there was only one “restaurant” open, selling packet soup and a few variations of trout, rice and chips. It was hard to even get a cup water for tea. The huts at the hostel were built in and around the houses of the local people. There was a straw sided kitchen area with a clay hearth, but you had to build a fire first.

The next day I woke early. My plan was to hike to the south of the Island and stay one night there and return to La Paz the next day. I had been told it would take 3 hours to walk. It took me just over 2. I was in time to get the boat back to Copacabana and for some reason I didn’t want to stay on the Island any longer. I had a niggling concern about getting all the boats and buses back to La Paz without any trouble as I had my next mountain adventure booked for Monday.  I was also looking forward to a cup of tea, a shower and some fresh fruit and vegetables.

So I headed back to La Paz, the bus having to stop along the side of the road for an hour and a half, because there was an international cycling race going on. An English girl on the bus was getting very irritated and swearing a lot as we were so late. What’s the point, I thought. This is what its like.

Bolivia, La Paz, death road and my first 6000m summit

I arrived in La Paz Bolivia at 2am. Not a great time of night to be arriving in a strange city anywhere. I had prebooked the hostal and hoped despite sending them a reminder, that someone would be awake to let me in at such an ungodly hour.
La Paz is the worlds highest capital city at around 3660m and it clings to the sides of a canyon. The first site of the city literally takes your breath away.  Immediatley, when I stepped out of the hostal in the morning, I noticed  how many indigenous people there were in traditional dress. The women wear multi layered , brightly coloured skirts and bowler hats perched on top of their heads. There was a real vibrancy and buzz to the place that I hadnt felt in the other big cities I had visited so far. I headed off in search of the market and to go and visit some trekking agencies to look at options for the mountains.
Within a couple of hours I had booked myself on a day trip mountain biking down the worlds most dangerous road (the next day) and then the day after a 3 day trek plus 2 day summit of Huayna Potosi a mountain just outside La paz which is 6088m.

The following day I was up early to head up to the start of the death road. There were only three of us in the group, plus the guide. We were kitted out in protective cycling gear and helmets and given our bikes. Not bad by Bolivian standards. The only downside being, as they drive on the other side of the road the brakes are on different sides to what we are used to in the UK. Having been in the situation when someone I was cycling with in Iceland had a really bad accident hauling on the front brake instead of the back and flying over the handlebars, I decided I would not use the front brake at all if possible.

The ride was a really nice and quite exhilarating four and a half hour down hill, through spectacular scenery. Although it was important not to get too distracted by the views! We ended up having lunch at a slighly ramshackle hotel with a swimming pool! Great!

The next day was another early start to the trekking agency to get geared up for the climb and then to set off for the trek. It was just me and a nice young German couple, Constanza and Felix. We were piled into a taxi along with our guide Constantine to head out to Tuni, the starting point of the trek. As it turned out the agency were not so organised and we had to stop many times along the way for Constantine to buy parrafin, rice, chicken.....and what ever else we needed for the trek. We drove up and out through El Alto, which started as a La Paz suburb, but is now a city in it own right. It is high up on the altiplano above La paz, endless dusty streets of half built identical red brick buildings, home to many of La paz´workforce, the streets here hum with almost perpetual activity.

We arrived in Tuni in the middle of a downpour that turned into a violent hail storm. Once the taxi had dropped us off we took refuge in one of the little adobe dwellings to wait it out. After a bit of lunch, Constantine broke the news that there were no mules in the village. They were all in another village about 5 hours walk away. We were going to have to stay the night in Tuni and start a shortened version of the trek in the morning. It all seemed a bit miserable.

Luckily later that afternoon the sun came out again and we managed to fit in a four hour hike to see the main views of the Condoriri mountain range that we should have seen on our day trek. When we got back we put our tents up in a small clay walled compound in the village, had some dinner and settled in for the night. When we woke the mules thankfully had arrived. So we set off. We all walked quite briskly, which I think suprised our guide, and by lunch time, were an hour away from our camp for the night. He gave us the option of extending the days walk by hiking up a 5000m pass and taking a different route to the camp. From the pass we got incredible views of the mountains, including Huayna Potosi, which were were going to climb in a couple of days. It looked so enourmous, almost impossible to believe that we may be standing on top of it.

At the top of the pass we could see, dark cloud rolling across the valley towards us. Thunder started echoing round the hills and it started to snow heavily.  We quickly started to decend a steep scree slope and make our way to the camp. By the time we arrived the snow had settled on the ground and there was a freezing wind blowing up the valley floor. We decided to pitch our tents in one of the little houses.

View from the top of the pass

The next day we walked for about five hours up to the first of 2 mountain refuges. This one was pretty cosy at at 4900m. There we met our mountain guides, Theo and Alex, and said good bye to Constantine. After a cup of hot chocolate, we grabbed all our snow gear and headed up to the glacier for a bit of snow and ice training. It was pretty basic, and I had to translate for Felix and Constanza. Lucky Id done it before!

The following morning we headed up to the high camp, about 5300m. It was freezing cold and after a bit of soup we got into our sleeping bags and tried to get a couple of hours siesta in. There were about 9 other people there.

At midnight we got up forced down a bit of tea and stale bread and jam and once we had our harnesess and crampons on, set off for the summit. We were the first group to leave. It was a long steep trudge up the snowy slopes in the dark. The hardest part is keeping yourself in the right frame of mind mentally. Then it is hard physically. We made good progress. Constanza was struggling a bit with the effort and at one point decided she had had enough. So we split the group. Felix and I continued with Theo and Constanza stayed with Alex, to head back down. The sky was lightening and as dawn broke we had the most incredible views.

As we neared the summit we realised that Constanza had not turned back, and was catching us up at a steady pace. We all reached the summit at 6.30am.

Hanging around in Quito

After our epic summit of Cotopaxi, Bladimir, the climbing hostal owner picked us up in his 4x4 and dropped us right on the Pan American highway. Just as we had said our goodbyes we saw a bus thundering down the road with a sign for Quito in the window. We flagged it down, it was full but they managed to squeeze Julie and I and all our bags onto a bench behind the drivers seat. We had a great view but also were in prime postion to be heading straight through the windscreen should the bus have an accident. Still this is what its like in South America, and the driver, thankfully, was pretty sane. It was actually quite interesting to watch how the conductor  let people on and off the bus, helping them with their bags, and how the hawkers who got on  to sell everything from herbal remedies to cure all ailments to icecream would always give the driver something in return for letting them on in the first place. Within and hour we were back at Quitos southern bus terminal where we had to get a taxi for the 40 minute journey to the center. For once we didnt have to haggle with the price. Things so far were going suprisingly well. We got back to the hostal tired and hungry but feeling a real sense of achievement.

The next day after dinner, Julie and I parted company. She was heading for Colombia, and I was staying in Quito to go to Spanish school for two weeks. It was sad to say good bye, but as things stand we are meeting in the very south of Argentina at the beginning of December, so it was more of a hasta luego or see you later.
My lessons started in earnest the next day. Four hours a day of one to one tuition! No time for day dreaming.  My teacher, Vinicio, was a really nice Quitoan man of Quechua background, who seemed to have a desire to talk about very serious topics. Aswell as homework and learning 10 new verbs a day, the topics for chat ranged from teenage pregnancy to the ecomomy to my thoughts on 9~11.  Given my limited Spanish this was no easy task! I pretty much spent the whole two weeks just doing revision and homework and keeping my self to my self. I had found a great park up from the hostal with amazing views and I tried a couple of mornings to go for a run, but at 3600m, it was really hard. Towards the end of the second week, I met some nice Dutch people with whom I started having dinner, so my no wine fortnight kind of failed.
I had managed to find a reasonably priced flight to La Paz in Bolivia, but it only ran on weekdays, so on my last weekend in Quito I decided to climb Volcan Pichincha. I had been told it was easy enough to do on my own, but being just under 5000m it was still quite a hike!

I woke on the Saturday morning to find the sun shining and a cloudless sky. This was the day to climb the volcano, but given the nature of the very changeable weather in this region I still packed cold and wet weather gear into my bag. The plan was to walk across Quito to the teleferiqo (cable car), head up as far as it goes and then hike the rest of the way. I could see the teleferiqo from my hostal window, it didnt look that far away. An hour and a half later I was still pounding the suburban pavements uphill in the heat of the morning sunshine and the teleferiqo was no where in sight. I was having to use guess work to navigate my way through the streets as my map didnt go this far out. I made a judgement call and took a right turn at a junction when I became aware of a whistleing behind me. I ignored it, but after the third whistle I turned round. There was a man standing down the hill waving at me and pointing the other way to a bus stop which quite clearly said in big bold letters Teleferiqo.

There is also a sort of fun fair type theme park where the Teleferiqo departure is. It has the kind of run down shabbyness of many British sea side towns. There were a few rides and some kiosks selling hot dogs alongside large glass sided buildings that I guess were built as modern conference centres bringing Quito into the 21st century, but these were clearly long unused. At the teleferiqo, however there were plenty of people, foreigners and locals heading up the mountain either just for the view from the end of the cable car or to do as I was and hike the whole way up. It is a popular acclimatisation hike for people who want to do other higher peaks in the area.
Once I got to the top of the cable car I was keen to get away from the crowds so started hiking up straight away. There were great views back over Quito and as far as Cotopaxi and the Illinizas. The further I went the fewer people there were. The path was well defined and no too steep and it was really nice to be out of the city and hiking independently and at my own pace.
As I neared the summit it started to get alot colder. The last section is a pretty steep scramble up to the top. There were no other people around at this point and I had to make a decision as to a route my self. The cloud was starting to come in around the summit and I knew I had to be quick. Just as I started to scramble up the cloud came down around me and my hand were quickly going numb. I had gloves with me, but I was half way up a rocky face and in no position to stop to open my pack. I knew I had to get up or down pretty quickly before my hands completly froze and I fell off. I chose down.

Just as quickly as the freezing fog had come in, it lifted and I was able to see other people coming up the mountain. I decided to follow them up. At the summit there was a chance for a couple of photos but the visibility had got bad again I was pleased to meet a group of climbers from Costa Rica on the summit who said I could follow them down.  As soon as we had decended a 100m or so we were back below the cloud level and out again into the afternoon sunshine. Definitely a lesson in the unpredictability of the weather especially in the mountains!

Cotopaxi national Park

The buses local and national buses in South America dont really have any official stops, except for the beginning and the end of the journey. Mostly you just wave then down, be it on a busy city street, the Pan American Highway (the road that goes vertically through most of South America) or along a remote dirt road. The trick is, firstly knowing if you are on the right bus and secondly knowing where to get off....It helps if you can speak the language.

So, I was pleased to be in the company of Julie who speaks pretty good Spanish and Cristian who is Spanish when we boarded the bus in Banos. We were heading to a point along the Pan American highway where we hoped to get a connecting bus to a tiny little village called El Chaupi near to the Cotopaxi National park. This meant trying to get the driver to understand where to drop us off.

I had been in touch with various tour companies trying to organise a guide for Cotopaxi and had had various responses and differing quotes. I eventually happened upon a local climber who runs a hostel in El Chaupi and is also responsible for 2 of the refugios in the Cotopaxi park. Always liking to cut out the middle man as far as possible, I contacted him directly and he said he could happily fix us up with accomodation, a guide, equipment, transport etc for much less than we had been quoted elsewhere.

The ridge up to the summit of Iliniza Norte

Eventually the bus we were on veered over to the side of the road, the drivers assistant beconning us to disembark quickly as he ran round to the back of the bus and threw our back packs out onto the verge of the highway. Then the bus was off and we were left standing pretty much in the middle of nowhere on the side of a dusty track that to our dismay was blocked off by rather large boulders. There was definitely no buses going down it. We crossed over the busy highway to where there were a couple of ladies sitting by the road. We eventually discovered that the buses for El chaupi did stop there, but then had to do a detour due to the road closeur. Phew!


Iliniza Sur

 About an hour later we arrived at the door of the hostel to be met by a rather effusive Bladimir (the hostel owner) in a brightly coloured chunky knit Christmas sweater. The hostel was quite cosy with big wood burning stoves and little hobbit like garett rooms. We told Bladimir that we wanted to climb Iliniza Norte the next day for acclimatising, then have a day off and then make an attempt on Cotopaxi. He said that was all fine, but suggested we take a guide for Iliniza Norte as well. Not having any maps and although the guide book said this was a fairly straight forward route, I felt that it would be better and safer to have a guide. Also because I had never walked with Cris before and didnt know how he would cope with the altitude.

The following day we set of bright and early, about 6am, for the start of the hike. It was about a 2 hour uphill sandy path to the refugio. There we stopped and put on our climbing harnesses and helmets. The views were really incredible. Across the valley we could see Cotopaxi, the summit visible through a skirt of cloud. Below us were rolling green hills. It looks alot like England, but the hills are much bigger, the landscape is just massive and because Ecuador is so much higher we are often above the clouds. It was at this point I realised that it was not just going to be a straightforward walk up. We were all feeling fine so after a quick snack we started up for the summit.

 The weather was great, I was feeling fantastic, really happy to be getting the mountain air in my lungs and the views were breathtaking. After an hour or so Cristian was getting increasingly unsteady on his feet. There was alot of scrambling up rock, and at first I though it was just because he is tall and perhaps unused to such activities. He was like a baby deer on ice. It was painful to watch and progress was really slow. It became apparent quite soon that the altitude was affecting him. He was really out of breath after just a few steps and starting to become disorientated. The decision was made to turn back. Our guide, Jamie, attached a short rope to Cris to lead him down by an easier route. I have to say I was really pissed off. I know I shouldnt have been. It was the right and only decision. Still once it was made it was fine. I was disappointed though, it was such a fun climb. I have thought about going back to it since, but now I am on my own again the cost would be too great, and apparently the scrambling gets much much harder, so it wouldnt be one to attempt solo.

  Anyway, buy the time we got back to the refugio Cris was an exhausted wreck. It took another hour and a half to get back to where the 4x4 was meeting us to take us back. There was no way he would be able to attempt Cotopaxi.
After some discussion, Julie and I decided we would attempt Cotopaxi the next day (night). Cris could either wait for us at the hostel or go back to Quito and wait for us there.
When we woke the next morning, Cris was already up and packed ready to go. "Im going to the airport", he said. "Im going back to Spain."
After a quick goodbye he piled into Bladimirs 4X4 to get a lift to the airport in Quito in the hope of getting an earlier flight. That was that then.
 Julie and I started packing all the gear and food we were going to need for our attempt on Cotopaxi. My pack was the biggest Ive ever had to carry any distance.
After lunch Bladimir drove us into the Cotopaxi national park. Most of the volcanoe was shrouded in cloud, but we could just see the summit and it somehow felt impossible to think we were going to hopefully be standing at the top in less than 24hours! We had a short hike up a really steep sandy slope to the refugio where we were going to spend the rest of the day and half the night.  The refugio is mainly a very overpriced cafe for the day trippers to the park, but upstairs it had 2 rooms full of bunkbeds with dusty plastic mattresses, and lockable cupboards where you can stow your sleeping bag and toothbrush when you attempt the summit. There were quite a few other groups of people there, all hoping to make it to the top. After an early dinner we got into our bags and tried for some sleep. Even with ear plugs and my sleeping bag done up tight to keep out the light, sleep was impossible. A mixture of high altitude, adrenelin and the thumping of other people in their heavy boots up and down the stairs really didnt help. Eventually at about 11.30pm people started to get up and gear up. It was all slightly surreal. Downstairs, we tried to force some midnight breakfast down. Groups started to leave, everyone was a bit subdued by the daunting task ahead. "Good luck, Goodluck"

Julie and I were about the 4th group to leave. As we stepped out onto the path, we could see little lines of headtorch lamps from the other groups, winding their way up the mountain ahead.  For the first couple of hours we were mainly on brown slippery volcanic soil until we reached the snow line, where we put on our crampons and roped up. From there on the climb got really, really steep. I knew we had atleast another four hours to go. All I could do was just count my steps, one to a hundred and then backwards again. I counted thousands. After a while I realised we were going a diffent way to some of the other groups. I asked why.
"This way is quicker", Jamie said as he took us into a massive crevasse. My heart almost stopped. We were in a sort of ice canyon, with pillers of ice inbetween us and an ice wall at the other side. I was near to panic, I hadnt expected this. This was not straightforward. Jamie had leaped across one of the crevasses and was standing on the other side telling me to jump. I froze, but I knew I just had to do it. With all I had in me I lept across, making the other side but falling flat on my face and scraping my chin on the ice. At first I thought Id knocked my teeth out. I was spitting blood, but eventually realised it was coming from the outside and not the inside. After hopping across a few more crevasses, we were faced with an almost vertical ice wall. Jamie picked his way up first and after securing the rope, Julie and I went up. From here we could see that we were the second group from the front. One German guy was ahead of us, who had gone the same way, but everyone else was miles behind. I knew were were going to make it.

The next three hours however were really hard. We just trudged, endlessly up really steep snow. Every so often we would have to stop, just to catch your breath. There is so little oxygen, all the muscles in your body are being pushed to their limit, your heart is beating so fast and it impossible to get enough oxygen in your lungs to feed them. Dawn had started to break. We were above the clouds now which were like an ocean below us spreading out to cover the land. The twin peaks of Iliniza North and south were visible their peaks protruding through.
On and on we went the summit somehow not seeming any closer. We couldnt actually see  it, just giant mushrooms of snow that once climbed just revealed more steep slopes and more mushroom like false peaks. Finally, we saw the sun, which had risen over the other side, coming up over the summit. The German guy was standing on the top having his photo taken. We had made it. As we took the last steps up we could suddenly see the views around us and it was truly breathtaking. The sun was shining and the visibility was crystal clear. We could see right down into the volcanoes crater and for miles around. It was worth every bit of the effort it took to reach the summit. Wow!!!