Cotopaxi Area: Day 5

Today Allan heads out for Cotopaxi.

We both had a pretty calm morning, and then around lunchtime his guide showed up to start getting him ready. They talked about what gear to bring and the conditions. Similar to what we've been told already, the glacier isn't great at the moment, but the weather forecast looks ok so that's a plus. Allan decided to take his own gear for the most part, but needed the mountaineering boots, harness, helmet, and even a respiratory mask as well as his crampons and ice axe (to name a few things). It all seemed a bit intense.

Once he was packed and we sorted his water, we had lunch with the guide and then it was time to say goodbye. This will be the longest we've been apart since we moved in together last February, so it felt a bit strange waving goodbye to him.

Kaitlyn:
The rest of my day was spent reading, walking around the hostel grounds, and petting dogs. There are certainly worse ways to spend your day.

Sleep that night was futile. I woke up about every hour and looked out the window at Cotopaxi hoping to see headlamps or that the clouds had cleared and would make things easier for Allan. Alas, no luck. Tomorrow will be a long wait to hear how things went.

Allan:

Today was all about preparation.

Yesterday, I watched two other guests from the hostel undertake the same process, so I had an idea what to expect. I also learned a couple of important lessons from that observation.

First, make sure your boots are good. I watched the (annoying) Australian guy (AAG) from the Rumiñahui hike try on several pairs of mountaineering boots, then settle for a pair which probably didn’t fit him, or at least weren’t the most suitable boots for him from those he tried on. I could tell from his reactions and body language that the pair that fitted him best were the pair that Cody, an American guy, took. However, AAG never spoke up and settled for a pair that he said were “a bit tight”.

Second, make sure you trim your toenails. AAG’s toenails were a mess. I’m surprised he managed the Rumiñahui hike a few days earlier with his toenails in that condition.

I considered telling AAG that your feet often swell (more than normal) when you hike at altitude and that he should bear this in mind when trying on the boots, but then I wondered what would happen if he failed to summit because of boots that were too big (based on my suggestion). I also considered suggesting that he should cut his toenails. In the end, I decided to say nothing. It was his climb, and he had to make his own decisions. He was also paying for a guide, whom he was discussing his gear with and whom knew more than me about Cotopaxi in particular and mountaineering in general.

During my gear check, I was offered the remaining mountaineering boots after AAG’s and Cody’s selections the previous day. I wasn’t a happy chappy. I reluctantly tried a size 42.5 (8.5 UK) and 43 (9 UK) - both were too big, as I knew they would be. When I said I needed smaller boots, my guide, Robinson, suggested I try them on with another pair of socks. I was even less of a happy chappy. How about you just get boots that might fit me instead of me fannying around with extra socks? I started looking for Craig, the hostel manager/owner, to tell him that if they didn’t get me smaller boots, then I was wasn’t climbing and I was getting a full refund. One thing you don’t cut corners on is your boots. I’m not AAG.

Fortunately, Darwin (my guide for Illiniza Norte) was overseeing the fitting. I think I made a good impression on him during the Illiniza Norte climb. Darwin could tell I wasn’t a happy chappy, and after I came back with Craig, he offered to make a few calls to get me smaller boots. I mean, it should have been done in the first place, but better late than never.

I moved on to trying the other gear while I waited for the boots to arrive. Having seen the fleece pants and expedition pants yesterday, I already had in my head that I’d opt for my own baselayer(s), trekking pants and/or waterproof pants. However, the gear was included in the price, so I tried it on anyway. This confirmed my choice. The pants were too long and too heavy. I discussed the decision with Robinson and he was satisfied that my pants were sufficient.

Next, I talked Robinson through my other gear: head torch, buff(s), hat, gloves, sleeping bag, backpack, base layer, fleece(s), hard shell jacket. Again, he was satisfied with my gear. Darwin was particularly impressed with my gloves and asked how much they cost: ~$40. He couldn’t believe how I got them so cheap, so I attempted to explain how I got them on a discount gear website (Steep and Cheap, Backcountry’s clearance website) with a further discount for it being my first order. I ended up giving him the name of the website so he could find his own cheap gloves!

I don’t have mountaineering gear, so I took the harness, helmet, crampons, gaiters offered. It was also mandatory to carry a respiratory mask since Cotopaxi is an active volcano.

By the time we had ran through the remaining gear, the other (smaller) boots arrived. The boots that fitted me best were La Sportiva Nepal Extreme single boots (not ideal) in size 41.5 (7.5 UK). Unfortunately, these boots were still damp from a previous hire. Better a good fit and a bit damp than (far) too big. After all, they still had 12 hours to dry out a bit more. The other boots weren’t going to shrink in that time. Also, I’d been to the same altitude with only hiking boots and not-the-best condition hiking boots (rather than mountaineering boots and mountaineering socks).

After sorting the gear, I had lunch with Kaitlyn and Robinson. By this point, news had reached the hostel that AAG and Cody had failed to summit. I didn’t know any details at this point but hearing that made me (even more) nervous. Shortly after lunch, I said goodbye to Kaitlyn and headed towards Cotopaxi.

We drove to the car park at ~4,600m. It wasn’t actually that far to the car park, but with the unpaved 40-minute drive from the hostel to the paved road, then another unpaved road from the park entrance to the car park, it took a good couple of hours.

While the drive was manageable in our 4x4, parking proved a bit of an issue. There seemed to be a an issue with the clutch and the handbrake. Robinson fucked about with the ignition system and the clutch and break for about 30 minutes, while I re-arranged my bag, put some wet gear on (it had started raining) and did some stretches. In the end, we stuck some rocks under the front tyres - tomorrow’s problem.

The hike to the refuge is ~1km with an elevation gain of ~300m. Robinson said it would take between 45 minutes to 1 hour, yet despite us going at Robinson’s (slow and steady) pace, we were up in 30 minutes.

Refugio José F. Ribas is a fairly substantial building comprising a large dining area, toilets, a relaxation area and bouldering wall downstairs and three dorms of approximately 20 beds (10 bunk beds) upstairs.

We were first to arrive, followed shortly by another private climber and his guide, then a group of eight Mexicans and their three guides.

We checked into the dorm immediately at the top of the stairs, where we were later joined by one of the guides from the Mexican group. I assumed each Mexican (climber and guide) took a bottom bunk bed in the adjacent dorm, and, since we had plenty of free beds, one of the guides slept in our room in his own bunk (nobody wants a top bunk). The other guy checked into the dorm to the right with his guide.

Dinner was decent. Since we were there first Robinson got me some coca tea, which you’d normally have to pay for. I sat at the table nearest the kitchen, and the other private climber sat at the next table. Naturally, we began to converse.

His response to my answer to his question about where I was from was bizarre: “Aberdeen?” Out of all the times around the world when I’ve said I’m from Scotland, nobody has ever asked me if I was from Aberdeen. So, strange start.

After a few minutes chatting, I’d established the following: he was from Azerbaijan; he was in his mid-40s (I can’t remember his exact age); he worked in the oil industry, i.e., overpaid and fucking up the planet; he was wealthy, at least by Azerbaijani standards; he’d lived in Aberdeen for several months each year for around eight years from 2000; he was currently living in Azerbaijan; he’d climbed a lot of big mountains, including four of the Seven Summits (Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Denali, Aconcagua); he’d done a lot of preparation for Cotopaxi; and he was a bit of a cunt. He didn’t actually tell me his name. I didn’t ask. I had no intention of ever speaking to this prick again.

When we discussed acclimatisation, it transpired that he’d (allegedly) made twice as many acclimatisation climbs as me: he’d completed four climbs on three volcanoes; I’d completed two on two volcanoes (Rumiñahui and Illiniza Norte). Interestingly, he hadn’t been over 5,000m during his preparation. Although he didn’t expressly state I hadn’t done enough, that’s what he was suggesting: “is that it, only two”? Yes, you obnoxious cunt. I’m not sure if he’d have coped if I told him I’d been in the Galápagos for week until a week ago.

When he discussed his previous climbing achievements, there was a real sense of arrogance about him, which I didn’t like. Most people in the climbing community are humble. This guy wasn’t.

Finally, we moved on to discuss Cotopaxi. Now, the normal departure time is midnight. Robinson wanted to leave later, around 01:00, because of my (good) “condition” on the hike from the car park to the refugio. However, cunty Azerbaijani was leaving at 22:00. I had to check I heard him correctly.

I also noted that he had very expensive gear, especially for just sitting having dinner. I presumed he’d be wearing the same gear for the climb. It would make sense to stick some climbing gear on while relaxing/eating rather than carrying extra, unnecessary gear.

At least I didn’t have to put up with him for much longer - he headed to bed since he was up again in a few hours.

Shortly afterwards, Robinson took me through a quick tutorial on fitting my crampons and how to self-arrest with the ice axe. The plan was to put our crampons on at the start of the glacier and to start using the ice axe from the same point.

Since this was my first time using proper crampons (I’ve got basic crampons that work with any boots), I wanted to make sure I had a decent idea about what I was doing. I watched Robinson demonstrate how to fasten them, then I talked him through the process. Next I fastened them with Robinson talking me through the process before I tried fastening them without any instructions. I repeated the final step one more time for reassurance.

With the ice axe, Robinson explained how to use it before demonstrating. When using only one ice axe, it should always be on the inside (mountain/volcano side). The reason for this is in case you slip and need to self-arrest. For example, if I was ascending with the mountain/volcano on my right, I’d have the ice axe in my right hand. If I switched direction to have the mountain on my left, I’d switch hands to have the ice axe in my left hand. Repeat as necessary. Now if I was ascending with the mountain/volcano on my right, with the ice axe I my right hand and I slipped I would need to self-arrest.

According to Robinson, this process involves moving the left (non-mountain/volcano side) to the bottom of the ice axe while simultaneously lunging towards the slope with the right hand (the mountain/volcano side hand on the top of the ice axe) and shoulder.

Putting crampons on in the shelter of the refugio and going through the motions with the ice axe seemed ok. I knew it would be a different experience with the crampons in the cold and dark at 5,100m. And who knows what my reaction would be if I slipped and started sliding down the glacier. Oh well, better to have the training. After Robinson’s tutorials, we headed to bed.

Unfortunately, I was awoken at 21:00 by cunty Azerbaijani. Rather than sorting all his gear in his dorm (which he had to himself) and/or before he went to bed, he decided to do it at 21:00 in the common area at the top of the stairs, while shouting to his guide still in the dorm. What a selfish cunt. I’m pretty sure he would’ve woken the Mexican group too. After going downstairs for food/drinks/who-knows-what-else, he stomped back upstairs on three occasions in his mountaineering boots. What a selfish cunt. Finally, it went quiet again at 22:00. To put this into perspective, I was only briefly awoken by the Mexican group when the guide in my dorm exited around 23:00. I tried to get back to sleep for the next hour or so.

To be continued.Les mer