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Cotopaxi wakes up first to “sunbathe” and check on our camp,
while we approach his immense slopes.

News

DECEMBER 3rd, 2008

BACK TO BEING NOMADS

An update not up to date

It has been a while, I know. I am sure all of the A-type checker-uppers out there have been itching for information, so I’m sorry for the hold up. I did write an update during the first week of our expedition, but as we were not able to send it out, I was forced to wait another seven days, and by that point it seemed more fitting to combine the entire adventure into one, great big chapter.

So, to begin at the beginning, it all commenced with one crazy packing session. Having learned from our previous month-long trek, the group packed as lightly as possible in terms of clothing, while Marcianna and Deborah deliberated over our food stock, which we decided would have to include copious amounts of chocolate. After several days of avidly drying fruit, baking, fixing gear, cleaning up camp and trying to finish big projects, Thursday finally rolled around. Once convinced that the cabin and chuzon were presentable, as an Outward Bound group would be moving in not long after our departure, it was time to leave our comfortable farm life in Palugo.

To me, the switch between nomadic and non-nomadic life is generally too abrupt. Such drastic change doesn’t register within me for a few days, and then, BOOM, I shift into gear. I am not sure if it’s because I have already experienced so many of Ecuador’s different regions or if it’s that I’ve been with this group for so long that made this particular metamorphosis different—I suspect it was a little of both. Regardless, as we climbed higher and higher into the paramos of Ecuador, the shift felt natural and welcome. The signs of moving into highland cowboy country were familiar to me this time, and so I sat back happily as the bus windows fogged with cold. The trees outside were attempting to breathe, shriveling from harsh winds and lack of oxygen, and forming into bent, hardy shrubs. Finally, after several hours of ascent, we stepped out onto the trail that would lead us to the base of Antizana—the first mountain we planned to summit.

The walk was brief but hard on us due to minimal oxygen. We were reminded very quickly of the challenges that the Ecuadorian highlands present to human beings. Just like the wildlife, people have to be tough, hard working, and a little bit thorny to survive up there. Surprisingly, however, we encountered tons of rabbits on our quick stroll, as well as many bones of animals such as deer, sheep, and llamas. Excited by our lucky finds, we arrived in good spirits to our campsite. From its flat surface, we could see that great lady, Antizana, during brief stretches of time in which the thick mists which normally settle about her and intensify her mystery, cleared.

Exploring and getting water at base camp on Antizana. What a treat!!

The following day was a free one, and thus we had time to sort our gear, explore the area, and prepare our bodies and minds for the climb that lay ahead. Antizana, the fourth-highest mountain in Ecuador, is a very intense glacier, almost as high as Cotopaxi. Many of us took several hours to read and talk, while several others went out to check on the rabbit snares Scott and Samuel had constructed. Feeling rested, we gathered in the Dylan-sewn tent for dinner and a “long share,” a tradition we have which mandates that, each evening, someone share important details about his or her life. That evening, Mathias delighted us by asking us what we wanted to hear about his experiences, a question to which we answered enthusiastically, “love stories!” Now pitch-black in the tent, the entire group snuggled and giggled like a bunch of middle schoolers at a slumber party. It was nothing less than perfect.

We rose early on Saturday morning, packed our tents and other belongings, and began trekking the steady uphill to our high camp. Our packs were heavy and the uphill was difficult, but we made it, all fingers and toes intact, most people feeling a little odd stomach-wise due to the mass hummus consumption that had occurred during lunch. Around 3:30, we arrived at our beautiful site, which consisted of a flat, sandy wetland lying just below the glacier. The first thing I noticed was that it was very, very cold. Wiggling our fingers and toes to keep warm, we set up camp and filed into our tents to lay out our things. We then came together for a quick supper of soup and went to bed, knowing we would have to wake up at midnight to summit.

Moraine camp at Antizana

Midnight, however, came and went, and we awoke the following morning very confused. A sad Michael informed us of the reasoning for the decision not to summit at breakfast: it was too hot. I looked down at myself, decked in all my many layers, and felt some disbelief. This was hot? Apparently, we had arrived at Antizana during an intense warm front, and conditions were perfect for avalanches. Some were disappointed, but all were consoled by the decision to go up and gain as much altitude as possible by about two in the afternoon. We thus packed our crampons, helmets, ropes, and carabiners into our daypacks and headed up to the snow. About an hour later, we were tramping uphill in our spiky shoes, learning for ourselves how very hard that can be. The lack of oxygen was very trying for some, and the constant ascension did not make this any easier. On top of everything, it was incredibly hot! The sun beat down on us Africa-style, and we very quickly applied sunscreen and glacier goggles, having learned that the intensity of the sun on a glacier is such that you can burn the roof of your palette if you keep your mouth open. Despite the toughness of the situation, however, none of us could deny the beauty of our placement. We were walking in the clouds, looking down at the world when the mists permitted. I also had some pretty amusing images all around me. Amidst my struggling, I looked up at our group and just had to laugh at the sight. Can you imagine a bunch of teenagers, hiking through the snow in sunglasses and sports bras?

Exploring and learning on the majestic glaciers of Antizana.

As it happened, we made it about one third of the way up the mountain in two and a half hours. The validity of our decision not to summit was made clear when the sound of avalanches filled our ears and caused us to descend. We thus made our way down, tired yet ready for another day of ice climbing.

One thing you have to understand about these mountains: they are unpredictable. On our way to Antizana, we were sure we would summit, but upon climbing her we came to know that we simply had no control of whether or not she was in the mood to let us. Monday morning presented us with a perfect example of what it means to humble oneself to the mountain, a process that is, as I just mentioned, essential to climbing. We awoke past midnight once again, only to learn that Mathias’ finger had become infected and that he would have to descend to base camp and drive himself to the hospital. On top of that, many of us felt sick and were forced to stay behind while the rest of the group took on the glacier once again. While initially disappointed, we soon realized that the mountain was trying to teach us something, and the day turned out to be amazing. Those of us who stayed back (myself included) bundled together in a single tent to keep warm, and I ended up reading aloud to everyone while we rested and our bodies improved. Meanwhile, the remaining members of the group made an amazing push, and were able to reach the point between the two summits. They returned tired but enchanted by the experience, and we all seemed to be in a better place when we packed up and headed down to base camp once more. One of the last things I remember about the day is Raina, the devout vegetarian, and Deborah, the devout carnivore, running after a pack of fifty wild horses, announcing that they would fetch us Thanksgiving dinner.

First lunch on the road again, heading towards Cotopaxi on a long journey.

Tuesday meant another day of recuperation, and so we took the opportunity for further reading aloud and, most importantly, washing! Marcela was the first to come back from the freezing cold river, shivering and trying her best to make the experience sound chipper. “I—i-i-it’s p-p-p-pretty n-n-n-nice…” she encouraged, scaring us even more. We were hesitant, but finally, upon remembering the New Hampshire days when swimming in frigid water was a daily experience, our desire to be cleanly won over. I doubt I will ever forget hanging my clothes on a rock and getting to know that cold little river. To make things even more ridiculous, a car drove right by us, and we girls were forced to hide behind a rock while the unwelcome visitors (actually a couple of documentary film-makers from Spain) circled around the area and got their back wheels stuck in a swamp. The man in the passenger’s seat was due for a flight back to Madrid that same day, and was thus pretty upset. Re-clothed, the group attempted to haul the car out of the hungry waters, but the effort was worthless and we were forced to write the whole event off as karma. The day did end on a positive note however, because Mathias returned, finger intact and functioning, and brought Lisl with him!

On Wednesday, we packed up once more, and finally took leave of Antizana. It would be a five-day trek to the southern face of Cotopaxi, the tallest active volcano in the world. A man, according to the Ecuadorian Kichwa natives, we suspected that he would be a little less mothering than Antizana, his female counterpart, and thus feelings towards our destination mountain ranged from nervousness to excitement. From Dylan’s word as group navigator, we estimated that the trek would be difficult but quite doable. Thus, we departed early in the morning and tried our best to keep a fast pace, though many of us took small breaks to pick up the beautiful bones and horns we found along the way. We also stopped after lunch for a surprise meeting, in which our leaders informed us that our group would be embarking on a two-and-a-half day solo, and that they would meet us at the end of that time once we reached the lake region of the paramos. Concerns arose from all the students about where we truly were as a group; many of us had doubts as to our ability to live together with healthy dynamics. Lisl proved to be the voice of wisdom and harder truth, finally making us realize how much we judged one another and how deeply we needed to mend these ways. We left our group leaders feeling many emotions and knowing that we had quite a bit of work to do.

It was thus pretty impressive how we pulled it together.

Exploring the highlands and our selves. Quite an opportunity!!!

We pulled it together, I believe, because it all fell apart. Left to our own devices, navigating became difficult, and many arguments occurred surrounding what route we should take. Frustrations which people had been experiencing and not expressing properly leaked out by way of hurtful words and attitudes, and, to be completely honest, things merely seemed to get worse and worse. People seemed to separate into two groups, those who had things to say and had become hurtful and apathetic, and those who were upset about the lack of communication and did not know how to address the issue. Finally, after a few rather unpleasant hours, we set up camp and had a meeting. It was amazing. Looking around the circle, I saw so many problems faced and dynamics dealt with that I felt nothing shy of immense pride for how far we had come in just one afternoon.

The next day, as you can imagine, was a lot smoother. A major load had been lifted off our backs, and each of us had learned something about the importance of communication. That being said, everything cannot be solved in one day. I know that I personally had to face some demons in my relationship with Nadino. However, from what we had been through the previous evening, both of us were able to communicate clearly and come to a place in which we could listen to one another. We even realized how much we admired the other person, and the whole group felt relieved when we revealed all we had been talking about during that evening’s meeting.

Another issue which the whole lot of us had to face arose on the second day of our solo—navigation. The terrain turned out to be longer and harder than we had imagined, which brought up some problems. Those who did not walk as fast wanted to take more time and arrive a day late, while others wanted to go, go, go. Let me tell you, it is hard to make directional decisions in a group of super-intense-stubborn-smart people. I have known people like that all my life (and definitely fall into the category of hard-headed) and have personally never even considered taking a trip with more than two of us “intensites.” But guess what? We made it work! We’re intense and awesome! Having learned a great deal about listening to both sides, we were able to compromise and accept the decision of taking the extra time we needed to reach our goal site.

Where to go?

Our third day of soloing was even better than the previous two. The terrain, as I mentioned earlier, was difficult; we found ourselves trudging hard through swamps and over large mountain ridges. When we finally made it to our intended location, however, we became afraid we had made some navigation errors because, well, there were no lakes. We agreed to keep going and searching, and luckily found the campsite where our group leaders—Mathias, Lisl, and Marcela—awaited us, now greeting us with huge hugs. About ten minutes before we arrived, we were lamenting our lack of rabbit meat, when Scott found a just-dead bunny; it’s little legs sticking out of the bushes. “It’s a gift from the gods!” he said, and served it to our newly reunited clan that very evening in the form of a delicious stew.

We woke up a little later on Saturday and took the morning for two really lovely events: Marcianna’s long share, and cheering on a famous bike race. After taking a short walk to a beautiful little grassy ridge, we sat atop it and listened to Marcianna share some very personal events that had changed her life, a huge step for her. We all felt grateful for her bravery and just her, period. We then threw our packs on and hiked a little further towards the road that encircles Cotopaxi, where we awaited the competitors of the Roundabout Cotopaxi. When they finally came, it was a thrilling moment—there we were, in the middle of nowhere, talking with famous athletes! The Ecuadorian members of our party, who actually had sisters and cousins competing, got so excited that they accidentally stayed behind too long when we started trekking, and we lost them for nearly five hours. We were almost at our next camp—high and between two huge ridges at the base of Cotopaxi, and convinced we would have to make due for the evening without a stove or a few tents our lost ones were carrying—when they literally walked out of a rainbow towards us, smiling apologetically. Both sides felt culpable, and so we were glad to be back together, laughing hysterically once we heard the story of their being filmed as well as yelled at by a rather temperamental French biker.

What better than a rainbow to frame this worn out trekker.

Sunday was among the hardest trekking days I have ever had. Constantly climbing ridges and sinking back into gorges, then traversing across immense hills of scree, we tired quickly, but kept going at a fast pace. Our only reference point before we found the peaks we searched for was the great monster of a mountain that loomed above us at each moment. We were now up in such high and tough terrain that our only surroundings were these great mounds of volcanic rock, at rare times covered in tiny scrubs that reminded me of dry moss.

After crossing a particularly tiring ridge below the peaks that awaited us (known as Morurco) we began the decent to the Refugio (Refuge) where we would be spending the evening. As we approached it, I was in disbelief—it was so gorgeous! I had been expecting a little hut where we could sleep on the floor, as we had luckily found on our jungle trek. To my delight, as well as that of the rest of the group, we instead found ourselves in a homey and welcoming environment, complete with cabins, bunk beds, a kitchen, and several wood stoves to keep us warm. We filed in, tired and grateful, and said hello to Marcia, Nicky, and Michael, who came back at us with a delicious dinner they had prepared.

We rested at the Refugio on Monday, and finally had some time to talk, wash, and prepare our mountain gear once more for the “final push.” Good food, sleep, and a long-overdue session of theater revived us and allowed us to develop some nervousness as well. The next morning, however, the mountain got us again! The weather was awful, raining and cold, and we had to gather for a meeting to decide whether or not it was a good idea to hike up to the high camp as we had planned. However, just as we were debating, the weather cleared, and we decided to risk the cold and even forego many hours of rest because we had been waiting too long for that moment. Thus, we headed up and arrived about an hour after dark, set up our tents, sang and ate a wonderful meal, and went to sleep, awaiting the midnight hour when we would embark on this last part of our journey.

Waiting for the moment to arrive.

Midnight arrived. It was cold, and I awoke to find out that I had unknowingly sacrificed my glasses to Señor Cotopaxi. I have the worst eyesight ever, so Deborah had to tape them up for me in the middle, Harry Potter style. This distracted me from the fear I had of climbing, and we were heading up with all our gear through the bitter cold before I had time to let it take over. With our headlamps pointed at the scraggly rock, we trudged slowly but surely through the thin air, making our way up to the glacier. The particles in the rocks beneath us shone an eerily moon-like color, and I felt as though I was walking on a starry sky. I was so focused on keeping the pace that I forgot to look above me, until my headlamp broke momentarily. Then my breath—what little I had left—was taken away. We were so high, so close to the bright, deep sky full of silver lights. I had never seen anything like it before in all my life.

Heading into the mystery of the high country mist.

Soon enough, we were on the snow, tightening the straps of our crampons and sorting into rope teams. Dylan, quite the trooper, began making his way up with Samuel and Nadino. Michael, whom we have named “Speedy Gonzales,” was attached to Katie, Will, and Novy. Marcela, Marcianna, Raina, and Scott followed suit. The “ladies”—Lisl, Marcia, and Nicky, were next. Finally, I locked my carabiner into the ropes of the last-but-not-least group along with Mathias, Deborah, and Brett. We then began the long uphill tramp. And I mean looooooooooong uphill. Long and slow and cold and beautiful and crazy. Traversing back and forth, we had views on all sides of the cara sul (south face) of Cotopaxi. Mists rolled over the high mountains below us, clouds stirred beneath our station, and the sun rose, revealing a yellow-brown world so far down that it could have belonged to a different universe.

Beautiful as it was, the climb was a struggle. The effort and cold were so intense that, at some points, I truly thought I would just lie there and freeze. As it happened, I obviously did not die as I expected, since I am now typing on this computer. At the time, though, little white iBooks with automatic spelling correctors and little applications I am just now observing and did not even know existed seemed so, so faraway. Up on the mountain, it was just us, the beast, and the constant footsteps. I am thus very proud that my group made it just below the summit. We did everything we could, pushed harder than most people ever push throughout their entire existence, and that is what matters. When the other groups came down an hour after us, exhausted and a little delirious and ravenously hungry, we were waiting for them with clean plates, tea, tears, and pure delightful pride. I would just like to say thank you so much to my rope team for their support and understanding. They came back with me, and that is perhaps one of the hardest things to do when trying to summit a great mountain such as Cotopaxi.

The dots on the center left of the picture are the insignificant
yet amazing group of students coming back from the summit of a long journey.

After resting for a short while, we packed everything up and went back down to the Refugio. We were so tired that some of us hardly made it back, and when we did, it was clear we were totally pooped. We dreamily packed our things into two trucks, piled in the back, and began eating what chocolate we had left. Then Francisco, Mathias and Michael’s dad, arrived. Though tired, we were very happy to see him, as he is one of our favorites. He definitely secured that position when, upon asking all of us if we remembered his name and receiving an enthusiastic “Francisco!” he yelled, “everybody wins!” and produced a bag of (how glorious!) more chocolate!

I don’t remember much of the bus ride except that it was very bumpy and that I konked out.

We arrived at the farm in Palugo and ate a fantastic meal cooked for us by Ines and Hannah, another two of our favorite people. Then, one by one, we fell into the deepest kind of sleep.

This morning, we awoke at the (by Kroka standards) extremely late hour of 7:30 am. After breakfast, we began the saga of cleaning our bodies and clothes. It’s been quite a journey, and there is very little time left together. Our Ecuadorian graduation is in two days, and before the tenth we must finish our academics, have a fiesta, and pack. We’ve been through so much, and have grown together in a way I think is very rare in this world. I would just like to end by saying thank you to all of you for your support throughout this experience, for reading these updates and believing in us. My biggest thank you, however, goes to the group of people sitting with me now while I read this after an amazing dinner we’ve cooked ourselves, with local ingredients some of which we’ve helped to grow and harvest. They’ve changed me in a way I cannot express. I know they will do amazing things.

Now I’m getting sappy, so I’ll stop. See you soon!!!

Community News

• We have finished a good research on “paramos” wild life. Condors, eagles, foxes, curiquingues, RABBITS, alpacas, and many other friends came to visit one or more of our camps during the stay up there.
• Thanks Hannah Billian for all the cooking and preparations to welcome us back, and enjoy your break trekking west with Carina and your new Ecuadorian friends.
• The expedition crew is healthy and ready to party with everyone who accompanied us in one way or another during this amazing journey.
• For the ones that cannot make it here for the party we will party for you. We will miss you all and carry you in our hearts.
• Sociedad Deportivo Quito, our beloved soccer team (Michael and Mathias are some of the team’s only fans, jaja), just won the Ecuadorian championship after 40 years of waiting. Congratulations!!!
• Thomas and Marcea’s root cellar is finished, and the house is ready to go on top of it, jaja.
• Mama Lisl and Katrina headed out for exploring with the “ladies” for a couple of days. Enjoy and have fun.
• The cows keep complaining about the mechanical milking, jaja, but they were already told to be thankful and to cooperate.
• NH-VT Semester is getting full with students. Congratulations and good luck.
• Mangoes and pineapples are being dried for the NH – VT Semester. They will taste good in the wintertime…

Semester recipes - (also the environmental tip):

Dry your own fruit and veggies before trips for lightweight luggage and tastiness!

Preparing our souls and bodies
for the long climb!!!