Filling in the gaps, Chimborazo (Ecuador)

Ty here, a guilty blog slacker trying to atone for his laziness by posting a few notes about some experiences several thousand miles north in Ecuador back around the new year. Anyhow, here it is, entitled: Chimborazo, or How Rose Learned to Climb Steep Ice at 18,000 Feet in the Middle of the Night.


After two months surfing and lounging in Canoa (at sea level, clearly) and a brief but lovely stay in Baños (a little higher than Canoa at least), we decided we were pretty acclimatized and ready to climb the highest volcano in Ecuador, the mighty Chimborazo. So we bused down to Riobamba, rented some basic climbing gear (plastic boots, helmets, mountian axes, four titanium ice screws, a rope, and two incredibly poor fitting balaclavas), bought a mountain of tasty food, and started upward. The bus deposited us at the Chimborazo turnoff at 4,000 meters (that is something like 12,000 feet to our American readers) and we started walking uphill. A French/Morroccan girl in jeans (I lent her my jacket as it was chilly) accompanied us as we walked up the road to a refugio at 4,800 meters (no luck with the hitchhiking), where we had a snack and drank a coca tea.


Then we tromped up a trail to the upper refugio at 5,000 meters, meeting a group descending carrying in a litter an unfortunate Colombian climber with a broken leg - not the most encouraging sight. But Colombians are notoriously poor ice climbers (no offense meant to our Colombian readership) so we forged on, enjoying some intermittent gorgeous views of our objective. Warming conditions on Chimborazo have left the standard route kind of a mess, with the first section of the climb consisting of rubble-strewn ledge systems winding through some menacing looking seracs, so it is safest climbed at night, and descended very early before things start to heat up too much. The plan was to see how we felt at the upper refugio, watch the weather, and then attempt the climb either that night or the next.

Upon reaching the upper refugio, perhaps inspired by the views of the peak, our companion from the hike informed us that she planned to attempt the climb with us, in spite of her utter lack of climbing experience fact that her warmest piece of clothing was my jacket. Luckily we were able to convince her, with the help of the refugio guardian and the persistent cold (even in the "heat" of the afternoon), of the ill-advisability of that plan.


At the upper refugio our health and spirits, which had been high all morning, started to slip, By late afternoon Rose and I both had splitting headaches, racing pulses, and (worst of all) powerful nausea that destroyed our generally robust appetites. We hunkered down in our sleeping bags in the refugio and tried unsuccessfully to get a little sleep. Just before nightfall, we staggered up the hill a few hundred yards and pitched camp. Our prospects looked grim - we decided to try to wake up at 10 PM and climb if we miraculously felt better, or else spend the night and either hang out the next day hoping for improving health, or descend in search of our missing appetites.


At 10 PM, after a few hours of restless sleep, we woke up feeling shockingly good. Our headaches had both receded to manageable proportions and we were able to choke down a little granola and drink some water before gearing up and starting up the peak, our path illuminated by the feeble blue light of our little LED headlamps.

The first section of the climb went smoothly though somewhat slowly due to the rubble-strewn nature of the terrain, the pitch darkness, and the fact that we strayed a bit off route and encountered several pitches of fairly steep ice. Luckily we had the trusty titanium ice screws, and Rose turned out to be a natural born ice climber, scampering gracefully up the ice pitches. I didn´t have the heart to tell her how much easier steep ice is with two ice axes (not to mention a little daylight)...

The moon came out as we reached the main glacier, but a cold wind started blowing too, which made things less pleasant as we had to don our ill-fitting balaclavas, which functioned better as blindfolds. We slogged endlessly up the glacier, which was pretty icy with only a thin crust of snow, and watched the sky lighten at dawn at over 19,000 feet. As we climbed our nausea and headaches returned, and our water bottles froze in our packs. Nine o´clock found us above 20,000 feet, but totally knackered and not moving very fast. So after some frigid deliberation (we were still in the shade), we decided the smartest thing to do was to forgo the summit and descend through the shooting gallery that is the lower part of the route before the sun loosened things up too much.

The descent went smoothly and safely, though it was a heck of a lot of work in our weakened state, and we collapsed in our tent for an uncomfortable nap. Our headaches and nausea persisted until we were back in Riobamba and able to choke some water down. I set a new personal record for time without eating - 19 hours! We were so spent that we managed to sleep through all the new years celebrations, which included (so they tell us) fireworks and lots of torched papier maiche likenesses of 2007 public figures.

Anyhow, now we are heading to Aconcagua (just kidding!). Check out the photos below that we coaxed out of our cold and malfunctioning camera up on the volcano.

Ciao,

Ty

So High

Guest Blogger!

Hello dear readers of The Long Road South. If you are expecting erudite musings from Rose or witty narrative prose from Ty, you will have to tune in next time, as this is the first (and perhaps only) guest EMM of TLRS.

By way of introduction, I am a friend of Ty´s from Wyoming. For those of you who do not know me my name is Tom Rangitsch. My wife Teresa and I are on a 6 week trip of our own through South America. We have been spending the last 14 days in Bariloche, Argentina with Rosa and Ty.

Our most recent adventure was a trip to Frey, an area outside of Bariloche known for its agujas, or spires, of weathered granite. They make for beautiful vistas, and as Ty found out, pretty good climbing.

We started our trek at Cerro Catedral, a short bus ride from downtown Bariloche. The 10 km hike was warm and dusty as these Argentine trails seem to be. After a bit of climbing, we were treated to a fabulous view. The agujas create a bizarre landscape with towering peaks and vertiginous heights.

As we were unloading our packs and deciding where to pitch our tents, we ran into several Americans. They turned out to be from our hometown, Lander, Wy, leading a NOLS climbing course in the next valley over. Small world indeed.

Now Tyrell has been itching to climb as it has been 6 months since he touched rock, so he hinted to these NOLSies that maybe they could lend us a rope and a rack. Unfortunately they didn´t get the hint. Bleary eyed and almost in tears, Ty toyed with the idea of soloing some easy routes. Needless to say this evoked some discussion on the part of Rose as to the advisability of said venture. To everyone´s relief and pleasure, a guy from Boulder, Colorado, happened be in need of a partner and introduced himself to us at a most opportune moment. Ty´s next day was planned out quickly and Rose, Teresa, and myself were left to ponder the wonder of it all.

We had a stormy night in the tents and awoke in the clouds with glimpses of Ty and his new friend climbing through them. Rose, Teresa and I hiked over to a higher valley with more vistas and more towers, exploring the hillsides and just taking it all in. Ty rejoined us after a satisfying day on the rocks and we made an excellent dinner at our tentsite.

Yesterday we descended back to Bariloche. It was a beautiful, albeit short, excursion into the mountains. We enjoyed the time with Rose and Ty and the wonderful views.

Today Teresa and I are off to Santiago, Chile, to continue our short path north. We would recommend coming and visiting the Mandrixes as their hospitality is without par...

More Photos!

All is well in South America. After sleeping soundly through the Ano Nuevo celebrations, we are heading south toward Argentina, which happens to be quite a long trip. Click on the following photo to view a web album with some good volcano shots from our lovely stay in Banos.

Tungurahua

Best Wishes,

Ty and Rose

Surfing

The dearth of recent essential mass messages can be explained in on word: Surfing. The last couple weeks have brought consistent waves and one epic swell (more on that later), and we have pared our lives down to the bare essentials: eat, sleep, surf. No time for superfluous activities like blogging, reading, conversation, laundry... Actually it hasn´t been quite that bad, and we have even squeezed in a couple of public musical performances (one at a local bar and one at an organic farmstand), Spanish lessons, new friendships, and the preparation of fine cuisine (primarily involving our new favorite fruit, the maracuya).

However, surfing has been the overriding focus ever since good waves showed up just in time for the big Canoa surf comp (maybe you saw it in the news? The Canoa Pro Classic) several weeks ago. The locals boys struggled against the rippers from Montanitas and Atacames, but one squeezed onto the podium in third to salvage the town´s pride.

Rose, I am proud to announce, has been killing it in the waves lately, making huge strides - surfing til her ribs ache, popping a few Advil, and paddling back out for another session. Her recent highlights include a clean, green, hundred-yard long left at Mompiche that brought all us spectators on the beach to our feet, clapping and hooting.

Our Mompiche trip from last week (Mompiche is Ecuador´s finest wave, an incredible lefthand pointbreak) was pretty incredible. We tagged along on a spur of the moment trip some friends were making, and lucked into some truly amazing waves during one of the best (and biggest!) swells to hit Mompiche in a couple of years. Although Mompiche lies less than 150 km north of Canoa, it takes about 6 hours in various buses and pickup trucks (a bit more if you end up walking the last 8 km like we had to due to the dearth of passing cars to flag down...). However, we were rewarded by amazing waves reeling off a rocky point break, every bit as gorgeous as those glossy Indonesia spreads in the surf mags. The big set waves on our first afternoon were solid double-overhead, with glassy calm conditions - truly amazing! The rides were so long it would take 20 minutes to paddle back out to catch another. The wave starts breaking over a reef directly in front of some nasty rocks, and the first section is fast and hollow, but then slows down and rolls more slowly and relentlessly over a nice sandy bottom all the way into the bay - something for everyone! The other highlight from Mompiche was an earthquake (two actually but I slept through the second) - a solid 30 seconds of strong shaking that sent coke bottles shattering across the floor, put a big crack in the roof of the restaraunt we were in, and knocked down a few walls next door. It left us a bit jittery, but the locals were unfazed and no tsunami followed.

Lest our readership start thinking that our life down here in Ecuador has been nothing but fun and games let me compile a short list of the various ailments we have suffered in the last two weeks: bruised ribs, countless sandfly bites, a wasp sting, a stingray sting, a smallpox-like armpit rash (fungal infection?), plus a pair of feet covered in scrapes, scars, and bruises from rock encounters (I didn´t quite master the elegant leap off the rocks which shortcuts the long swim out in Mompiche...).

And in other news, the freckles on my back have finally melded into one uniform, pre-cancerous blotch, and my hair has grown so long that everyone I meet tries to sell me pot. And Rose´s fiddle playing has become so sweet that she has been inundated by requests for lessons, in spite of the fact that she has the only violin in all of Manabi...

Hope this message finds everyone in fine spirits and health heading into the holidays,

Ty

San Andreas de Canoa

Hello Friends,

We've had a great couple of weeks here in Canoa, though somewhat anti-climactic. Some of you may have heard about the earthquake that recently hit the coast of Ecuador. Although it was a 6.6 you all probably heard about it before we did. It hit at 10.30 PM last Friday as we learned from our landlord Ricardo the following morning. As he described it, dogs were barking, kids cried, people ran into the streets and Ty and I...slept.

The following morning some great waves rolled in and Ty went out for an early morning surf session. He had all the waves to himself, a fact easily attributed to the thriving night life here. A friend told us yesterday however, that there was a Tsunami warning that morning which was likely more to blame for the lack of surfers than any debilitating hangovers. He'd noticed Ty out there and assumed that Ty was trying to catch the wave of his life. Thankfully the Tsunami never came, but the good waves lasted through the weekend.

When Ty and I aren't chasing waves around and simultaneously trying to hide our pale selves from the equatorial sun, we've both found some new projects to jump into. Ty has become a master handline fisherman, stocking our fridge and freezer with all sorts of fresh fish and contributing to the sudden and welcome spike in our ceviche consumption. Recently we also started polishing some tunes as our Spanish teacher --we finally began taking Spanish classes--invited us to play at the bar/restaurant/hotel where she works, during the ubiquotously popular "hoppy our" as it is known here in Canoa.

I've been spending some time volunteering in the local elementary school. My first day there I thought I was just going to observe and figure out a schedule-which two weeks later remains elusive. That first mornign it became apparent that observing meant teaching an impromptu art class which ended abrubtly when all the students in the school flooded the playground for reasons that still remain mysterious to me. I followed them out there and bumped into the 2nd grade teacher who beseachingly invited me to teach an English lesson to her class of 40. I can't imagine what her classroom is like with all her students are in attendence becuase with 35 it struck me as surreal and even apocolyptic. The chaos was exacerbated by the presence of the drum and bugle corp. practicing immediately outside our classroom, which lacks upper walls. Inside the classroom a particularly small and meek looking girl pounded on desks with a long 2x2--which I later learned the teacher used on her students' knuckles when they misbehaved--expressing the authority that I lacked. A little boy removed the top of his rusting desk and began precarously lugging it around the classroom with an undisclosed destination in mind. Meanwhile 2 other little boys had their hands around each other's neck and seemed to be applying pressure. An endless line of girls in groups of 2 had to use the bathroom and while they wandered out, a puppy and then a toddler wandered in. A boy awkwardly tried pushing the puppy up a girl's skirt while the toddler seated itself on teaching platform and sucked on its passifier, engrossed with the boys who were climbing the window bars. Similar scenes seem to be the accepted reality in schools here. So, if any of you parents and teachers have tips on your art, I could use your guidance.

I hope you all enjoy a tasty Thanksgiving surrounded by loved-ones.

Rosa

Photos!

Peru and Ecuador

As promised, some photos from Peru and Ecuador. Just click on the image above and check out the slidshow. Enjoy!

Domestic Bliss

During our visit with her in Peru, my aunt Elena, in a good-hearted effort to encourage us to quit our ramblin´ways and settle down, threatened to buy us that paragon of stable domesticity, the blender cozy. We resisted strenuously, but it turns out that the joke is on us, because here we are, mere weeks later, settled down in Canoa, Ecuador, renting a furnished apartment and wishing we had an embroidered cozy to cover our unsightly blender.

Regardless, we are very psyched to be settled for a while, after nearly a month of steady travel. First a quick update on our path to Canoa, then a bit more about the lovely village itself as well as our present attitude and station. (I have been reading Dickens as of late, patient reader, and I fear it has influenced my writing style in an adverse manner)

Anyhow, we moved north from Mancora (the site of Rose´s sunburn which is healing nicely, no scars) on an epic bus ride, aided by a friendly Argentine fellow traveler, to Montanita, which was still bustling at 2 AM when we arrived. Convenient, as we could grab a hamburger to curb our hunger at that ghastly hour, but not great for sleeping as we were soon to find. Montanita has a nice righthand point break, and a restaraunt that serves terrific coffee and huge Ecuadorian breakfasts (The Happy Donkey), but was just a bit too wild for us. All night parties every night, 2 for 1 drinks from 6:30 til close (6AM) at all the bars, blaring music competing for dominance over the natural silence of the night... Anyhow, after a few days we headed north again to Puerto Lopez, where we did some kayaking (we saw humpback whales, a sea turtle, and swamped on every single surf landing!) and a bike tour. Then north again to Canoa, where we now reside, via yet another epic bus ride. This one was supposed to take 5 hours, but ended up lasting 8. In fact, we have yet to take a bus ride that didn´t take hours longer than the advertised length. Luckily this one passed quickly, entertained as we were by some wonderful kung fu movies, played at maximum volume. Though my spanish comprehension is still lagging, I could follow these pretty well, and cheered loudly with everyone else as the protagonist delivered his trademark death blow, a sequential chest-pounding which leaves his victim apparently unscathed until his head explodes nearly a minute later!

After a few days in Canoa, we decided it met our criteria for a longer stay, tranquility, warm water, waves, trails and dirt roads to run on, a spanish school, and good fruit smoothies. We lucked out and quickly found the perfect little rental, a 2-story brick place (we are hoping for a seismically inactive stay, as the town was levelled in 1941 and 1998 - ironically the patron saint of the town is San Andreas). We have a dining room table made from a huge log round, fully stocked kitchen with fridge and stove/oven and a USA style bathroom downstairs, and two bedrooms and a balcony upstairs.

I won´t bore you with scenes of recent domestic tranquility but here is a taste: preparing fresh dorado ceviche, playing some tunes on the three (yes readers, three) stringed instruments we brought, pan-roasting green coffee beans for the morning´s coffee, trips to market, trying to teach the neighborhood kids how to play the mandolin and fiddle, Rose baking terriffic bread, endless blender-loads of fresh fruit smoothies (including my new favorite flavor, avocado, try it!). Plus we bought an 8 foot funboard (after a brutal haggling session to bring down the price, which ballooned with our interest) so we have been surfing a bunch.

Anyhow, loyal readers, some photos eventually I promise, as well as a tale of getting lost in the jungle with nothing but the roars of howler monkeys ringing in our ears...