Exhaustion

We successfully made it to the summit of Chimborazo around 8:00 this morning.  The ascent was far and away the most grueling we have faced, complete with a few rock falls and a few (unrelated) tumbles down the mountain.  I fell between 14 - 17 times (let's be real, I fell more than 17 times today) on the glacier, on the rock corridor leading to the glacier, and everywhere else imaginable.  Is anyone reallllly surprised?  At 20,400 ft. it was windy and cold, but with incredible views.  Absolute exhaustion has set in - more blog posts to follow shortly, bed now before my 6:00 a.m. flight home tomorrow morning!

Cayambe: COMPLETE

We successfully reached the summit of Cayambe just an hour after dawn yesterday morning.  The view was more incredible than I could have anticipated - the clouds, some 2,000 feet below, seemed close enough to touch, they looked full and heavy and substantial, like they could be scooped up.  In the distance, a cloud at our elevation held perfect formation drifting ever so slowly across the horizon, but somehow never masking the sunrise.

My general impression, and I think that of the group, was that Cayambe would be easier than Cotopaxi.  False.  The climb was long - so long - and unlike Cotopaxi, which was filled with incredibly steep sections followed by moments of more even terrain, Cayambe began with a noticeable slope which only increased (substantially) as we progressed up the mountain, offering relatively few moments of respite and an ever increasing grade on the mountain.  Eventually, roughly 500 feet below the summit, we came to the head wall, and with crevasses eliminating other routes to the summit, we started to climb.  The wall was a slab, a bit less than vertical, but it quickly became clear that an anchor would be needed for climbers to pass the line through as we progressed (Mom - we were totally safe, I promise, that's why we put an anchor in, it was good and prudent judgment!).  We found ourselves on the western head wall as dawn approached from the eastern side of the mountain, back-lighting everything around us and casting an amazing shadow of the summit on the world below.

In the days prior to the climb, we had spent some time on glacier and crevasse training, with each team member lowered into a crevasse to climb out and later lowered into crevasses practice rescues.  No rescues were needed during the ascent, but the increased familiarity with climbing a slab of ice and additional technique work with the ice axe proved helpful.  I truly loved the ice climbing, and on our descent, loved being able to rappel from the top of the head wall to the bottom.

Our group formed 2 rope teams - 7 people in total - and the mountain was ours alone.  I definitely already miss the rest of the team, but also appreciate the increased role the remaining team members play in the decisions we face.  The other 15 members of our original team returned home following Cotopaxi and we lose an additional team member tonight.  With only our rope teams on Cayambe, the sense of isolation was unique - we walked and climbed for hours without talking, but I rarely felt all that alone.  I again found myself with Alex on my rope team and we seem to strike a natural rhythm together on the mountain.  Wilson, our Ecuadorian guide lead our rope team, as he did for my team on Cotopaxi.  He has definitely been integrated into our group - we have introduced him PB&Js, it's a whole new culinary world for him!  Bill, from Earth Treks, was at the back of our group.  Both are such an awesome part of a crucial rhythm on the mountain, and I find that the entire team helps to pace me when my internal rhythm urges me to go faster, to become inefficient.

While the climb was long and hard, and again, the descent slow and painful, I felt minimally less drained at the end.  The experience of already completing a different summit just days earlier provided insight for what laid ahead and how much my body could handle - always more than I think it can.  Of course, on the other hand - ignorance is bliss and I worried what my knowledge of what the climb could entail may be psychologically damning, particularly if the weather wasn't in our favor.  Working to maintain my mental focus as Chimborazo approaches.

Our rope team reached the summit first as the other rope team worked through the climb on the head wall.  I thought about Justin and took a moment to spread some of his ashes, as I did on Cotopaxi - it truly feels like where he should be.  I can imagine that as challenging and difficult as the summits can be, he also loved the mental toughness required and the reward for his efforts.  There is a decision that you have to make - you will reach the summit.  There is no "trying" or "doing your best."  There is a mountain in front of you and the decision that you will climb it - it otherwise becomes too easy to allow fatigue and fear to creep in (don't worry Mom - this doesn't mean a total disregard for safety, there are the obvious check-points to assess conditions of team members and the mountain, I promise, I'm strictly pointing to the mentality required).

After a few minutes at the summit, I'll be honest, I zipped up my down puffy jacket, sat down on my backpack, and took a nap...on top of a mountain.  Truly, I can sleep anywhere - as the rest of the team learned while I snoozed through some serious off-roading on our ride down from the refuge and never woke up when we stopped for a few car repairs.

The refuge, or climbers' hut at Cayambe, felt like the Hilton - running water (although cold and still something we used cautiously for fear of food poisoning), flush toilets inside the same building as our beds, kitchen space, the works.  It felt like luxury living - even without heat and showers for 3 days.

Chimborazo lies ahead tomorrow - it will be our highest attempted summit yet by roughly 1,000 ft and we'll be starting lower than we typically do - it will be a long summit with unique features (I'm pretty sure this means it's going to kick my butt).  We will be on a compressed schedule and certainly, this will be a our greatest challenge overall.  Hoping again for good weather and lots of energy and endurance!  Love to all!

Success!

Friday night's ascent to the summit of Cotopaxi proved to be the most challenging thing I have ever done.  Full of anticipation, we arrived at the climbers' hut on Thursday afternoon after a tedious and lengthy hike from the car more 500 vertical feet below.  We initially entertained ourselves by choreographing "Cotopaxi dances" for the summit and coordinating cheers for team members before we settled in and bundled up - even inside the cabin, there was no denying the bite in the air and when the wind blew outside, we felt it.  Eventually, the dancing gave way to a few card games and discussions of gear as we all sat huddled in puffy down jackets and planned for the days ahead.

We had to purify water to ensure that it was safe to drink.  Bathrooms were in a separate building and left much to be desired - toilet paper was a commodity, there was no running water, very few stalls, no electricity, and flushing the toilet required filling a bucket with water.  Suffice it to say that any facades of personal space quickly dissipated...vast supplies of hand sanitizer and personal roles of toilet paper proved invaluable.

Friday morning we completed a bit of training on the glacier before returning to the hut for a few meals and a few hours of sleep.  Between 11:00 and 12:00 Friday night, we began towards the summit.  Alex, my partner on the rope team, showed incredible support and patience on the mountain.  We both have reputations as fast walkers within the group, but he paced me well and flat-out rejected my suggestion that we increase our pace early in the evening, for which I am incredibly grateful as I consider the fatigue I faced hours later.  As I fatigued, he reminded me to fall into a rhythm, implement the technical skills we had already developed during training hikes at home and earlier in the week.  As I climbed, I thought often of the encouragement that has nurtured me in the time since I decided to embark on this journey - and of course, I thought of Justin, climbing the same mountain years ago.  Every thing about the ascent felt like the type of adventure he would have loved.

I often looked out over Quito to enjoy the view of the city, lit thousands and thousands of feet below.  Finally, I could no longer see Quito and it took some time until I realized that we were above the clouds, preventing me from seeing the world below in the darkness.

Headlamps dotted the dark mountain below me and above, giving way to stars dotting the vastness of the sky.  I felt like the climbers on the mountain melted into the stars in the sky and the world felt so big and open above me.  Around 18,000 ft, there was no denying the incredible effort that breathing required - just standing upright proved exhausting, but we pushed forward, around and across crevasses, up incredibly steep and vertical portions of the mountain.  We were one of the last teams out of the climbers' hut, but made good time and summited at 19,348 ft just before sunrise, meeting other rope teams on our expedition on the mountain and at the top.

The descent was slow and painful.  I was exhausted beyond my own comprehension, and now, even more than 24 hours after my return to Quito, I don't think I've really processed the events of the last week.  Tonight was pizza and a few beers back at the hostel - most of the team has left, but tomorrow the remaining four depart for Cayambe for our next attempt at a summit.  We will be able to drive up to the climbers' hut at Cayambe, as opposed to the hike required at Cotopaxi.  Reportedly we will be able to cook all of our own meals there, the bathrooms are cleaner, and don't require walking outside in the middle of the need to find an available toilet.  I'm not holding my breath for running water or toilet paper so I'll come prepared with my own supply, but still, it sounds like luxury living to me!  Cayambe is lower than Cotopaxi, but will involve more time spent on technical skill development.  I have been hoping for a bit of selective amnesia after summiting Cotopaxi before voluntarily heading back onto the mountain...finally today, I think it is setting in and I find myself cautiously looking forward to another mountain.  Here's to hoping for clear weather to facilitate our summit attempt!  More to follow upon my return from Cayambe before leaving for Chimborazo at the end of the week.  Love to all!

The Adventure Begins...

This will be brief by necessity - consistent internet access is a rare luxury.

The time spent in Ecuador has already proved to be the experience of a lifetime - the mountains are surreal and I have yet to find a picture that does justice to every mountain and landscape, instant friends for a lifetime have been made while finding and giving encouragement and support, and pushing through fears and limitations in our initial one-day summits.

The impact of the altitude is notable in the context of so much physical activity - and yet, standing at 15,500 feet after one the most incredible days of hiking and climbing in my life to this point, I hardly noticed.  I stood higher than any point in the conteninental U.S. - we were above the clouds, birds and planes soared below.

With Pasochoa and Pichincha (both day summits) behind us, and a rest day today, we depart for base camp on Cotopaxi tomorrow.  I have had the support and love of friends and family as I prepared for this trip and I'm thinking of you all with much gratitude for what that support and love have allowed me to do this year, and as always, Justin is on my mind and in my heart.

Love from Ecuador, Sara V.

Packing Party

So…with three days left to prepare, packing is in full swing.  Mackenzie reports that walking into my apartment feels a little bit like walking into REI.  A workout or two lays ahead this week, mostly for peace of mind, and then the focus will continue to be on organizing my gear for my 3 summit attempts (and let’s be real, I’ll be swinging through REI at least once twice before the week's end…).  The "realness" of this trip continues to grow - so does my excitement!

Packing Phase 2 in my living room - more gear to be added to the numerous piles already developing.

I Ate a Bagel for Breakfast...

In the midst of the holiday hustle and bustle, my blog has fallen through the cracks.  With departure to Ecuador less than a week away, it seemed high time to start writing once again.

This post’s title suggests a focus on delicious carbs, but is actually about the elements of preparation for this trip that have required me to step out of my comfort zone, or at the very least, try at a few things I might normally not.  So, I ate a bagel for breakfast...

In the last two years, I have moved significantly away from the grain-based food that previously dominated my intake in favor of foods high in protein and lots and lots of veggies.  I can say with almost absolute certaintity that the last bagel I had was on Sunday, January 8 of last year – Justin picked up bagel sandwiches from Bagels and Baguettes on Mass Ave before we headed to the climbing gym.  It was the day before my first official nutrition program at CFSA, and although I had previously been approximating a paleo diet for nearly a year, on that day I was working hard to eat all of the foods that were about to be forbidden for the subsequent 6 weeks.

As an aside, all DC-based friends should make an effort to make it to Bagels and Baguettes – absolutely worth the induced food-coma.

On December 1^st of this year, I awoke at 5:30 a.m. in a cabin near Shenandoah National Park where I had spent the previous night with several new friends who will also travel to Ecuador in January.  The cabin was owned by one of the team members, and with a 14-mile training hike planned, he had graciously offered a place for everyone to stay the night before.  As I sat enjoying my bacon for breakfast and watching everyone else munch on bagels, I started thinking more and more about eating in Ecuador.  It is feasible, and even likely, that at some point in Ecuador I will find myself facing a carb-loaded meal prior to a day on the mountain with few other options for caloric intake.  I do not want to find myself eating a bagel before a day of hiking and climbing in Ecuador, unsure of how my body might respond.  And so, I took what might seem to be a small step to many, but was most certainly a nutritional-outlier within my own life, and I had a bagel for breakfast.  I had feared a significant sugar crash midway through the hike, but was able to keep it at bay by snacking throughout the day.  I was less fortunate after eating a few gu-packets during interval training at CFSA several weeks later.  Within an hour, I was shaky and ill in the wake of the sugar crash.  More nutritional experimentation has followed as I strive to find a good balance of easy-intake, high calorie food, that doesn’t leave me feeling ill.

During this same hike, my speed-walking skills proved problematic.  I’ve always been a fast walker – don’t blame me, I get it from my dad – but this expedition requires moving as a unit and as a rope-team.  “No one gets to go the pace they want to,” was the perfect summation of this experience.  It’s a matter of everyone continually adjusting their pace to meet the needs of each rope team.  I’m a tremendous advocate of teamwork in almost all realms of life, but admittedly this poses a unique challenge, as it’s a shift from how I’ve previously perceived “doing my best” during athletic based events.  The goal is not to work harder, go faster, do more…it’s to slow down, be deliberate and conscientious in every step and movement, to be constantly evaluating what adjustments need to be made for the next step – of note, I’ve also been warned that moving at even 150 vertical ft./hour will at times become physically exhausting.

When I used to climb with Justin, he used to tease that I sometimes seemed to “scramble” up the wall, particularly at challenging points in a route, trying to push through it as quickly as possible, and ultimately making mistakes I otherwise wouldn’t – he wasn’t wrong and he wasn’t the only person to notice.  And while he was known to tease me (and everyone he climbed with) with comments like, “Well, just do better” and “Hold on tighter,” he also was constantly providing valuable insight and reminding me to stop, breathe, consider my next movement, trust my foot placement – “yoga on a wall” with purpose and intention given to every movement and every choice of hand and foot placement.

The value in carrying these lessons from the climbing gym and the trail into my everyday life has not been lost in the previous year…

And while making each movement a conscientious and well-thought out choice has its benefits, so too can the details be over-thought…a specialty of mine.  In discussing which layers to wear, the benefits of thumbholes, hood vs. hat, synthetic vs. down, smartwool vs. capilene and on and on, one of the guides (who have both been incredibly helpful) advised, with a grin on his face, “Just put on four layers and walk uphill.”  Oh…yes, that.  And so while I am incredibly aware that his comment is a bold understatement made in an effort to coax laughter from my otherwise overwhelmed state, it also acutely highlighted a reality – so much of this trip, and life, is based in personal preference.  Without prior experience or in the process of taking experiences to a new level, much is unknown and much can be overwhelming, so it’s wise prepare to the extent possible, and then jump into the experience with enthusiasm, an open mind, and a readiness to make the necessary changes the next time around…

My greatest source of stress is not related to fear or anxiety – it comes as the result of uncertaintity in my preparation, the number of unknowns, and the anticipation of trying something unfamiliar and with “uncontrollables” that can’t be overlooked; the chance of failure due to weather conditions or altitude-sickness or food poisoning, among other issues.  Regardless, I am striving, with varying degrees of success, to enjoy the preparation, the planning, the process.  What a shame it would be if after all the work put in, I walked away from this trip only being able to say that I climbed a mountain.  This trip – as seems to be the case with any challenge or adventure – is about so much more than that.  It would be a shame to overlook the opportunities I have had to try something different, to step out of the normalcy of my routine, and to learn.

Stop, Sit, Be...

This post was not my intended post – that post was nearing completion when life led my writing in a slightly different direction.  I scratched – or at the very least significantly irritated – my cornea this week.  It’s a repeat occurrence for me, as I also did this when I was eight – I remember being substantially more enthused about wearing an eye patch at that time than I am now.  Aside from serving as a trendy fashion statement that boldly declares “I’m a little bit clumsy and good at getting my hands too close to my eyes,” the patch also brings to light the significance and importance in depth perception (and my recent lack of it).  Driving was, by and large, out for several days.

Home sick from work on Tuesday, I found myself restless.  Aside from the diminishing eye pain and a poor sense of space secondary to the patch I’d find myself wearing for the subsequent days, I felt fine.  I sat on my bed with nothing to do – or rather nothing that I could do and feeling very much out of sorts because of it.  I can recall few other instances in the last several months when I’ve sat in this apartment without the sense of hurried anxiety that there was so much I should be doing.  But in that moment on Tuesday, there was nothing…and after a few minutes, it felt sort of nice.  Actually, really nice.  I looked around my room and enjoyed, after 3 months in this apartment, what very well might have been my first chance to simply be there, to appreciate and simply sit in that space.

My last post was all about living urgently.  And you should – or at least I think a person should.  But in the midst of all that urgency, it’s also important to take pause every once in a great while, to step back, look at your life and appreciate all the living you’ve been able to do and the people that have been helping you do it.  In the last months I’ve often wondered if everything really does happen for a reason.  I have yet to find an answer that I’m sure of, and for right now, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be…but I do very much believe, and try so very hard to remember, that everything happens with an opportunity to take something from it, an opportunity to walk away with a quiet lesson learned by living.  As much as I very much hope to avoid anymore eye-trauma, perhaps it all came together at just the right time and was a little gift from the universe to me, reminding me to stop and sit and be.