Trip Reports

Aconcagua - 12 Dec to 3 Jan '16

Written by Leader Chris Allewell, January 2016

A pile of red Jagged Globe kit bags announced our presence as myself, Ram, Arran, Jamie, Martin, Alex, Stuart and Toby met in Gatwick on Saturday afternoon. 24 hours and three flights later, having collected Iain on the way through Buenos Aires we met up with Peter, Tim, Al, Mike and Hugh and the team was all together.

Mendoza was a much warmer than the dank UK we had left behind and the dappled shade of tree lined boulevards and their waiting cafes was very enticing. Forcing ourselves to be strong, we scuttled around purchasing last minute items and preparing kit with only one or maybe two forays towards the huge steaks and sumptuous red wine on offer.

Before long, we were standing open mouthed at the end of the road, gazing at the vast bulk of Aconcagua dominating the view at the head of the Horcones valley before shouldering our day sacks and beginning our slow journey upwards. Two days later, we were at Plaza Francia, this time feeling decidedly insignificant at the base of the buttressed South face soaring vertically skywards for over 2kms above us. A sudden roar, and one of the seracs guarding the summit fell, cascading down the face and turning a 500m wide couloir into a cloud of airborne snow and reminding us of our frailty in the face of natures power.

Four days later under perfect blue skies we sat atop Bonete Peak drinking in the view, exhilarated to have all summited and, for some, setting a new personal altitude record. We traced our future route up Aconcagua. The steep screes behind base camp to Camp 1, followed by the long traverse and then a big zig zag into Camp 2 nestled beneath the rocks. Camp 3 was hidden, but the traverse and Cave could easily be seen as we dreamed that we would be there in a few days time.

Christmas Eve saw us at Camp 1 gazing back at Bonete Peak eating Panettone in the sun and miraculously speaking to loved ones as there was a transient phone signal! Christmas Day started chilly (-4 degrees C in the tent) but soon warmed as we headed up to Camp 2 and a traditional Aconcagua Christmas lunch of sausages and mash. That evening, whilst watching the sunset, we were graced by a Condor. Silently, on its huge wings it cruised around, circling camp seemingly checking us out to see if we were worthy of being allowed further up the mountain and then, with the very slightest bend in its wing effortlessly gliding away back down the valley.

After a rest day at Camp 2 we made short work of the steep scree dotted with patches of snow that was our route to Camp 3. There, at 6000m, perched on a rocky outcrop we could survey the Andes stretching away below us as we rested and rehydrated, turning in early in preparation for our summit bid.

Breakfast was taken in shifts, starting at 0400, with drowsy and cold people huddled, cramped in the cook tent trying to force down food and fluids for the summit bid.

Wrapped in more down than found on a gaggle of geese, we followed other head torches slowly up the the slope behind camp. Thunderstorms off to the East gave a fantastic firework show to anyone with the energy to lift their heads and stare off over the plains towards Mendoza.

Having dropped down the mountain briefly to assist a couple of team members who were turning around and heading back to the comparative warmth of the tents, I found myself plodding upwards in splendid isolation. A bright moon guided my way and I had the mountains to myself, stars and planets arranged in a panoply of bright lights above me I felt the Condor had indeed decided we were allowed up and had blessed us with good weather.

As I rounded a rock, my silent reverie was interrupted by the retching of a climber lit in the harsh light of companions head torches. We had chatted briefly the previous day and they had obviously not acclimatised properly and were pushing themselves too hard. I quickly checked they were OK and, as I plodded on upwards, the beams of their head torches were already beginning to head down, knowing that their bid to shave a few days and a few dollars off their trip had cost them the summit.

I caught up with the group shortly before they arrived at the derelict Indepencia shelter just as daylight arrived. We had a quick drink and donned crampons before heading to windy corner and, crampons squeaking in the compacted snow of the traverse made progress towards the cave at the base of the Canelleta. The sun had now slipped over the summit and rapidly warmed us as we switched thick down for lighter attire. Progress up the boulder strewn Canelleta was speeded by firm neve. Tiring now, as we raced against the incoming weather front, the summit seemed not to get any closer until suddenly, we were there, final steps up snow encrusted rock, beaming if tired faces and we had made it. Peter, Iain, Martin, Alex, Mike and I along with local guides Gianni and Lucas stood jubilant on the summit, we grabbed some quick summit photos and with clouds nibbling at our heels we started our long descent to Camp 3.

After a deep sleep at Camp 3 we packed tents and headed down. Arriving at Base Camp a few hours later, some felt that the lure of a comfy bed and warm showers was too tempting and paid for a helicopter flight to the luxuries of Penitentes. The remainder, tucked into celebratory steak and only the smallest quantities of red wine ñ honestly! Towards the end of the meal Alex produced a Sigg bottle of 16 year old single malt from the darkness and we toasted the success of the expedition in a very civilised manner.

To the team, 7ís! It was a huge pleasure to spend time with you and I hope to see you on the hill in the near future. A huge thank you to the team in Argentina who made everything work smoothly and kept our stomachs filled so admirably, and lastly a very special thank you for the Jagged Globe home team beavering away in Sheffield without whom none of it would have been possible. « Previous report | Next report »

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