It was around six in the morning when the bus pulled into Huarez. I got a taxi to Joe's Place, a hostel that the guidebook said was a popular haunt for experienced climbers and guides. I figured that it would be a good spot for me to pick up advice about which mountains in the Cordillera Blanca were good, what kind of challenges I could expect, and information as to where I could pick up a reliable guide. While I did not have much experience climbing on ice, I also didn't want to do a mountain that was too easy. The mountain I was looking for definitely had to require crampons and ice-axes, and had to be something that most people wouldn't be able to do. I didn't want to come home to America and ask myself, "What if."
Joe's Place had multistory dormitories and a courtyard for tenters. The outside staircases and patios it the feeling of a large treehouse. Joe's wife Vicki put me in one of the bunk rooms. Inside, a dreadlocked fellow wearing glasses was already up and moving about. His name was Honza, yet another one of those permanent European wanderers, he was born in the Czech Republic and been everywhere from Japan to Canada and Ireland. He had spent six months in the last country as a guest worker in Oughterard, County Galway. This was only twenty miles from where I had spent my term abroad two years before, and I had even stopped in that town to go off hiking in the mountains of Connemarra.
More relevant to my current mission, he had lived at Joe's Place since April and since then had done nothing but climb mountains in the Cordillera Blanca. In addition to climbing dozens of local mountains that were above 5,000 and 6,000 meters, he had climbed Huascaron, the tallest mountain in Peru which stands at 6,768 meters or 22,205 feet. Honza showed me pictures from his latest exploits on the hostel computer.
Pisco, which he had been up a month ago, was one of the most popular mountains for inexperienced climbers as it required few technical skills. "A hike on crampons," he said dismissively. Despite Honza's disdain, the pictures of the ascent up the glacier and the shots of the surrounding Andes at the summit were striking and looked more wild than any mountain I had climbed. Then he showed me the pictures of Yanapaccha, a shorter mountain, but one that he had more respect for because it required technical climbing: crampons, ropes and ice-axes to get up the face of the glacier. He had guided a couple there a week before and considered it a worthy challenge. I still wanted to consider a few other mountains and look at the guides in town, but I asked if he would be available to guide if I chose to go up it. He told me he would be willing to go back and guide me up the mountain if I paid for his services. It was a steep price, but he said that I could save some money if I found a partner who was interested in climbing with me and would split costs. Meanwhile, I would go into town and check out some of the other tour options.
Huarez is a pleasant enough city; it resembles Cuzco in that it is approximately the same elevation and also fosters a good amount of tourism. Several alabaster peaks rear up around the town in all their jagged splendor.
The breed of tourist that comes to Huarez is slightly different than the Cuzco variety in that he is more likely to be someone interested in serious climbing and trekking. Thus, the area around the main street and the Plaza de Armas is clustered with guiding and equipment rental agencies that supply foreigners with the resources they need to claim an Andean summit. Treks offer an option for those who are interested in putzing around high altitude trails with heavy backpacks or mules.
I walked around to a couple of tour agencies to see if I could join any planned expeditions. Many of these went up to Pisco or to Vallunaraju which is an even easier peak. I was nervous that the climbs I was finding were not supposed to go until a few days in advance, cutting into the amount of time that I'd have to get back to Lima. I had a bordering-on-irrational fear of missing my flight. Because mountain climbs were unpredictable variables, I didn't want to push my luck with getting home.
After wandering a while amongst the various agencies and randomly asking climbers I saw on the street if they wanted to join an expedition, I began to think about taking Honza's offer and whether I was willing to do this as just the two of us. If anything this would cut down on the risk of screwups--if somebody else went who didn't have experience, he might not be up to it, forcing us to bail on the expedition, and losing me an opportunity to climb. On the other hand, most of the climbers in town were more experienced than I was, so it was far more likely that I would be the weak link.
Back at the hostel, I ended up to talking to Eric, a South African who, like Honza, had done a lot of climbing in the area. He was another Pisco hater.
"Its just a walk, not a climb" he told me and was more enthusiastic when I told him I was thinking about Yanapaccha.
"You'll just feel better when you get to the top, knowing that you climbed something real." He agreed that it would be challenging, but thought that I could do it.
At this point, I had figured that I could afford the time it would take to do an expedition up Pisco or Vallunaraju. Moreover, it would have been far cheaper to do it with group rates. But dammit, I did want a real mountain. I wanted to step outside my comfort zone. Sure my experience with ice axes and crampons was slight and experience using ropes and harnesses close to nill. Truthfully, I didn't exactly relish great heights. But then, I was able to function when I went up and down the broken ladder near Machu Picchu. Maybe a little fear was allowed. The serious possibility of failure was necessary for success to mean something.
With these high minded values bouncing around my brain, I went over to the computer room where Honza was working and told him that I could pay him and that we would do it tomorrow.
Motivation seminar cheese aside, there was a lot of basic preparation to do and I had started late. It was about six at night. I would make some pasta and lentils for myself to eat and then Honza and I could get food supplies in town and also rent the stuff that I needed to make a climb.
We set out for a gear rental place in town where I got some of the the badass mountain climbing stuff that I needed. This included crampons to dig into the ice, hard and heavy plastic boots with insulation, twin ice axes, waterproof pants as well as gaiters to keep ice and snow out of the boots. I also got a sleeping bag and mat. Honza already had a tent we could use, so we were fine there. Back at the hostel, Honza loaned me his climbing harness, gloves and thermal underwear. I was already had the rest of the clothes that I needed such as my heavy mittens, parka, fleeces and tech shirts.
We brought food for three to four days, though if things went according to our ideal plan, we would be able to finish in two. With the food included on top of everything else, we had amassed ourselves a heavy payload we would have to haul into camp. I spent a good part of the night wrestling all the necessary crap into my rucksack and tying it together. All together, it probably came to close to forty pounds.
According to plans, we would leave around midmorning, get to the trailhead around noon and then take a two hour hike to the base of the mountain. After practicing some climbing technique on the glacier, we would get to sleep early and set an alarm to wake us up at 1:00am to hike the mountain by headlamp. We would be able to summit by early morning and get back to camp by noon. If all went as planned.
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