Climbing Cotopaxi

After the Quilotoa Loop, we both had our eyes on a climb. Kendra is a fierce rockclimber, and set forth to Banos where she tackled a big outdoor wall, even in the presence of a cocky guide who apparently believes fruit only grows in Ecuador... From the time that we left for our trip, we both had a big appetite for conquering a high mountain. We both tackled Tajumulco in Guatemala which was amazing. But here in Ecuador, the Andes commence and there are numerous big-bad snow-capped peaks to wet the appetite, and while Kendra decided to forgo climbing around on glaciers with spiky shoes on until Patagonia, opting instead for the rock walls, spas, and hammocks of Banos, Rich was high enough from lack of oxygen in Quilotoa to give Volcan Cotopaxi a go...

Volcan Cotopaxi is a dormant volcano whose peak is at a whopping 19,347 feet. It is a staple of the Ecuadorian skyline and on a clear day can be seen all the way from Quito 3 hours away. Climbing to the summit is considered by mountaineering standards to be between easy and moderate. Apparently, mountaineering is really damn hard!

Having never done any serious climbing, I wasn't really sure what to expect. I was told that by climbing standards Cotopaxi was easy, but my tranquility was disturbed when I saw the crampons and icepicks I would need to reach the summit. The altitude is also a serious factor: it's important to acclimatize properly in order to walk up to almost 20,000 feet, especially when the walk is straight up a live glacier! Even after hiking around Quilotoa for 3 days, I wasn't sure if it would be enough since the Quilotoa crater lies at only about 13,000 feet.

After getting geared up at the tour office and meeting our guides and the other members of our group (who were great!), we took a bus ride to Cotopaxi National Park. There, we parked the van at 4500 meters and walked 300 meters more with heavy packs on to the Climber's Refuge at 4800. The refuge is a small, crowded, noisy hell-hole designed to keep you from sleeping and eating well before your big climb, then laugh in your face after you fail your summit attempt... luckily, I would have the one left laughing.

After eating dinner with our group and walking to the base of the glacier to have a lesson in ice-pick-crampon walking, we went to “bed” at the wonderful hour of 7pm. After 30 minutes of sleep and 4.5 hours of staring at the ceiling, we woke up, geared up, had a light breakfast, and at 1am started our climb to the summit.

We climbed with our guides through the pitch black with only our headlamps providing light. Ahead, you could see the white dots of other headlamps above you, but not much else. I concentrated only on watching the guide's feet in front of me, making sure not to take any missteps. There were times where in the black you had no idea how steep the ridge was on either side of you or how far you'd fall if you tripped or slipped.

Much of the climbing was very steep, and besides victoriously arm wrestling Kendra, it was the most physically challenging thing I had ever done. My boots dug into my shins, my legs ached and burned, my lungs burnt from the lack of oxygen... but one step at a time I slowly climbed 3000 feet from the refuge to the summit. At 6:15am after 5 hours and 15 minutes, I got to the summit of Cotopaxi. And it was there, among the beauty of the sunrise and other snow-capped peaks in view that I realized... holy crap! I still have to climb down! Three hours later I was back at the refuge eating a Snickers, with a pounding headache and blisters on my shins. But every step was worth it – the beautiful ice formations of the glacier, the crunching of the snow under my crampons, and the view of Ecuador from the top... the only thing better would have been to have my partner there with me... but she was smarter than me and was lying in a hammock instead!