Misty Mountain Hop

More recent information has suggested that the success rate for reaching the six-thousand-and-eighty-eight metre peak is not a hundred percent. The operators suggest a success rate as high as eighty percent, but that leads me to believe that rumours of something closer to sixty percent are more realistic. It´s not a technical climb, but I´m gathering it´s not the tourist climb that I had branded it.

The plan is to do three hours today in the afternoon to reach high camp, then shortly after midnight, start the five hour climb for sunrise at the summit. I´m not enamoured by the idea of climbing in the dark. To make matters worse, there´s no donkeys nor llamas to carry gear. I´ll have the pleasure of carrying the heavy-set plastic boots, ice axe, crampons, helmet, clothing and other assorted items. As much as I would like to take them, the uke´ and single malt aren't on my gear list this time.

We're off at midday. At the hour mark, I'm enjoying myself and bouncing along with 'alf Swiss' breathing method in force. Left foot, breathe in through the nose, right foot, blow out through the mouth. Then it starts to get tough.

We're up to the thick snow and it's time to gear up - boots, crampons and the axe come out. My focus is all on my feet and breathing. Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out. I'm at the back of the faster group, with just the Spanish girl, Susanne, Paul and the guide ahead of me. Glances up are at seemingly endless and snow path. The narrow path extends laterally upward at twenty, then thirty degrees, across a forty degree snow hill. At its worst there's a ten metre slide down. Should I slip off the path, it's a harmless slide down, but I don´t want to have to do any of this work twice.

After a steep fifty degree passage, making use of the long end of my axe to extend my arm into a third leg, I see what I deeply hope is the Campo Alto - High Camp - the end of today´s work.

Campo Alto is a orange shack of shanty-like construction. Nonetheless, I´m pretty pleased to be here. The roof doesn´t look insulated, but it´s surprisingly warm. A slightly treacherous walk leads up to the similarly constructed toilet stall.

After a few minutes of huffing and puffing to recover my breath, the other group begin to arrive and I stumble across the hard compact snow to welcome them with some solid gloved high fives.

Photo: Paul Bell

I´m not wholly looking forward night stage of the climb. With an anticipated five hour stint, I´m not even certain that I can do this, but I´m not a very forward-looking sort of guy. That near-exclusive concern for the only the immediate scenario is for the best in this situation. It wasn´t quite ideal for business managing a global banking operation, but that´s why I´m throwing my high fives here and not there.

After chomping on some chocolate, a bar of Snickers - choice of champions - a handful of trail mix, and sipping a couple of mugs of coca tea - apparently a defense against altitude sickness - it´s 1830h. It´s bedtime.