Climbing a Volcano in Bolivia: Part 3 (From Base Camp to High Camp and Back)

Sorry for the long delay in finishing off the Climbing a Volcano story. It is a busy, busy, busy time of year at work. You might want to start reading from Volcano 1 just to remind yourself of the main characters.

After a day of enjoying the pleasures of campo base, it was time to stock our high camp (campo alto). Our main concern was the lack of water up high. So Robert, Nick and I set off suitable loaded with easy to cook food at high altitude and lots of water. The Germans also set off to set up a high camp on the other volcano (not at the col, but more around to the right).
We only had to gain about 400m of altitude to get to the col (i.e. pass between the volcanoes). There was very faint path in the sand as you can see in the photo above. This made walking a bit easier as the sand was a bit harder packed than 'off piste'.
As you can see, the weather was perfect (even a little warm when you were sheltered from the wind).
After a couple of hours, we reached a place below the col where there were obvious tent circles. As the boys would have to leave their tent unattended while climbing high, we chose this boulder as it looked like it might provide some shelter. While the boys were unpacking their supplies to stash, I decided to see if I could push on to the col and look over the other side into Chile. I also wanted to do a bit of a recce to see if I could see any trace of a trail up the side of the mountain.

Why did I want to push on to look over the other side? There is a nice lake there. Here is the view from the Chilean side looking back towards Bolivia (taken from the web). You are wondering what the birds are. They are Andean flamingos. The Chilean side is also a national park. I have seen Andean flamingos in other parts of the Bolivian Altiplano (but that is another tale). Needless to say, there is something sureal about wearing an alpaca wool had, gloves and a down duvet jacket while watching flamingos who look totally unaffected by the cold (and are at over 4000m above sea level).

As you can see, the col was a pretty bleak place. I walked for maybe about 15-20 minutes but didn't seem to be getting any closer to Chile, so I turned around because I knew that the guys would be waiting for me...
... and indeed they were. I come back to see them temporarily holed up in our Livibivi. A Livibivi is a throw back to what people used to use before bivi sacks became popular. A bivi sack is essentially a body bag shaped shelter made popular by the army that you use for emergencies (or while waiting for Curious Llama to return to campo alto). What is nice about the Livibivi is that is is made in Scotland (by the girlfriend of a mountain guide) and you can fit two people in it. After I came back, all of the boy's high altitude gear was stored in a couple of grain bags and covered with rocks. We weren't really worried about anyone stealing it as any would be thief would have had to walk right by us to get anywhere where they could transport it. So, we headed back to the tent.

On the way back down, we ran into the Brazilians. They were moving their entire camp up to the col and were planning on doing the climb that night.

While we were having lunch back in base camp (french toast and maple syrup perfectly cooked by Robert), we see a lone figure with a massive rucksack come into base camp from the left (i.e. not the route that the 4X4s take). This was a stray and rather wild looking German. He spoke perfect Spanish (but not much English) and had been travelling around South America on the cheap for quite some. We invited him for french toast and also russled up some grog. His story was that he had arrived in Sajama village, didn't want to pay the 100 dollars to get a 4x4 out, could clearly see where he needed to be, so just packed up with rucksack with bottles of water, set a compass bearing to the col and set off. His plan (after french toast and grog) was to go straight to the col, set up camp there and then later head up. We asked him about his food situation (we had plenty and we figured that anyone who walked in from Sajama village must be pretty hard up). He showed me what he was planning to eat high up: normal spaghetti. I told him that you couldn't get the water hot enough up there to properly cook pasta (because of the low air pressure, water boils before it hits 100C), so we gave him some of our couscous (excellent high altitude food) and instant soup.

The next morning, there was no sign of the Brazilians or any of the Germans. The boys headed back up to campo alto, set their tent, drank lots of fruit tea with sugar, ate some couscous and then settled in for a nap. When climbing on snow, it is best to start after dark (around 2am). If you start off during the day, the snow is soft, hard to walk on and potentially dangerous. If you walk at night (with the aid of a headtorch) , the temperature is below zero and the snow is easier to walk on... or so the theory goes.

The photo above is taken from the web. What you see here are penetentes. This photo comes form the Andes, but not from our volcano. This is what can happen to snow at high altitude in places like the Andes where intense solar heat and wind can erode snow fields into a terrain that makes walking difficult indeed. Apparently, even though this a technically easy climb, the conditions underfoot were the worst that Robert had ever encountered. The snow had a very uneven consistency (sometimes ice, sometimes slush, sometimes penetentes). Basically, they were very unlucky with the snow conditions.
Nevertheless, after several hours more than they had planned, they made it to the summit. This is Nick.
This is Robert. As you can also see. After days and days of clear blue skies, they were also unlucky enough to have the only day with summit clouds since our arrival.
Here is a view of the far side of the summit cone.

So, while the boys spent a night up at campo alto and on the mountain, what was happening back in base camp? I had a lovely day of lounging in the sun (with my duvet jacket on) reading a book that I was keen to read before writing a paper for a upcoming conference. Robert and I have walkie talkies, so I was getting hourly updates from campo alto at pre-agreed times. The Brazilians wandered back into camp singing. However, they didn't make the summit. They said that the conditions were too hard and that they were not having any fun. I brewed up a round of grog, which went down a treat. Over in the German camp, the Germans with their non-local guide were still somewhere on the other mountain (which was a bit concerning as they had been up there for two nights). So, I invited their remaining base camp staff (i.e. the cook and his assistant) over for grog. Between the Brazilians and the cooks, a considerable amount of rum was consumed. I called the party to a close when my guests showed signs of becoming tipsy (high altitude hangovers are not fun). I had a final chat on the walkie takie with alto campo before settling in for the night.

The next day, I woke up shortly after dawn. I was disapointed to see clouds around the summit cone. I imagined that given the normal climbing time that they would have been up to the summit and on their way back down. However, even though I checked every hour, they were still out of walkie talkie range. Around noon, I finally make contact, found out that they had made it, that conditions were crap and that they would be back at base in a couple of hours. I made up some grog and soup because I wasn't sure what they would want when they got back.

They were both shattered. They certainly weren't interested in soup, but were keen on the grog. Robert didn't even stay awake enough for the grog.

Nick stayed awake long enough to take his jacket off and get his hands on a mug of grog, but then passed out before drinking more than a sip.
They later said that conditions were so awful that the only thing that kept them both going was the firm desire to not have to come back to finish the climb on a later day. At the start of the expedition, they had planned to do the other volcano, but both declared that they were volcanoed-out for the rest of the trip.

So, we later that night, when a driver dropped off some Quebequois (headed up to the col with porters to set up camp), we sent word back that we wanted to be picked up the next day. Our driver arrived after breakfast. There was still no sign of any of the Germans. Robert sent me over to the cooks to explain that their clients were well overdue and that if they didn't arrive by afternoon, they were to inform the park rangers to see if a rescue could be organised. We still don't know what happened to any of the Germans.

While they guys loaded the 4X4 I set about negotiating the sale of whatever equiment (like the gas tank) and food (like the remaining rum) we were not taking back to Europe. I managed to exchange $60 worth of driving for the equipment we wanted to shed. The driver also agreed to take us back to La Paz for a reduced rate.
We had a bit a wait in Sajama village while our driver transferred what remained of our equipment to his minibus (for the La Paz trip). In the meantime, we wandered around the village.
I saw an alojamiento named after my birthday. Quite a lot of things in South America are named after dates (usually a saint's day, the date of historic battles, the inauguration dates of cities etc. July 25 is a saint's day (St James).
We also saw a bunch of people gathered in the central square. 'What is that', said Nick. I take a look and quickly reply: 'Oh! That's a llama sacrifice, we must be in August now'. I check my watch to make sure it was August 1.
I explained to Nick that the month of August is when pachamama, the earth mother is hungry. Andean Indians have a reciprocal relationship with their deities. The earth mother gives, but she also expects you to pay her back. So, at the start of August (which preceeds the start of the rainly season when stuff starts to grow again) a white male llama (the most perfect you can find) has its throat cut so that the blood can fall to the earth and feed the earth mother. Accidents in mines, on roads or in the mountains are blamed on the pachamama's hunger (i.e if you don't feed her, she will help herself). So, if you don't pay her back in August and you end up in an accident, you have only yourself to blame for being so greedy that you take from the earth, but don't give back. I don't think that male white llamas had a vote in this arrangement.
On a more cheerful note: here is a white alpaca that is very happy he is isn't a llama.

For my next posting, Curious Llama waders to Peru.