Huayna Potosí

For some reason after trekking the Inca Trail and Colca Canyon I felt the desire to climb something challenging. Huayna Potosí is one of Bolivia's highest peaks but also reasonably accessible so it presented the perfect opportunity to get it out of my system.

Day 1:

Buyers remorse set in as soon as my guide collected me from the hostel. My guide collected me in a taxi (or rather a battered station wagon running on what sounded like 2 cylinders) that was obviously run by one of his mates. Rather than taking me directly out to the mountain, we spent 30 mins driving to a dirty market where the guide and the 'taxi' driver decided to have breakfast. I thought I was joining them but they left me in a dark corner of the market with an old Bolivian tea-lady while they disappeared to have breakfast. 15 mins and 2 cups of coca tea later the dynamic duo returned with lunch which I thought must be refried dog and rice. I bought some coca leaves and water at the market before leaving for the altitude sickness I was surely about to endure.

So now we surely must be heading out to the mountain? Nope, for the next hour we drove around the most run down parts of La Paz searching for food supplies for the next few days. Could my guide, Miguel, be any more poorly organised? So after picking up some food and a Bolivian lady in a bowler hat, we drove to Miguel's house to collect some more climbing gear and drop of the Bolivian lady which I can only assume was his wife.

The next 2 hours were spent heading north into the middle of nowhere, the car barely running, ambling along the rough and bumpy dirt road. We finally reached base camp (4700m) at 12pm in time for refried dog which actually turned out to be some pretty good BBQ chicken and rice. The base camp hut was basic but comfortable and warm, with about a dozen other climbers also having lunch.

After lunch Miguel and I headed up to the Glacier (as it started to snow) to get me schooled up on how to use the crampons and ice-axe and do some drills which included abseiling down ice walls, and how to stop yourself sliding off the mountain after a fall. It was pretty fun stuff but quite exhausting.

Just when I thought my guide was beginning to be ok, he received a call saying he had more climbers for the following day so was going back to La Paz to get them and leave me there alone until the following morning. There was a cook at base camp so she made me dinner and I invited myself to sit with another group consisting of two Dutch and a French girl, and a German and English bloke. We spent the evening talking about travelling adventures and sipping coca tea.

Day 2:

A leisurely 7am start with a hearty Bolivian breakfast consisting of bread and jam. Not sure how that is supposed to feed the machine but I didn't complain. No sign of my guide who I was told should return to guide me up to the second hut. One of the other guides who was last to leave invited me to walk with his group, I tagged along but soon grew tired of walking at what felt like the pace of a wounded tortoise. I saw the other group I had sat with last night making their way up the slopes ahead and told my adopted guide I'd catch up to the other group.

I didn't take long before I caught the other group and was enjoying conversation again. However once we started to hit some steep slopes the group slowed to a crawl and conversation was replaced by gasping for air. Too many computer games has shortened my attention span and I soon became tired of their pace too so scarped ahead off into the mist and cloud. The track had become nothing more than rocks and following the track was pretty easy. I caught up to a guide walking alone and the two of us walked the last 20mins to the second hut. What took the other groups 2.5-3.5 hours had only taken me 1 hour and 8mins. Surely at this rate tomorrow's climb would not be so bad? I could not be more wrong.

After the other groups arrived we had lunch, an afternoon nap, and an early dinner. Seeing as my guide had still not showed, the Israeli group took me in like a stray dog and fed me lunch. My guide turned up just before dinner to deliver a pretty good meal and tell me everyone was to be in bed by 6pm and that we would get up an hour after the Israeli group at midnight to start climbing for 1am. Climbing at night lessens the risk of adverse weather and avalanches I was told.

Day 3: A Day of Education

I hadn't slept much but awoke full of anticipation of the adventure ahead. Years of hiking had me dressed in all my gear, fully packed, and fed in 30mins. Even though the Israeli group had all just finished 3 years of military service and got up an hour before me, they were far from ready. I thought to myself "These guys couldn't organise a booze up in a brewery".

Miguel and I were first to put steel into ice as we sliced our crampons into the snow and ice as we ascended the first slope, but the other groups left shortly after us. The first few hours were tough but required mostly physical fitness. I am very afraid of heights so when we walked along steep drop offs I tried to keep my torch shining at my own feet rather than peering over the edge and imagining the worst.

Once we got to 5,700m things became increasingly difficult with my mind becoming drunk with the altitude and finding it increasingly difficult to keep my balance, each step became a battle but I seemed to be winning each battle, however each more slowly than the last. I felt physically nauseas but chewing on coca leaves seemed to keep my breakfast at bay.

Along the way I had seen nothing but the slopes of fresh powder and the occasional crevice that we had jumped over but now at 5,950m we were faced with a steep ice wall which we had to climb. I felt like giving up but thought of reaching at least the milestone of 6,000m before turning back, so I swung my axe into the ice face and began my slow ascent. Although it was difficult I arrived at the top of the ice face faster than expected with nothing left between me and the summit except a fair slope along the ridge gaining the last 88m.

Miguel kept talking me through it in his broken English and I kept responding to continue in my limited Spanish. I'm not quite sure how but I had finally made the summit and but I sat exhausted in the snow breathing in the limited air and fantastic views around, almost too tired to take out my camera. I can say it is the hardest thing mentally and physically I have done but it was an amazing feeling to reach the summit of such a high mountain and so far ahead of my fellow would-be climbers who were mere dots making their way along our snow tracks hundreds of meters below.

The climb had educated me to just how difficult Mt Everest is to climb, given that all this effort was just to reach the starting point for that monumental climb. Thanks to my 43yo Mountain Ninga Miguel I felt like I had achieved something great.