Entries from Aconcagua

Life is a series of stories, so you might as well make them good ones. We’re only three days, but pretty sure this will be a good one. 

Fueled by last night’s asada feast and our bellies full of Malbec, and well rested after a night slept tentless under a show of stars unrivaled by any planetarium or AI manipulation, we set out this morning for 11 miles of the high desert’s finest. 

Led by the galloping gait of our fine Irishman, an unreasonably large number of doctors, the poet who engineered yesterday’s post, a reformed lawyer and our hockey-stick-wielding air force officer, we owned the trail like the parking lot scene in Reservoir Dogs. 

The Vacas valley treated us to long views of the mountains to come, galloping burrows, a lone guanaco and the Rio Vacas flowing with enough force to make us eager to walk upon the snow that must be powering it. 

That same river forced us into our first sketchy scramble and our first bit of exposure. Good to get the juices flowing.  

After finally rolling into our campsite - with another posh welcoming spread - Dominic choreographed a photoshoot in front of our first view of the great mountain we hope to summit. 

All in all, today we showed that although we are dirty,  and sweaty, and stinky … this group is STRONG and worthy of this mountain. 

We are not, however, without weakness. In the last few days our greatest fears have temporarily shifted from “how are we going to handle the extreme altitude?” to irrational anxiety about the elusive scorpions, the phlebotomist black flies and whether we lost our toothbrushes. 

Until tomorrow … onward!

Postscript: Best snack of the day - yellow bell pepper stuffed with leftover carne asada. 

Climber Chris Lind

Greetings from Pampa de Lena's! We awoke this morning at the rustic Hotel Ayelene eager to start our way up Aconcagua. We busily made final adjustments to our packs as questions about readiness filled our minds. Are we trained enough? Do we have the right gear packed? Will those croissants from this morning make it till break tomorrow? Will present Chris get in the way of past Chris helping future Chris pack?

But as we started walking questions like these fade away. Fueled by sweet bell peppers as we arrive at camp in style.

Climber Jon Honda

Welcome to the Blog! This first one will be written by me, Dominic Cifelli, but throughout the trip we pass the torch to all the climbers in order to gain different perspective on the day in/day out of the trip. Keep a lookout for your loved one's name on the blog and please enjoy!

We're off! Landing in Mendoza, we were greeted with the warm temps and long days of the South American summer. A far cry from the cold snap our loved ones are experiencing in the U.S.A. The day was filled with long lunches, a siesta or two, and perusing the local markets for gifts and very late Christmas presents.

The first days of an expedition are exciting and quite hectic as we prepare, check, and recheck our equipment for the journey ahead. I always find that once we start walking, everything gets simpler because we can no longer quadruple check that we packed that favorite pair of socks or brought the right mittens. What's packed is packed and the job will become putting one front in front of the other.

That's for tomorrow's enjoyment, however. The rest of the day will be filled with prepping the duffels and food for the rough ride they take on the mules to Basecamp.

We do this in the "town" of Penitentes, close to the entrance to Aconcagua Provincial Park.

Stay tuned and wish us luck as we try to finish up the monstrous task of packing for a three-week trip.

Adios!

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli

Last night we celebrated our return to Basecamp with an incredible meal of salad, eggplant, meat with chimichurri sauce and of course, wine. Most of us connected to Wifi and let family and friends know we were well and they were missed. The mood was celebratory and the conversations light and airy. We chatted, laughed and played Farckle late into the night knowing our task was not complete. We woke early and hiked for a total of 17.5 miles, spending the day processing the experience we are completing and what lessons it has taught us. But, how do you incorporate the lessons of the mountains to make yourself a better person? A better partner? A better parent? A better friend? Can you remember to enjoy the simple and minute moments in your day? Can you filter out the sounds of the wind, the background noise, and focus on what matters? Can you remember to take a break, take care of yourself and take care of your “team”? By the time we rolled into Leñas we were reminded that we have only a short walk out to civilization and all the pressures of the real world will be back but tonight we feasted again and laughed again and enjoyed the moment.  Whether that was petting a mule, watching the light fade on the mountain tops, feeling the cool breeze sweep through the valley or catch the stars brighten in the sky. Maybe that is the lesson of the mountain, being present and immersed in the moment, maybe that’s what keeps bringing us back to the mountains. 

PS: I love you Mama, Teddy and Everett. Can’t wait to give you big hugs and kisses soon.

Climber David Scordino

As the clouds dissipated and the grapple settled,  we awoke in our tents and decided to hit snooze. We waited for the warm kiss of the sun to dry our tents and only then, did we creak our sore muscles and joints into working.  Our walk down was a welcome change from the cold, damp weather of our night spent at Camp 3. The cool breeze, sunny skies, and grand vistas made our travel easy as we descended to Basecamp into open arms and champagne showers. 

We’re settled into Basecamp after a delicious asado and will sleep soundly tonight. Tomorrow, we start the walk out of the Vacas valley. It will be our final full day on the mountain. As pretty and rewarding as it’s been out here, we’re excited for the creature comforts that Mendoza has to offer.  

Tomorrow is a long day, but we’re excited to see the views and experience the valley without the nerves and trepidation that the beginning offers. 

Thanks for following along! 

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli 

Why do we climb mountains? It’s a pretty common question anybody in the mountain community gets asked. The beauty of the answer is that for each of us, it’s different. There is a common thread though. Being in the mountains, for all its tropes about toughness, grit, and partial insanity,  is uniquely vulnerable. Among the towering peaks and grand vistas it’s easy to feel small and that’s what we like about it. When you step out the door for an expedition you don’t know if you’ll come back successful, but the unknown and discomfort in each step is the allure that draws us back again and again. We find truths  about ourselves in the discomfort and vulnerability of mountain life that we can’t tap into in our everyday lives. The real truth is,  that being comfortable is overrated, and being vulnerable, the opposite. We summitted Aconcagua today. It was the best summit day I’ve ever had on the mountain. Windy, shaded traverses, that usually get my toes numb just thinking about them, were calm and warm (ish). Instead of hiding behind a buff or neoprene face mask to save skin, it was swapped with sun screen and lip balm. We made our way up the Stone Sentinel slowly, but surely, and stood atop at around 2:30pm local time. We were likely the highest people touching earth at the time. As we descended the clouds came in and by the time we were back in the safety of our tent we were happy to not hold that title any longer. Thunder, lightning, grapple the size of marbles started as soon as the last zipper zipped. We had timed the day perfectly. We will sleep well tonight, or as well as you can at 19,600 ft. Tomorrow we will descend to Basecamp and enjoy the food, warmth, and company.

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli

Hello from Camp 3, Colera!

Today, we woke up to a beautiful day with low clouds blanketing the valley below us. We packed all our gear and headed uphill. We walked in and out of cloud cover with the slightest breeze. We all appreciated the cooler temps and reprieve from the harsh sun.

After a few hours, we arrived at 19,600 feet. Everyone was feeling great, and we all worked together to get our tents set up.

Shortly after we arrived, the clouds filled in and the thunder rolled. Every time we’d hear the rumble, the whole camp would yell “tranquilo” which definitely helped because the clouds moved by and now, we have clear skies again.

We are all tucked in our tents and ready for our early morning start for the summit. Here we go!!

Jess and team

Our hearts are heavy tonight and the dinner conversation a bit more somber. Some of our party went down with a guide to head for base camp early. All for different reasons, their decision to descend is the most respected choice in mountaineering, one that takes strength, maturity, and courage. Climbing tall peaks is never about how far we can push ourselves, but about respecting our limits and knowing when, for the sake of our team, to call this day our summit. And that is why our hearts are heavy.

Since we began this trek two weeks ago, we have come to deeply care for one another. Conversation has flowed beyond the biographies of our lives to the maps of our souls and the gentle silence reserved for only the most familiar friends. We do not climb to reach summits alone but to plumb the depths of our inner lives as well.

That’s why this note is to our group six months from now, when everyday life feels routine, and the memories of this trek will have faded:

Dear Friends,

By the time we read this on August 2nd much will have happened since our cold nights and card games on the mountain. Mary Beth and Jess will have summited Everest and brought needed attention and funding to Ovarian Cancer. We’ll all have read Tim’s book, Jack will have a fresh harvest of greenhouse tomatoes, Dom might finally have a sunburn from his beach vacation, David will be signed up for Denali, Cameron will have spent the better part of the summer in Costa Rica, and Gator will be a legend on Mount Rainier. The infrequent emails we share will take us back to this moment and our memories together. But we won’t remember the hard parts, for that tends to fade.

Instead, we’ll remember the early dinners, deep laughs, nicknames, and lessons that brought us home different people from when we left. We’ll remember our gratefulness for those who spent their careers serving our country and the allure of Alaska. We’ll remember the basics of geology 101 and the majesty of how the Andes first reached for the stars. We’ll remember trying to avoid sunburn and yet yearning for the first kiss of morning sun on our tents before breakfast. We’ll remember going to bed at seven pm, rationing batteries, forgetting if we filtered our water, and the magic of a Garmin inReach. We’ll remember the Argentines who sacrificed months from home to make this climb possible, and we’ll remember the loved ones back in the states who picked up the slack so we could chase our alpine dream.

Deeper still than these moments are truths that will form who we become. For together, we’ve learned how to rest and seen that empty days have a joy all their own. When obligations, activities, and emails stack up we’ll remember our slow days as much as our climbs. And lastly, we’ll remember that a group of eleven strangers - folks with little reason to cross paths in our ordinary routines - became friends by sharing our stories and a common goal. We’ll remember that it’s true for most strangers we pass (yes, even that group) and hold a moment’s more space for the serendipity and friendship still ahead on our future climbs and ordinary days. We’ll remember each other and what we shared together with deep affection - and that’s what will matter most.

Climber Hudson Baird & Team 

Last night, we were sitting in the dome at camp 2. Dinner was finished, and everyone was in their tents for bed. The steam of freshly boiled water was rising as we poured the last of it into the hot pot.

We sat as a guide team, looking at updated weather and coming up with a summit strategy when in popped one of our team members,

“Hey, Can I talk to you guys?”

“Sure, sure. Come on in.”

She stepped through the door.

“I’d like to help carry this teammate’s weight tomorrow. I want this for him so badly and he’s struggling.”

This morning, after a breezy night straight into a breezy morning, I sleepily walked from the guide tent to the dome tent. Jack immediately handed me my little 1/2 L Nalgene filled with warm coffee,

“Dom made it for you.”

Packing up our bags to carry a load to Camp 3,

“How is your morning, Reacher?”

“I didn’t sleep well. I woke up early to the wind and helped tie down other people’s tents.”

Climbing mountains is an inherently selfish sport. We work hard to get ourselves to the top. It benefits us, the climber, more than anyone else. And there’s no problem with that.

I found my own healing in the mountains, my own growth, the ability to drive and push myself further than I thought possible.

And I fell in love with guiding because I loved helping others do the same - get out of their comfort zone, try really hard, take a really big risk.

But if there’s one thing this team keeps teaching me, one tiny miracle at a time, is that there is more than just our own little dreams happening. Even though 14 days ago we were total strangers, we are now people who have built deep relationships, so much so that we’ll offer to help carry another’s weight because we already believe in that other so much. We’ll share our bag of banana chips at every break, even though instinct tells us to hold fast to those calories we hefted all the way to 18,000 feet. We’ll tie down tents in the lonely early morning just because we don’t want our friends to blow away after a windy night.

And today, when all of us felt a touch alone in our struggle to Camp 3 at 19,600 feet, I looked a little closer and saw the sort of miracle that was a team coming together. Climbing a mountain not just for ourselves but with and for those we are inspired by. I saw that whatever has happened between us is profound and no matter if we stand on top or not, we won’t leave here unchanged.

RMI Guide Jess Wedel

I thought that some of our followers at home might enjoy an insider’s view of daily camp life. So, here it is:

The evening began with a six p.m. dinner of pasta lightly tossed in olive oil with sautéed bell peppers and onions and topped with grated Parmesan cheese. You could smell the delicious aroma circling the camp. After crawling into our tents, some of us watched videos, others read books, while Pops wrote poetry. Although we were tired and the weather was good for sleeping, we are each faced with a nightly dilemma - waking up with an urge to use a bathroom (which doesn’t exist above base camp).

The thoughts running through your head include: do I really need to get out of the warm comfort of my sleeping bag? Can’t I just go back to sleep and go later? It’s too cold outside! Will I disturb my tent mate? It takes too much energy. Where’s my toilet paper? Is my pee bottle already full?

These thoughts are on an endless repeat in your head until you finally give in and stumble out of the tent to take care of business.

With a sense of relief, you crawl back into your tent and kick yourself for wasting a half hour of sleep and not just getting up at the first urge. But the night continues with lots of twisting and turning as we try to find that perfect position until our arm or leg falls asleep - necessitating another turn. We still manage to get enough rest to climb upwards and onward.

Speaking of business - choosing a place to poop.

At camp, we do have a designated poop tent; however, there are many things to consider. We are each issued a big plastic bag which we can use in the poop tent by putting it into a big plastic bucket or finding a private spot and squatting. The upside to the tent is having a seat and the privacy of a tent. The downside is trying to separate pee from poop.

The other option is walking away from camp and squatting over the bag. The downsides are missing the bag, your private spot isn’t so private, and the huffing and puffing that occurs during the search. The upsides are the beauty of nature, no smelly hot tent, and easier to separate the pee from the poo. That’s probably TMI but this is part of camp life.

This morning we were gently awoken by Dom’s door to door tent service with hot drinks. It was the coldest night so far and none of us were particularly interested in leaving the warm sanctuary of our sleeping bags. Making the tent service much appreciated.

As the sun rose, our tents began to warm and we mustered the courage to emerge and begin our day of relaxing, recovering, and acclimatizing. The day started with another amazing breakfast of hash browns scrambled with bacon, peppers, and onions. Cooking this type of breakfast is no easy feat with limited pans, scarce utensils, and camp stoves that burn like jet engines.

We ate seated on rocks arranged in a circle while wearing gloves, hats, parkas, and puffy pants, as the morning remained cold. One moment, we are putting on layers and the next, we are taking them off. It’s a constant rotation of clothing. Conversations around the circle included what it’s like to be a cowboy, crazy outhouse stories, and how delicious rocky mountain oysters can be when fried over a campfire.

During the day, we take short walks around camp, eat more food so we don’t have to carry it, nap during the heat of the day, listen to music, read books, enjoy a variety of conversations, and play cutthroat card games. This recharges our batteries as we prepare for a carry to our last camp at 19,600’ tomorrow.

Mary Beth Kempner, aka “the editor”

PS Don’t worry Floyd, I’ve only temporarily taken over your job as editor. You are the editor of my life!

PSS Angela - thanks for your encouragement.

PSSS Shout out to Hudson for taking on the role of editor tonight