RMI Expeditions Blog

As we left Basecamp, we wondered what toll Aconcagua would ask of us. As we sit in high camp, Camp Colera, at 19,600 feet, with just over 3,000 feet remaining to summit, the mountain’s toll is clear. 

A different question weighs on us now, “What will we ask of ourselves?” Ultimately, this begins at a simple but complex source: Why do we climb? Do we climb to reach new heights? Do we climb to meet new people? Do we climb to show our kids what badasses they can be if they follow their hearts? Do we climb to check boxes, boxes that we alone create and complete out of our own otherworldly competitiveness? Do we climb because the power of mountain vistas must be experienced through our own eyes? Do we climb because it’s a calling, a career, and we know we change lives by guiding others to the heights we’ve experienced? (thank you Ben, Ray, and Batti, you have our unending gratitude) Do we climb because it changes who we are as humans when we see these sights, bond with our team, and reach deep inside ourselves, to reserves we didn’t know existed, to complete a mission? Do we climb because sometimes you have to risk something to truly feel alive? (special shout out to Jonny and Shane, who we carry with us in heart and soul) Do we climb because in some way climbing makes us feel like we’ve figured out a small piece of the universe? Do we climb simply because, “It’s there.”

Maybe we all hold multiple reasons for climbing. Maybe we don’t even know our own reasons. And maybe our reasons change.

Personally, I first climbed just to hang out with a few buddies. To be honest, I didn’t love the training, and the climb was pure misery. But somewhere between Rainier’s summit and the Paradise parking lot, we all asked each other, “What are we climbing next?” Now I climb because I love the entire challenging process of it, and with each climb, I become a better father, friend, and family member. I become a more compassionate and dedicated person for the world around me.

When you climb, you realize that each time you climb, summit or no, something changes in you for the better. You become a stronger, more confident version of the old you. In a way, you are born again. 

It’s fitting that high camp on Aconcagua, Camp Colera, is jokingly called Camp Cholera. One of my favorite quotes about life comes from Gabriel Garcia Marquez in his masterpiece Love in the Time of Cholera. 

“..... human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over to give birth to themselves.”

In today’s Argentinian tongue it reads beautifully: “.....los seres humanos no nacen para siempre el dia en que sus madres los alumbran, sino que la vida los obliga otra vez y muchas veces a parirse a si mismos.”

Aconcagua, summit or not, your slopes and peaks and valleys have forced us to become better versions of ourselves. Your people have welcomed us to this sacred place with open arms, and created new love in our hearts for a people and a place. Centinela, we thank you for being you and creating this opportunity to renew ourselves.

RMI Climber Jared Wood

Leaving Mexico City, team Mexican Koala - our girl Bec flew all the way from Australia - was excited to tackle our first volcano, Malinche at 14,501. 

Our van ride went smoothly and before we knew it we were enjoying the crowd-favorite bbq meat towers at the Malinche cabins restaurant. Our weather was cold but clear, and folks went to bed ready for an early-ish morning. 

Alarms went off at 4:30am, and unfortunately Bec’s long trip from Australia had her under the weather. But the rest of them team rallied for her and left the cabins in the dark. At around 13,500’ we walked into a moody mist cloud, and with our army of mountain-dogs, around 11am, we climbed onto the summit just in time for a sun break! 100% for those who left the cabins!

More meat towers yesterday evening and a good night’s sleep and we’re off to Ixta!

RMI Guide Joe Hoch

Apologies for the short and sweet blog entry, but I promise Jared will make up for it tomorrow. Today our team carried gear and food to cache at Cholera, Camp 3. At 19,600ft above sea level it was a high point for almost all on the team. The slog uphill in snow was peaceful with beautiful views all around, but damn hard. Elevation gain of 1600ft in 3 hours at the altitude we’re at had us utilizing our rest steps and pressure breaths the entire way up. 

Returning to camp for an afternoon nap was what we all needed, or maybe that was just me. Yes, Brian, I actually took a nap in the middle of the afternoon. Please mark the occasion. We spent the rest of our time mentally preparing ourselves for the next two days which will have us moving to high camp and making a summit attempt. 

As I lay in my tent reflecting on the last 10 days on this mountain, I am again filled with gratitude. I’m grateful I get to spend yet another night on the mountain in good health and spirits. I’m grateful for my gear that is going to keep me warm and moving on summit day. I’m grateful for my teammates who are always encouraging each other. I’m grateful for technology that can get sick climbers off the mountain and to the help they need quickly. I’m grateful for the incredible views from the pee spot at Camp 2. I’m grateful for strong legs to carry me up the mountain. I’m grateful for my tent mate Andrew who doesn’t give me a hard time about having to unzip the tent in gusting winds to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (sometimes twice). I’m grateful for all my people who love and support me and never tell me to stop doing this thing I love. And lastly, but most importantly- I’m grateful for a guide team that calmly snaps into action and handles urgent situations with the utmost professionalism. Ben, Ray and Batti continue to give us all the confidence we need to get up this hill. I can’t imagine there are finer guides on this mountain than the ones we get to call ours. 

Jojo, CMan and IzBiz- thank you for giving up your mama for a few weeks. I’m almost there! BPerk- paint a picture…

RMI Climber Christine Perkinson 

In my brief mountaineering experience over the last 3 years, the quality of these journeys have largely been influenced by the quality of the guides and the people you are climbing with. We have been fortunate to hit home runs on both. 

On day 10 of our adventure as we attempt to summit Aconcagua. Today was a rest day at camp 2. We stretched our legs with a short hike up to 18,500’ where we had a crampon tutorial with guides Ray and Bhati. Ray even let me try his crampons on. We returned to camp 2 to rest, and prepare our gear for the push to camp 3 a.k.a. “high camp“. 

I’ve often compared climbing a mountain to a football season and how fitting that analogy is for this time of year. The trek to base camp is like the regular season. In terms of distance it’s the longest part of the journey just as there are more games in the regular season than in the playoffs. For those fortunate enough, the regular season/trek to base camp is only the preamble for why we do this. We didn’t come here just to get to basecamp and we don’t play football to put the pads away when the playoffs start. 

We do this to push ourselves, to see what’s inside our competitive souls. To join forces with other like minded individuals to work together so we can all stand on the mountain top or hoist the championship trophy. And for some of us, it’s to see if maybe we can shine the sun on our physical accomplishments once more before Father Time starts the slow sunset of our bodies. We are not looking for an easy path, we are looking for a challenge that requires our individual & collective best.

As the playoffs/push up the upper mountain began. Each climb to the next camp or round of the playoffs gets tougher. When climbing every step we take will be greeted with less oxygen, less sleep, more wear and tear on our joints and muscles. Unlike a football game the action is slow and monotonous. It is tedious work. We have to overcome the mental hurdle of knowing that each and every step will be harder. To the point of pure exhaustion, and yet we push on. Why, many will ask. Why would you put yourself through that? The reality is those who ask such questions will never quite understand the answer. In simplest terms I would sum it up like this; if you want to have “Fun” go to Disney World or the beach. If you want an incredible sense of accomplishment, one that few people on this earth will ever know, grab a pack, a pair of boots, a few friends or meet some new ones, hire some experienced guides and hit the trail!

As we stand here at camp 2 looking up at the highest peak in the Western Hemisphere, 22,842’ in sky stands the summit of Aconcagua. The next round of our playoff push is the carry and move to camp 3. Survive and advance is the motto we use during a playoff run and that certainly applies to climbing Aconcagua. Regardless of how our bodies feel and our mind telling us to tap out and return to a hot shower and good night’s sleep in Mendoza, we WILL press on. The “Mountain Don’t Give A F*<£” (MDGAF) and we are determined to “Find A Way!”

It is a battle of ultimate respect between the mountain and the climber. I don’t know if I/we will be turned around or if I/we will dance on the summit in the next few days. I do know that regardless of the outcome, the thousands of hours training we have put in and years of preparation are worth it. Life is about your process and your approach day after day, month after month and year after year. The score/outcome will take care of itself.

I want to thank everyone who has supported my teammates and myself on our respective journeys to this point. The collective commitment of time and resources is substantial. To Shelley, Avery, TJ and Luke I love you all! To the CGG it’s been an amazing 30+ yrs doing life together…it truly is a great day to be alive!

RMI Climber Tim Schafer

Sunday, January 18, 2026 - 2:17 pm PT

The clouds started to lift last night and by time we were ready to attempt Chimborazo the sky was completely clear for the first time during our adventure.
We woke at 11 p.m. to start our day and it was virtually perfect for a summit attempt; cool temps, no wind, and a sky full of stars.
The route starts with a rocky traverse but quickly changes to a step snow slope. At 18,000+ feet elevation steep slopes really take their toll, but our team was ready for the challenge. Six hours later, just as the sun was rising, we reached the summit. It was quite cold and a little breezy on top so we watched the sun rise, enjoyed our first real views of the many mountains of the Ecuador skyline, and headed down.
Chimborazo was a challenge but everyone on our team met that challenge with smiles.

RMI Guide Walter Hailes

Our excited team of climbers met face to face for the first time last night in the lobby of our lovely Hotel Geneve in Mexico City. They have been messaging excitedly on WhatsApp for months, so even the Bills' heartbreaking loss to the Broncos couldn't stifle the excitement (our thoughts go out to Micheal). 

After a logistics chat we headed of to the local taco spot. We have a great crew and everyone is excited for our week to come. 

Off to Malinche and our first climb!

RMI Guide Joe Hoch

We left Riobamba late this morning for our approach to high camp on Chimborazo. One of the great things about climbing in Ecuador is that we can drive to nearly 16,000 ft. From there, it was a two‑hour hike to our new dome‑tent home at 17,500 ft on Chimborazo.

The weather is looking good, so we’re heading to bed early in anticipation of an early wake‑up to climb our third—and biggest—volcano of the trip.

Wish us luck!

RMI Guide Nick Sinapius & Team

Here at camp 2 (18,000’) while enjoying the views of this Sentinel of Stone - There’s a moment on every expedition that I live for - we’ve reached it. 

When Strangers Become a Team

It happens somewhere between the initial introductions and the summit push we have ahead of us, in that subtle shift when a group of strangers transforms into something more. We’re not just individuals sharing a mountain anymore. We’re a team.

You can feel it in the way we move now. Tasks that once required coordination or instruction just happen. The little things that make life at altitude manageable—we just get done, because we’ve all started thinking as one unit rather than separate climbers. We have the same goal in mind, but it takes a team to reach it.  

And when someone struggles—whether it’s battling altitude sickness, fumbling with tying a tent knot in 40 mph wind, or simply having a rough day—the response is immediate. We help each in those moments. There’s no judgment, no hesitation. Just hands reaching out to help, encouragement offered freely, and the quiet understanding that today it’s them, tomorrow it might be me.

This is what I love most about mountaineering. Not the summit, not the views (though both are incredible and Yes, the ultimate goal). 

It’s this: the alchemy of shared hardship that turns strangers into teammates, and teammates into something that feels a lot like family.

RMI Climber Andrew Hall 

Climbing High 

Ultimate Battle

Reaching Up & Beyond

Ecuador continues to deliver beautiful scenery as we travel south of Quito. The long driveway for the hacienda was lined with 100’ tall eucalyptus trees providing a refreshing smell as we drive out this morning. The country side is covered with verdant fields dotted with cows or greenhouses growing red and yellow and pink roses. The roads are lined with vendors selling ice cream and hot snacks and the freshest fruit. And the skyline is dotted by the giant glaciated volcanoes we came here to climb. We’re lucky to enjoy this beautiful country with a group of lovely people.

With a little spare time at our new hotel we enjoyed some more training in the warm sunshine.

Tomorrow we begin our final climb on this trip to Ecuador, the tallest of the Ecuadorian volcanoes: Chimborazo.

RMI Guide Walter Hailes and team

We continue to progress up the mountain. The cold windy night gave way to light winds and warm tranqui panki sun today. Camp 1 (16,400') is where we pitch our tents and we carried and cached gear today at Camp 2 (18,000'). The group continues to move quickly and the nicer weather acted as chubrub, smoothing the way. Soon enough we will call Camp 2 our home.

As we walk up the mountain to accomplish our goal, I can't help but notice another, other worldly thing on its journey down the mountain. A journey that is measured in Eons. These are the stones of the Sentinel and there are many kinds. There are sharp edged stones, smooth rounded stones with inclusions that glint in the shine of the light. Stones that get overwhelmed and buried by others. Dull stones that go unnoticed and stones that are the source of postcards. The life of a stone is long and hard. It begins as part of something larger, but like all those on a journey, it too must find its own way. The path, the goal is mostly the same for stones. To reach the ocean. The way is filled with change, with treachery, pain, success, and help. Sometimes it is a burrowing animal that dislodges the stone that is stuck under the weight of others. Bringing it to the surface where it can see the light again and continue down the mountain. The pull of gravity keeps the stone on its path. Once separated from the slab, the stone searches out the creek, the creek that twists and bends towards the next goal, the river. This is the gathering place of stones. This is where the stone can finally see its destination in sight. One big rainstorm or snowmelt could transport the stone to paradise in one quick rush. But no stone knows if they will be the lucky one. The one that still has some life left when it reaches the ocean. Some shape of its former self that is recognizable.

You see, the journey itself grinds the stone, buckles it, scars it and takes from it. Many stones slowly break down into the sands and gravels that litter the river bed and they never reach their destination. But the lucky stones, the stones that reach the end goal intact, enjoy peace on the ocean floor and take in colorful corals and strange animals swirling around them. There, The stone can reflect on its journey and contemplate the meaning of it all. For when it is finally done, the stone will be transported deep under the ocean floor where it will be melted down into its component parts by an unending pressure. where it will be transformed into something new. Something that will form new mountains in another part of the world. Once cooled, these new stones can start the journey all over again. And so the cycle continues.

RMI Climber Colin Young