RMI Expeditions Blog

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

Why we come to the mountains? I believe we find challenges here that make us feel alive. I feel alive in the mountains. This is my first season on Aconcagua, and I feel very much alive and ready to accept new challenges. Now a new challenge begins for me: try the summit while guiding and speaking English. Speaking English has always been a big challenge for me. The little English I know I learned on the mountain, talking with people from other countries.

This expedition definitely has everything I come to the mountains to find. I'm very happy to share this experience with this team.

I know it's just beginning, but I'm sure that in the worst-case, it will be a beautiful challenge and that's why I'm in the mountains.

Grajales Guide Batti (Tomas Battistin)

Sorry for a few missed dispatches, service isn't great on Cotopaxi 

We set our alarms for an early wake up this morning and our summit attempt on Cotopaxi. However, when we woke up around 11pm to check the weather we didn’t even need to get out of bed, the noise on the roof of the climbers hut was enough to tell us it was raining. Our team along with around 30 other climbers waited in the hut for the storm to break but it never did.

At around 3am we used a lull in the weather to give it go, but after an hour of climbing uphill through the rain, the rime ice and wind became too much to handle. We descended back to the hut with a high point of around 17,000 ft. Other climbers trickled back into the hut with up to a centimeter of ice built up on their backpacks and similar stories.

We left the Cotopaxi hut this morning and are now at our hotel drying out and prepping to travel to Chimborazo tomorrow. Hopefully we can get some better weather for our last and biggest climb of the trip. 

RMI Guide Nick Sinapius and Team

We all really enjoyed our rest day yesterday in Puembo at our very nice ministry-turned-hotel. After a morning of crevasses rescue training we scattered. Some lounged around the hotel, others went shopping and a few walked to town to see the local sights.

Fully rested, we drove to the trailhead and hiked in the rain to the Cotopaxi hut. Luckily, the hike was short so we didn't get completely soaked. Everyone moved well uphill to the warmth and comfort of the classic high mountain hut.

If the weather improves we will try for the summit of Cotopaxi tomorrow.

RMI Guide Walter Hailes

It’s rest day here. The last day at Plaza Argentina Basecamp before we assail the defenses of the Sentinel of Stone, Aconcagua. Little left to do. Everything in our possession either comes with us or goes to Mulas. Eat, rest, see the doc, stretch our legs. Wait. As I sit here in anticipation, I am struck by a simple fact: There is no control on the mountain.  

I’d love to tell you that there is control on the mountain, but there are only degrees of influence and occasionally getting what we intended. But control? El no existe. 

I’d love to say we control our actions, but if we had control of our actions we’d simply sprint up the mountain to the summit. If we had control we’d never bend or slacken to lack of oxygen, muscular fatigue, or the dangerous effects of high altitude sickness. 

I’d love to say we control our thoughts on the mountain, but if we had control of our thoughts on the mountain we’d never doubt ourselves, never experience the effects of low oxygen on our thinking skills, never need checklists, never need an encouraging word from another to keep us focused on the task at hand.

I’d love to tell you we control our emotions on the mountain, but if we controlled our emotions we’d never fear failure. It wouldn’t hurt to miss our mark. We wouldn’t experience angst watching a fellow climber getting airlifted off the mountain via helicopter. Our confidence would never falter no matter how much snow, ice, wind, or elevation Aconcagua throws at us. 

Control is not a concept that exists on the mountain. There is only influence. And our lack of control is not a problem. In fact, our lack of control is an essential part of the challenge. The unknown, the lack of control, the formidable defenses of the mountain, are precisely why the challenge of Aconcagua is so tantalizing and coveted. 

Aconcagua, sacred mountain, Sentinel of Stone, Centinela de Piedra, what defenses will you throw at us? What toll will you ask? What price will you require us to pay? 

Ask what you will, Aconcagua, despite our lack of control, we are prepared to do what we can. 

We are ready to climb with a great plan, the best damn guides a crew could hope for, and tremendous support staff.

We have trained our asses off to make your summit, and we will fight fatigue with a tenacious spirit and love for the challenge you present. 

We will find a way to replace momentary doubt with the confidence that we have an indomitable will to put one foot in front of the other again and again and again. 

Most of all, we will climb with joy in our hearts from all the support we share in this group, and the tremendous sum of support we have from home. We are ready to pick each other up and find a way no matter what defenses you present to us. 

Are you ready, Centinela? Here we come.

RMI Climber Jared Wood

Ben, Ray and team carry to Camp 1. 

In a way, today was the official start of the climb portion of this adventure. Each of us has different motivation and reason for being here. Each of us, a different climbing background. Each of us, a different training regimen. However, today more than ever it was apparent that we are in total unison in moving toward our shared goal of standing atop South America. 

Teamwork was on full display with the fist bumps, high fives, and words of encouragement throughout our entire 4 hour ascent to cache gear and food at Camp 1. Walking up the last section of very loose scree and dirt is indescribable. Every step you took, the ground gave way beneath your feet. With my seriously heavy pack, I struggled to get footing. The frustration was high inside my head as I felt like a hamster in a wheel. Before I knew what was happening, Big Scree cut in front of me and kicked the most glorious steps I have ever seen as he turned his head and said “I got you”. Team work made the dream work. 

As we rolled into Camp 1 we all eagerly emptied our packs into the cache sacks and took a seat on the camp chairs inside the Grajales dome tent. When all were seated around the table, we were presented with a challenge to move as quickly but as controlled as possible down the scree fields. We were told it was a test and we were all down to take it. With a little bit of excitement in the air at the challenge at hand we took off for base camp. Scree skiing was just the fun we needed after our heavy push uphill. There was giggling, laughing, more encouragement and a feeling of freedom I can’t really explain. With the test behind us and A’s all around, we got the afternoon to relax and celebrate our own little personal victories today. 

You never know what the mountain is going to give you on any given day, or what Mother Nature is going to present you with. Heck, you don’t even know what your own body is going to throw at you. We have learned this firsthand as a group. Every day we get to spend on this mountain is a gift, including the hard and heavy days like today. We are all so grateful to be here and to be with two amazing, positive and encouraging guides- Ben and Ray. 

Jojo, CMan and IzBiz- I want you to know that what I did today was hard, but I did it. And I’ll do it again and again and again because there is no better feeling than not giving up on your goals. They’re worth it! Shoot for the moon and see where you land. BPerk- thanks for ALWAYS encouraging me, you are the best thing.

RMI Climber Christine Perkinson

Monday, January 12, 2026 - 5:30 pm PT

Our 6th day in Ecuador actually started on day 5, as we “woke up” at 11 pm for an alpine start and our first summit day of the trip. We left the hut at 12:10 am and climbed through clouds until we reached the toe of the glacier at around 16,000 feet. From then on, the clouds steadily cleared leading to great summit weather and incredible views of the sunrise. The entire team reached the summit of Cayambe around 7am, once again setting new high points for many in the group. A highlight of the day was having the hut, mountain, and summit all to ourselves as we were the only group climbing Cayambe today. We’re now back in Quito and looking forward to a well earned rest day before heading to Cotopaxi.

RMI Guide Nick Sinapius