written last week...

Well, with two days left of being 21 all I can say is that the past year has been the best of my life. Not only have I been blessed to the point that I’ve traveled to more than a handful of countries; somehow convinced the woman of my dreams to spend the rest of our lives together; and been able to do so without any major setbacks; the combination of all these things has set a foundation, and a certainty in my life that is incomparable. Even though I still find it hard to sleep between rooster crows and honking car horns, in terms of professions, and jobs, and all that good stuff, I think I’ve found something that I could potentially do for the rest of my life- and with the aforementioned foundation- all the ambiguity of med schools or future plans seem conquerable as long as I continue to follow my heart and dreams.

Since I last wrote, I’ve been through probably the most dangerous experience of my life, (also the most tiring), been extremely elated to have overcome this challenge, and if possible in spite of hours of tireless work, even content as I’ve undertaken the challenge that brought me here: my thesis research.

To put the strenuousness of my past weekend into context I’ll stray away from my usual exaggerative descriptions and only give a concise timeline of the preparation, the events, and the facts of the endeavor. To begin, Saturday morning, Ajay and I got up at 5 a.m. After hopping on a bus into Quito, we headed toward the center of town where the tour agency was. Running on American time opposed to Ecuadorian, we showed up at the arranged meeting time of 8 a.m.; only later to wait until our guides arrived at a little past 9. After getting fitted with all sorts of snow equipment, boots, crampons, and a backpack to throw it all into, we hit the road by 11; Ajay and I rode in a jeep with three of our guides, while 6 other foreigners that were accompanying us and another guide tagged along in a separate car. With two stops- one for gas and café, and one to buy food for our meals- the trip to Cotopaxi national park took about 3 hours. By 3 p.m. we were in the parking lot.

At this point, we were an hour and a half hike away from the “refugio”- a.k.a. the shelter where anyone crazy enough to attempt an ascent at the mountain rests between hiking the dirt road to reach there, and throwing on their snow gear. With about 50 pounds of gear we traversed the path; which, thanks to Cotopaxi’s volcanic tendencies consisted of a mixture of dirt, dust, and ash, that under your feet was about as easy to walk through as beach sand. When we reached the safe-haven, the whole “altitude factor” became obvious; at this point we were at 4,800+ meters above sea level- or about 16,000 feet. After a quick lunch of chicken and rice (yum!) we threw on our snow gear and learned the technicalities of climbing on glacial ice. The only downside I found to this form of climbing compared to traditional hiking is that you’re weighed down by about three times as much clothes as normal, and the addition of footwear as sturdy as moonboots with metal teethed cleats, makes your legs feel like they’re waking up out of a coma. As one annoyingly loud American who over-used the word “dude” put it, “one pound on your feet, is like carrying three pounds on your back;” and I’m pretty sure the boots and all other feet equipment had to have weighed at least 5 pounds. Long story short, it became increasingly hard to dredge uphill as the lessons in ice-picking and rope tying carried on.

Following the intro, we ate again. As the weekend went on the food got increasingly worse, but the hunger your body gets from rolling around in the snow and fighting for oxygen is surprisingly undeniable- even if all they serve is pasta and boxed wine.

Soon, it was time for bed. I would say it was time to sleep, but since we headed to our bunks around 7 p.m. and I maybe got 15 minutes of sleep before we got up at 12:30, it would be a lie to say otherwise. I tossed and turned for the 5 and a half hours of “rest” only able to hear the occasional snore, or cough over my pounding heart beat and throbbing headache- for the first time in my life, I think I began to get altitude sickness…

Regardless, I didn’t come all that way for nothing. When the guides phone alarm finally went off, I jumped out of bed, threw on my gear, and tried to drink as much water as I could while still saving some for the ascent. It was pitch black outside when we began to climb, and within two hours of hiking, we reached snow and began the real deal. We were split into sets of 2 gringos and a guide, blindly strapped up our crampons in the dark and took a few deep breaths to even sequester the minimal amount of oxygen.

Before I go any further, a little word of advice: if a guide asks you if you’re doing alright it’s safe to say something like “Sí estoy bien” or, “Sí, sí, no pasa nada;” but when he asks if you’re “Super bien”- say NO. Immediately, without hesitation, do anything you can to convince the guy that you’re as mediocre as possible- otherwise you might end up in the boat I found myself in.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the guide who questioned me as to whether I was feeling good had previously made plans to lead a tour on another mountain range at 11 a.m. that morning- two hours away from Cotopaxi. So as I strapped into the safety line with my now friend through shared suffering, Kevin (a 4-year NCAA track runner), and the guide who was in a rush, I had very little knowledge of what was coming next.

Within thirty minutes we had passed every other three-some of hikers in our group. By 5:20 a.m. – 3 hours and thirty five minutes later- we made it to the summit. Everything in between is lost in a haze of physical exhaustion and oxygen deprivation.

For the three or so hours that we trekked to the top we passed, not only every other hiking group that had left the refugio, some beginning as early as two hours before us, but caves, narrow snow-covered plank like walkways, and magnificent ice formations sculpted by the temperamental hands of freezing wind and gravity.
We beat the sunrise to the summit. In the darkness, our head-lamps lit the view of the monstrous crater that calls 19,000 feet its home. Looking into to it, I developed an entirely new sensation and definition of human insignificance compared to the power of nature. This feeling was immediately accentuated by the numbness that crawled from my finger tips, up my hands, and over every inch of exposed skin that peaked from under my ski mask. Although less frozen parts of me craved to stay put until the sunrise came, gusting wind, a now frozen set of under-shirts, gloves, and scarf, and a pair of legs that were more than ready to move down-hill, easily convinced me that my time had been sufficient atop the world’s second-tallest active volcano.

The path down wasn’t nearly as easy as I anticipated. I’ve neglected to mention that the ascent was the most teasing, arduous battle I’ve encountered in my life. Around every bend and after every unbelievably steep incline, there waited another, rising ceaselessly, with an incredulous steepness that taunted the legs I could no longer feel to even dare to continue.

Thus, on the way back, it wasn’t any less challenging to maintain control, footing, and a focused mind; and really, given the fatigue amassed on the path the first time, it was probably more dangerous to move down than it was to climb. But like everything else this day encompassed for me- I somehow managed to carry on, redefining my personal limits of capability. Not to mention that the accomplishment and adrenaline rush of finally reaching a point where there were no more huge climbs and only horizon to be seen made anything seem possible. So we headed down the same path in reverse, following the lead of Kevin but truly led by our guide and his words of motivation to carry on- fueled by his previous arrangements. In the end, by the time we reached the limit between snow and dirt our guide ran off downhill, leaving us to stroll back to the refugio at our own pace, only looking back time and again to see other groups still attempting to reach the summit off in the distance as the sun slowly climbed in tandem.

Ajay, sadly, didn’t make it to the top. Luck being as it was, his partner ended up falling ill at only a few hundred meters past the snow line, and although this distance is only an estimation and I’m not sure how far he actually made it, to this day he still says that “Cotopaxi wasn’t that bad;” which, based on my experience, can only mean that he didn’t make it too far…

...So I guess I got a little more long winded that I anticipated there, but looking back, Cotopaxi was a great experience and sort of deserved a post dedicated to it. Since overcoming the challenge I have finally completed data collection and coding for my thesis and will soon being analysis (the LONG part of the research…); but for now, we´re off to the jungle. I´ve included a link to my facebook photos from Cotopaxi, and as always, hope everyone reading this is doing well.

Pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2051490&id=1073280085&l=e4f2b1173d