Gonna rise up Find my direction magnetically Gonna rise up Throw down my ace in the hole... - Eddie Vedder

 Can’t. Breathe. We just started the hike. And already…I can’t. Breathe. Shit.  This is how I was feeling as we slowly made our way up a steep hill at the beginning of our hike on Sunday which would culminate at the summit of Volcán Pichincha, an active stratovolcano. The mountain's two highest peaks are the Guagua (4,784 metres or 15,696 ft), which means "child" in Quechua and the Rucu (4,696 metres or 15,413 ft), which means "old person". We would hike to Rucu Pichincha. Had I known how high up it really was and how difficult it would be both mentally and physically, I probably would not have gone. But then I wouldn’t have this story to tell you…

 The night before the hike, I realized how unprepared I was. That I didn’t have enough water bottles or enough food to get me there and back. I also was told several alarming stories by a friend who would be hiking it too of armed robberies and travel advisories for those planning on climbing to the summit.  This by no means calmed the fears I already had. However, the next morning after pulling some food out of the fridge and filling up a 1.75 liter Fanta bottle with water, I met Blaire, Meg and Mike at the Fruiteria near my house to catch a taxi.

Little did we know...

what we were getting ourselves into...



A view from the TelefériQo.

The taxi would take us to El TelefériQo, a multimillion-dollar sky tram that takes passengers on a 2.5km ride up the flanks of Volcán Pichincha to the top of Cruz Loma. Here we met Liam, another Canadian and Cesar, an Ecuadorian friend of his and an experienced hiker/climber who would be leading us up to the summit. Little did I know that he would be a large part of the reason I made it to the top.  As we rose higher and higher up the mountain, I was reminded yet again of the ugliness of cities, as Quito stretched for kilometers to the North and South, scarring an otherwise beautiful landscape. Soon I would see no trace of a city. Soon I would be enveloped in clouds.

After making one last stop to the bathroom and purchasing some coca leaf candies (which are an excellent way to ward off headaches due to the altitude), we set off on what would be a four hour hike, uphill to the cumbre or summit of Rucu Pichincha. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Already as we climbed the first, what I now look back and consider to be small, hill, my breathing was laboured and my heart was pounding. No matter how hard I tried, I could not fill my lungs with enough oxygen to satisfy my body. I have acclimatized to living at 3000 meters above sea-level in Quito, but at the base of the summit, where we were already above 4000 meters, the air was thin and my body was completely aware of it. This is what my breathing would be like for the next four hours.  



This is near the beginning of our hike. In the distance you can see the black rock face of the summit of Rucu Pichincha. Here we come!



Taking a rest.

What you need to picture is that off in the distance is the summit, black and looming and shrouded in clouds. To get there, you must hike an incredibly long distance, the majority of which is uphill, on paths climbing and weaving through grasslands. You don’t realize until you are doing it what an incredible amount of strain this puts on the body. Before we even got to the half-way point, I had developed a blister on my left heel, with the promise of another to come on my right. Stopping for breaks was very much needed, but re-starting was difficult and light-headedness was inevitable as your body adjusted to heavy breathing and a pounding heart once again. Never before have I understood the saying ‘slow and steady wins the race’ as I did hiking up that volcano. Taking small steps was key, and keeping your breathing steady was even more important. I now believe that you haven’t hiked until you’ve hiked at altitude. It was truly a challenge for the body…and the mind.

 



Cesar, the guy that got us through the clouds and up the mountain.

           We eventually stopped for lunch under the shelter of a rock face and watched as the clouds covered everything below us. The day was foggy and the higher we climbed, the cooler it became. Luckily this meant I could put on the layers that had been adding extra weight to my backpack for the past couple of hours. Eating was necessary and wonderful and we all felt re-energized as we packed up our things and continued up towards what would be the most difficult stretch of our journey yet.



A well-deserved lunch break.

I suppose this is a good time to mention that I have a fear of heights. It is not ever something that I am really conscious of, that is until I am expected to scramble up a rock face with no harness, no helmet and nothing but kilometers of sheer mountain slope below me. When we reached the rocky base of the summit after hiking slowly through steep slopes of sand, the mental challenge for me really began, and the test became more so of a psychological challenge than a physical one.  

 

A view up one of the many steep slopes we encountered.



Prior to this, we had encountered a man who was hiking by himself. His name was Galino, and it was obvious he was an inexperienced hiker, as he would tackle small parts of the hike at unmanageable speeds, only to collapse a minute or two later from feeling tired and light-headed. He was perched on a steep rock face in the fog when we invited him to join us. We proved to be a great source of support and encouragement for one another. Oh the people you meet in the mountains.

 

It’s a nice and romantic thought to picture yourself being caught in the arms of one of the fluffy clouds surrounding you should you make a wrong move. But this was not the case. As we began to make our way up the rock face, I became increasingly aware of just how isolated we were. Of my own mortality. Of how one misstep could result in complete and utter tragedy. I am not over exaggerating for the sake of dramatic effect. What we were doing was, up until this point, the scariest and most challenging thing I have ever done in my entire life.

As we began to scramble across loose rocks, with no form of security save for a helping hand or guidance on where to step from Cesar or Liam, the difficulty I had breathing became less about the strain my body was under, and more about the fear I had welling inside me. The higher we climbed, the more I psyched myself out, thinking about all that could go wrong, the isolation, the danger. Liam kept telling us that we were almost there, but for me we could not summit fast enough. But going fast meant you weren’t being careful, and I was being as careful as possible.



The easy stuff...

As we neared the summit I felt myself truly starting to panic, and for the first time in my life, I thought I might have a panic attack. But as I clung to the rock, my foot started to cramp up. Body distracting the mind. Good timing. It was so painful I had to take off my hiking boot while Cesar massaged it out…this literally meters before we reached the summit. As I put my boot back on, there was only one way to go…up. I had no choice. I had come this far and no matter how scared I was, I was determined to reach the top.

 As we climbed up to the summit, complete relief flooded over me as there was room to stand and the solid mountain greeted my tired body A friend and I shared a tearful hug at the top at what we had accomplished. I couldn’t believe it. I can honestly say that I would not have made it to the top with any other group of people. Their encouragement, kindness and patience allowed me to get to where I never thought I would be…4696 metres above the rest of the world, having done it on foot, with the strength of my own body and mind. So many times I considered stopping, giving up. I am so glad I didn’t.



On top of Rucu Pichincha, we shared snacks with one another and with strangers. There was this unspoken sense that everyone had accomplished something incredible and that we had done it together. We had all been through something challenging, but at no point did anybody get frustrated with anyone else. We were all willing to help each other out and do almost anything to help each other reach the summit. As we spoke with one another, it became apparent to me how isolated we truly were. It was completely cloud-covered on top of the mountain, but that was okay. The silence surrounded us and it became apparent to me that although being isolated is a scary thing, it is also beautiful. And liberating.

Meg, Constance, Blaire and I.



Our new friend Galino, and Mike.

After spending no more than a half an hour at the summit, we finished our snacks, bundled up, and decided it was time to begin our descent down the mountain. Just as we did, it began to hail. Being up so high, there was snow at the summit and unfortunately for us, being such a cloudy day, any precipitation that occurred was bound to be cold and solid. It pelted us as we started to slowly make our way down the rocks we had just climbed so carefully. Cesar told me there was an unsaid rule in hiking: that if you sat down at any point in order to descend, you owed everyone a drink. With that being said, I suppose I owe about a hundred rounds to everyone, because that was about the only way I got down that rock face…I sat on my butt, in the dirt and hail, and scooted my way down, bracing myself against the ice cold rocks.

I seemed to be more comfortable lower to the ground, and while I thought I might be more scared descending than ascending as I could see the drops in front of me, I had the help of Cesar who told me where to put my feet, what paths to take and encouraged me constantly throughout the whole process. Can’t say I would have made it up, or down Pichincha without his guidance.

The next portion of our descent deserves mention, as it was by far the most ease and fun I felt during the hike. After we had finally managed to get ourselves off the rock face, we came to a scree slope: a large portion of our descent to the trails, composed of a thick layer of volcanic ash.  Most of us took it at a run or jog, and spent the next few minutes hopping and sliding down the slope. There were some larger rocks present in the loose sand, but if you were careful, even falls were enjoyable.  It was kind of like skiing, only we had no skis and a lot more sand ended up in our clothes and boots.



Scree slope! Covered in dirt and slightly off-balance. So fun.



The rest of the hike back was good. Bracing yourself to go slowly down the mountain was straining on the legs, but our lungs grew increasingly happy as we could literally feel the air thicken the lower we got. The hail had stopped by the time we got off the rock face and now the air was back to being thick with fog. By now my pants and the cuffs of my shirt were slick with a layer of mud which was okay because even after getting off the rock face and scree slope, I slipped and fell several more times on the muddy trails.

As we drew closer and closer to the TelefériQo, I kept saying outloud that I couldn’t believe what we had just accomplished. It still blows my mind. Never before had I put my body or mind under such strain. It is amazing to think what your body can actually handle when it is put under such stress, and for all of us our bodies did not let us down. It is also incredible to think about the things you can accomplish when you put your mind to it, as cheesy as that sounds. My mind was full of fear going up Pichincha, but I also think it was full of a determination to not let that fear control my actions. It was a wonderful feeling and realization and something that depended completely upon the people I was with.



Competition for the dirtiest bum...I think I won.

I am incredibly proud at having reached the summit of Rucu Pichincha. I am extremely grateful for and proud of everyone who was with me as well. This is something I will never forget, and something that allowed me to see how far I could really push myself out of my comfort zone. I never thought I would ever be capable of something like this.

 ““So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more dangerous to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.”

                                                                -Christopher McCandless

Having made it back safely, I realize how true this is. Challenge is key. Being uncomfortable and admitting to fear is too. It’s when we learn the most.