Exactly one week until I kick off the first leg of my big adventure, which means I officially have something to blog about! On Friday I'll depart Toronto and, if all goes according to plan, find myself the next morning in Mendoza, Argentina, set to begin a three-week ascent of the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas: Cerro Aconcagua.
a
Since I'll be perched on the side of a mountain for the majority of the trip, blogging and tweeting opportunities during the expedition will be nonexistent. So, rather than providing real-time updates, I thought I'd write a series of posts about getting to the mountain: training, packing, semi-freaking out about the whole thing, and, finally, the approach to base camp.
a
a
 |
| Aconcagua. Too big. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Aconcagua_(aerial).jpg) |
a
Here is a rough sketch of the trip: I'm part of a 6-person team. We depart our respective countries on Friday, fly through Santiago, Chile, and meet in Mendoza, Argentina. We then travel by bus and eventually on foot to base camp located at approximately 13,800 feet. (See map.) From there, we establish four camps up the mountain, hopefully en route to the summit. The entire climb is planned and guided by the trusty folks at Alpine Ascents.
My climbing partner, Paul, is someone I met the first day of law school and we've become close over the years. The other day I asked if he's concerned about the trip. Our conversation went something like this:
a
Me: "You worried?"
Paul: "I'm very worried."
Me: "Really? About what?"
Paul: "Everything."
Me: "F!"
Me too. (These fears are not helped by our friend Janie's constant reminders that she thinks we're doomed.)
a
I'm mostly worried because Aconcagua is super big. 22,841 feet big to be exact. That's about 12,500 feet higher than I've been in my life -- i.e., the top of Mt. Washburn in Yellowstone -- and altitude sickness sounds pretty awful.
My second worry: I'm allergic to everything. That includes nuts -- a staple of the climbing diet -- and the mules we'll employ to get our gear to base camp. (Well, I assume I'm allergic to mules. I can't say for sure, but I'm allergic to horses and donkeys and feel like I'm drawing a reasonable inference.) So I'm worried about getting sick.
a
Next, I'm worried about falling off, though, I'm not sure if this is rational or just an idea my dad put in my head.
a
And, finally, I'm worried about whether I'm in good enough shape. Three weeks is a long time to spend climbing and that means we'll need to carry a lot of stuff on our backs, up and down the mountain, over and over again, to each one of our camps, until we finally get to the top. And, as they say, that part is optional; getting back down is mandatory.
a
No fun.
Well, that's not true. It's the second type of fun. In climbing, there are two types of fun: First, the "Haha, We're having fun!" type of fun; and, second, the "Err, this is fun, right? Ya, right, we're having fun, I think," type of fun. Denzel explains this better when he makes clear which type of fun he thinks is involved in football:
a
a
I've generally found that, in climbing, you experience the second type of fun a lot more than the first. But, as Paul once told me, "Suffering brings clarity."
a
a
Which brings me full circle: The second type of fun has given me clarity as to what makes me happy and apparently that's attempting to climb Aconcagua. I don't care much about standing on top but the adventure in trying to get there shouldn't be half bad.
 |
| Too far. (http://www.aai.cc/ProgramDetail/aconcagua/) |
a
Me: "You worried?"
Paul: "I'm very worried."
Me: "Really? About what?"
Paul: "Everything."
Me: "F!"
a
I'm mostly worried because Aconcagua is super big. 22,841 feet big to be exact. That's about 12,500 feet higher than I've been in my life -- i.e., the top of Mt. Washburn in Yellowstone -- and altitude sickness sounds pretty awful.
 |
| The closest I've stood to the top of the world. We could have done the hike in flip flops. |
 |
| In fact, some dude's Yaris beat us to the top. |
a
Next, I'm worried about falling off, though, I'm not sure if this is rational or just an idea my dad put in my head.
a
a
No fun.
 |
| Training on the 2000-foot peaks of the Shenandoahs. Note: Bag filled with law school textbooks. (Thank you, Hart & Wechsler, for being useful for something.) |
Well, that's not true. It's the second type of fun. In climbing, there are two types of fun: First, the "Haha, We're having fun!" type of fun; and, second, the "Err, this is fun, right? Ya, right, we're having fun, I think," type of fun. Denzel explains this better when he makes clear which type of fun he thinks is involved in football:
a
I've generally found that, in climbing, you experience the second type of fun a lot more than the first. But, as Paul once told me, "Suffering brings clarity."
a
 |
| Sleepless nights and awaking to tents covered in snow = the second type of fun. |
Which brings me full circle: The second type of fun has given me clarity as to what makes me happy and apparently that's attempting to climb Aconcagua. I don't care much about standing on top but the adventure in trying to get there shouldn't be half bad.