Chimborazo: Las Rayas

I figured I´d better write about Chimborazo before we head to Cayambe, tomorrow afternoon, and there is a whole other story to tell.

Driving the Pan-American Highway, six hours to the first refuge at Chimborazo, is quite the experience. As noted in previous entries, highways here are different than in the States, especially the Pan-American. Cows, dogs, and people litter the flanks of this major road, just as much as crater-sized potholes splatter its dusty earth surface. A few hours into the drive, the major delay was the aftermath of a massive mudslide. The road, perhaps several small animals, and the front entrance to a roadside tienda were enveloped by an onslaught of rushing mud, trees, and boulders.



The accumulation of cars had been waiting more than two hours, so we decided to take matters into our own hands and make a simple request, that the largest boulders be removed first in order to make a pathway for the motorists. The thigh deep mud could be slushed around after traffic passed through. The request was acknowledged and we were once again on our way through the verdent and seemless patchwork that is the Andes.



Galo, Anisa, Drew, and I (with Jumar in the bed of the truck) bumped along until we reached just outside of Chimborazo and stopped for a 1.25$ lunch fit enough to feed a king: a full glass of melon and avena juice to wash down a bountiful serving of chicken, sweet bananas, potatoes, and rice. By the time our stomachs had finished digesting we were at the first refuge of Chimborazo, located in a moon-like atmosphere at around 4,800 meters. It was snowing tiny, consistent flakes, and the consecutive sound of thunder followed by streaks of rayas (lightening) alerted us to the fact that a storm, indeed, was right upon us. The plan had been to hike 2 hours up the left side of Chimbo to an area called El Castillo, attempt to sleep at such an altitude, and then depart at midnight for the cumbre (summit). After changing into our snow gear and securing crampons, pick axes, and harnesses for later use we began our trek. Not even five minutes into the hike (we were still within earshot of the first refuge) Drew mentioned that something was biting him, concluding that for some strange reason there were ants in his jacket. As Drew began to squirm, swiftly remove his pack, and unzip his jacket Ana began to feel the prick of these stinging ants. At first I had to laugh, wondering where the ants had come from in such an environment; honestly, it was rather amusing to see the two of them flailing around while removing packs and jackets. Then it hit me, near my sacrum, then on my hip, then my other hip; I had the ants, too, and they delivered uncomfortable little stings. Galo, a few steps ahead with Jumar, watched with a question written across his face as the three of us danced, yelped, and removed articles of clothing. With the storm still upon us, we began to realize that these stings of pain were not from any infestation of ants, but rather from an electricity building up in our bodies from the rayas. We were being shocked as the energy was building up for a strike, and having metal crampons and pickaxes strapped to our backs only aided in the process of this natural phenomenon. Galo directed us to return immediately to the refuge, as he could hear the static electricity moving amongst the three of our squirming bodies. At last, when we saw a jump of electricity travel down the jacketed arm of Anisa, we booked our stinging selves back to the refuge to wait out the storm.



Ñato, a guide from Baños, and his Canadian tourists occupied the refuge along with our convoy, waiting out the storm in order to ascend. After about an hour we slowly hiked to the second refuge, less than a half hour away, where Anisa wisely decided to dorm for the night. Drew, Galo, Jumar, and I decided to haul our packs up about twenty minutes further in order to set up camp in a snowfield held under the shadow of Chimborazo´s magnificent presence. I arrived with a slight headache, but the beauty of Chimbo pulled my concentration elsewhere.

For lack of time, the following sums up my overnight at Chimbo: Food, nausea; let´s try to sleep, respiration as if I just ran a mile, cannot catch one´s breath; heartbeat thumping in my ears, headache only worsening, heartbeat in my eyes, tears in my eyes; no sleep, nausea; shivers in sub-temps; ears, eyes, head pounding; breath cannot be caught, overwhelming stench of Drew´s farts seals the deal; sometime past midnight Anisa´s voice is heard calling us to ascend. You sound like death Laura. Jumar and I descend to the second refuge in a stumbling haze of fog and cold with a dim headlamp and pounding nausea. After stomping his wet paws across my face and chest for what seemed like hours, Jumar at last settles in and I slip into sleep with the aid of some advil (I had to). The others trek as far as weather would permit them; dangerous crevasses and less than negotiable weather conditions soon cause the demise of their ascent. Around 4am I am awoken by Anisa. I feel significantly better and she needs to sleep, so Jumar and I head out into the cold once again and watch as tiny headlamps descend the sleeping body of Chimborazo, stars slowly trading posts with morning. By 6am I am up at the campsite with Jumar, Galo and Drew just returning from their night´s adventure. I secure my crampons and hike up for about an hour or so, breathing in the beauty, appreciating and adapting. I lay down on the snow and hear nothing and everything all in the same moment. The energies of the earth and of Chimborazo, specifically, interchange with my own. It is a mutual understanding between the two of us. The sound of nothing sounds like everything, a white noise of peace. I give my thanks and my respect, and descend in contentment to stir the others for some breakfast. I will return.