I met up with the rest of the climbing group at the headquarters of the climbing company in Arequipa at 9 a.m. Our group consisted of 2 climbing guides, a Brazilian couple, one British guy, two other Americans, and myself for a total of 8 people (6 climbers, 2 guides). The climb actually started out with a trip by 4×4 jeep. Our group split into two jeeps and from Arequipa we drove for several hours on a less than ideal road that led us around to the northern flank of Chachani. We had already ascended to over 4,500m/14,700ft by the time we got to the trailhead and several people in the group were already complaining about headaches.  It was also very windy so we got our packs out of the jeep as quickly as we could and set off towards the mountain’s basecamp where we would spend the night. It was a fairly straightforward hike from the trailhead to the camp, but I could tell the two Brazilians were already struggling with the altitude and were lagging way behind the main group. After roughly 2.5 we had reached the 5,200m/17,060ft high camp, located in a bit of a depression to limit the amount of wind our tents would have to deal with. Our guides began setting up a camp stove to brew some coca tea and the rest of us got to work on getting our tents set up.

After the coca tea, the guides began working on dinner and us lazy tourists went to snap some pictures of the beautiful copper colored mountains around us. As we wandered around camp the clouds to the south began to become ominously dark. A few short minutes later it began to snow, not exactly the weather you want when you’re getting ready to climb a mountain. We grabbed our dinner and ducked into our tents to eat. The American girl now had a massive headache and was already having second thoughts about going on the trip. I was feeling alright; not great, not bad. We were planning on starting the climb at 1 a.m., so we stayed in our tents and tried to get some sleep. However, as anyone who has “slept” above 5,000m knows, you don’t sleep, you just toss and turn and try to breathe. The anticipation of climbing my first 6,000m peak also prevented me from sleeping. I was excited and couldn’t wait to start the climb. I climbed out of the tent numerous times that evening/night, first to snap pictures of camp after the snowfall, then to do some stargazing (even saw shooting stars!), then again because I couldn’t wait any longer. I was out of the tent ready for the climb before the guides even got out.

The rest of the group started to climb out of their tents around 1 a.m., shivering in the below-freezing, but refreshingly crisp mountain air. It was then I noticed that there were only 4 of us and the 2 guides. The 2nd guide let us know that the Brazilians were not feeling well and would not be attempting the climb. We were already down to 4 out of the original 6 climbers. We all drank a few cups of hot coca tea and ate some bread and jam before we donned our headlamps and headed off for the first switchbacks ascending the mountain. Our guide placed one headlamp in camp with its light facing the mountain so people could find their way back to camp in the dark if they couldn’t make the climb. A good idea.

The first part of the roughly 7 hour summit climb is a long pathway of switchbacks that crisscrosses a large glacial till consisting mostly of gravel. The snow the night before had blanketed the switchbacks with several inches of fresh powder though, so it wasn’t exactly easy walking. Our guide kept a slow and steady pace though so it wasn’t too bad. Left foot, right foot, just keep on plodding. After about an hour of this the British guy stopped our guide and said he was tired. Our guide said we could take a short rest to catch our breath, but that the climb wouldn’t get any easier. The British guy then simply said he couldn’t go any further, he was already exhausted. He turned around and headed back to camp. 3 climbers left.

The switch-backing continued, but it got much colder as we ascended and our water began to freeze in the bottles in our packs. This caused some alarm with the two other Americans, but our guide was able to convince them that we could continue. The water wasn’t frozen solid, it was just a bit slushy, nothing too crazy. At around hour 3 of the climb it began to get extremely windy, and coupled with the already cold air, it was a bit uncomfortable. The American girl’s hands were very cold, so the guide switched gloves with her. Another half hour later the American guy began having issues with cold feet (literally, not figuratively speaking). We stopped for a bit and the guy said he’d maybe try to continue for another hour to see how things went. However, the guide just told him that he should turn around and head back. He clearly knew the guy wasn’t going to make it to the summit. At this point the girl also decided to throw in the towel because she was also cold and tired. Now it was just me and the guide, all the other climbers had given up.

In a way I was glad the others had quit so early. When they started having issues during the climb I was worried the guide would turn our whole group around and head down. That was the last thing I wanted, I wasn’t about to let my cold feet and hands get in the way of the summit of Chachani. I was actually feeling quite good overall, I still had energy to climb, had no altitude-induced headache, and I wasn’t too terribly cold.  However, as the guide and I continued upward the weather continued to get worse. It was no longer the cold that was uncomfortable, but now the wind. It was whipping down the mountain at a fierce rate, forcing us to stoop low to prevent ourselves from getting knocked over. If I had to guess it was probably a consistent 40 mph/65 kmh. It made breathing even more difficult because I now had to cover my face with my wind buff, meaning I couldn’t take full, easy breaths. We were at a point where I was nearing exhaustion and had to stop every 20-30 seconds or so to catch my breath. These stops became more than just rests though, for the sun had finally risen in the east and was casting a brilliant yellow-orange glow on the clouds below us and giving us absolutely gorgeous views of the surrounding countryside. On one of my frequent stops, I noticed a peculiar looking vertical cloud above another mountain in the distance. I asked the guide what it was. He said that it was Mt. Sabancaya erupting. What?? I’m looking at an erupting volcano while I’m in the middle of climbing a mountain? Yes, he said, it erupts several times a day. Uhhh…. ok. Thankfully it mostly only vents gas, so it’s essentially harmless. It was a beautiful sight.

As we continued on we finally hit the snowline and had to put on our crampons. It had been 6 hours of consistent uphill climbing in the cold, and over half of that time being blasted by constant wind. I had already hit several walls of fatigue but pushed through them, simply by taking it one step at a time. I was tired, but still alert and full of excitement to make it to the top. This was probably my favorite part of the climb. Climbing on the ice and snow on the side of a massive mountain was thrilling, the views were amazing, the air extremely crisp and clean. I realized this is why most people climb mountains. Not just to reach a goal, but to experience the world from a different perspective. It was exhilarating.

We finally saw the summit ahead of us, gleaming white in the sun, no longer obscured by the minor summit we had just climbed. I wasn’t thinking about my tired calves, quads, arms, and lungs anymore. I simply enjoyed the remaining part of the climb to the summit. However, I’ll be honest, the first thing I did when I finally got to the summit was to yell, then sit down and lay backwards on the snow so my legs no longer had to strain under the immense weight of all 165 of my pounds. I laid there for a minute or so and then finally got up to take in the view and to scream more into the air while high-fiving my guide. I had made it to the summit of Chachani, the first time I’d ever been above 6,000 meters, and it felt marvelous.