Sew your Shoes
June 23 1998
I have always been assured that a good pair of shoes should last many years,
and that coke bottles are completely indestructible. What fallacies one does
believe. My very expensive Gore-Tex lined full
leather trekking boots have finally surrendered to 8 months of severe abuse,
and have a hole (horror on horror. ) Good thing it costs only 50cents to repair
!! I have been busy on toilets and mountains. A period of severe diahorrea and
generally feeling unwell followed my trip to Sucre and Potosi. I spent a couple
of days reading in La Paz, before Ant (the Australian from Patagonia) strolled
in through my door. despite ill health we began arranging to get out and trek.
However, our plans to head for Sorata were interrupted by Uri, an Israeli I also
met down south. He was looking for 2 people to join him and a Brit to climb
Huayna Potosi
HP is a 6088m peak close to La Paz, and as we were going cheap, Ant and I
decided to join. The day before we left, I came done with an evil illness, but,
plugged with drugs, headed for the hill anyway. Rod, the
Pom, quickly began to prove himself a liability. He had made himself out to
be a serious mountaineer, having come to Bolivia only to climb a 6000m peak. The
first day we slept at 4800m and went 300m up the mountain, returning to sleep
low. The second day saw us push higher, onto ice and the glacier. We had hired
loads of gear, but seemed to know how to us the hired stuff better than Rod
could use his personal gear. Quote "Rod, please mind my tent with your crampons"
at least 5 times The mountain is not a very attractive one to be on, and after
sleeping low the second day, we did the carry up to the high camp on the third
day. It was not much work really, ascending to 5450m. However, I got in not
feeling well, and after pitching my tent, crawled into it and my sleeping bag.
It was my first night over 5000m and my first snow camp. However, I slept well
and warmly, waking at 2 for the days start. I felt really bad, and after we
finally got walking, felt worst and worst. It was not the altitude, as most
people would suppose, but rather the return of illness. Eventually we got to a
section that was slightly difficult, and I realised that I would have to abort
now or try for the summit in a sad state. Reason prevailed, and I made for the
camp in a
weakened state. I got in and was badly ill. The diarrhoea had returned with
vengeance, and I spent my time waiting for the others to return hunkered down
over ice or in the tent. The walk down to the refuge at
the bottom was one I certainly do not want to repeat, and it was with much
relief that I made La Paz the next day. It took two more days to clear the
blasted bugs, in which time Mo (the mighty Israeli!!) rolled into town. Rather
than head straight for the jungle as planned, I was determined to crack the
6000m barrier. So Mo was persuaded to join me Ant and Uri on Illimani, a bigger
and slightly more difficult mountain.
Ant was trekking, so we passed a few days in La Paz, visiting the bizarre
prison and sleeping a lot. Ant eventually returned, and we made for the
mountain. As irritating and laboursome as Rod had made the last
mountain, so much fun and irreverent was this one. the banter started with me
in an overly perky mood on the 4 am bus, and for 5 days continued unabated. the
first two days we hired porter to carry our gear two
vertical kilometres up the mountain, while we danced, sang and did all manner
of silly things. The first night was a truly beautiful campsite, at 4350m. the
second night was a 1000m higher, and here we irritated
some more serious American mountaineers with our complete indifference to the
mountain and altitude. Another 2 am rise for the summit day saw me in much
better shape than the previous one, but still unable to cook edible oats (sorry
guys) We headed off at 4:30 on a cold morning. Early on I lost a crampon on
some of the steepest ice on the route, and had an anxious few minutes getting
it back on. We headed methodically to 6000m. Here there is less than half the
oxygen as at sea level, and one plods a step or three
before pausing to pant. Still, progress was solid, and by 10:45 we were on
the summit plateau. Two peaks went higher, but Uri and I were quite happy to
sleep in that unfiltered sun while Mo and Ant went for the very top. I may not
have made the very top, but 6250m is good enough, and the sloshy snow slope was
too energy sapping for me. Indeed, the descent was almost epic. We began a 2000m
drop at 12:45. We got to camp 3 hours later, and took an hour to get packed and
then carried on the descent. The Scree master (me) took to the loose rock with
relish and dropped the last kilometre in only 1and half-hours. I got to camp at
last light and put up Sinead before crawling exhausted in. Sleep did not come,
but it was good to be off the mountain. I have no head for heights, and the
upper sections certainly gave me some very nasty feelings of vertigo. Challenge
the fear I guess. The next day saw the descent to a village from were we utterly
failed to go to La Paz. The next day we were finally on a bus, but the 7 hour
37km trip proved more trying than
anything the mountain threw at us, and we arrived to return our gear smelly,
tired and as short of temper as we can get. Now its a couple days rest, and then
off to the warm and exotic jungle Yes Yes Yes
Once in the jungle, silence from me may last a month, as Mo and I drift North
into the land of Parrots, pirahannas and pink dolphins
