Posted by: Andrés Cruz in Summit for a cause on Jun 16, 2009
"At 12:15 pm, Russian time, we summited. It was eight hours of climbing, We started walking at 4:15 a.m, even though the forecast was not favorable. When they woke us up they told us, ‘it's still not snowing, but it's not too bad. There is a chance we face an avalanche, though'. Nobody had any sort of hope. But we still had to try.
We took a lift from 4.050 metres to 4.500 metres. After that, the tough part began. We had to walk through three different free-falls, which were covered with ice, so if any of them broke, we'd fall 80 to 100 metres, and this was all during a snow storm. We couldn't see anything. Aside from all my layers of clothing, I had a flash light over my head that helped me se where I was going.
After ‘the saddle' (5.200 metres), we encountered 25 and 45-degree pendants, with ice-covered surfaces. And, the more you climb, the stronger the winds. We reached -40 degrees Celsius, with winds as fast as 40 kilometres per hour. And then, even though I had crampons (those rigid metal structures you strap on your boots and enable you to walk), I would take two steps forward and one step back. It was like walking through a slanted swamp, with snow up to my knees.
All this without counting the physical effort that the axe and stick demanded. I had my axe on one hand and the harpoon on the other. So I had to bend over to stick the axe, which is 50 cms. long, and walk with the harpoon, which is 1.20 metres long.
For the final 300 mts. I thought I wasn't going to make it. My legs were burning, I was getting height-sick and a headache was making its way through my head. Thankfully, I grew up in a region with very high altitude, so my ‘cundiboyacense' genes came forth and the headache went away as quickly as it came.
Some of my teammates, however, were affected by the height. Three of them got it pretty bad. One of the Norwegians kept falling, she felt light-headed all the time, and she ended up vomiting. A fourth one had to turn back because he wasn't wearing the proper kind of boots and his feet were literally freezing. This, as you may imagine, is extremely dangerous, because he could even lose his feet. Those four went back, and five of us kept forward.
Also, once we reached ‘the saddle', which was our turning point, our guides debated for about ten minutes whether or not we should move forward. They were speaking in Russian, but I knew that was what they were saying. And then they decided it was possible.
The truth is, I was doubtful of my ability to reach the top. As I said, I was very tired, my legs felt like burning, I was sick of the height and the snow. You couldn't see anything, only snow falling left and right. But once I saw I could move forward, that's what I did. All I could think of was ‘I'm OK. I'm doing this for my wife, my son, and 157 single mothers.'
But then we reached the summit and it was an incredible rush. I got down on my knees and cried. And then asked to have my picture taken with my huge Colombian flag. It was the first time I ever accomplished such an amazing physical feat.
And yet, the worst was still to come. The climb down from the summit back to ‘the saddle' almost got the best of me. Going down that wall of ice was much worse than climbing it, because you have to do it upside down and you have to go inside the mountain face down so that the axe can support the whole body.
I made a big mistake when I didn't strap my backpack properly. I didn't tie it around my waist, and I was carrying all the weight on my shoulders. My neck and shoulder-plates were killing me, my neck was completely stiff. Every step I took the pain was seven times stronger than the previous one. At some point I felt like I wasn't going to make it. I fell to the ground and had no idea how I was going to get back down.
I've never felt so tired. Every step I took, I sunk further into the snow, which was already knee-high.
And we kept going on foot until we reached 3000 metres. This was much more than we had expected. We were unable to take the lift because there was a power shortage. During that walk I had a misstep and I felt a punch on my knee. Today, it's swollen.
The first thing we did once we got back to the hotel was take a shower. When you're in the mountain, you forget about showers and water. The weather makes water very unappealing.
Afterwards, we went to the lamb and chicken kebab place. They really are exquisite. We celebrated and now we're going to sit down and have dinner and rejoice in the fact that more than half our group reached the summit.
About this, I have some mixed feelings. At some point I felt like happiness wasn't complete because not all of us had made it. But the truth is, the ones who didn't make it have had a very nice attitude. When we reached our base camp, they were cheering and clapping.
It's been an amazing example of how tight our group has become in the past ten days. One of the people who was feeling sick could have carried on and then ruin the summit for everyone else. As I said in an earlier post, there was only one chance of turning back. After that, if anyone had felt sick, we all would have had to go back. There's no way you can summit with only one guide. That's why I'm so grateful to the ones who decided to go back. And that's why they too are responsible for our triumph.
I'VE REACHED THE TOOOOOOOOPPPPP!!!!
The truth is that I did it as a personal challenge, because I wantes my son to know that his dad had reached the highest peak in Europe. But also for those 157 women, who at some point in their lives felt like there was nowhere else to go and searched for alternatives against all odds.
And now, when I look back on everything that happened, I've realized so many things. First, our guides were amazing. Sacha, the leader, told me this was one of the hardest climbs he had ever done. But he was determined to do it since the beginning, he said,
Because he'd never climbed with a Colombian, and he wanted to see a Colombian summit".
