Introduction

In this trip report I’ll attempt to write a more rigorous, objective account of my friend Chris (14ers.com user ChrisBam) and I’s independent, unguided trip to climb Aconcagua, South America’s highest mountain, via the Polish Glacier Direct, a non-standard glacier and ice climbing route up the mountain’s northeast side. This is intended to document not just the climb itself but the planning portion, time between the end of the climb and return home, and some post-analysis of the trip (spoiler alert: since we did not summit), things I think might be useful to other intrepid adventurers planning their own major climbs.

This trip report is very, VERY long! This was a three-and-a-half week trip after all. You can skip right to the section titled The Climb to get to the juicy good stuff but when I read other trip reports I tend to find the backstory and contextual details interesting and of value so I have also included ours here, doubly so due to many people's unfamiliarity with expedition climbing or Aconcagua. Because of the length of this trip and subsequent trip report I have a ton of photos. Thanks to our resident God and web admin, Bill Middlebrook, for increasing the photo limit not once but twice on this trip report.

For those who stumble upon this while researching the Polish Glacier for a climb of their own, a major takeaway before even reading the report: the Polish Glacier is rarely if ever climbed anymore due to dangerous changes in regional weather patterns. Please be aware of this! You are welcome to make an attempt on the Polish but be aware you will likely encounter dangerous conditions beyond what other online resources state, and you will probably be alone in your attempt. We did not see this stated on any other trip report or online resource and knowing beforehand would have changed our entire trip for the better. Have a backup plan, and a backup plan for your backup plan! Details are in the trip report (more specifically Day 9) but this is intended to serve as an early warning for potential Polish Glacier climbers.

In any case, please enjoy!

What is Aconcagua?

Many folks reading this trip report probably already know what Aconcagua is. We are on a mountain climbing information website, after all. For those who don’t, Aconcagua is the highest mountain in Argentina, South America, the Americas, the western hemisphere, the southern hemisphere, and the entire world outside of Asia. It stands at 22,838 feet above sea level in the Andes mountains of Argentina, just to the east of the border with Chile. Because of its inclusion in the Seven Summits, a list of the highest mountain on each continent, as well as the relative ease of it's easiest route, it is a very heavily trafficked peak. Aconcagua's exact etymology is disputed, but among several interpretations is commonly chosen to mean "Stone Sentinel" in the native Quechua language of the region.

For the vast majority of people Aconcagua is a walkup. The standard route on the mountain, literally called the Normal Route, which something like 2/3 of all climbers take, is a walkup most years. This is unfortunate since it means walking up 45° loose dinner plated garbage (think Wilson Peak in the San Juan) for several thousand feet from high camp to the summit. If there is snow it is significantly easier to climb this portion, called the Canaleta, requiring only an ice axe and crampons. Without snow even those items become unnecessary, quite shockingly enough for a mountain that almost reaches 23,000 feet. The peak has allegedly been climbed in tennis shoes, t-shirts, and shorts, and by dogs, so it goes without saying that the technical difficulty of the Normal Route is exceptionally low. The Normal Route starts at Puente del Inca and travels up the Horcones Valley in two days to the western side of the mountain and the western base camp, Plaza de Mulas. There is one camp on the approach and two to four above base camp, depending on the particular itinerary.

The second most commonly climbed route is the 360° Traverse. This route is not to be confused with the False Traverse, or the False Polish! The 360° Traverse starts at Punta de Vacas and travels up the Vacas Valley and the Relinchos Valley to Plaza Argentina, the eastern base camp, over the course of three days with two intermediate camps. From there it traverses around the north side of the mountain, using two to three camps, before joining with the Normal Route and climbing the Canaleta to the summit. After summit day it goes down to Plaza de Mulas and out the Horcones Valley, thus the 360° moniker. It is a slightly harder, slightly longer route than the Normal but still does not pose any technical difficulties if conditions are right. It does not require that you carry all of your gear up and over the summit, as it frequently shares a high camp with the Normal Route.

Very rarely climbed are the routes on the south face, a 2,700 meter high face of snow, ice, and what sounds like horrendously loose choss. The routes on the south face are all long, technically demanding, committing, and dangerous. They are climbed very infrequently, and only by the best of the best.

Finally, the Polish Glacier routes, frequently shortened to "the Polish". Named after the Polish team that made the first ascent of the glacier, these routes climb the massive Polish Glacier on Aconcagua's northeast face for approximately 3,500' from high camp to the summit. There are two variations: the Polish Classic follows the line of the first ascentionists and sticks close to the far left side of the glacier, which is generally less steep and easier; and the Polish Direct, which as the name suggests follows a line directly up the glacier or to the right, through some short, steep sections of easy ice climbing and scrambling through rock bands to the summit. The approach is the same as the 360° Traverse but the Polish routes only utilize two camps above base camp (possibly a third on the glacier itself for the Polish Classic, though this is uncommon) and descends back down the Vacas Valley approach. These routes are mildly technical in nature and have a much lower level of commitment than the south face routes, but are rarely climbed due to the relative ease of the Normal Route. The False Traverse/False Polish mentioned above follows the Polish Glacier routes to Camp II at the base of the glacier, then circles north around the mountain and joins up with the 360° Traverse and Normal Route.

Most people just want to tag the summit via the path of least resistance and I don't blame them. This is a big mountain and you're carrying lots of gear and food around for several weeks so going for whatever is easiest is often the default. However, for Chris and I, we wanted more of a challenge and so we chose the Polish Glacier Direct as our route. This was an extremely easy decision for us; the Normal Route, what with the crowding and its total lack of technical difficulty, was easily eliminated from contention. Same with the 360° Traverse, for the same reasons. The south face routes are beyond our abilities and so we chose the Polish Glacier as the last remaining option. The Polish Classic is also essentially non-technical, consisting entirely of glacier travel and snow climbing, and the Polish Direct sounded a lot more fun: ice climbing at approximately 22,000'? HELL YES. Like I said, an easy decision.

The Planning Phase

Note: I'll be linking to specific parts of the planning spreadsheet Chris and I used several times throughout the rest of this report. It can be found here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1VHfhIAZh5Ai1Tg5_ZFE_bIw2zw46idDXIaiRZUMDAHs/edit?usp=sharing Feel free to copy the spreadsheet and modify it to your own needs if you find some of it useful!

Chris and I have been climbing together for a couple of years now. We met through the Colorado Mountain Club during a series of classes and started climbing together a lot in the spring of 2016. We have similar ability levels and goals, and perhaps most importantly get along really well outside of the crag. That's an important and oft-overlooked "feature" when finding a climbing partner, especially if you're going to spend several weeks in a tent with that person. It hasn't happened to me but I can't think of much worse than going somewhere spectacular with a friend, having a crappy time because you clash, and coming home enemies.

We'd been talking about doing something big for a while. We attempted the Kautz Glacier route on Mount Rainier in June, 2017, and got shutdown due to equipment loss. We were determined to do something big to make up for the disappointment of not summiting Rainier. I'm kind of a list-oriented person and so the Seven Summits seemed like a good place to look. Of the Seven Aconcagua made the most sense as it was most within our abilities and finances but also posed a physical and technical challenge. Then, as described above, we came to an easy decision on route. We didn't really consider much seriously beyond Aconcagua. There were surely harder climbs, or more adventurous climbs, or more remote climbs, but Aconcagua via the Polish Direct struck a good balance of all of the factors we thought important.

Now, Aconcagua is a major expedition. While I'm sure it's been climbed alpine style (i.e. fast and light) it is rarely if ever done in that style and is almost and probably exclusively climbed expedition style, which consists of huge amounts of gear, food, and time. The obvious reasons for this style are the length of the route and the requirement to acclimatize, things that are insurmountable for everyone who isn't a total Steve House-esque freak. The next step after choosing to climb the mountain and picking a route is simply to put together an itinerary. This proved very easy to do since there are vast online resources for Aconcagua due to its popularity, and I threw together a three and a half week itinerary in a couple of hours one afternoon. The itinerary changed very little once I had put it together though we heavily debated cutting various days including one from the approach, one from the hike out, a rest day here or there, an extra weather day, etc. Ultimately we settled on the following final itinerary, which we felt was maybe a little bit longer than some might take but would give us the best chance of summiting. We'd rather take longer and have a better chance than save time but inadvertently screw ourselves going too quickly. (Link to itinerary.)

To make sure we were committed to the trip, once we had settled on the itinerary (which included specific dates at this point) we each purchased plane tickets. The stoke was on now!

With an itinerary chosen the real planning could proceed. Without an itinerary you don't necessarily know even what gear you might need; food and fuel is basically a giant question mark until you know how long you'll be on the mountain and what activities you'll be doing on any particular day. Other considerations come up as part of these discussions.

Gear was mostly already done given our experience climbing in Colorado and our failed bid on Rainier. We had a spreadsheet with the entire gear list, personal and shared, from Rainier and we copied and edited that. I won't get into the details but one solid discussion on gear was basically all it took, with the exception of stoves and fuel, which I'll discuss later. (Link to gear list. Too long for a screenshot.)

Food was a major component of the planning and one of the most contentious. How do you plan for enough food for a 16 day climb of such a massive mountain? We'd never attempted anything near as lengthy as this trip and we spent several weeks (yes, weeks) talking about food, planning food, buying and trying food, and generally spending all of our free time worrying about food. You need enough calories to sustain yourself for several weeks, working extremely hard, and at altitude. This food has to be non-perishable, voluminous enough to feel full eating it, provide the proper nutrition for extreme exertion, not take up a ridiculous amount of space (so a counter-balance to feeling full eating it), and most importantly it must taste good! Everyone who has ever gotten even mild altitude sickness knows the anorexia that comes with it. Not wanting to eat because you're sick is one major strike; not wanting to eat because you're sick and your food tastes like garbage can make an uncomfortable situation dangerous. It can end your trip and in extreme cases, your life. These are big mountains, you can't mess around with food issues.

Our food discussion led to some interesting choices, and we'd basically be trying the entire food system for the first time, both as individuals and as a team. We broke our food into breakfast (easy to eat in the tent, fast), snacks/lunch (portable, easy to eat while hiking or climbing, or to supplement other meals), and dinner (something warm, filling, and comforting for bed). Our breakfasts consisted of Poptarts and tortillas with Nutella; lunches/snacks were energy chews, energy shots/gu, stroopwafels, protein bars to supplement the massive amounts of carbs we were eating, and chocolate chip M&M cookies, a total comfort food; dinners were all freeze dried and we chose a wide variety of personally selected stuff which we labeled to keep separate. We bought a few freeze dried desserts as well, intending to eat them the days surrounding and including summit day for extra calories and comfort. We planned between approximately 2,500 and 3,000 calories on most days, depending on the activity of the day and individual tastes, and 3,000 to 3,700 on the days around summit day. We agreed that because this was unknown territory for us we'd rather have too much food and actually gain weight on this trip than skimp in the name of weight savings and possibly go hungry, jeopardizing our chances of a successful summit. It was a balance between the two and we erred on the side of caution here. (Link to daily food plan, link to food selection/tracking, link to itinerary meal planning.)

Alongside food we also had to figure out stoves and fuel. For a lot of people fuel is an annoyance that they'd rather not contemplate. On short trips it doesn't really matter that much, but on a two week trip it again became of critical importance to get it right. Chris and I spent a solid three hours one afternoon IMing each other over whether to use liquid fuel or fuel canisters. Seriously. The pros and cons of each type of fuel and of the stoves that would work with those types of fuel were super important to us. Ultimately we decided on bringing both of our MSR Windburners, one with a 1L pot and the other with a 1.8L pot. That way everything was compatible, we had a backup and didn't need a repair kit, and canisters were easier and safer than liquid fuel and were unlikely to freeze at the altitudes and temperatures we were going to have. Canisters are difficult to obtain in some parts of the world and we can't fly with them, even in checked baggage, but they're readily available in the cities around Aconcagua. We also weren't going to be cooking any elaborate meals and essentially only needed to melt snow and/or boil water so the Windburners were an efficient choice to boot. (Link to fuel and stove discussion/calculations.)

Then there was the paperwork and logistical side of things. We had to get flights (mentioned above), travel and rescue insurance (they are different), permits, mule baggage transport and personal transport to/from the mountain, and purchase food, fuel, and any gear we might need (for example I needed double boots still). Flights were pretty easy: whatever was cheapest. We ended up flying United because we could have two checked bags each, and considering we had about 90 pounds of gear each, split into two duffels each, we needed a carrier who wasn't going to charge out the wazoo for checked bags. Our flights took us from Denver to Houston to Lima to Santiago to Mendoza. Return flights reversed that. Travel and rescue insurance we combined with Global Rescue, who seemed to be about the only company that offered truly global evacuation service at a reasonable price. We didn't plan on using the insurance, of course, since that's exactly what it is - insurance - but we also considered it a requirement to have. If I remember correctly it was required to obtain a permit as well, which we would do at the provincial park office in Mendoza, Argentina. Mules are usually used to carry gear from trailhead to base camp, and from base camp to trailhead at the end of a climb. We could have carried all of our own gear if we wanted but that would add significant amounts of time and hardship to the trip and almost nobody does it anyway. We inquired with several of the officially licensed service vendors for the mountain and ended up waiting to organize this until we were in Mendoza. It was difficult to organize from Boulder, doubly so since neither Chris nor I speak Spanish. Ultimately because the mules can carry 60kg each we ended up getting two mules for the approach, one mule on the way out, and personal transport to the trailhead; we took a bus from the trailhead to Mendoza when the climb was over.

Finally, and last but not least (barring forgetting something) was weather. Aconcagua, being a huge mountain in relative proximity to an ocean, has extreme weather. The climb starts low in a hot, dry, arid desert and climbs into the alpine where you can get incredibly violent blizzards and the attendant snow, hurricane force winds, and arctic temperatures. We had to be ready for all of that gearwise, and we also had to organize a way to obtain weather updates. We had no idea what kind of service would be available at base camp as far as obtaining accurate, current weather and so we made sure we had a system we could rely on using people at home. Chris' wife Jami and our friend Kahle would serve as primary and backup weatherwomen and would send us daily morning updates on my Garmin inReach (a satellite GPS/two way messaging/SOS device) in a concise format that could fit in 160 characters or less, the limit that a single message can be on the generation of inReach I have. For the sake of consistency we had our meteorologists send us summit weather predictions only; we would extrapolate that in real time based on where we were on the mountain. I have shown an example of this formatting below (link to a more thorough document with examples). This actually turned out pretty great, as the weather updates from the base camp rangers were infrequent and quickly out of date.

Training

I could go on and on and on about training for climbing, and I'm far from an expert on the subject. There's just so much to say! Training is one of my favorite topics and I know it's one of Chris' as well. We train and climb a lot together and have created yet another spreadsheet that adapts Steve House and Scott Johnston's Training for the New Alpinism into a relatively straightforward training program, or at least about as straightforward as a complex multi-sport training program can get. Anyone who trains for big, technical objectives knows the absurd amount of work that goes into developing an effective program, let alone then doing the program. Fortunately for us our objective was largely hiking and simple walking uphill, even if steep, and the technical objectives were fairly easy. Therefore our program consisted mostly of hiking, hiking with heavy packs on, running, and scrambling in the Flatirons. We did continue to do more technical rock climbing and ice climbing but that was for fun and they were not the focus of the training, despite some crossover that would be useful for Aconcagua.

We also tried to do some winter camping and high altitude suffering in Colorado, just like we'd experience on Aconcagua. This of course involved packing packs similar to what we'd have on Aconcagua and then dragging them to stupidly high places in stupidly bad weather, also known as "fun". But seriously, we wanted to test out our systems and be as pre-acclimatized as possible. We live in Colorado, there's no excuse for us to not be prepared for big mountains.

The program linked to below was not followed 100% exactly. It formed the basis for the training we did but we didn't do literally to-the-exact-minute training, we basically used it as a template. We also modified the strength training some, doing two days of lower body weight lifting and two days of bouldering per week. The cardio was likewise approximated, and volume-wise we probably did considerably more than is prescribed, especially if we had a big weekend out. We are weekend warriors, after all.

Link to training program.

The Pre-Climb

Several Days Before Departure

Our flights were set for January 5th, 2018. The last few days before departure we basically were in panic mode. Everyone knows how that goes. Giant trip ahead of you? Panic for no reason. We had stopped training by this point, since any more wasn't going to do any good, everything was set logistically, we had done one gear check, and more. We got together one last time and laid everything out in Chris' garage: bags, food, climbing gear, clothing, everything that was on the multiple lists.

Doing this for a weekend trip is easy enough, but a multi-week trip starts to get in your head and we wanted to be damn sure we weren't missing anything. Once everything was laid out and accounted for it went into the duffels and absolutely did not come back out. One large duffel for food, one even larger duffel for gear. That was it. Our gear was packed and it wasn't going anywhere except in the car and on the airplane.

Friday, January 5th, 2018 through Monday, January 8th, 2018

This is it, the big day. I actually felt calm today, despite the frantic energy and anticipation of the last few days. The excitement was still there, of course, but it was under the surface. Overall though I was calm. I knew we had accounted for everything and that we were strong as hell. We would have no problems on this climb and my confidence in us as a team was incredibly high. All we had to do today was drive to the airport, make it through security, and get on our subsequent flights.

Jami, Chris' wife, drove and picked me and my stuff up. Their Subaru looked pretty ridiculous with four massive duffels and our two carry on bags but nothing could be done, we had lots of stuff and needed it all! I said goodbye to my roommates Erin and Mac around 9:30am, hopped into the car, and we were off. I'm pretty sure the energy levels in the car on the drive to the airport were off the charts. Our excitement could have powered that car, no need for gas. We got to the airport without event and unloaded everything onto an available luggage dolly. Chris and Jami said a tearful, emotional goodbye (ok, not really, she was super psyched for us too) and she wished us safety and good luck before jetting off, leaving us to our big adventure. First stop on the adventure train: flight check-in and airport security.

Our trip through the Denver airport and to Houston went uneventfully and we were pleased to find that our flight from Houston to Lima, Peru for which we had a zippy 43 minute layover, was in the same terminal. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was the very next gate to the one we arrived at! How convenient is that? On our flight to Lima we were treated to airline food and drinks, which historically are much maligned but ours were pretty decent. We were served salad (sorry, I ate it before taking the pic), tricolor vegetable quinoa skillet with with white meat chicken and queso fresco, a dinner roll, and a gluten-free cookie that tasted much better than its gluten-free moniker belied.

Our flight to Lima landed at the infernal hour of 12:15am local time and our flight to Santiago, Chile left at 1:55am, not enough time to get a useful amount of sleep without a high risk of missing our flight. On top of that the airport WiFi had a 30-minute limit and we had deliberately not gotten global mode enabled on our phones, planning to disconnect for a while if we could. Good thing we brought some light reading: The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn for me, To Kiss or Kill by Mark Twight for Chris. Our flight to Santiago was long enough for us to get a few hours of sleep, a welcome nap instead of trying to push through two days without sleep. Again our flight was uneventful, and we had another somewhat short layover in Santiago before our flight to Mendoza, Argentina, the shortest of the trip. It was on this flight that we finally got views of the Andes, a first for both of us as we'd never been to South America before.

Our arrival in Mendoza was again non-momentous, but we had a lot to do. We had to find and check-in to the hotel, purchase some basic items (toilet paper, tortillas and Nutella, etc.), find a shop that had fuel canisters, organize transportation and mules, and of course check out the city. We arrived early in the morning and had that entire day plus the next for this but we didn't know the city or the language and knew things would take a while. We ended up walking to Wal-Mart for the staples and a local shopping area on Avenue San Martín for everything else. From our wanderings we were very impressed by Mendoza. The architecture was pleasant and included lots of red hardwood in residential areas. Street art and murals were nearly everywhere, and the parks were large and bedecked in art as well. It would be a gorgeous city to live in, assuming a knowledge of Spanish.

On our second full day in Mendoza we organized mules and transport to the trailhead, which was a bit involved. We hadn't organized anything ahead of time, just gotten information and quotes, and we decided to go with the cheapest option, Aconcagua Pared Sur (Aconcagua South Face). Since neither of our phones worked in Argentina we hopped in a cab and went to the address on the Park Service's website which, to our incredible confusion when we arrived, turned out to be the home of Javier, the owner. He seemed just as confused as us when we showed up and didn't speak much English at all but fortunately his wife Victoria was able to translate for us and get everything taken care of. For two mules (plus muleteer) on the three day trek in, one mule on the way out, and transportation from our hotel to the trailhead, it was $870. His father and formerly the owner of Pared Sur, Eduardo, would accompany us to the trailhead as well. The whole family is lovely; I only have the one anecdote but I highly recommend Aconcaugua Pared Sur for those of you thinking about making a trip there yourself. They're awesome.

Now let me tell you about the food and people in Mendoza. It's awesome, and they're awesome. Chris and I ate ourselves absolutely stupid on this trip, and for cheap. $20 for a couple of ham-wrapped filet mignon and rustic potatoes? Ice cream for a dollar? Delicious wine and even craft breweries?! These Colorado boys were in heaven. Nearly every restaurant we went to was amazing and at least one person spoke English us poor non-Spanish speakers. Everyone we spoke to was so nice and accommodating and much to my personal, pleasant surprise, many people were heavily tattooed. As a heavily tattooed person himself (a sleeve and both hands at the time of the trip) I was expecting to be the subject of many a side-eyed furtive glance but I fit right in with the younger crowd. There is absolutely no doubt I will visit Mendoza again for the food, for the mountains, for the culture... It is a spectacular city.

Now to the permitting... For those who don't know, Aconcagua lies within a provincial park and requires permits to go beyond the trailhead. There are trekking permits and climbing permits. Climbing permits are route specific and priced based on the route. When we climbed it was a whopping $950 for a Polish Glacier permit. Nobody ever said mountaineering was cheap. The real kicker was the absurd complexity of getting the damn thing! It was so convoluted I'm not even sure if I'm getting this right, but the steps went something like this for us:

1. Got picked up by Javier and Eduardo on day 3. They took us to the provincial park office.
2. Provide experience of previous climbs, physical fitness, and proof of rescue insurance. Park ranger doesn't seem to know how to get us a permit for the Polish and eventually figures it out. It's not a permit yet though, we have to go get our fistful of American dollars exchanged for a briefcase full of Argentine pesos and come back to get the permit.
3. Take pre-permit and cash to a check cashing store (I think that's basically what it was) and exchange it for pesos at a significant loss. They also don't know how to do our permits.
4. Take pre-permit and cash to a different check cashing store because the first had no idea how to do it. The second one does, thankfully. They happily take our wad of pesos (and their cut) and sign a receipt to give to the park rangers. Apparently the money is deposited into a Park Service bank account.
5. Go back to the park office with our receipt in hand, whereupon they tell us we could have just paid them in American dollars and not taken such a giant loss on the exchange. Queue further annoyance.
6. Obtain permit after several hair-tearing hours, get in the truck, and drive to the mountains. Mountains bring a return to calm.

Whew! What a mess. At last though we were on the road. The drive to Punta de Vacas is a couple of hours max and the terrain in the Andes is gorgeous. It's very dry and desert-y but the colors are bold and the rock is everywhere. On the subject of rock though, it must be pointed out that the rock in this part of the Andes is incredibly poor quality and loose. It's sad for rock climbers like Chris and I to see so much unclimbable rock, but then again we weren't there to climb rock. Occasionally we'd see something that looked climbable but those areas were few and far between. That said, the rock in no way detracted from the beauty of the area or from the experience as a whole. It was a reality we knew about ahead of time and were well prepared for. The pictures below are just some of the poor rock on the mountain.

We were dropped off in the afternoon, met our muleteer (person who manages the mules), and checked in with the park ranger at the entrance station. Soon enough we found ourselves alone and began the long trek into base camp.

The Climb

Day 1: Monday, January 8th, 2018: Punta de Vacas to Pampa de Lenas

The hike for our first day took us to Pampa de Lenas, a small camp about seven miles into the mountains. It was the easiest of the actual active days we had, and the only one on the entire trip where we got rain. The solitude became apparent very quickly on this day. Aside from a mule train for a guided expedition we didn't see a single person until we reached camp several hours later. Even the wildlife was sparse to non-existent and consisted exclusively of birds. The trail was obvious and consisted of dirt, sand, and a whole lot of the ubiquitous loose rock. The rain ended up being a blessing this day. It wasn't strong enough or long-lasting enough to get us soaked and it helped cool things off and prevent dust from flying about.

It didn't take us long to reach camp, which consisted of a number of rock windbreaks and a small ranger hut.

We were required to check in at each camp on the approach and get our permits signed by the rangers. A couple of guided groups and some independent climbers were also there but everyone was doing the 360° Traverse - this was our first sign that we were essentially alone on our climb, and will be an important thing we failed to take note of early on in the trip. Because we got in fairly late on this day we didn't do much besides setup the tent, cook dinner, and go to bed. Tomorrow would certainly be more exciting!

Ben's Activity Track

Day 2: Tuesday, January 9th, 2018: Pampa de Lenas to Casa Piedra

Our second day in dawned warm and dry, perfect hiking weather. We quickly scarfed down our breakfast of Poptarts (chocolate chip or bust!), tortillas, and Nutella and packed up camp, eager to get a move on. We knew today would be longer and contain more elevation gain than the previous day and while we had the entire day to do it we knew that every minute spent hiking earlier, when it was cooler, was a minute we wouldn't have to hike later in the heat. We said good morning to our muleteer and his animals and set off.

Everything about this day was better than the day before: the weather was clear and sunny; the hiking was more enjoyable and the trail better; the views were grander and more expansive; we didn't have to rush to beat the darkness, etc. Our hike took us along and over the Rio de las Vacas to a large delta at the mouth of the Relinchos Valley, with Casa Piedra situated at the opposite end of the mouth.

The trail takes hikers around to the east of the delta but I opted to take off my shoes and walk in the cool water. It, combined with the soft mud on the riverbed between my toes, felt like heaven after hiking in the heat all day. We also saw a guanaco, a species of Andean llama. This was literally the only instance of non-avian wildlife we saw on the entire climb.

After checking in with the rangers we got our bags and setup camp. It was also time to make use of the facilities. Now, let me tell you about the toilets on Aconcagua. Or rather, show you. Yes, the photo is pretty safe to look at, though OSHA would like a word. Hey, this is the reality of expedition climbing, and for everyone who has ever pooped in a wag bag or a blue bag like on Rainier - this is downright heaven comparatively.

Let me also tell you that you'd better know which unmarked bathroom is for the rangers and which unmarked bathroom is for the plebeian masses because from experience, if you use the wrong unmarked bathroom the rangers will come and bang on the door and shout at you about how you're using their unmarked bathroom, identical from the other unmarked bathroom, and then wait impatiently until you're done and further lecture you about how you used the wrong unmarked bathroom. Oh yeah, did I mention the bathrooms are unmarked so you don't know which is which? Well they don't care, don't use their unmarked but identical bathroom. Sheesh!

We were once again in bed at a reasonable time with plans to get up early to cross the river delta at low flow.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 3: Wednesday, January 10th, 2018: Casa Piedra to Plaza Argentina

Chris and I were up around 5am today, well before anyone else, and ready to go. We knew we had to cross the river today sans bridge and wanted to do it early before snowmelt picked up during the day. Of course what we hadn't thought about was how cold this would make the crossing. And I mean ludicrously cold. Within seconds of taking our shoes off and stepping out into the water our feet were numb. Then our legs. This made walking on the smooth, uneven stones in the river difficult. Soon the water was nearly at our waists and moving swiftly, and eventually we were shivering. In all it took us about 15 minutes to cross and we were very happy it was over. It was just getting light out and we saw the first headlights across the delta back at Casa Piedra, so we knew we were several hours ahead of everyone else and would make it to base camp in good time. That, along with the spectacular morning views, were our reward for getting up early and making a miserable crossing.

The landscape became more and more wild as we climbed a steep hillside above the creek with Aconcagua itself finally becoming visible.

The trail was braided and loose with a several hundred foot drop to the creek. At one point it got sketchy enough that we weren't sure we were even in the right place!

Eventually the valley reached a shelf and flattened out amidst a sea of crushed red rock.

Signs soon pointed to Plaza Argentina, our base camp, and before we knew it we were there!

Now Plaza Argentina is much bigger than the two approach camps we'd already been at. It has fairly significant infrastructure for being a camp almost 30 miles into the mountains of Argentina. It hosts park rangers and medical staff, a permanent helipad, and multiple sub-camps with their own staff, bathrooms, tents, etc. for the outfitters. We checked in with the rangers and were directed to the Lanko camp. Lanko is an outfitter that partners with Pared Sur, who does not have a presence at Plaza Argentina. All in all between permanent and rotating staff and climbers there were maybe a couple hundred people at Plaza Argentina at any given time.

Lanko is in the big blue dome tents near the middle of camp. We made sure to check in with their staff as well, a trio of women, and they said to setup our tent anywhere we like. There was a German group also staying with Lanko that had two or three tents so we setup just uphill of them, right next to one of Lanko's big dome tents. This ensured that we were close to the bathrooms and drinking water (sourced from a safe place so we didn't have to boil it) and also to the smell of all the tasty things the Lanko ladies cooked for the people using their more plush services. As it were for us all we had access to was water and bathrooms and that was more than fine for us. In fact we had expected to have to not only poop into bags and collect it but also to boil all of our water to sterilize it. Having to do neither was a huge relief and saved us significant amounts of time and effort. Base camp was downright cozy!

We would be at Plaza Argentina for four nights and were super happy with how everything had gone so far. The next day was a rest/acclimatization day and we planned on doing a short hike with a little bit of elevation gain to help in that regard. But first, getting some sleep and sleeping in. It's a rest day after all!

Ben's Activity Track

Day 4: Thursday, January 11th, 2018: Rest Day and Acclimatization Hike

Rest days on expedition climbs don't have to be purely a stay-in-bed type of affair. We wanted to get a bit of acclimatization in the works so we'd have an easier time on the rest of the trip so we picked an easy hike to a col south of base camp. We took it slow and took naps at the top.

It was a beautiful sunny day and it felt incredible to just lay down on a rock and bask in the glory of everything that surrounded us.

We stayed on the col for about an hour just enjoying ourselves and talking about the plans for the next few days. We made our way down and spent the rest of the day generally being lazy, pigging out, reading, and packing our bags for a haul up to Camp I the next day.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 5: Friday, January 12th, 2018: Carry and Cache to Camp I

With bags pre-packed and nothing to do but carry our stuff to Camp I we again slept in and had our usual breakfast.

The point of a "carry and cache" day is to take up as much stuff as you possibly can, dump it at camp, and then return to your previous camp, doing this as many times as is needed to get all of your food and gear higher up the mountain. You leap frog like this for as many camps as there are, which in our case is two (above base camp). We took up all of our climbing gear, heavy duty clothing we knew we wouldn't need at base camp (so parka, puffy pants, mountaineering boots, etc.), and all of the food we would need for the climb above Camp I, so five days plus two extra days for weather and emergencies. Our packs were quite heavy but the overall distance and elevation gain for the day were reasonable.

Our hike would take us up the Relinchos Glacier between Aconcagua and Ameghino to a shelf where Camp I sits. We didn't realize that we were walking on a glacier until walking past a large chunk of exposed but rubble covered ice. The Relinchos does not require roping up as there are no crevasses to speak of and there's an established trail from Plaza Argentina to just below Camp I, where the trail fizzles out due to the extremely, incredibly, unbelievably loose rock-and-dirt mess of a slope that ends at the Camp I shelf.

This was Chris' first time at this altitude, above the 14,000-ish foot level we were used to in Colorado, and also his first time seeing penitentes. For those who have never seen penitentes before they are super weird and unique. They can be a deterrent when climbing but we were able to avoid them entirely, except to give them hugs.

Upon reaching Camp I we deposited our stuff in a couple of duffel bags and marked it on the GPS just in case it ended up covered in snow. We had "hidden" the bags behind a rock windbreak in the middle of a bunch of other tents so it would be hard to lose in the first place but anyone who's ever been in a total whiteout knows how disorienting it can be and we wanted to make absolutely sure we weren't going to lose our stuff if that were to occur.

I don't have any pictures or video of the slope we had to climb to reach Camp I (I mostly wanted to forget it ever existed) but it can be described almost perfectly as lubed up ball bearings at a 45° angle, or to be scientifically accurate, Total Utter Hell. Still, we cruised up to more than 16,000' above sea level with heavy packs in just a few hours and flew by numerous guided groups so we were feeling quite good about ourselves and our chances on the rest of the climb. With our cache in place we returned to Plaza Argentina for a restful afternoon and evening.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 6: Saturday, January 13th, 2018: Rest Day at Plaza Argentina

The rest day a couple of days ago was a rest day in name only: we might have had an easy hike but we still did a little bit of work and so today we wanted to take things easy while still getting the blood pumping. We took the same general route as the previous rest day but instead of heading up to the col we stayed in the basin and explored its far reaches. We discovered some boulders and clamored to their tops. One was large enough and solid enough to actually do a bit of scrambling on, and the number of pockets and huecos covering the entire thing made for fun and aesthetic climbing.

Besides that we didn't do a whole lot today, just more reading and eating. Keeping the body and mind strong! Or really, not wanting to bash your brains in with a rock out of boredom. There's a lot of free time on an expedition and you'd better be prepared to fill those hours with something. We chose books, music, and the show Eastbound & Down.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 7: Sunday, January 14th, 2018: Permanent Move to Camp I

With much of our gear already at Camp I our goal for the day was to pack up camp entirely at Plaza Argentina, move it to Camp I, and setup there for the next few days. We did leave a few things behind with Lanko - two duffels and some food for the hike out after the climb - but nothing else. Everything else was going with us. The hike to Camp I was familiar now having done it just a couple of days prior and so we slept in knowing it would only take us a few hours to eat, pack, and do the one-way trip.

Our hike up was just like the time before, a zippy trip on a beautiful day. We hadn't had any days I would call bad yet. There was the rainy day the first day, and there was some fog at Plaza Argentina, but nothing had been particularly cold or windy and we had gotten no snow to speak of. We were able to truly admire the Polish Glacier today.

Our arrival at Camp I was a joyous one. We were really climbing this thing! We lounged about a little and talked to a small group of independent climbers from Portland who were climbing the 360° Traverse. We setup our tent nearby in one of the pre-built windbreaks (there's no shortage of rocks on Aconcagua to stack up in a semi-circle), taking notice of the building clouds from the west. Within minutes the clouds had raced down from on high and engulfed the camp in a raging blizzard. We had just climbed from Plaza Argentina in sun shirts and trail runners and now we were getting slammed by 40-60+mph winds and horizontal snow.

Conditions were truly terrible, some of the worst I ever experienced. It was difficult to even stand up in the wind, and when I say "worst," well, that's kind of a half truth. I don't care if it's miserable as hell, I actually enjoy that sort of thing. I know some people reading this can sympathize! There are dozens of us! We had to melt water so I stayed outside and scooped fresh snow for Chris to melt. All in all it took is a couple of hours to melt enough water to prepare dinner and fill our bottles for the night. Every second of it was awful/awesome.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 8: Monday, January 15th, 2018: Carry and Cache Day Turned Rest Day

The storm raged all night and all through the day, howling and threatening to rip us and everyone else from our perch above the Relinchos Glacier. I sometimes wonder if I'll be that guy whose tent gets shredded in a horrendous storm and who has to spend hours and hours and hours shoveling snow or hauling rocks around with the express intent of even attempting to stay warm. Fortunately for Chris and I our tent is an absolute monster, just as it should be. If you've never slept in a 4-season tent it's probably because you have had no need to, which is probably also a good thing. These things are built to withstand the worst weather in the world and they're incredibly burly with super heavy duty fabric and guylines out the wazoo. They weigh about infinity pounds and take up just as much space but if you get caught in weather like we did you'll be so glad you have your little nylon fortress. Aside from sounding like you're inside a jet engine during a storm you'll be mighty cozy in one, no matter what the weather. It stopped snowing in the afternoon but the winds continued unabated.

Today was supposed to be another carry and cache day up to Camp II at the base of the Polish Glacier but the weather was so horrendous we decided to swap it with the next day, which was a rest day. That would then mean we would carry and cache and move to Camp II on successive days. Not ideal as far as acclimatization goes but it would work nonetheless. We talked to the guides from an Alpine Ascents group to get their professional opinions on changing the schedule up like we were doing. They were on the exact same itinerary as us and would be splitting with us at Camp II, with us going up the Polish and them traversing around the mountain. They said they were doing the same, as everyone hoped the weather would lighten up on Tuesday and make the carry and cache easier. Everyone would be going up over 18,000' and every advantage you can get is one you'll take.

Aside from hacking out a chunk of ice to get at water flowing near camp we did nothing today. We probably didn't go farther than 100 yards from the tent and there was really no reason to. Chris did capture maybe my favorite photo of the trip, and it wasn't of the mountain, or some crazy looking rocks, or anything really related to the trip at all.

Day 9: Tuesday, January 16th, 2018: Rest Day Turned Cache and Carry Day, a.k.a. Disaster

Again the storm continued without showing signs of slowing down. The snow had returned too, and the winds were somehow even worse than the last two days. It mattered not, we had a job to do! Carry our stuff to Camp II, gawk at the glacier, and then return to Camp I for one final night before making the final, permanent move to Camp II. We fortunately had this pattern down and everything was already separated into the duffels we had carried up last week anyway, so it was an easy task to get our things prepared to carry. It was a more difficult task to get our bodies and minds ready to carry. The weather today was truly horrible and we would be walking into an absolutely incredible headwind the entire way, just being absolutely brutalized by the winds and the snow. We weren't alone in the misery. Dozens of others, guided and independent, were slogging and suffering with us. Nobody seemed happy today.

The trail to Camp II took us through a small choke at one point, rocks on both sides. The wind hurtling through this choke made it almost impossible to walk, let alone stand. We struggled to get through this area, moving painfully slow as the winds battered us and ripped our breath away. It's difficult enough to breathe at that elevation but add extreme winds and it can almost feel like you're suffocating. Eventually we came to a wide bowl with a well defined trail leading to a flat area ahead. We could see tents peeking over the top of the shelf and we knew we were close, finally! Today had really sucked and we just wanted to drop our stuff and get back to the tent to rest. We might have been moving slow but not without great energy as dictated by the weather.

We slowly crept along the trail, a veritable conga line of people behind us pushing upwards, and reached Camp II...I. Camp III. Guanaco Camp.

Camp III?

What the fuck?

It slowly dawned on us. Chris and I were at the wrong camp. We walked over and talked to a group of Russians. "Is this Camp II?" we asked. "Camp II?" they said, incredulously. "For the Polish Glacier?" "Uh... this is Camp III, guys." It was now confirmed. Chris and I were at the wrong camp. In just a few short sentences we knew we had screwed up badly. We had never even heard of Camp III before. How could this even be possible?

We looked at the GPS. Definitely not even close to Camp II. We ran over and talked to the Alpine Ascents guides who had just arrived. Definitely not even close to Camp II. Unbelievable. My heart sank to the bottom of my feet.

What the fuck?

Where even were we?! Neither of us had a clue. In fact, the Alpine Ascents guides didn't seem to know where Camp II was either, except to tell us that nobody climbs the Polish Glacier anymore. I'm sure they could tell the almost panic we were in, having both no idea where we were and yet a totally clear idea of where we weren't. Chris and I just couldn't understand how this had happened. We took literally the only trail! To Camp II! And yet it didn't lead to Camp II but to Camp III. What a cruel joke this was, Camp III. The "next" camp beyond Camp I and yet it was nowhere near correct, we were so far away from the glacier and so far from being right. It was like a slap in the face to call it Camp III.

We talked for several minutes at Camp III. It was decision making time. We had two "choices": 1) drop our gear here at Camp III and continue on the 360° Traverse, abandoning our attempt at the Polish Direct, or 2) turn around and go back to try and find the proper trail to the proper camp. I call them "choices" because in both our minds there was no choice. Option number one was impossible with the time we had as it took at least two more days than we had on our itinerary, and that's not even including weather and rest days, and also went against our climbing ethics. We were there to climb the Polish Direct, actually climb, not hike to the summit. Option two was our only real choice, both scheduling-wise and in our hearts. Our hands were forced.

So we turned around and took it slower on the way back down. We weren't sure what we'd find. Nothing obvious, that's for sure. On the way down we passed a group led by the Argentinian outfit Inka Expeditions and we asked their guide too. He laughed at us. Not maliciously, but sadly. He told us our trail split off the main trail just above Camp I but that nobody climbs the Polish Glacier anymore because it's too dangerous. We kind of didn't care and thanked him before moving on. We searched for the trail as we slowly descended, our packs still full. Eventually we found the trail to Camp II, if you could even call it a trail. It was a faint mix of dirt and rock, almost imperceptibly distinct from the surroundings. The snow drifts covering significant portions of it made it all the worse, and we hadn't seen it thinking that there was only one trail. It was perhaps an hour above Camp I, maybe a hair further. Instead we had spent many hours trudging to Camp III for no reason. We screwed up badly.

Again we were given two choices. 1) Continue up the trail, if we could keep track of it and could break trail through the snow by ourselves for what was now several thousand vertical feet, whereupon we would be completely alone at Camp II and completely alone climbing the glacier, or 2) return to Camp I, putting an abrupt end to our trip. This time the decision wasn't so easy. Whereas nearly everything on this trip had come easily and without debate this was different. We knew this choice had to be made and we didn't want to make it. We debated for maybe 15 minutes. We started with the assumption that we were going to do it. What would stop us? The fact that we'd wasted all kinds of energy already? The fact that there were thousands of feet we had to re-gain through unbroken snow? The fact that we didn't know where we were going? The fact that we'd be totally alone for days at extreme altitude? The fact that we would have to climb 3,500+ feet of deep, steep snow and ice, all of it above 19,000', breaking trail through all of it and completely alone? The fact that all the fresh snow had already triggered avalanches so large we could see them from below? The fact that we might not even have enough time now?

It might seem to the reader that we did nothing but naysay ourselves into turning around. And you know, maybe we are cowards or weak, but we are weak cowards who will live to climb this stupid fucking rock another day. We really only had one choice this whole time: turn around. End the climb. Go home. But go home alive. I could never and would never jeopardize our lives in the pursuit of a summit or my climbing ethics. My number one ethic here was to come home safe anyway. Nothing else mattered anymore.

We knelt in the snow together and looked up the mountain. It had changed into something ugly in the preceding minutes. What was once beauty and hope had become crushing brutality, fear, anguish, and death. I didn't want to look at it anymore. I knew none of those things would happen to us because we weren't stupid enough to continue upwards but I knew that they awaited if we pushed a little further, and then pushed beyond that, and beyond that, in pursuit of the summit. We had spent months working and planning and training and it was all over in the course of a morning.

And thus we turned around, heavy hearted. I felt good about our decision to remain safe but I know Chris was devastated. I mean, I was too, but I knew we'd be back to climb the mountain one way or another. He on the other hand had gotten angry, not at me but at the circumstances, and then went silent. I knew he was struggling to understand what had happened and why we turned around, not because he couldn't grasp them but because it was so sudden, so jarring, so... pointless. The mountain didn't care in the slightest, it didn't even know we were there and wouldn't care if it did somehow know. I don't blame Chris for any of his feelings on the matter. I felt the same way. This was an incredibly emotional and difficult choice, but the right one for us. You see, it's hard to know that without understanding the dynamic Chris and I have. Of the two of us I'm physically stronger despite being smaller; he's far more mentally strong. The kinds of climbing that have me terrified and paralyzed he flies up without a care in the world; the kinds of climbing that are at his physical limit are well within the bounds of what I'm capable of. It's part of why we make such good friends and why we make such a great climbing team. There's not much that we can't do together. We wish we had the other's strengths but we can do pretty much anything as a team, which is why it's so difficult when we aren't successful. It's a breakdown of what makes us good and how can you overcome that?

In this case it wasn't even a breakdown of our abilities. It was a breakdown of our planning. There are abundant resources online for the Polish Direct, how to climb it, when to go, trip reports, everything you could ask for. What we didn't know was that the mountain and the climbing had changed. What was once a tenable route no longer is most of the time due to climate change. Where the mountain used to be relatively predictable it no longer is. It can be as dry as a bone, as it used to be, or it can be like we found it: extreme storm systems blasting the hell out of everything and making the glacier far too dangerous and physically difficult to climb. Thus why so few people climb it anymore, and why the trail was so difficult to find: disuse. It's a negative feedback loop. As one thing gets worse so do all the others. We aren't even sure when the the glacier had been climbed last. It could have been several years for all we know.

Thus part of the point of writing this trip report (if prospective Polish Glacier climbers have even made it this far) is a warning: feel free to approach the Polish Glacier but approach it with caution and with a backup plan and a backup plan for your backup plan. Not only could we not climb our intended route but we couldn't climb our backup route, the Polish Traverse/False Polish because it too leaves from Camp II and instead of climbing the Glacier traverses steep slopes that would be dangerous covered in snow. Nowhere have I seen it mentioned that the Polish is seldom climbed anymore and nobody told us until it was too late, so this is your warning. You might have more luck than us but you should be aware that this isn't really a popular, well-traveled route anymore and you are on your own when it comes to climbing it.

We returned to camp in silence. Nothing was in our ears but the howling wind. We threw our packs down and crawled into the tent, dazed at what had happened to us. We got into our sleeping bags and put in our earbuds. We didn't want to talk, not right now. We spent most if not all of the rest of the day in silence. This wasn't the kind of dangerous, corrosive silence one might experience between a quarreling couple, but rather the kind of resigned silence you might find as you process a great loss. It wasn't that we didn't want to talk, we just didn't have the energy or the need. We'd have plenty of time to dissect every tiny moment of our trip but this was the time for mourning.

We cooked our dinners in silence, and for the first time on this trip I struggled to eat my freeze dried meal. We went to bed knowing this was one of our last days on the mountain.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 10: Wednesday, January 17th, 2018: Return to Base Camp

Today I woke up feeling like utter trash. Chris on the other hand felt better. It was entirely mental for me. Despite the harsh weather and struggle of a climb yesterday we both felt physically ok - our training had paid off on this trip and we never felt physically tired. I was just whipped from the sudden end to our trip.

At this point the remainder of our time on the mountain was simplified. Boiled down it was basically "pack up and descend," or "go home," or maybe even "leave," if brevity is your thing. The storm had abated today and we had no real responsibilities except to get all of our stuff, which was way more than should be carried by any one person, back down to base camp. We slept in because we had that single task to do, and we were only going down, not up, further simplifying and speeding the process.

The good weather, while it was eye-rollingly annoying that it was once again good compared to the last few days' insanity, was also a blessing so we weren't packing camp and carrying two bags worth of stuff each down to Plaza Argentina in a whiteout. It was rough enough carrying as much as we did, let alone with high winds and/or snow.

Our going was slow with the heavy loads, but that was ok. Everything else had been so rushed that it was nice to finally go a little slow. We stopped near a glacial tarn and I dropped the duffel off behind a rock, since the combined weight was wrenching my back out of place. I'd have to make a return trip for it but I didn't really care much. It gave me a bit of solitude during the nicest part of the day, so I just sat and looked at the frozen tarn for a few minutes, not thinking of much. Peaceful and much needed.

Eventually I made my way back to base camp with my second bag, and Chris and I setup the tent in the same spot we had been in a couple of days earlier. The Germans in the adjacent sites were gone, and so we had the camp mostly to ourselves. The nearest people were the Lanko girls, on the next moraine over. We were done early today so it was simply time to decompress and absorb the previous day. We were feeling a little more lively and the time passed quickly. Before we knew it it was time to go to bed. We slept well, released from the stress of the climb.

Ben's Activity Track

Day 11: Thursday, January 18th, 2018: Rest and Packing Day

Again today was a very simple day, with a single responsibility: pack all of our gear and remaining food into one duffel each. Our plan was to do the deproach in a single day instead of the usual two. We were tired and heartbroken and just wanted to get off the mountain, understandably, so reducing the trek out by half would be great. We confirmed that was both physically and logistically possible with the Lanko girls, who told us to get up insanely early the next day so we could pack our tent and sleeping gear into the duffels so we wouldn't have to carry them out on our persons, as would normally be done on a two day trek. They were really making our lives easier. We also signed out with the rangers at base camp and returned our waste bags - the bags we poop in to keep the mountain clean - to them. Since we hadn't been gone long there wasn't much and we had simply put everything into a single bag. The ranger asked us "you didn't shit?!" with a wild look in his eye when we handed him an empty bag, as if he thought we were going to burst at the seams right then and there. No, we explained, we really only had a couple of days above base camp and thus didn't return to him with a barrel of shit. Go figure.

We really took it easy today, leisurely packing our bags for the long day it would be on the mule. It worked out well that we had a bit of extra stuff, since it made packing the duffels tight to prevent internal shifting pretty easy. We were to leave them by the big Lanko dome tent in the morning, with tent and sleeping gear inside, long before the Lanko girls or muleteer would be awake. We'd be miles away before our bags began their departure. We were also told to be at the park entrance no later than 6pm, when the ranger(s) stationed there got off of work. If we didn't we could probably still make it to Penitentes, but they would make it easier by radioing Lanko in town and having them send a car for us. We had a lot of hiking to do the next day so we decided on an early 4:30am start, and having such a simple day lazed about and got an early bedtime.

Day 12: Friday, January 19th, 2018: Complete Descent

4:30am rolled around quickly. We jolted awake. We were regaining some energy from our defeat, and we scarfed down breakfast as fast as possible and began deflating our pads, packing our sleeping bags into their stuff sacks, and deconstructing the tent. All in all it took about an hour. We double checked everything, put the last bit of gear into the duffels, and lugged them the short distance to the Lanko camp, setting them near the door to the cook tent. It was utterly quiet, and almost utterly still in camp. Not a single other person was out. The wind rustling nylon was the only sound and the only lights were the moon, stars, and our headlamps. It was the most peaceful we had seen Plaza Argentina, usually a flurry of activity.

Verifying one last time we hadn't left anything behind at our site we threw our packs on our backs and began hiking towards the east, towards our return to normal. It was 5:43am.

We made quick progress in the cool morning air. A couple of hours passed as we hiked. Near the first real major loss of elevation we stopped and waited for the sunrise. We were rewarded with an immaculate view of the mountain. Our dream was still up there, and we were going away from it, but that's just the thing - it's still up there, and we can and will come back. It hurt in the moment seeing such beauty calling to us, but that's ok. It was time to buck up and move on with our lives.

We bid farewell to Aconcagua, the Stone Sentinel, turned around, and trekked onward.

We eventually returned to the land of life. The trek out was mostly in silence and with a bit of separation, but it was reinvigorating for both of us to just walk and not have to think. That’s one of the best features of the mountains, the ability to simply reset within their walls. We very much needed that. Overall it was an exhausting day. It took us around 11:30 to cover the full 28 miles out to the trailhead, leaving us physically exhausted on top of mentally.

We talked to the ranger at the entrance station who checked us out of the park and, as promised, called Lanko for our transportation, and before we knew it we were in Penitentes.

We had a room pre-organized and thank god didn’t have to stay in a tent again. Our room was small but cozy and the first thing we did was order real sugar Cokes, none of that corn syrup garbage.

We were each served a salad and heaping plate of corkscrew pasta with ham and vegetables, and by god did we eat ravenously, like we would die right that moment if we didn’t inhale every last bit of food presented to us. There’s no doubt about it - that meal might not have been filet mignon from La Lucia but it was the best meal of the trip. We were still hungry afterwards but the kitchen was closed, and they’d been nice enough to make us this meal after hours as it was. We thanked our generous hosts and made our way upstairs to pass out.

The Post-Climb

We didn’t have a whole lot to do the first day off the mountain. Essentially, get on a bus to Mendoza, go to the hotel, shower, and eat and drink ourselves absolutely stupid on steak, wine, and ice cream.

We setup the tent in the hotel room since it was still damp, and then went out on the town. First stop, La Lucia, of course. Did you really think we'd go anywhere else?

We had five days in Mendoza now instead of the two we had originally planned. Our itinerary says "EAT DRINK PARTY" for these two days but we extended it to five and toned down the partying some, due to the lack of a summit. However we did not tone down the "EAT DRINK" part, and why would we? This place is foodie heaven! We ate like kings.

One day we didn't bother getting out of the hotel room until something like 11:30pm. We never even turned on the lights in the hotel room. We just played on our phones in silence and ate several thousand calories of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms a piece. If you've never tried those delightful treats then don't, you'll soon be addicted and turning tricks for money to buy more dark chocolate peanut M&Ms. Anyway, our day in bed was everything we thought it could be, and laziness reigned supreme.

We explored some of the local parks as well, of which there were plenty, and always made sure to enjoy the fine selection of adult beverages along the way.

The days in Mendoza were lazy but went by quickly. We were ready to go home. Our flights went by without fanfare, though we found Santiago airport security to be full of geniuses.

We also had incredible views of Aconcagua's massive south face from the plane, the final bit of heart-pounding, sweaty-palmed excitement on the trip.

We returned to Denver, whereupon Chris' wife Jami once again picked us up at the airport and took us home. It was difficult, I felt, to finally be back in Colorado after a trip of such magnitude, a trip that we had done mostly on our own, and had not been successful at. I know I still wanted to be there, climbing and doing the things that make my life worth living. I of course knew that we had made the right decision to turn around, and that we could (and will) return, but it's not easy to make the right decision sometimes. I know every single person reading this can identify with a moment in their lives where they tried incredibly hard at a life goal, whether it be climbing, or a career, or a relationship, or whatever, and had it snatched away from them. It eats at you, and you second guess yourself and your capabilities, and you never truly forget it. But the trying times are times to shine, and I believe this trip, regardless of outcome, has shown us just how bright we can be.

I have one final photo. I never expected to find wise words carelessly scrawled across a wall in Mendoza, Argentina in black spray paint but I think it speaks for itself.

Post-Climb Analysis

Ben: I'll briefly go over some of the things I thought went well on this trip, and our obvious failure to reach the summit. Casual readers can skip this section. Hardcore climbers and mountaineers who want some insight from someone who would like to consider himself hardcore, or at least has hardcore ambition, might get something out of this section. Chris' comments are written in italics.

Chris: I'll probably end up agreeing with a lot of Ben's thoughts on these topics. Partly because our goals, styles, and habits align pretty well, and partly because we communicate a lot about all of these things as they're happening. I think the latter is a big part of why we climb/travel/interact so well together. It's not always easy to communicate our personal thoughts and feelings on something, but fostering an environment where it's encouraged, even when it's tough, results in a lot of shared fun and excitement in the mountains...and in life in general.

Training:
Ben: I think our physical training program was on point. At no point did literally any of the hiking/climbing seem difficult, even at high altitude with/without a pack. Having a strict training schedule (often to the detriment of other friendships, relationships, and opportunities) was helpful, and having a dedicated training partner, someone who wanted what I wanted just as much, was also instrumental. We trained significantly more than we needed maybe, and significantly more than was prescribed in the exact spreadsheet shown above.

Chris: I agree - our physical training program, mostly set up and managed by Ben with the help of online training manuals and books, was excellent. I felt physically great the entire trip and never worried that my fitness would be an issue during our climb. Days of trekking, high altitude, and heavy packs were all enjoyable and well within our abilities. That said, the training load was pretty heavy and took up a significant amount of time for many months. Along with working full-time, it seemed like all we did for months was work, train, and spend time in the mountains. Not that this was a bad thing, but it certainly affected (and at times strained) outside relationships and other hobbies/activities. The one downside was that we spent a lot of time walking uphill during our training routine since that was what the bulk of our climbing expedition would entail. This in itself wasn't terrible, but instead of heading out on fun rock climbs or other more technical climbs, we spent most of our time slogging through snow and carrying water up hills. In hindsight, I think we trained more than we needed, but it definitely made the trip much more enjoyable and safe. Having a dedicated training partner helped immensely and after training this hard and long for a trip, I noted that the most important part of long-term training is consistency. Show up every day, even when you're not feeling it, because it helps you mentally prepare for those off days in the mountains. Additionally, do everything you can to stay healthy and uninjured throughout the training regimen.

Itinerary:
Ben: Our itinerary was perfect and aside from swapping the one rest day with a carry and cache day, we did not deviate from it. Other circumstances could have led to more deviation but for us what we had worked. However, do not forget that we had the advantage of Aconcagua being an extremely popular mountain. There's tons of information about it. If we were planning first ascents or climbs of remote, rarely climbed peaks things would be very different.

Chris: Agreed. We reviewed and discussed many guided and unguided itineraries posted online, so the fact that Aconcagua is an extremely popular and heavily climbed mountain was a big help in getting started. We spent a LOT of time discussing and organizing our itinerary, and we checked and rechecked it many times over the months leading up to the trip. We debated various rest and haul days, number of weather days, number of trekking days, and other various details. I think we reorganized some of the itinerary a few times, and it ultimately worked out really well. I definitely recommend reviewing the itinerary enough to nearly commit it all to memory. With everything else going on during the trip, it's helpful to have the itinerary down because it helps make decisions quickly when needed.

Logistics including food:
Ben: Logistically we were pretty on point. We had minor issues with organizing mules, due to distance and language barriers, as well as getting permits, but nothing show stopping. I haven't figured out yet how to take care of these issues ahead of time without spending inordinate amounts of time on them beforehand. I think that sometimes just going to your destination and working with the locals is best. My experience going to Nepal and seeing how porters are organized there seems to support this: go speak directly with them and do everything in cash.

Food-wise I was a little skeptical at first of our plan, even though it was mostly put together by me. I've done backpacking trips up to a week in length, but the last of that length was well over a decade prior to this trip. I knew most of the food we were eating was good on weekend trips, or as snacks, or in a pinch, but not daily for weeks without any variety. I was happily surprised to find I not only didn't hate eating largely the same thing every single day, but kind of enjoyed it. I made sure I ate absolutely everything prescribed to a T, because I did NOT want food to be a point of failure for me. The amounts we were eating were almost certainly overkill for a 5'3" 125 pound man such as myself but better to overeat than undereat and lack required energy. Chris struggled a little bit with the food, and ate most of what the plan called for, and still did fine. I don't know what he would change, if anything (I will try and get his input and update this section.) One thing I know we both would change is not eating tortillas with Nutella. It's a load of calories and Nutella is delicious but tortillas just plain suck after a few days, let alone a few weeks. They get dry and flaky and gross and are hard to choke down even with water. Poptarts are awesome, even every single morning, but we'll have to find a viable alternative to the tortillas and Nutella idea.

Chris: Logistics: we nailed this fairly well, especially considering we organized it all ourselves and went with the cheapest possible option for our mule outfitters. I was a little nervous about things working out smoothly, but our outfitter was fantastic and provided exactly what we needed - the necessary use of mules, transportation, and basecamp access at an extremely reasonable price. And, they were great people. Since this was my first international expedition, I think my nervousness was mostly due to the fact that we weren't able to take care of everything prior to landing in Argentina. But, as Ben mentioned, getting to our destination and working things out in person went smoothly and worked out really well.

Food: this was a tougher one for me than for Ben. But, my difficulties in eating were entirely due to altitude. I have only been to 14k+ here in Colorado, and while I've spent a lot of time (days/weekends) at altitude, I have never spent an extended amount of time up high until this trip. I had trouble eating everything prescribed once we were at altitude, but I was able to eat most of my calories each day and luckily it didn't end up affecting me too much. One of the biggest lessons I learned about expedition nutrition is that you need to continuously eat throughout the day, because it's usually not possible to catch up and eat a bunch of food in the evening. The other big lesson is to definitely take a variety of food options, because you may be surprised at what you crave and what you despise at altitude. I enjoy coffee and one of my favorite trail foods are Honey Stinger Waffles, but at altitude I never wanted coffee and the waffles were the first thing I got sick of on our trip. Additionally, as Ben said, we'll need to find a different breakfast option over the tortillas and Nutella, because that didn't work out very well. Overall though, I would say our food plan was great, especially since it was our first attempt at it. After returning home and taking a small break from the foods we took with us, I can still enjoy them and still regularly eat all of the food items we had with us on the trip.

Gear selection:
Ben: I won't blabber much about this, but we generally chose whatever was lightest and would still get us to the top. Having mules to transport gear to base camp helped, but we cut weight on stuff like using an ice axe and ice tool instead of two ice tools, using a 30m rope instead of a 60m rope, using a water-resistant wind shell instead of waterproof hardshell (since it would be snowing instead of raining at altitude), sleeping in 0 degree sleeping bags in our clothes instead of carrying a -20 degree bag, etc.

Chris: Agreed - I think our gear selection was great. It helped that we already owned almost everything we needed and were able to easily test and familiarize ourselves with anything new during our weekend outings here in Colorado.

Route selection and research:
Ben: this is our obvious biggest point of failure. We chose a route that was (and still is) super cool and within our abilities, and ultimately maybe didn't do enough research on it. We did not know that over the last decade or two weather patterns had changed on Aconcagua and brought significantly higher amounts of snow, thus making our route much harder and more dangerous. This in turn caused fewer climbers, which caused environmental reclamation of man-made infrastructure on the route, which further causes fewer climbers, etc. It's a cyclical problem. I don't know how we could have known though, as neither of us ever found anything online stating that these things were an issue (hence the warning at the beginning of my report). Maybe the lack of recent trip reports (most are from years and years ago) and the lack of climbers attempting the Glacier itself once we actually arrived on the mountain. However, the park rangers, base camp doctors, and guides we talked to did not mention these problems either. Again perhaps the lack of information was what we should have noticed; everyone was climbing the 360° Traverse and nobody seemed to know anything about the Glacier itself, which we found odd but somehow not particularly surprising. We ignored the warning signs or just didn't see them, and that's on us. I don't know how people plan and climb first ascents or rarely climbed peaks/routes, aside from simply going and failing repeatedly until they are successful, and that's something to spend a lot of time looking into and understanding before our next big trip. The same goes for backup plans; have one and have a backup plan for your backup plan!

Chris: Basically, everything that Ben said. In hindsight, we obviously ignored a few small red flags regarding the lack of recent information available for the route we selected. But, we also never came across anything that really highlighted this fact either. I know this is one of the big reasons Ben wanted to put together a TR for this trip - we wanted to at least get something out there to let others know about the current state of the route and of the camps on this side of the mountain. The lesson I learned here really dives into Ben's last sentence: backup plans and backup-to-backup-plans. Our backup plan assumed that we would easily make it to Camp II and would make out decision then, when we could recon the glacier during a rest day. However, since we failed to make it to Camp II (more on that in a section down below), we didn't even have the option to pursue our backup plan. In what felt like a single instant, our primary and backup plans were both eliminated. We didn't take into account the need for a third option. Our third option would have been to climb the 360° Traverse, but this would have required additional days in our itinerary that we didn't account for, as well as additional logistics to accommodate our descent into a different base camp. We should have at least discussed and researched additional options for our backup plan during the planning phase of the trip. At the very least, this would have given us some confidence in our decision making that we lacked during our mishap in climbing to Camp III, and could have potentially allowed for a summit attempt.

Guided vs Independent:
Ben: I absolutely loved doing this trip independently. I relish in planning and organizing and putting everything together and seeing something amazing come out of my own hard work. Chris feels the same. The decision to climb Aconcagua, a relatively easy big mountain, without a guide, was super easy for us: just do it and use your research abilities to figure out how to do it. I believe the most significant things I learned from this trip came from doing everything ourselves. A lot of this stuff can't be learned when you hire a guide who leads every aspect of the climb from when you get up in the morning and when you go to the bathroom to what to eat and wear and who ties into what spot on the rope, etc. Certainly climbing a big mountain guided is still not easy but I feel like a significant part of what makes climbing the spectacular endeavor it is - the diversity and incredible multitude of available options and ideas on what's best - is taken away when climbing with a guide. Ultimately everyone who summits is still awesome as hell and people climb for the summit, not to spend weeks with their nose in an online spreadsheet, so climb with a guide if you want or climb independent if you want - you're a badass either way!

Chris: Absolutely agreed on this one and all sentiments shared here as well. Ben and I both fully geeked out in planning this trip and I loved every minute of the spreadsheets and logistics/meal/gear/itinerary planning. We wanted to do everything on our own, and I feel a huge sense of accomplishment because of it. I will say that having a guide would have most likely allowed us to easily sidestep our biggest mishap mentioned above and below. But, owning the mistakes as much as the accomplishments is what makes this all so fun and worthwhile for us. And like Ben said, if you want to go with a guide, do it! Skip many of the planning and failure points, concentrate on training and learning from the guide, and have an amazing time! It's all about enjoyment and accomplishment, so choose the way you want to do it and go for it!

Not paying attention, relying on intuition, and being a follower:
Ben: I'm almost embarrassed to put this section in but I think it's extremely important. On Day 9, when we went to Camp III instead of Camp II, Chris and I both simply went with the crowd. We failed big time in doing that. We didn't ask questions, we just made assumptions, and that was a catastrophic failure on our climb. If we had done more research beforehand, if we had done more checking in with ourselves and with our on-mountain resources (GPS, which didn't get checked until we had already reached Camp III, and a backup paper map which never came out of the pack) we might have found ourselves on the summit instead of turning around. I don't know that for sure but what I do know with absolute certainty is that we ultimately went into autopilot mode and let other people lead our climb. We followed whoever was right in front of us up to Camp III instead of finding the right trail to Camp II, costing ourselves a more advanced position, if not the summit. We take full responsibility for this, as we should, but it'd be easy to blame the "other"; weather that day was terrible, research didn't teach us what was right and wrong, following someone else like a lemming, etc., but frankly that's bullshit. We had only ourselves to rely on while we were up there and we got lazy and failed because of it. Major, major lesson learned.

Chris: Ben nailed this one in it's entirety. We fucked up. Luckily, it only possibly cost us a summit and not something worse. HUGE lesson learned and I'm extremely happy that we were fortunate enough to make this mistake in a low consequence environment, since bad weather or a more remote location could have easily turned this into a dire situation.

Bottom line:
Ben: I had a fucking BLAST climbing Aconcagua despite not summiting. I know Chris did too. Would it have been nice to summit? Duh! But we had tons of fun and we're still friends and have since gone on big trips and we had so much fun on this trip that we want to go back and do it again, even if it means doing something like the Normal Route. We had fun, that's the important part of this all.

Chris: I also had a fucking blast on this trip, and it was absolutely an overwhelming success. We learned an immense amount about international travel for climbing and expedition planning as well as ourselves and how we interact as a climbing team and how we travel together. I think Ben's comment "...we're still friends..." explains things extremely well. We traveled internationally together for weeks, spend countless days in a tent together, dealt with our mistakes, and had a phenomenal time doing it all. We barely spent any time apart when we returned to Colorado before jumping back into training and climbing together in preparation for another month-long trip in June. I will say that kneeling in the snow together, exhausted, while the icy wind cut at our faces, staring up past where we assumed Camp II used to be to the summit was the hardest and most emotional moment of my climbing career thus far. Anger, frustration, sadness, and anxiety all tested my self-worth as the months and months of training and planning flashed through my head. Luckily though, this was all temporary, and we were able to pull it together as a team, make good decisions, and enjoy the remainder of our trip. Having fun is the most important part, and we certainly had lots of it!

Thanks for reading!
-Ben and Chris