Somewhere on the photo is where I left Nick on Friday 13th. Click on the image to get a hires image and see if you can spot the tent.
I awake to the sound of the Andean Snipe flying like an F15 over the tent. Breakfast and then a repair made on my MacPac Glissade (two different model Macpacs between us and two repairs needed). Then we load up the drums of food into our packs and set off across the bog towards Map Rock Pass. It is slow going and in one place I sink up to my knees.
Finally we reach the rocks at the other side of the bog that lead up to the pass. It has taken more than an hour and a half to cover 2km. We have a quick lunch then head back to the tent. Breaking camp we load up again with the last of the equipment and head back to the pass.
On the way we check out an overhang we haven’t looked at before. I am excited when I see a red mark that looks like a faded hexagon. Nick verifies that this is as yet again wishful thinking on my part (my colour blindness is a hinderance for spotting red pictographs), but then he let’s out a whoop as he spots the painting of a man. Photographs and GPS of the site and then we check along the rest of the cliff but see nothing more.
A large boulder on top of a previous camper's tent
We arrive at Map Rock Pass and make our temporary base camp. There is little shelter from the wind that rushes over the pass. All around are large boulders that have fallen from a 200m cliff just south of our camp. We are at 3700m and again have dinner before darkness falls and the temperature drops. This place is going to be Nick’s home for the next 6 nights.
Its 3am when Nick comes in with a double shot coffee, much needed for the 5 hour car journey to our trek starting point. We are too early for breakfast in the only town en route, so we scoff down bananas. We stop only to have a look at a cave in a canyon – nothing but small stalactities – though if I was a trogolodite it would make a fine home.
At the village we are greeted by Horacio, who took us to the airplane crash site in 2001. He has the horse ready and we load up our food containers.
Horacio laughs as he loads the mule with two barrels of porridge oats
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Right, didnt even get a chance to finish the last posts, because at 3am we’re driving off (in about 6 hours) for The Big One.
Bagsy I drive!
I’m convinced I’ve packed enough food for 2 months, but at least it’ll allow a longer than 3 week stay if necessary.
Rob will update a bit but I’m out for the long haul.. sometimes on my own for days on end (I’ll probably shut myself in the tent and eat!)
And I’ll be missing my girl…
oops. Marine biologist ahem?
Now 6 days back from the mountains and my exercise regime has stuttered while I take some clients out on a tour. I have just returned from Kuelap (the largest ancient stone structure in South America) and I find Nick pushing out his 200th pressup. The old goat.. erh I mean gout has gone and Nick’s toe is better, so he then dashes off like an Andean Fox with a backpack on his back laden down with 2 tractor tyres and the last 3 pieces of flapjack. My training since has been basically confined to filling my reserve tanks – the large wobbly tank just above the belt. This is my much needed APR – Anti Porrige Reserve. I am worried as we will be back in the hills in 5 days if all goes to plan.
Tomorrow to Gocta Waterfall (third highest in the world – still) with clients, plus the lanky gazelle is coming along as well for a lope. I should at least put a couple of rocks in my pack.
- Standing under the fall is good training for the weather conditions of Jagged Horizon.
It’s a funny thing, exploring. It sounds all macho and adventurous. You lull yourself into a mild fantasy state where you think you are some kind of cool Indiana Jones (with gout, asthma and gangly uncoordinated limbs). And then you bounce back into reality. You’re just very ordinary, though rather fortunate.
I hate midges, the cold, and lumpy grass; and that isn’t a reference to bad caribbean pot. However much time I spend cutting and laying out a bed of grass under the tent base, I always wake up 2 hours before dawn with a huge bump right under my coccyx.
Rob relishes my discomfort at 5am.
This morning’s discomfort is no different, accept that 2 hours before dawn it feels like that scene from the Day After Tomorrow when the Ice Wind chases Dennis Quaid into a cellar. (all apparently true).
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Uncooked oats, chocolate and milk powder and cold water. That sorts out my porridge HATE! First a swim in the lake. Under influence of Bear Grylls (that isn’t a brand of die hard whisky), via Nick, I dive straight in swim. Then the cold hits me and 20seconds later it is time to get out. Breathing eratic, body burning from cold.
Then we head out to explore a lake between two summits previously climbed. Whilst heading there an Andean Wolf/Fox runs out 20m away from us. We try to track it but it is way to quick. [we like the name Andean Wolf - sounds wilder and not something that just knocks your dustbin over in the night]
Luring us away from our camp, the wolf backtracked and ate our beef jerky. Next time I will only leave out oats.
When you start looking there is more to see. After the work the day before we hiked further up the valley for just over an hour. Were we already slacking? No way! A little way beyond our camp on four glacial moraines were old stone platforms that needed pinpointing with the GPS and to be photographed.
Same technique as the previous day – Nick leaning on his stick shouting at me “gibye, gibye, away…away!” and I run around like a border collie gathering sheep with a GPS waymarking the platforms.
Rob's ears prick up when he's onto something. And he has a wet nose.
Later we explore some cliffs and although we find some good overhangs we come across nothing of interest apart from shit from wild guinea-pig. These animals are a very useful breakfast substitute over porridge in my opinion.
Yet another tragic guinea pig skydiving accident
To be a good explorer you need to accept disappointment – not every nook and cranny will hold your goals. In these mountains when you find a place where there is nothing, there are questions of why there is nothing. Luckily regular pieces of flapjack keep philosophical moments like these minimal and provide energy to climb yet another hill.
We devise a simple process: Rob stands at a ruin with the GPS and I take a photo of him standing there looking like he’s calling his mum for a lift home. I shout out the photo number and he inputs that number into the GPS Waypoint ‘Notes’ section. Easy! Well, in principal anyway. Of course, you have to get to the ruins and platforms first…
(Oh yes, and for the tech-minded again. It’s a Garmin GPSmap 60CSx, and the main camera of choice for the expedition is a Canon 5D mk2 with a variety of lenses… more later on that little baby and the other 3 cameras!)
You pop over to that hill, I'm having a cuppa.
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Rob and I tend to film the whole experience, not just the ‘grown-up’ stuff. But it’s all part of the Big Adventure!
