I started climbing in college. Although I have climbed, I'm no "climber". At one point I wanted to be a climber, but that went away with many other college experiments. I rock climbed indoors and out, did a little ice climbing and a little mountaineering down in Mexico. I was in an outdoor program with climbers so I was becoming one, really only by association. I was an Outdoor Recreation major and had done an outdoor semester and climbing was all part of it, in and out of class.
Once I transferred from Colorado Mountain College to Unity College in Maine, I had to do an internship. So I went back to Colorado and student led a program called Outdoor Semester in the Rockies. I went from one outdoor focused college community to another and back again, all the while surrounded by climbers. I dated a climber too of course and he wanted to do some more substantial climbing while we were still in school, something exciting and a little risky. He wanted to go to Ecuador, land of "Gentleman's Mountaineering" and ecotourism. It would be exotic but not terribly difficult climbing, just our speed. So myself, my boyfriend, and two of his climber friends went to Ecuador for three months in the fall of 1999.
Endless steep agricultural hillsides of Ecuador pave the way to the volcanoes
We had our tourist moments
We did find some rock climbing while we were there, but our mission was to climb higher elevation volcanoes. We hit the coast, the jungle, got mugged, got pretty lost and eventually based ourselves in Quito at around 9,000 feet in elevation. By doing this, we would acclimatize to the altitude and it was all up from there for the higher, glaciated volcanoes we hoped to scale. We started small with some local adventures to some of the lower elevation peaks that were not covered in snow. We would have started climbing right in Quito on a well known and visited peak called Guagua Pinchinca, but it decided to blow up when we arrived for the first time in about 300 years. After that our travels became more difficult since all of our approaches were covered in volcanic ash. Everything became a lot more real and a lot more interesting as well.
October 1999 eruption of Guagua Pinchincha in Quito, Ecuador
Guagua Pinchincha at sunset from a crag somewhere
Battling a freshly ash covered approach
After adjusting our already loose itinerary we started to venture further and further away from Quito. We took buses, taxis and rode in the backs of trucks to get to our base camps. We walked through grazing "toros" and past ferrel dogs, got lost and had gear stolen. We visited villages, markets and stayed in hotels, hostels and inns. We all got sick at one point or another, some of us with nicer scenery than others. It was all part of the journey. The people were as amazing as the scenery too. Some of the peaks we climbed included the Illinizas, Cayembe, Cotopaxi and Chimorazo.
Illiniza Sur
Chimboraza and a cute little llama
We climbed above the equator, the ocean and the jungle to high places with views of this incredible country that only the condors and climbers see. We got off the beaten tourist path and mingled with farmers and local guides. We planned each excursion out of Quito as a team and each adventure had a new and different set of views and surprises. We climbed a dozen volcanoes while in Ecuador. We had the full experience and all made it in and out of South America safely.
View of Cotopaxi and me
When we started planning our trip to Ecuador, I remember talking about it with my friend Micah at a party. He had been there and he made it sound way over my head. He was right. I am eternally grateful that I was asked to go on that trip, it made an enormous impact on me and formed many of my decisions later in life. Thankfully, I had the boys to drag me along through the mountains and up the more intimidating and difficult routes we took. In the end, I learned a bit about climbing but I learned way more about why taking risks that have meaning are so worth it. I think my being part of this trip helped the boys gauge the risks they were willing to take with the non-climber girl as part of the team. And I, of course, added some drama to the adventure as girls always do. Seemed like a fair trade.
Sunrise on Cayembe at 18,996 feet. The highest point on the equator.
And now I face re-entry to climbing 15 years later as I prepare to climb Mount Shasta this June. I'm not intimidated by the climbing this time, or the boys. I'm feeling most intimidated by the intensity of this climb's meaning for myself and all of the other climbers. We will all be there to honor ourselves and those who have battled their way up metaphorical mountains and have both reached summits as beginnings and unfortunately as endings too in the wake of breast cancer. Our team will climb Mount Shasta with common purpose. We will join each other towards our own summits, whether we actually summit or not. This climb will have more meaning than any climb I have ever done. I can't wait to waive my prayer flags in the wind and bring with me the brave people who have climbed their way to their personal summits even though it was not a path they may have chosen, had they been given the choice. I climb for them and will always be inspired by them. I will bring their strength with me up Mount Shasta. I took a risk signing on to this journey but it is already paying off, just like Ecuador did.
