Fitz Roy

Myself following the final ridge pitch on the Supercanaleta. Austin Siadak photo

I've now spent parts of 4 seasons (Austral summers) in Patagonia, at the southern end of Argentina/Chile. Although this region has become en-vogue as the popular rock climbing center for folks chasing splitter granite, my experiences here have always been more along the lines of waiting out weather, making empanadas, glaring at bad forecasts, cleaning ice from cracks, and lots of windy hiking. It's an amazing and beautiful area, but don't let the insta-tweet-gram-book feeds fool you, it's mostly a bunch of stir-crazy smelly climber dudes complaining about the weather.

In the past few years there have been a few excellent 3-6 day weather windows allowing for access to (in the words of guidebook author Rolo Garibotti) the area's "most precious gift" - its splitter and clean granite. But there has been a lot of storming as well. My first time here (Jan/Feb 2008), not a single team from any country climbed Fitz Roy or any of the peaks in the Torre group. My second season, in 2011 with Scott Bennett, I experienced my only good rock-climbing weather, and we accomplished a long rock route for which we'd won a grant. I returned with Scott in 2014, climbing a bit (and getting snowed on at our camp below treeline) - that year saw mostly very bad weather until a single very good week in mid February, when the Fitz Traverse was done, but after we'd left. This year has been a return to the cold, wind, and low pressure that I think is more honestly representative of Patagonia. An update from Rolo:

In deference to the reality of these mountains, I recently teamed up with fellow Washingtonian Austin Siadak to climb a long snow, ice, and mixed route, the Supercanaleta ("massive chimney") on the area's tallest peak, Cerro Fitz Roy. The weather was predicted to be ok (sea level pressure about 1005, no precip, winds measured below "10") for about 30 hours. It ended up being good for about 18. Our climb took us 21.

Typical weather forecast - the obsession of Chalten climbers.

We hiked in (7hrs - 4500' gain) during the afternoon, reaching our bivi site about 9:30 PM. After putting up the tent, sorting gear, boiling water, eating, melting snow for the next day, and getting our ducks in a row, we only laid down for about 80 minutes (neither of us slept) before our 1:30AM alarms sounded and we began to go.

We made a great team and most of our decision making -- from gear, to timing, to risk tolerance -- was in sync from the start. The route ascends about 5,000' of climbing, with a long singular snow and ice couloir, some water ice, then a total of about 18-20 pitches of iced-up rock or rimed-up rock. The technical pitches are very traversing and wandering, mostly back and forth across steep rock faces. If one found this section in dry and "rock-climbing" conditions, I think that the climbing would be fantastic and pretty easy. But given that we did the whole thing in boots, 'pons, gloves, and puffy jackets, it was surprisingly slow and difficult. I haven't done much climbing like this, and found it exceedingly awkward, though fun to wrap my head around the "anything goes" style of frontpointing on pitons, double-cascades-knee mantles while pulling on a camalot, etc. We both definitely ice (and mixed) climbed like "rock climbers". High in the couloir, when it was still dark, I got smashed in the face with an ice chunk and blood instantly started pouring from my mouth and nose. It rung my bell a little bit to be sure, but also made that part of my face go numb. I reached up wtih a gloved hand to feel my nose and see if it felt "broken" (whatever that would feel like") and I inadvertently turned off my headlamp. I knew Austin (and 3 other teams) were down below me in the chimney, so I had a serious fear of passing out from exertion/blood loss/grossness, and tumbling, sans headlamp, down the couloir into them. I slammed both tools into the sinker neve, and hollered down to Austin to come have a look while I breath deeply and kept my eyes closed and nise pinched. Like many head wounds (especially amid physical exertion) it had bled profusely but really wasn't too damaging. I got things clotted and we soon finished up the singular couloir as daylight emerged. After a weird off-route adventure leading the first or second roped pitch, I turned the sharp end to Austin, who, despite also having limited experience in this style, was psyched to lead after drafting my steps up the long couloir. Austin CRUSHED, and ended up leading the whole remainder, zigging around the upper mountain with speed and confidence. We realized at one point that it would have been easier to climb many of the pitches if they were 5.12 tips cracks, rather than leaning 5.9 or 5.10 hand and offwidth cracks, since the "rock" ratings, topos, and styles meant basically nothing given the condition of the pitches, and our tools and crampon-clad feet.

Our route follows the deep cleft in the peak's right side.

Summiting Fitz Roy and staring down at the entire range, as the ominous "wall of hate" engulfed the western peaks, was a surreal and amazing experience, and we spent about 2 minutes on top. I lead the rappels (about 30 in all) back down the Supercanaleta direct, building a couple stations from stoppers, and relying on just one "dubious" anchor (a single so-so knifeblade, which I had bounce-tested). The rappels took us about 5 or 5.5hrs, though with better weather and visibility or knowledge, we would have stopped rapping a bit higher, to downclimb the initial 200-300m. The weather shut down us a few hours from the bottom, but we managed to fight the new snow and raging spindrift to make it down around midnight. We crashed in our tent 40minutes from the base (limping and cramping massively from dehydration) and made hot drinks and food until passing out from exhaustion. Apart from the 80 or 90 minutes of laying down prior to our ascent, we'd been on the go for 36 hours, and had ascended a total of more than 10,000'. It snowed all night and all the next day as we packed up and trudged the 6-7 hours back to the road.

After parts of 4 seasons here, I'd never summited Fitz Roy, or eaten at the local ice cream shop, "Domo Blanco". First time for everything!

Nuts and Bolts

• 1x 60m 8.4mm half rope, 1x 60mm esprit escape static tag line
• 1x cams from red c3 to #3, with 2x #.75
• half rack of stoppers
• 2 scews
• 10-12 slings
• Could have used a few more small stoppers, or another red camalot
• 1.5 liters of water carried on route, with 2 JB brewing/melting stops
• 2 Packs on route, but both super lightweight (20L, 35L)

Aguja De l'S and Mojon Rojo

After spending a few stormy weeks in the Torres Del Paine, Scott Bennett and I learned that the next 7 days were looking even more stormy! This was bad news as we had only about 10 days left in the trip. Armed with this info and running somewhat low on the tastier food products of our supply, we hiked out of the Torres Del Paine under gigantic loads consisting of packs-strapped-to-packs-strapped-to-packs. We caught the bus back into Puerto Natales and stayed with awesome friends there who run a trakking and kayaking company called Fortaleza Patagonia. They are the most amazing and nicest, most knowledgable guides one could ask for. In addition, both are bilingual. I highly suggest chatting with them if you visit the Paine or Puerto Natales and need local info or want to go kayaking or hiking in the park.

With our friends and a rented Toyota Yaris, we loaded up all our gear and drove (~3hrs) from Natales to El Chalten, where Scott and I thought we would just be bouldering and sport climbing for a week before leaving.

However, after a few days of reacquainting ourselves with actual climbing, a small blip of decent weather showed itself on the forecast for the day or two before I was to take off. We teamed up with a partnerless Steve Swenson, who would have to leave when we did for his return to the states. Steve is a true climbing guru and fount of Himalayan knowledge, and it was great to go climbing with him in the big mountains, not just at a crag in Squamish or Index. The three of us kicked around all kinds of ideas. Given that several accidents had already occurred in Chalten this year, owing (at least in part) to a very limited selection of snow and ice routes climbable between storms, we didn't want to find ourselves queued up behind other parties or climbing a peak we had all done multiple times. We settled on heading (via an approach which was new to all three of us) up to the southern end of the Fitz Roy range.

Scott and Steve - Fitz Roy and Poincenot on the left

We hiked in and left our overnight gear at an amazing bivy boulder/cave a couple thousand feet above Laguna Sucia and ~500' below the edge of the glacier. Nobody was around, which was exactly what we had wanted. The wind was still blowing fairly hard and it was already mid day, so we roped up and brought just a few pieces of gear, eventually rambling up the eastern aspect of Mojon Rojo, which was snow and rock scrambling to a 20' V0 finish. The views over the summit to the Torre Valley were amazing, with wind ripping the clouds through the strainer of the Torres' jagged summits. Armed with knowledge of the glacier and a high camp, we decided to try to climb something early the next morning which we reasonably could manage in gloves and boots.

A few other parties arrived at the bivy cave that evening, but we were the first ones up in the morning and tried to make a b-line for Aguja Saint Exupery. However, we kept running into dead ends in the glacier. After a few attempts at end-running crevasses in the pre-dawn light, we decided that our options were to: A - wait until it was light, and try to re-navigate while probably getting dead-ended. B - try to climbing something on Aguja De l'S which we could reach more easily.

Scott and Steve at the first belay. Aguja Saint Exupery is behind them.

Still following

We settled on option B, and generally followed a combination of the Austrian route (to start) and the Baby Face route for the remainder of the way. After some crotch-deep snow wallowing, I lead up ~100m of steep snow/snice over the bergschrund to build a rock anchor and bring up Steve and Scott. From there I just kept leading, as Scott and Steve quickly followed, often making soup or hot broth or tea at the belays. It snowed lightly all day, but the route was very fun, with interesting and easy ramps and narrow little corners covered in styrofoam snow, but with ample rock pro for both leader and follower. Our line basically traversed the entire east face of the peak from north-to-south, then angled up to the summit pyramid on much easier terrain, before taking 2 final steep pitches to the cumbre. I lead the final 2 pitches with no crampons and 1 ice tool, which, in retrospect, was a bad choice. I had expected more freeclimbable rock but things were very much covered in snow and a thick layer of water ice filled in the cracks. I aided, grunted, and free climbed very slowly as Steve and Scott huddled at the belays and made soup. Highlights included a committing mantle onto a snowy slab with no pro, and a small surprise aid fall, caught with aplomb by the ever-vigilant Mr. Swenson. We took turns standing on the tiny summit being ROCKED by winds from off the ice cap and over the Torre valley, and then downclimbed and rappelled the standard East Face.

Scott and Aguja St. Exupery

We were back in camp before dark and spent a nice night relaxing and asking Steven questions abut his upcoming Karakoram book and his numerous trips to central Asia, and the presence of the abominable snowman claimed to have been seen by Reinhold Messner, et al. For the record, Steve does not, even under intense scrutiny, admit to ever being a yeti.

The next day we hiked out, made pizza in Chalten (dough pre-made and rising during our trip to the mountains) and I caught the bus out of town, with Scott and Steve leaving the next day.

Torres Del Paine

I spent most of January 2014 in the Torres Del Paine of Chilean Patagonia. It was my first time to this range of Patagonia, and the area has some of the world's most amazing peaks. The three "towers" (north, central, south) are well-known and famous, but the Paine also holds other amazing peaks that are not so visible from the trailhead. These mountains are only about 90 or 100 miles from the vastly more popular (among climbers) peaks of the Fitz Roy and Chalten ranges, so the weather is generally the same in both parks. (very bad) Unlike Fitz Roy and the nearby peaks, accessed by an ever-growing international crowd living in a booming city, the climbing in the Paine almost certainly requires an expedition-style approach, with a backcountry camp, or camps, and no quick access to the outside world.

I was climbing with Scott Bennett, and we had big plans to try and freeclimb routes on the west face of the central tower, such as Wild Wild West (Cosgrove-Smith) or Via Delle Mamme. Unfortunately, the longest decent weather span we had during three weeks was about a day, and things usually take at least that long simply to clear of the ice and snow that accumulates. It was cold and blustery, even snowing in our low camp on a couple of days. We ended up climbing a free variation to the "Vuelo Del Condor" ((Pennings-Tague) on the east wall of the Cuerno Este, but this rock climb, like many on the Cuernos, does not summit. Cuerno is Spanish for 'horn' and the cuernos are peaks which are topped by striking caps of (sometimes very overhanging) horrendously compact and friable shale. There is essentially no snow and ice or gully climbing in the Paine, just steep walls and towers. Unlike the climbing in the Chalten/Fitz Roy area, you can't really go swing tools and wear gloves and boots to climb in marginal days. It's rock climbing or no climbing at all, so the range is less forgiving during very bad weather.

We based out of a low camp in the highest stand of trees the Bader Valley, reached via a ~10-12 mile hike from the trailhead at the Hosteleria de los Torres. This was a remote and beautiful locale, but if you are ever headed to the Paine, we found that the rock quality and freeclimbing options in the Bader Valley, despite being in the center of the range, were generally sub-standard relative to the rock quality in either direction. We wanted to climb a super chossy line somewhere else, and name it "I can't believe it's not Bader." However, this is probably also the most sheltered valley in the Paine, so it could be a good option for very marginal weather windows. The head of this valley is glaciated and has a beautiful alpine lake and a dirty moraine lake, as well as easy access to the peak such as the Cuernos (Este, Principal, Norte) the Mascara, Hoja, Espada, and the South Tower of Paine.

Here are a few good points of beta for climbing in the area:

• There is no grocery or supply seller anywhere near the park. Buy everything you need in Puerto Natales, and then take a bus to the park with your provisions. The bus ride is ~2hrs.
• Apply online in advance for a free climbing permit at least a week before you go. You'll need proof of rescue insurance, such as with an AAC membership. 
• As a climber, you will ride the bus PAST the park entrance, on to the official administration building, then enter and have the park officials sign off that you can go climbing, then re-board the bus, return to the park entrance, and then catch a bus transfer for the final ~15min ride to the trailhead/camping/Hosteria de los Torres. We never saw any rangers or were asked about our climbing gear, so we certainly could have gone without a permit, but if you were to encounter a ranger and not have one, they might turn you back. 
• Depending on your base camp of choice and climbing area of choice, you may be wise to hire a pack horse (Pinchero) or a porter or to for load-carrying assistance. Most of the climbing is done from the French Valley (Cerro Catedral, Cota 2000, Aleta de Tiburon) or the Silencio Valley or Ascencio Valley (Torres Del Paine). 
• For help arranging a porter, pack horse, navigating the park rules, or finding a place to stay in Puerto Natales, your best bet is to go see Cristian, the owner of Fortaleza Patagonia in Puerto Natales. He has climbed in the parked and seemingly knows everyone and everything important in the region. The company office is located in downtown Puerto Natales.

May Climbing Magazine

Check out the May 2012 Climbing Magazine for a piece I wrote as a primer on packing for a big alpine trip!

And the video about their climb:

Cerro Torre

For a beautiful and iconic peak, Cerro Torre certainly has one bizarre history.

A few days ago, Jason Kruk and Hayden Kennedy climbed the SE Ridge of Cerro Torre. They finished off a project that had been tried numerous years by many different climbers, which was to follow the obvious ridge line taken by the Maestri Compressor attempt (eventually successfully climbed by Bridwell and Brewer).  Jason and Hayden then smashed out over 100 of the bolts on the compressor route's headwall (of a parallel height to where their line took a new path). Amid all the controversy, the climbing world went nuts after someone facebooked about having watched this through a camera lens. What a crazy 21-st century internet alpinism phenomenon to have sparked such outrage and anger. I never considered climbing Cerro Torre on my two season in Patagonia, but I have climbed on a much easier satellite peak and know some of the folks involved. It seems like many of the rants and arguments are based on false premises, so here are some facts and dates:

• 1959 - Cesare Maestri claimed to have climbed the Northern aspect of Cerro Torre (CT) for the mountain's first ascent. Maestri lost his camera and his partner died on the mountain. His claim to have climbed CT is now mostly dismissed as a lie.
• 1970 - Maestri returned to CT, which had not seen a "2nd" ascent. His team climbed up the SE Ridge of the peak, placing hundreds of bolts next to 5.7-5.10 cracks, and eventually abandoning the more featured and protectable ridge to drill long bolt ladders rightward across a blank wall near the summit. His team stopped atop the rock and didn't summit the peak's ice and snow pitches. He also removed ~2 dozen of his own bolts on the decent. This route was soon repeated (with rivets and aid climbing used to overcome the broken-bolts sections) and the climbers (Bridwell/Brewer) did summit the peak for the first ascent of the "Compressor Route".
• 2010 - David Lama made a big fuss of his pre-climb and pre-trip proclamations that he was going to climb the compressor route and then create a bolt-protected freeclimb up the CT headwall, equipping pitches with more bolts placed on rappel. Faced with massive controversy, he agreed not to rappel-bolt, and eventually didn't do much of anything apart from run around town with a scary-looking posse and cause a lot of noise and concern that there'd been an accident when his Red Bull Helicopter spent weather windows in early 2011 swooping in and out from the peaks near his party as they aided the Compressor Route.

Last season when I was in Patagonia, at least two teams (one USA one CAN) were attempting to complete what they and others had begun calling a "fair means" ascent of CT's SE Ridge. I asked Colin Haley about the term, and he described it as not using any of Maestri's bolts for upward progress. The Canadian Team was Jason Kruk and Chris Geisler who (last season) reached a new high point on this multi-year project. They added somewhere between 1-4 bolts and esatblished new pitches on more naturally-featured rock which they described as the line's logical continuation, well to the left of the Compressor bolt ladders. This season, Jason Kruk succeeded, joined on this route by Hayden Kennedy. Congrats on an awesome ascent!

On the way down, Jason and Hayden removed over 100 bolts from the compressor-placed bolt ladders. This makes their SE Ridge finishing pitches now the only established option in this part of the mountain, and will likely be the end of the line for the wild and weird Compressor saga.

Here are a bunch of mistakes I've seen folks make when arguing about the route:

• They didn't free climb their route. They used aid to ascend the rock. Mostly clean aid, some bolted aid (bolts added by them or by Kruk/Geisler last year).
• There were no guided ascents of this route. Local guides aren't suddenly out of work over this. This wont hurt the local economy. 90%+ of the visitors to El Chalten are not even climbers.
• These "bolts" were more like pitons than modern expansion bolts. Jason and Hayden were able to easily remove the whole unit from the wall, nothing left in place. Since the remaining tiny holes aren't adjacent to their variation, they'll only be seen by folks descending the mountain. Any negative visual impact would be minuscule compared to the previous situation.
• There weren't teams of climbers lining up to get on this thing, or who would now have spent/wasted thousands of dollars just to try the compressor. Sure there might be 2-6 people every year who made this route a primary goal, but I'd be surprised if it were even that many.
• They didn't climb along the terrain of the bolt ladders without using the bolt ladders. They continued pushing new pitches up terrain well to the left of the blank, right-trending compressor bolts.
• They did place bolts (somewhere from 1-5) or used the ones Jason's team had placed on a previous recent attempt.
• They are Canadian, American, and removed bolts placed by an Italian. If you're bothered by Americans removing bolts in Argentina, are you equally bothered by Italians placing them? Is it ok for visitors (however defined) to place bolts, but only for locals (however defined) to remove them?
• With an ascent of CT now requiring more skill, longer weather windows, and much more rare conditions, folks will be looking to other overlooked peaks for adventures.

It seems agreed upon in climbing that the superlative style is onsight, ground-up, free, and without any bolts. To me, any ascent closer to this style is a "better" ascent than one further from this style that reaches the same point. By this measure Hayden and Jason's ascent is a big accomplishment. I am left with a few questions about the ascent and descent, but I've met and hung out a bit with Hayden and Jason and certainly give them the benefit of the doubt. 

A few things I am still wondering about:

• If the "Fair Means" ascent was merely defined as not using even one of Maestri's bolts for upward progress, wouldn't hand-drilling a bolt or rivet ladder off to the side of Maestri's qualify as a successful fair-means ascent? This didn't happen, but to me, the definition needs to be more precise. 
• If Hayden and Jason used any bolts at all for "upward progress" then the implication is that some number of bolts is acceptable but Maestri used too many. If so, how many is ok and how or by whom should that decision be made? Is it always a judgement call made in the moment?
• If one considers it acceptable to remove the compressor bolt ladders, would it be logically consistent to EVER argue against the removal of a bolt ladder when variations were established that reached the same point with fewer bolts?

Without a bunch of self-imposed rules, we'd all just summit peaks of our dreams via helicopter, so as as stilly as much of this can seem, I think it's interesting and important to the sport.

AAJ Routes

The folks who run the American Alpine Journal put this story of one of our new routes up on their site today:

I think this makes 6 consecutive American Alpine Journals that I've contributed stories and pictures to.

What is a First Ascent?

In the good old days before the interwebs ruined climbing and everything had been sent, pre-grizzled hardpersons climbed peaks nobody had ever stood atop. Those were first ascents. A little later, people climbed the same peaks via completely different terrain, maybe via more difficult, enjoyable, aesthetic, or seasonally-dependent condtions. They went to the summit as well. Those, also, were first ascents. But in the days of infinite variations, stopping at the end of "technical difficulties" 1/2way up the mountains, and failed attempts retroactively labeled as new climbs on features that might not really have summits, what is a first ascent?

Published - Frey

Check out the September 2011 issue of Climbing for an article I wrote about Argentina's granite spires. My friend Forest Woodward took the killer photos down in Frey.

...The Rest of the Story

Twelve years ago, when Scott and I were in middle school and likely more interested in Magic Cards than mountains, Jim Donini and Greg Crouch climbed the West Pillar of Cerro Pollone, in Chilean Patagonia. The account of their climb (and the fact that it hadn't been completed to the summit)  inspired me several years ago:

"...featured tons of high-angle free climbing on superb rock. The summit view from the top of the pillar is astonishing ... probably the best I've had in Patagonia. ... I think the whole route would go free with just a few short sections of 5.11. The right team should be able to peel the whole thing off in a single day."

Well.

Cosas Patagonicas Libre!

Scott and I woke after our climb on Guillaumet to the appearance of several teams of climbers who had just arrived in the mountains. Apparently the weather would stay good for several more days, which had compelled some folks to wait and plan bigger objectives, and others to try and to cram back-to-back climbs into the six days of splitterness. We had no more food, but psyche in abundance. And an unrepeated route established when I was 3 years old was beckoning...

Freeing new ground on Mermoz. Shame about the crummy rock...

First Ascent of Las Vent'uras

Sunset over the ice cap

Boundary Bay Oatmeal Stout vs Great Divide's Belgian 'Colette'. Riding my bike to sunny baseball games at Coors Field. Sneaking good food into a bad movie at the dollar theater. Feeling too full to want more food. Being warm. These and similar thoughts dominated my mind as we drudged down the final few hundred feet of glacier to our camp at Piedras Negras. I was thrilled to have pulled off a new route after a week in the range, but at the time, probably even more thrilled to just crawl into a tent and pass out.

Viva Frey!

Reorganizing, not bivying...

After 8 hours of overnight busing, I was awoken this morning to our the screching halt of our bus refusing to travel any further. I am currently midway between Bariloche, in Northern Patagonia, and El Chalten, in Patagonia sur. However, my friend Scott has his laptop along, so I was able to check email and post some pictures from a week of climbing the granite spires and needles located in two valleys above the refugio (alpine hut) called Frey. Scott and I were up there with my friend Forest, and ran into some other folks we knew as well.

Frey delivered the goods. We experienced 80 degrees days of perfect weather, some Patagonia stormage (on a much-needed rest day) and pitch after pitch of perfection. The (climbing) highlight was when Scott and I linked up perhaps the two best routes in Frey in a day, both on the Torre Principal. We didn't bring cameras along though, and really didn't have much else for that matter either. In all, we climbed 15 pitches of 5.10-5.12 on a shared half-liter of water and one bar each. But the routes were superb. First up was Rolo Garibotti's tribute to a friend (Teo, we don't forget you... or Teo, No Te Olvidarmos) and after this was Sinestro Total. Rolo rates 'Teo' 5 stars (out of 3 possible) and Scott and I agreed, with the phrase "This is the best rock climb in the world" being shouted by both escaladores at least once.

Scott on the variation to Sinfuentes-Weber

'Teo' ascends the South (AKA North, AKA shady, cold, and fully gnar) face of the biggest spire around. We knew it was going to be game-on when the first pitch (graded ~5.8 on the topo) featured an overhanging and leaning thin-hands crack we both called solid 5.10+. And from there things just got better. The final 250' was overhanging granite scoops and huecos, gusts of winds, shouts of exaltation, and the occasional sightings of nearby condors. From atop the West summit, we engineering and scrapped together a rappel to the North, bootying a new cam, several wiregates, and a some slings that we rapped off later. From here, we cruised up Sinestro Total (~9 pitches, 5.10+) and managed to rappel back down to terra firma just as it got dark. Lacking both watches and headlamps, we ended up doing some confused rappelling, with Scott leading a pitch for our stuck rope, and the day's final rappel being made from the webbing belt that I had donned that morning.

Forest taught us a bunch about using tricky light, as here on Aguja M2

Drying our laundry before the storm and snowy/sleety/hail

Each night around the Refugio (wine-selling, dinner-making, merriment-creating alpine hut) we would laugh, hang out with friends, share plans for the next day, and rave about the one which just ended. Also up in Frey were the sweet tunes of Sean Villanueva and Nico Favresse, a couple of world-class musicians who moonlight as 'rock stars'. Nico managed to free an aid roof on the Aguja Frey at lowerish 5.13, and Sean walked a newly-installed highline between two of the vertiginous towers high on the ridge. I'll eventually link to some pictures that my friend Forest took of all the goings-on thereabouts.



And as for now, it is off to El Chalten and more new and exciting adventures.

Buena Suerte familia y amigos!

El Mocho

With about 48 hours left in Patagonia, and a very sore knee, I was resigned to spending my last days in town before hopping on the bus to the airport. However, an 18-20 hour window of stable weather appeared on the forecast, scheduled to hit the area the day before my plane ride. I didn't want to pass up my last chance.

I hooked up with Jon Gleason from Yosemite (originally a native of North-Central Washington) and we headed into the Torre Valley to try and climb El Mocho, a flat-topped satellite peak to Cerro Torre.


The plan was to hike in on the afternoon and evening on Wednesday, in order to climb and hike out Thursday. The base camp on the glacier below El Mocho is called Nipo Nino, and getting there requires about 15 miles of travel over various terrain from the town.



The glacier has changed significantly in the last year, and we spent a lot of time trying to avoid all the streams and ice canyons that crossed our path.



Here are some friends negotiating the Tyrolean traverse (heading back toward town). On the day before, one of these guys had base-jumped off El Mocho for a production of 'Sender Films' and the two guys who descended El Mocho the normal way got stuck in an storm, got 2 ropes stuck on the rappels, and didn't make it back to the base until 2AM!



After leaving Chalten at 4:30pm we made it to the camp just as darkness fell. I was happy to have left my bivy bag and sleeping pad at home, because i found a cache of foam pads under a rock, and comandeered an old Argentine waterproof mail sack to use as an extra layer. There were a few other parties in camp, including the Belgian/American climbing team and musical trio that I had befriended in town. They would climb a different route on El Mocho on Thursday.

We woke up to clear weather on Thursday and after a delicious breakfast of Gu and powerbars, soon found ourselves at the baseof the peak. The route went great, with pitch after pitch of beautifully clean granite. The total length was aroun 500 meters, with most pitches 5.10, and a 5.11 crux. There was a pendulum move rated A2, but it was definitely more like A0.




Jon tops out on the crux pitch




The weather was amazing, but we could see moisture accumulating and noticed some high clouds blowing in as we finished the last few pitches. Here is a low-quality video taken high on the climb.





Here are Nico, Sean, and Mason across the way on a second El Mocho route. We had a blast hooting and hollering to these guys all day.







The summit of El Mocho is a big snowy slope, and Cerro Torre rises up another 700m or so from the far side. As I had to be back in town in 12 hours from the summit, we quickly began the descent.



We soon made it down the route, and bootiedtwo stuck ropes from the party the day before. As we pulled our last rope the wind began in earnest, and after 15 minutes more we were getting blown around and soaked from waterfall spray, rain, and the sudden gales.




The hike out must have been in world-record time, as the wind assisted out skittering back along 5 miles of ice and I ran to keep up with Jon. We arrived utterly soaked and exhausted in Chalten just in time for late-night dinner and a short nap before my ride to the airport!

The Alpine Ambience of Chalten

Every few weeks a spell of dangerously calm and sunny weather ominously parks itelf over the Patagonian spires of Fitzroy, Cerro Torre, and a dozen other granitic giants. During these times, climbers impulsively engage in masochistic bouts of intense physical activity known as alpinism. The behavior insprired by such weather can result in mental fatigue, physical injury, and even death. Luckily such weather is brief, allowing visitors from across the globe to again resume normal life camped in the Patagonian outpost of Chalten. Reached via a several-hour bus trip from the nearest town, Chalten brims with adventure and those who have come to seek it. In my fourth week here I have only now begun to appreciate the urban adventure potential all around me. Prolonged stetches of wind and rain – coveted ´weather windows´ -- provide conditions highly amenable to urban exploration. A two-week span of just such weather has been heralded by alpinists as one of the best in recent memory, allowing for unprecedented amounts of card-playing and iPod listening. And with additional storms forecast, the most ambitious and daring climbers are even considering a second read-through of their remaining paperback novels.When so many of the world´s top climbers are concentrated under such conditions, the prevailing mentality really encourages ´getting after it´ with internet kiosks and campgrounds abuzz over whose tent has recently flooded or gear cache has been blown away.

The recent weather window has also allowed me to test a full array of outdoor gear while pursuing cutting-edge objectives such as navigating potholes along the .75 miles of paved road, or fleeing from the ex-con local gaucho and his flock of equally aggressive chickens. The sprawling terrain of our youth-hostel bivy is frequented by stray dogs drawn to the bony detritus of recent barbecues. Yet my gloves and jacket have proven more than adequate protection against the social scorn resulting from frequent cultural faux paus and mistranslations. My climbing partner and I recently agreed on the bold goal of hosting a cordero, a traditional Patagonian lamb-roast. Unfortunately we had misjudged conditions, severely underestimating both the time needed to thaw our lamb, and the scale of the event which we had set in motion. An Argentine team (comprised of our dreadlocked hostel warden and his 5-yr-old son) arrived with innate local knowledge and more food in time to prevent any loss of appetite or party enthusiasm. Though no new technical terrain was covered on this adventure (we know of several prior corderos to have been held in this location) we feel that the event is notable for marking the first link-up-dinner comprised of American-style popcorn, Argentine roast lamb, and the Chilean specialty of red wine with Coca-Cola.
Faced with a forecast of steady rain, and rumors of chorizo prices at near seasonal lows, American Alpine Club president Steve Swenson also ´went for it´, comiting to an Argentine barbecue and fiesta of his own. Swenson and partner chose the light-and-fast approach, and would provide nearly all the meat themselves, relying on speed and efficiency rather than a set of fixed supply caches to keep partiers fed. Abandoning their basecamp at the southeast corner of town, the climbers quickly overcame the inital resistance offered by ¨La Candelita¨, the local brothel located next door.


Alaska and Patagonia veteran Mark Westman had reported the presence of tied-up horses and bad-tempered gauchos at this location earlier in the season, so safe passage through such terrain provided an obvious morale boost to the duo. Approaching from the opposite end of town, my partner and I recognized the fiesta objective as a worthy one. My balaclava barely prevented frostbite on my ears as we narrowly avoided crashing our brake-less bicycles into soaking mobs of German hikers or swimming-pool sized puddles. This particular fiesta contained sufficient levels of meat and wine for everyone. But by eschewing the traditional methods such as potlucking or BYOB climbers leave little margin for error as they aim higher in these endeavors. As the damp grey forecast stretches on and folks continue to push the urban envelope, there is no telling what encounters with local culture, marathon card games, or thrice-read paperbacks will be next to make news. And though a change of weather might be nice, I can already feel myself atop Fitzroy under sunny skies, longing for my next run-in with the neighborhood gaucho.


Sport climbing in the Madsen boulders, 2 minutes from town...

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My friend Beckett... onsighting


almost