ACONCAGUA

One of the Seven Summits is Aconcagua, located in Argentina. At 22,841 feet of elevation, it makes the list for being the highest peak in South America. It is also the tallest mountain in both the Southern Hemisphere and the Western Hemisphere, and claims the title of being the tallest mountain in the world not situated in Asia.

The more literal location of Aconcagua somewhat resembles Denali in that it is located inside Aconcagua Provincial Park. Nearby is the city of Mendoza, Argentina, which was founded in 1561. The city is the capital of the province where it is located and its population is just over one million. A prominent wine-producing region, beef, as is true throughout much of that country, is a popular side dish to eat while imbibing.

Mendoza is the jumping off place for those who wish to climb Aconcagua. The community cultivates the image of an outdoor center beyond mountaineering. People visit for hiking, horseback riding, rafting and skiing, as well.

Although Aconcagua receives its share of snow, its objective dangers are nowhere as risky as those on Denali, which is about 2,500 feet shorter. The normal route on Argentina compares to the West Buttress on Denali, but does not require the use of ropes on the path to the top. The altitude is an obstacle to overcome, but its terrain on the normal route is graded non-technical by the best climbers.

Temperatures are not to be underestimated, and people caught in storms and ill-prepared for the altitude have been killed on Aconcagua. The government does not keep precise track of the success rate of those attempting to reach the top, but it does note that seventy-five percent of those who try are foreigners.

The first recorded climb of Aconcagua came in 1897. The European team of mountaineers was led by British climber Edward FitzGerald who attempted to reach the summit eight times over a two-year period. However, it was someone else in his group, Matthias Zurbriggen, who was the first to stand on the summit on January 14 of that year.

By the time Vern Tejas began guiding all of the Seven Summits, he was an old hand on Aconcagua. As one of his longest gigs, Tejas had been to the summit of Aconcagua thirty-four times by the end of 2016.

Aconcagua is not my favorite mountain to climb, but Mendoza is my favorite place to hang out. I’ll do a climb there and stay around Mendoza for a month. I might go early, do the climb, and stay late. It’s a great place to be during the Alaskan winter. I used to have a wonderful girlfriend there, but that was a long while ago.

Even if you’re not a big meat eater, you should try the steak there because it is just that good. You can just go to a corner café and get a steak for $6. It could be the best you’ve ever had in your life. It is easy to get a very good steak for less than $10.

Aconcagua is a challenging mountain and includes a trek to base camp. As the guide, it is one of the hardest peaks to pack for because the trek, base camp, and the climb each can involve special preparations. A Denali guided trip is based on a three-week adventure. An Aconcagua trek is four days, three days in and one day out, wrapped around the climb.

It is a desert environment, so it is dusty and mules are carrying the supplies. It takes careful packaging of the supplies because they are going to be bouncing around on the backs of mules. Things are loaded into barrels, but you don’t want them shaken up inside the barrels. If a can is touching another can on the mule ride, it will wear a hole in one. If a fuel bottle is touching another bottle, it’s going to be empty by the time you get there because it is going to vibrate a billion times as the mules trot. That’s why I say everything has to be mule proof. It makes for my most challenging preparation trip in the mountains.

Base camp supplies and food are separate. They have to be readily available. Once you reach base camp, you are going to be hanging out there for three or four days. You have a different set of supplies. Most of the trekking food you pretty much eat on the fly. The base camp food is richer and more nutritious. Then you have the high mountain food for when you are climbing. There are ten-to-twelve days of those supplies and they need to be lightweight and easy to cook and clean up. There is always a fair amount of carbohydrates in the meal plan.

On the mountain itself, you don’t want to spend too much time cooking, so it is simple, processed food: instant mashed potatoes, instant rice, instant noodles. That’s the quick-cook stuff. You don’t want that on your trek or you will become burned out by the time you get to Day Twenty-Two. Plus, all of your shopping is done in Spanish. It all calls for pretty intense planning beforehand.

On Denali, it is a one-hour approach to the Kahiltna Glacier. On Aconcagua, it is the three-day, dusty approach. Since Aconcagua is so high, you have to watch the clients on their acclimating process. You really have to preach careful breathing. There are a couple of camp sites on the way in on the trek. Base camp is at 14,340 feet, Plaza de Argentina, but it is not your typical base camp. It includes meal tents, showers, and even internet access. The Park Service actually has a medical team in place, and there is mandatory screening of climbers to determine if they are in good enough shape to go higher.

Aconcagua being in the Southern Hemisphere, climbers think it will not be that cold. It is definitely going to be warmer than Denali or Everest most of the time, but if they believe it is not going to be stormy, they are wrong. It is one of the windiest places around. You’ve got a big pressure differential between the Pacific and the Atlantic Oceans, and I have seen the wind scream in from the west. The whole west side is devoid of snow because it is blown off. The opposite side is loaded with snow and glaciers. For all of that, some 10,000 people a year try to climb Aconcagua.

Aconcagua is the tallest non-Asian mountain in the world, but is only the 189th tallest mountain on Earth

A lot of people grabbed hold of the Seven Summits idea. It was an amazing creation by Dick Bass. It was pretty easily defined as seven continents, seven high points and anyone who embraces the concept gets to see diverse cultures all over the world. You get to pretty much see the whole world and have the trophies of climbing to the highest mountains on each continent. There are also a lot of people who just want to take a great trip to a place and climb one great mountain. If only one percent of those 10,000 people coming to Aconcagua per year also went to Everest in the same year, can you imagine what base camp would be like? There are a lot of people intrigued and motivated to take a three-week vacation on a big mountain. Some people only have two weeks off from work to try it and they get spanked. That happens a lot. Most of the health problems that climbers face are altitude-related due to climbing too fast.

Based on all my years of experience on high mountains, including Denali, Everest, and Aconcagua (which is actually the second tallest of the Seven Summits after Everest), I always teach my climbers about pressure breathing. I feel very strongly about it. You need oxygen. Oxygen is good. More is better. The best way you get more into your bloodstream is by pressure breathing. You can get upwards of fifteen percent more in a lungful by pressure breathing. It is not a free lunch, though. You have to concentrate on breathing. You breathe out intensely. Your cheeks expand. On Everest, you start training climbers very early, on the approach, so it becomes natural later when they need it and they are hurting and distracted. You can hear climbers when they breathe. That’s what tells you they are exhaling correctly. You must start early to build up the breathing muscles and increasing the number of functioning alveoli, the little air sacs in the lungs. It is not natural. If you are sitting around or walking around at sea level, you just breathe the way you always have. We are trying to increase your expiratory pressure ability so that it will be naturally occurring when you are at high altitude and in thinner air.

I also caution people not to go too fast. I learned that lesson the first time I was on Denali. I tell clients to watch their pace. I tell them my main job is to keep them from hurting themselves. One way is to prevent them from stepping too fast early in the climb. I know they are super trained. They’ve been working out. They’ve been working in the gym, but their bodies have not adapted to altitude yet. So take it easy. Take lots of pictures. Let’s laugh and listen to music. I might whip out the harmonica, fiddle, or guitar. I suggest we just enjoy being in the mountains. Go fast, you won’t last. Go slow, to the top you’ll go.

If I choose to let someone else lead, they tend to dwell on what everybody in the group thinks about them. They don’t want people looking at them and saying, “What’s wrong with him? He’s so slow.” He thinks he’s got to pick up the pace and he goes too fast. Pretty soon they’re running. I’m going, “Whoa. Take it easy.” I get back out front and put the pace in slow mo. I hope the climbers notice we’re going slow and know I am doing this intentionally because I know what works.

It is slow. It is steady. You build a better foundation and, when they are going for the summit in two weeks, they’ll be so much better off. The climbers may get bored, but when they finish and think everything was easy, I will say, “Great!” That’s what I want. I want it to be easy. I don’t want it to be life and death and high drama. I want it to be predictable, mundane, steady Eddie, the tortoise beating the hare every time. We are there to get to the top with the least possible strain and maximum enjoyment. We can’t control the weather, but we can control our own bodies to a large extent.

That is another thing I harp on. I ask everyone to take care of themselves. Oxygen is primary. Water is the next most important thing. According to the Survivor’s Rule of Three, you can go three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food. Everything is worse on the mountain; you can probably die within a week without food. Ignoring any of these even for a short time can have dire consequences.

When you are at sea level, you don’t even think about it much. You’re pretty unconscious in what you do. If you are thirsty you go get a drink. If you are hungry you go eat lunch. The problem with altitude is that it fools you. It works against your sensory input because everything is oxygen related, and without the normal amount, all systems are negatively impacted. When you get hypoxic, your drive to eat is diminished because you might not have enough oxygen to digest it. Your stomach doesn’t feel like eating. That last peanut butter sandwich is still there.

Many times, I have forced myself to eat by taking a small bite and chewing it well. I push it down. You must eat because you need the fuel. I set up my feedbag for the day before setting out. If I plan to climb for eight hours, that means I schedule eight breaks. One break every hour, and I will have a something to eat at each break.

If, at the end of the day, my energy bars are still there, then I am not taking care of myself. You are working very hard, so eating a Mars bar or a Snickers bar every hour is nothing. If you do not eat regularly, you will become hypoglycemic. You are not going to feel like yourself. You are not going to make good decisions. You are going to be irritable. A lot of things hinge on keeping your blood sugar at the right level. Water is even more important. High altitude is usually associated with cold, and that’s a diuretic. As we get cold, our blood vessels contract, and our bodies decant liquid as our pressure increases. Cold also inhibits our drive to drink because cold liquids can lower our body temperature. Then there is water loss due to increased respiration at altitude. The gist of this is we take on less water just when we need more.

I know I need to drink a cup of water each hour when I am working. I measure it out, and if I make a stop and I have too much in the bottle, it means I am getting dehydrated. These things are the bedrock of my guided climbs. Drink up! Even the drive to breathe is diminished at altitude. Humans’ primary drive to breathe is actually to rid our bodies of carbon dioxide. With the lower pressure found at altitude, CO₂ easily escapes from our lungs. When it does, we have only one reason to breathe, and that’s to avoid suffocation from the lack of O₂. The alarm will eventually go off, and we will be left gasping since that means we have been hypoxic for some time already. Our normal, basic drives are diminished, and we must consciously make our bodies do what they should do. This is huge. If you don’t get it, you will have a tough time up high.

It took me years of guiding to recognize these basic, important principles. However, when you have a sample of 1,000 climbers, experience tells you what the right thing to do is.

The wind certainly turns people back on Aconcagua, even if they are prepared. Mostly, though, if you are acclimated and follow a good nutritional plan, you can get to the top. The three weeks gives you time to cope with the winds, but it also helps your altitude adjustment. If you try to climb it in two weeks, you are not going to be sufficiently adapted.

My friend Daniel in Mendoza has told me that he has seen the wind send rocks flying through the air on the mountain. If you get it in the head with one of those, you’re out. That’s life-threatening, or at the least paralyzing. Any wind stronger than sixty miles per hour will stagger you. You can’t walk at a normal pace when you are being thrown around. If you are wearing a pack, fifty miles per hour will knock you over. If it is higher—and it gets to above 100 miles per hour sometimes—you’re going to get thrown to the ground. You can get hurt. I’ve been bounced. If you land on the snow, it’s not a big deal. If you land on sharp rocks or boulders, it’s a big deal.

If we are in one place and I am not actively guiding, I will stand up. I’ve been up when the wind has reached the point of picking me up and throwing me down. There is one area on Aconcagua that is called The Ridge of the Wind. It is like Windy Corner on Denali. It is a very short section to cross, but it howls there. I have actually climbed up there and been spun around. I have been on the ground crawling with my goggles pulled tight over my eyes and still had the goggles fill with snow.

When the wind comes in that strong, it is too much of a fight to make progress climbing. We don’t typically guide when the wind is more than thirty miles per hour. I would never take a group out in those high-wind conditions. As for myself, I did a speed solo to the top, and I was forty-eight hours into it from the road before climbing season began. I was not going to be easily persuaded to turn back. Yet the wind was so powerful I was getting totally disoriented. I was beat up, slam dunked, and rolled around. The third time it occurred, I went, “OK, this climb is not happening.”

I had two choices. I could wait it out or go home. That time I went home. I said, “Screw this. I’ll come back another time when she wants to be climbed. She doesn’t want to be climbed right now.” That is the central spot for the wind on that ridge. If you advance 200 yards beyond that, if you can crawl past that area, you will be out of the worst of the wind. Wind just screams across the ridge right there. But there are those times when you just can’t get over the ridge.

On that trip, I tried it three times. I wanted to get through the venturi. Three times I steeled myself for the hurricane. Three times, I bravely crawled up to the shrieking storm. And each time I got clobbered. I was totally beat up and disoriented by the time I retreated.

I wanted to get it over with and go climb another mountain. But the mountain had other ideas. When the weather says no, you don’t go.

Someday, I am going to stop climbing Aconcagua, but boy I am going to miss that beef. Argentinian beef is the best in the world, and when I am there, I eat a steak at least every other day. I know I won’t be able to have it that good again for a long time.

The river is fed by Aconcagua, and from the river comes the irrigation. But they are losing the snow cover there. Global warming is apparently the cause. The glaciers are going away. Right now, the city seems to be at the height of its glory, but I can see that it could dry up and go away some day. There is a lot of sunshine, and there is that nearby desert environment. They probably have the most productive vineyards in the world. The Malbec wine is from a purple grape and is world class. It was once an Old World strain of wine that was decimated by blight in Europe. So now Mendoza is known as the Malbec capital of the world. But they also have many other tasty varieties.

Wine aficionados come from all over the world, the way the mountaineers do. However, they stay at the vineyards, and when they leave, they bring cases of the wine back to their home countries. Vendimia, the National Grape Festival, is a big holiday. Besides Christmas, the biggest day of the year there is when the grapes come in. There is a huge parade. The town fills up with tourists from all over. They have a queen contest. It is a big party. Mendoza is a sun-loving, fun-loving, beautiful place. I fell in love with my Spanish teacher, my professor. She taught me first, and then we got romantically involved. I ended up learning to speak Spanish, and she ended up learning to speak English. We were a couple for three years or so. I almost became Argentinian. And the town was only a three-hour drive from Aconcagua. It is the jumping off town.

I love the culture there. I see it with people who come to climb Denali, and they are swept up by the beauty of Alaska and the Alaskan culture. I, too, once was one of them, and I still am. I came to Alaska and was overwhelmed by the sights and amazed by the eclectic mix of humanity there. I think, when climbers come to Alaska, they have been watching things on TV like Ice Road Truckers and Deadliest Catch. They are fans of those shows and are looking for the Last Frontier. They show up in Talkeetna and pretty much find it. It is a tourist trap for sure now, but it is still one of the last great little towns there. Visitors still have that old vision from the TV show Northern Exposure. Talkeetna is that kind of place, and that is where mountaineers start their climb.

The locals have long used the phrase “Beautiful Downtown Talkeetna” as a motto, even though the entire town is only a couple of blocks long. Now that Alaska has legalized marijuana, beautiful downtown Talkeetna has a marijuana dispensary at one end of town. But the landmark Fairview Inn and the bar are still there. For people who stop there after climbing—I spent time there in 2016 after our team summited—they have a great time. I lived in Talkeetna for a while before I became a citizen of the world. I always enjoyed being in the bar even though I don’t drink. I think Alaskan culture is very vibrant in Talkeetna.

There are some colorful people there. The guy that owned the Fairview Inn had a seven-story house built around an old radio tower. I moved to Talkeetna because it felt more like Alaska to me than Anchorage. There is no international airport. You’re not right next to the mountains, but you can get there. It is on the Talkeetna River, so you’ve got rafters and fishermen coming in. The flight services that go to Denali have their headquarters there. It is kind of a package town for the mountain. There is even a zip line there now.

Talkeetna and Mendoza are about as different as you can imagine.