Random Summer Musings #2– Climbing El Altar

Unfortunately, there will be no pictures in this blog entry because my camera was destroyed after this trip and before I could upload any pictures. Now, let’s Tarantino this and find out how my camera met its end so early on in its life.

So about a month ago, 2 other Volunteers asked me if I wanted to join them on a weekend hike up El Altar, an extinct volcano near Riobamba. I hadn’t used my personal days yet that month, and those things are like Bluth Vodka

Use ’em, or lose ’em. Also, I had been looking to spend more time hiking and hanging out in the countryside. So I guess, this was a bit of go big or go home.

El Altar is a tough hike. It’s known for being muddy, even when it hasn’t rained recently.

I stole this picture from Google… mind you, this is the mud on a good day:

The weather had not been super promising before our trip, and when I went to rent rain boots (you have to do the hike in knee-high rain boots because of the mud), the guide highly advised me to hire a horse to take me and my bags up.

When we got to the park entrance, we asked the owner of the refuge how the trail was. All he said was “pretty muddy.” We decided to hire a horse for our bags and carry the necessary food with us. Turns out carrying peanut butter in jelly in the hood of your rain jacket is a not a great idea idea. The weight pulls the jacket up and sort of chokes you a bit. Plus, it’s a little gross and difficult trying to fetch something that’s fallen out of your hood and rolled down a slope of mud. Mind you, I went on my first hike ever at the age of 20. I’m fairly new to the whole thing, and while I’m eager to learn more and make more trips like this one. Dear God, I think I went a little far here.

The hike on a normal day takes 5-6 hours. It took us 7.5.I spent much of the time like this:

and when we finally arrived at the Refuge, I was trying so desperately to hide this attitude

behind some positivity. I had a snack, immediately put on about 5 layers of clothing (there’s just nothing you can do at 14,000 ft. You’re going to be cold).

Some other campers built a fire, and we set about making our dinner early. Unfortunately, these campers used all the available firewood. At this altitude, that stuff is in pretty short supply, but no matter, we had no plans to create a fire our second night.

Plans change.

The next morning we got up and prepared to hike up to the Yellow Lake (La Laguna Amarilla). The weather was even worse. I was exhausted. Also, none of us were very familiar with technical hiking terms in Spanish, so we may have gotten a little lost. I’m glad we did to be honest. The weird high altitude forest we got lost in, looked a lot like a set for The Chronicles of Narnia. At this point, I had to start to admit that this may just be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

Our little day-hike only lasted a couple of hours, but by the time we got back to the refuge, it was really starting to rain. There was no way we were making it down the mountain the same day. We made lunch and went looking for a project. Given the freezing cold (we were hanging out in the kitchen, wearing several layers of clothing and blankets, but we could still see our breath), a fire was in order. However, almost all the usable firewood was used up the day before.

Fortunately, the other PCVs I was with, are super hard-core awesome wilderness friends. Also, PCVs tend to be rather persistent. These skills were highly necessary for Project Start-a-Fire-in-a-Blizzard. We found a huge warped piece of wood and a rusty saw. We got to work. One person sawing. Two people sitting on the beam so it wouldn’t move. Saving the sawdust, hoping it could help with kindling. We took some straw (now wet from the rain) and tried to dry it out on the stove (I can’t believe we didn’t burn anything down). Each of us took turns sitting inside the chimney, fanning flames, and getting frustrated.

Lack of kindling, lack of oxygen at high altitude, and excess of wind, rain, and SNOW at one point, certainly made for a challenge. But we did it!

(Well, mostly one of the PCVs with me, who was super ridiculously dedicated and wonderful did it, but still I’m proud of us.)

We spent the rest of the evening drying our clothes by the fire and checking out how incredibly beautiful El Altar was after the storm passed. I’m without words to describe it. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful- and there are no photos.

The next morning, we woke up before dawn and packed our bags by candlelight. We were determined to get to the first bus out. The first two hours of the hike were actually very pleasant, some of the best hiking I’ve ever done. The ground was still a little frozen, so the mud wasn’t too bad. However, after we passed through the midway point (a pasture that normally hosts bulls used for bullfights), all fun and games were over. The mud was… torturous.

I was definitely back to

except moving much, much more slowly. So maybe more like:

and getting closer to this every minute:

My sanity was near a breaking point. I was far behind my friends, who generously waited for me time and again. I was worried I wasn’t going to make it and considering my limited options when the resident badass PCV who finally got our fire going, found a beautiful short cut. It was almost straight down. I literally slid down a mud trail until we stumbled upon a steep grassy pasture. What a relief to actually walk again and not be pulling my legs out of mud with every step. (At this point, my entire legs were completely covered in mud. I also had mud on my hands, face, jacket, scarf, backpack, pretty white hat, etc.)

Thanks to this shortcut and the fearless leadership of my compañeras, we made it down in time for the first bus. I was concerned that I was too muddy to get on the bus, but I was also too tired to do anything about it. Even the most advanced hiker of us ended the hike saying, “El Altar is like childbirth or running a marathon. It’s so painful that you really can’t imagine doing it again for a long time.”

and I just sat there, like :

Once I stopped moving, it was game over. I had a hard time making it the few more steps to the bus. Also, the bus then told up they wouldn’t be returning to Riobamba we had been assured previously. They would only take us to the nearest village where we could look for a truck to hire.

Walking the 5 blocks from one PCVs house to mine had never been so incredibly painful. Each step hurt. When I got home, I took off my backpack, rain boots, and most of my clothes, leaving everything by our piedra de lavar, the rock we use to hand wash clothes. My stuff was too muddy for the washing machine. Mud had gone through/over the boots, hiking socks, leggings, and long johns to make my bare legs dirtier than they have ever been. A bar of soap was not sufficient to get the mud off. I needed to use an exfoliating scrub sponge.

My host family was so wonderful about this. They fed me a huge lunch, listened to my story, took out the splinter I had gotten the day before from cutting firewood, and the next day helped my wash my clothes…

However, the clothes washing help is where the camera was ruined. I had started washing my clothes early monday morning and was clearly doing a bad job because I have no idea how to hand wash clothing. My host mom does. She knows that you have to let things soak first.
I left to go to a meeting, and when I got home, my host family had put my backpack to soak. They had checked it before putting it in the water, and actually found some flip flops in there that I have been looking for since January. However, they missed the camera, which was hanging out in a sneaky little hip pocket. Camera destroyed. Pictures forever lost.

It was all worth it though. Because, now, after a month, this is how I feel about the trip: