Brady Robinson
Finally, after two weeks of dialing up the wrong satellite, we've been able to send in a dispatch. Thanks to everyone for your patience as we've been fiddling with our computer equipment. Jimmy and I are climbers, not computer specialists.
Luckily, you haven't missed much. We spent our first two weeks here ferrying loads, walking our slack line, bouldering, cooking, reading, and sleeping — the typical Patagonian weather-induced activities. Cerro Torre, our ultimate objective, came out of the clouds just twice in that time. We had plenty of time to ponder our choice of climbing localities. We even began questioning the existence of the Torre. Are you sure that thing is really in those clouds somewhere?
Life changed for us on Sunday night. We were in our Base Camp, Campo Bridwell, watching our barometers steadily climb to the highest pressure we had yet seen. We had spent the last three days bouldering, and Jimmy had even done a push-up and pull-up workout. He was to regret that later on. I spent that night in my tent, waking every hour to check the pressure, lying with eyes wide open, trying to figure out the best tactic to make use of the weather. We woke on Monday morning, packed our backpacks, and left for our high camp. We had the best views of Cerro Torre yet. It seemed that the weather window had arrived.
After the nearly five-hour hike across the glacier to our high camp, we spent two hours resting, eating, and pruning our packs of all the gear we dared leave behind: sleeping bags, some food and climbing gear. We left our high camp and began our approach to Cerro Torre, still feeling like we were carrying too much. We left more stuff under a rock. Light is right, or at least lighter is better.
Snow conditions were poor. We trudged along, sometimes wallowing up to our thighs. But the views were spectacular. The entire Fitz Roy group was sunlit and jagged against a deep blue sky. The triple spires of Cerro Torre, Torre Egger, and Cerro Stanhardt were visible, too, all frosted on top and looking as though they were worthy of their fearsome reputations. We passed under the Col of Conquest, the site of Cesare Maestri and Toni Egger's disputed 1959 ascent of Cerro Torre and also the final resting place of Egger, who was lost in an avalanche during their descent. A serac released in a nearby couloir, spreading tons of ice onto the glacier below. Beautiful as it was, the base of Cerro Torre seemed an eerie, inhospitable place. I tried not to lose my nerve.
The snow steepened as we began to climb the approach couloir. The so-called "approaches" to climbs here would be stand-alone routes nearly anywhere else. After I battled past an overhanging bergschrund, we simul-climbed steep snow and easy mixed terrain. We stopped and belayed one long mixed pitch, which Jimmy led efficiently, even though he was feeling the effects of having maxed out on pull-ups the day before. My crampon came off as I seconded the pitch. Just what I needed. I adjusted my crampons as Jimmy began the final pitch in fading light. We simul-climbed up snow, ice, and rock, and finally reached the shoulder. We were on an exposed snow ridge 1/3 of the way up Cerro Torre, and it was past midnight. Time to find a place to pass the night.
We walked up to the base of the Southeast Ridge, searching for the rumored ice cave. I saw a small crack in the snow, poked my head inside, and couldn't believe what I saw — a natural ice cave big enough to seat 12 people! We slid inside, stomped out the floor, and melted snow on our stove. We put on our parkas, hung our gear from ice screws, spread the ropes out on the snow to give us some extra insulation, and laid down to sleep. It was cold. We slept in spurts, finally giving up at 4:30. We melted more snow and looked outside. It was snowing.
The clouds didn't look good, the pressure had dropped, so we decided to descend. We were disappointed, but yesterday morning will remain in my memory as long as I live. We watched the sunrise from our little perch. We looked across the valley and saw the Fitz Roy group, the glaciers, the Rio Fitz Roy winding silver in the alpine glow, draining our valley. Jimmy and I snapped photos and enjoyed the peace the bad weather had given us.
With no intention to climb, we could relax and take our time — a rare gift on Cerro Torre. We left a bag of food hanging in the snow cave. We could have left more gear, but thousands of dollars of climbing equipment lies buried there, somewhere under the snow. Parties are often unable to return to retrieve their gear, so we took everything of importance back down.
A series of straightforward rappels led us back down to level ground. We returned to our high camp, slept a while in our tent, then began the tedious hike back to Campo Bridwell. Jimmy and I wear headphones when we hike the glacier. It's easier with techno pumping into your head. As we neared our Base Camp, we looked back over our shoulder and saw that the sky was clearing — our worst nightmare. We were tired and hungry, but we instantly began questioning our decisions. Should we have stayed at the high camp? Should we turn around, or get up early in the morning and return if the weather is good?
We hiked into Base Camp under blue skies. Evil looking clouds still haunted Cerro Torre, but the pressure was high, and we feared we had blown our chance at catching the weather window. We were in poor spirits last night. Other climbers in Base Camp assured us that even if the weather was perfect, there was still too much ice on our route to climb it. Some people here say it needs a day or two of sun to clean it off. My head was swirling as I tried to sleep last night. I watched my barometer for a few hours, then woke to rain this morning. A forced rest day due to bad weather. Thank God.
So here we are in Base Camp. The sun is out, the wind is blowing, but Cerro Torre has come back out of hiding. The pressure remains fairly high. Will we be able to climb tomorrow? We know the route, our equipment is in place, and after today, we will be as fit as we have ever been to climb the Torre. All we need is the weather. I wonder how our friends are doing on the east side of Fitz Roy. The weather is significantly better on that side. Everything, everything depends on the weather.
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Brady Robinson, MountainZone.com Correspondent
