Brady Robinson
The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately, or in the long run.
—Henry David Thoreau
Up until last Friday, the weather had been playing its usual tricks with us. One day we watched ice melt from our route on Cerro Torre in the morning, only to see it engulfed yet again in storm by the afternoon. The weather was terrible—never good enough to entice us to leave our Base Camp. John Bragg, first ascentionist of Torre Egger in 1976, showed up to attempt the first solo ascent of the Supercouloir on Fitz Roy. He has become a great companion in camp, sharing stories and spirits as we wait and wait.
Then on Friday, the pressure started a slow and steady rise. That afternoon, our two friends John and Mike were engaged in a spirited debate. They had bus tickets to leave in two days and were trying to decide if they should squeeze in an attempt on Fitz Roy's Supercouloir.
Often, when the best course of action is uncertain, climbing partners arbitrarily take sides. It's much more satisfying to argue than it is to repeat "I don't know, what do you think?" at regular intervals. Jason thought they should go for it, but Mike wasn't so sure. They had been going back and forth for hours when I walked within earshot. Both were beginning to run out of material. In a sudden fit of inspiration, Mike leapt from his seat and invoked the Bard:
"You know when King Lear rips his clothes off and just marches into the storm!? And he's gone completely mad? Well I'm not King Lear! It's snowing outside, just look!"
"Yeah, but King Lear didn't have a cache of gear he had to retrieve."
"It's just a metaphor!"
Eventually, they agreed to give a final, parting effort. They left bivy gear behind and marched into the wall of cloud and snow that hung above Torre Lake. In the grim humor not uncommon among alpinists, Jason said I could have his 22-year-old tent, his Marlboro Gear sleeping bag, and all the rest of his stuff should he perish in their attempt. Jimmy and I waved them off and continued watching our barometers.
By 4am on Saturday, the pressure was still on the rise. Jimmy and I cooked breakfast and began the four-and-a-half hour approach to our high camp. As we crossed the glacier, the sun filtered through the clouds and lit up Cerro Torre with alpenglow pink light. We dropped to the ice and steadied our telephoto lenses on our backpacks, snapping pictures in the growing light.
I could see that the upper third of our route was completely covered in rime ice. Just as we reached our camp, it began to snow. The clouds had once again covered the Torre. Inspired by the vision of Mike and Jason climbing through the night, I toyed with the idea of making an attempt on the Supercouloir. Then it began to rain. Jimmy and I spent the rest of the day in our tent, eating, reading, and wondering how our friends were doing.
Sunday morning brought more rain and heavier winds. Jimmy and I packed up and headed back to Base Camp, leaving our high camp intact. We'll make one more attempt if we can. We contrived a more difficult route through the glacier to keep ourselves interested.
One small surface stream we'd crossed the day before had transformed into an impassable river. We walked down its icy banks until we reached a moulin—the point at which surface water drops through the glacier to an invisible river below. We gave the terrifying blue-black suck hole a wide berth as we passed.
We were starting to worry about Mike and Jason. If they had been high on Fitz Roy during the storm—their second night out without bivy gear—they would have been in dire condition indeed. I had even begun to plan rescue strategies. It was a relief to find the following note waiting for us in Base Camp:
Brady & Jimmy,
Hope you had a wild success. We did not. We gave it an honest, hard effort though. Plenty of misery, excitement, and even a few scares. Awake for over 40 hours, hiked/climbed over 45km. We are worked! Bloody feet. Delusional minds.
Thanks again for everything. Jimmy, the GU saved us! Pleasure meeting you both - made our stay here much more fun. Keep up the motivation!
Jason
They had circumnavigated Fitz Roy and returned to get their Base Camp tent before we arrived. We were glad they were safe, inspired by their gallant effort in spite of impossible odds.
It's raining. The hills surrounding camp are covered with fresh, wet snow. The pressure is crawling upwards from an unprecedented low. We have been able to climb only two technical pitches in the past month. Cerro Torre is all but hopeless for us now.
Jimmy and I are planning our exit strategy, hoping to make a final bid on something before we leave. As John says, "You gotta at least try to have one epic!" Then again, the sage advice of another Patagonian veteran suggests a different course: "Remember, Brady, any fool can suffer."
Jimmy and I have already started the debate. We'll see which side wins in a few days.
—
Brady Robinson, MountainZone.com Correspondent
