Summiting a Volcano

I was in my pajamas by about 7:30 on Friday night. I had that weird feeling in my throat that indicates you are about to get a cold. This felt especially ominous as I had to get up at 4:20 am on Saturday morning as Gustavo and Paypahuasi Tours were kind enough to be swinging by my house to pick me up on the way to the meeting grounds for the Pichincha climbing expedition. I tossed and turned all night, but having a new adventure on the horizon was enough to keep me feeling spry when my alarm clock went off.

By 5 am I was riding in the Paypahuasi bus, on the way to the meeting grounds where there would be a total of 28 people gathering to take on Pichincha and its 4 cumbres. By 6:15 am the sun had risen and the 2 buses were bouncing their way out of the city. I was seated next to a nice Ecuadorian man named Pierre, who was patiently speaking with me in Spanish...and then English when I got too confused. At one point he explained to me that Pichincha is a very unpredictable, active volcano. There is no warning when an eruption is coming, the last having been in 2004. Since I have a terrible sense of direction, there was no real way for me to get out of the bus and arrive back home safely at this point. What are the odds anyway, I reassure myself. (If you know anything about anxious people, such as myself, discussing odds and generally being rational does not always quell fears.)

The landscape outside of Quito turns out to be quite beautiful. I especially enjoyed the friendly cows who were grazing at the starting point of our climb. Even the cows are super tranquilo here. (It seems that they are naturally kind of laid back creatures, but, California, I think these cows are just happier.) I worked to hone some of that energy before we began our ascent.

I was pleasantly surprised as the altitude did not affect me and my muscles felt strong. The pleasant feeling escaped me, though, as we got closer to our first summit. That whole fear of heights thing grabbed hold of me, and I had to have a little "Come to Jesus" chat with myself to find the courage to scuttle to the very top. Facing fears here. The view at the top was quite the prize for doing so. We happened to have one of the clearest days. Ever. Check out the pictures, and you will see.

As I am taking in the view from the top of the first cumbre, it does dawn on me that we have 3 more to go. Uffff da, says the Minnesota girl. As we are descending to the spot where will break for some food, I cannot decide which is harder, going up or down the volcano. When we are climbing up, I am wishing we are going down, but now that my toes are slamming into the front of my hiking boots, and my knees are screaming at me, it seems that ascending would be better. Yay, yay, the grass is always greener, Jame, I say shaking my head at myself.

So, food is always a great inspiration to me, and after chowing down my peanut butter and honey sanduche and banana, I feel replenished. And so the 2nd ascent begins. To summarize, the 2nd and 3rd summits were pretty tough. I was reminded why mountains are so often used in metaphors about life. Looking back could scare the wits out of me because it appeared to be a steep fall if I lost my balance, and looking up was incredibly daunting. One of the best parts of the experience was probably the fact that it forced complete presence. In fact, my life depended on my focus on the present moment.

As we were nearing the top of the last summit, I had a flashback to a camping trip with my dad, one of my best college friends, Jenn, and one of my best high school friends, Jake. We were climbing up the mountain, and as it was close to the peak, we were climbing in mostly shale. Shale that was slipping out from under my boots and making me feel panicky and unsteady. Perhaps a bit dramatically, I began thinking of all of the people I hadn't said goodbye to were I to parish on this mountain. And then I felt angry. My poor dad bore the brunt of the anger and panic. Obviously it was his fault I felt insecure and scared, right? Well, as we are making the final ascent, I am having to rock climb more than I ever have before. Did I mention my fear of rock climbing? A similar "I didn't sign up for this" irritation arises in me as it did that summer in Montana. I have no choice but to swing my short little legs up onto the next rock and keep trucking, though. I keep working on living for every moment in life, but it is true that some are more rewarding and enjoyable than others. When I finally stepped onto the very peak of that last summit, that was a cool feeling. And it is actually now, that I am looking back at the photos, that I can most appreciate the hard work of the whole climb. So much so that I am thinking I will be signing up for more in a week or two. (Mmmmm, maybe two.)

After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. ~Nelson Mandela

My cama is definitely calling my name now. Suenos dulches a todos. (I have got to figure out how to access my Spanish keyboard on here.) 

Amor,

Jame