Ecuador Ring of Fire: a tale of an ordinary person attempting the extraordinary

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone" - Neale Donald Walsch

Long before our anemic 2014/2015 ski season drew to a close, I knew I had to have more!  Despite the record-low snowfall, I'm made very good use of my season pass, and chased down many an opportunity to go play with my skis in the backcountry.  But I still had to have more.  Then I saw an announcement for Alpenglow Expedition's Ring of Fire Ski Tour, and immediately became obsessed with the idea of skiing high-altitude volcanoes in Ecuador!  I'd climbed Cotopaxi before, but to ski it... I had to try!

As I signed up and began my preparations, the many lucky coincidences brought to mind the saying that there are no coincidences.  When I first contacted Alpenglow Expeditions, late in the sign-up period, I heard that there had just been a cancellation and I was in luck.  When I arranged my round-trip air travel to Quito, I discovered that I had just enough frequent flyer miles to cover the trip, provided I delayed my return from June 24th to 27th.  Then came the news from Alpenglow Expeditions that one client wanted to arrange to ski one more peak, and they'd be happy to arrange it, but it would involve some extra cost and staying until June 27th.  What better way to spend three extra days in Ecuador?  Soon, I was on board for both the trip and the post-trip extension.

Getting to know the new skis

Guided trips cost money.  I challenged myself to not just pay for the trip out of savings, but to cover the cost of the trip by looking for what I could do without.  I scrutinized my spending, and pinpointed some old habits that weren't so important anymore.  I chased down reimbursements that had started to look like too much work to bother with, and went carefully over my taxes to ensure a healthy return.  Each of these efforts narrowed the gap a bit, but I knew that to close it, I'd need to get a pay raise.  My job at UCSC and my interests had drifted apart, and I'd begun looking for something new.  I applied myself to the process with renewed vigor, regarding every job application and every interview as a contribution to the pool.  When I was offered a great new job at UCSC, I pushed for a raise.  When that raise got stuck in the red tape, I issued ultimatums.  One week before setting out, I got the email indicating that I'd be welcomed home with a hefty deposit of back pay in my bank account.  Gap closed!

While I was scrutinizing my spending, I was also spending copious amounts on new gear.  As much as I love telemark skiing, I realized that the unforgiving conditions on the big mountains would call for something more.  It was time for AT gear.  Soon, I was the very proud owner of a new pair of DPS skis (which can manage anything you point them at) plus new ski boots, climbing skins, ski crampons - and had reached a first-name basis with the staff in my favorite mountaineering store.  Back in Santa Cruz, a steady stream of boxes arrived at my front door as a combed the packing list for missing items.

Then there was the physical preparation.  Sure, I'm considered strong among computer geeks, and I'd felt fine on Kilimanjaro, but Cotopaxi had been hard even without skis on my back, and with a body that was 15 years younger!  I spent my weekends getting acquainted with the new skis, and climbing anything that seemed to have a bit of snow on it.  During the week, I challenged myself to ride faster on my commute to campus.  My cardio weight training class started to feel easier.  I lined up the Diamox and Acli-mate drink mix to give my body very chemical advantage.

And then I was in Ecuador.

Front: Steve, Jaime, Ian.  Middle: Brian, Ryoko, Marusa, self.  Back: Erich, Zeb, Adrian, Michelle, Emily H, Emily T, Jim.  Photo by Jaime.

Great hospitality in a gorgeous hacienda, with Andean musicians!

When I met my teammates, I was immediately in awe!  First, there were five mountain guides: Brian, Adrian, Zeb, Jaime and Joachin.  Brian and Adrian are co-owners of Alpenglow Expeditions, and are the kind of guys who normally guide 8,000 meter Himalayan peaks, but had come to oversee this trip since it had never been offered before.  There was Ian, the team photographer, who was a veteran mountain guide himself; not only did he have the physical capacity to do everything we were doing, he did it carrying heavy camera equipment and sprinting to get in position for the good shots.  Then there were three professional athletes: Emily H, Michelle and Jim.  Next were Emily T, Erick and Steve, who live active lives in the mountains and have the lung capacity to prove it.  Javier joined us partway into the trip, and stepped off the plane from Mexico City already acclimated to 17,000'.  Finally, there were my roommates Marusa and Ryoko, amazing women who found the time amid significant professional accomplishments to keep themselves in killer shape.  And then there was me, finding the fact that I'm considered strong among computer geeks to be little consolation!

We spent our first few days acclimating on lower (15,400') peaks near Quito, while soaking up the culture at artisanal markets and gorgeous haciendas.  Then we pushed on to the snow.

Deep mud and abandoned vehicles on the road to Cayambe

The road to Cayambe is rugged on the best of days.  That day, between the deep mud and abandoned vehicles, it was amazing that our drivers made it to the refuge.  We'd planned on doing some practice on the snow after arriving, but the fierce winds forced us to change plans.  The next day, the weather had worsened.  We'd left one jeep parked near the refuge, and a decision was made to move it before it got stuck.  It got stuck anyway.  A few of the more hardcore members of the team set out to move it.  They returned with an iPhone video of them getting buffeted by the wind, with Jim shouting, "This is what we live for!".  We spent the afternoon inside the refuge practicing crevasse rescue without crevasses, which the stubborn autocorrect on my Kindle insisted on translating to "without carcasses".

Staying positive amid howling winds.  Photo by Ian.

The next day, we ventured outside.  I roped up with Zeb and Marusa.  We started up the ridge - and I was immediately blown off my feet!  I got up, ventured up the ridge a few more steps - and was blown off my feet again!  Zeb instructed me on lowering my stance and rotating my upper body to be in line with the wind.  I wobbled, stumbled, and felt grateful when we changed our course for protected terrain.  We practiced techniques for moving in crampons.  I struggled as snow balled up inside my crampons, whacking them between steps with my ice axe, and cursing myself for overlooking those anti-balling plates.  We retreated back to the refuge, where I fashioned anti-balling plates out of an old soda bottle and copious amounts of duct tape.

Enjoying an iPhone fix back in civilization

We continued our retreat down to the hot springs at Papallacta, to give the windstorm a day or two to pass.  We warmed ourselves with a hot soak, copious amounts of tequila - enough to deplete the bar - and a certain amount of rowdiness.  Jaime, who'd noticed that his own name was on our guest bracelets, told us to enjoy our stay because it might be the last for Alpenglow Expeditions - or him! When all of our key cards stopped working the next day, we wondered if we'd been kicked out.

Two days later, we were back on Cayambe, preparing for an alpine start and a summit bid.  High winds once again threatened to derail our plans, but we got up at 2 AM to go for it.  I roped up with Brian and Marusa, and set out with a ski pole in one hand and ice axe in the other, wobbling as my pack and skis caught the wind like sails.  Brian swapped me his ski pole for my ice axe.  I wobbled less.  We stopped for a quick break while the guides conferred about the heavy winds ahead, and I thought "this is it, we're going down".  But we pressed on.  When we stopped for a bit farther up, I had to admit the obvious: that my slow pace in the wind was not sufficient for the conditions.  Marusa joined Jaime's rope, and Brian and I started down.

Gotta love those alpine starts!  Photo by Ian.

Going up, we'd been climbing into the wind.  Heading down, the wind was at our backs, which was even more destabilizing.  I lost my balance, stumbled into a rock, and fell, crampons sending off sparks on the rock.  I struggled to regain my footing and was knocked down again, crampons sparking off the same rock.  I thought, "What do I do if I can't do this?", but got back on my feet somehow.  Brian selected a new course, to drop down out of the wind quicker.  But first, another heavy gust threw me off balance, I caught my crampon point in the overboot on my opposite leg, stumbled, and fell down a steep ice step.  When everything stopped, Brian had caught my fall, and I hung dangling upside down just below the top of the step, with ice on two sides and air on the other two.  Brian called to me to get my feet back under me.  I swung around and climbed up with the front point of my crampons, both ski poles miraculously still clutched in my hands, even Brian's pole with no pole strap!  We descended a narrow path down the step, and as soon as we got out of the wind, the going became easier.  Soon, we were back at the refuge.  I told Brian that if that was what the descent was like, I was glad I hadn't ascended any higher.  Fighting demoralization, I went back to bed.

The rest of the team filtered in a couple hours later, after increasing winds and white-out conditions turned them back.  First, Michelle and Jim, the two pro skiers, made it back by ski!  The rest of the team returned on foot.  I greeted everyone with big hugs and congratulations, and assurances that despite everything, I'd had a good day.

Cotopaxi briefly visible above the clouds.  Photo by Ian.

We didn't have long to rest.  The new plan was that we'd run over to Cotopaxi to see if conditions were better there, and would do an alpine start that night.  When the plan was received with tired glares, Adrian declared that no one was allowed to say no until they'd re-fortified with a hamburger and a milkshake.  So one quick transition and hamburger stop later, we found ourselves at the Tambopaxi lodge, with Cotopaxi briefly visible without clouds and amid rainbows.

That night at dinner, the guides explained that two consecutive alpine starts was highly unusual for their trips, but they felt that the group was up to the challenge.  They offered everyone three choices: climbing with skis, climbing without skis, or not climbing.  I was proud to see that every single person on the team chose to climb!  Given the slim chance that we'd be able to ski, I chose to climb without my skis.  Many others reached the same conclusion.

Marusa and me encased in rime ice

We slept for a few hours, got up at midnight, and started our ascent.  When we reached the Cotopaxi refuge an hour later, some people turned back, still tired from the day before.  I finally felt good, especially without those long wind sails on my back!  Marusa and I roped up with Joaquin, and climbed up just behind Zeb, Emily T and Steve.  The ski team of Adrian, Emily H, Michelle, Jim and Brian were farther ahead.  Compared to the previous day, the winds were very manageable, and I finally felt comfortable in my wider, lower stance.  Yet as we ascended, the conditions began to deteriorate.  Above us, the ski team radioed about the fierce winds they were battling.  We reached the edge of the lenticular cloud, with its moisture, and rime ice settled on every surface.  We had to clear the ice from our glasses with every few steps.  Meanwhile on the ski team, Michelle's goggles were icing up so quickly and heavily that she'd started cleaning them with her ice axe!  When Adrian started crawling uphill, Brian made the call.  They turned around with the summit just 100 meters higher, almost within eyesight.  They started down on foot, with pro skier Michelle famously announcing, for the first time in her life, "Fuck skiing!".  Down lower, at about 18,500, we'd reached the same winds.  When Emily T was almost blown off a snow bridge into a crevasse, Zeb decided it wasn't safe to continue, and we all turned around.  By then, the rime had encrusted every surface, increasing the diameter of the ropes by at least an inch and their weight by several pounds!  As we descended, every time we stopped, we shook off a bit more ice, and left what resembled a pile of broken glass.

No summits, no sleep, but smiles all around at our last dinner

So the main trip concluded with little skiing and no summits, but great attitudes all around.  As Ian wrote on an Instagram post, "I am super impressed with the caliber of stoke embodied by everyone on this trip.  The effort given was more impressive than success".

A few hours later, we checked into a gorgeous hotel in the hills above Quito with spacious, lavish rooms, and llamas and peacocks wandering the grounds.  That night, we had an amazing dinner at their restaurant, while we all struggled hard to remain awake.

Two days later, Brian, Jaime, Ryoko and I had bid a sad farewell to the rest of the team, and were on our way to attempt one more peak.  Our original objective, Antisana, was at the end of a rugged drive that had become impassible, and the peak itself was socked in by wind clouds, along with Cayambe and Cotopaxi (still!).  We changed our objective to Illiniza Sur, which wouldn't offer any skiing but might offer a summit.  We set out with a favorable weather forecast and high spirits - until another team reported getting turned around by heavy winds.  So once again we went to bed hoping for the best, got up a few hours later, and set out to see how far we could go.

One more midnight breakfast

When we arrived at the mountain, another damned lenticular cloud was sitting overhead.  We started up.  Then we reached the rime.  When we'd encountered rime on Cotopaxi, we'd been on the glacier with crampons on our feet, so an extra coating of ice was no problem.  But on Illiniza, we reached the rime on what is normally a dry section of the trail, with the result that the trail and all of the rocks were getting coated with a layer of verglass.  At the refuge, walking down the icy front steps was death-defying, and Brian declared that trying to continue would be silly.  So we waited for dawn, with the guides dozing and Ryoko and I playing cards.  On the descent, Brian declared that he was "over it!".

Back at the hotel, we crawled into our beds for a nap.  I made the mistake of checking my email.  There was news from UCSC that our pediatric cancer grant proposal had been rejected, despite high hopes and encouragement from the funding agency.  I turned off my Kindle before I could read any more email, and went to sleep!

We had a fabulous dinner back in Quito, and then I got up for one more alpine start - this time, to go to the airport.  I struggled to stay awake until boarding time.  We boarded, and I settled gratefully into my seat, ready to sleep.  But before I really got to sleep, a mechanical problem grounded the plane, and we had to disembark.  Back in the terminal, as the delay stretched into hours, I listened to the amount of griping from my fellow passengers, and thought "I miss my team!".  When we finally reached Miami, the airport was badly backed up due to thunderstorms earlier that day, and my 5 PM arrival to SFO turned into a 1 AM arrival.  Over email, I told Jeltje that I didn't expect her to pick me up at 1 AM, that I would get myself home somehow.  She replied that she wouldn't mind a late drive.  I didn't believe her, and took a taxi home (subsidized by American Airlines).  It turned out that she'd wanted to see my reaction to what awaited me at home: a skier on a "mountain" of furniture in the middle of my living room!  I laughed for at least five minutes solid!

As I write this five days later, I'm almost caught up on my sleep, and working to hold onto the positive energy of the group as I plow ahead into yet another grant proposal!