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I’m back safe. Happy Christmas everyone! I am back in Santiago as I write this, and slowly returning to normal! Coming from -20C to +30C takes a bit of adjustment.

On Saturday night there had been a bit of confusion at the hostel and I had had to move room in a hurry. I also ended up packing in a complete panic as when I had moved room things had been hastily thrown into bags and I had no idea where anything was. So I was still packing at 2am, expecting a 6:30 pick-up.

I was supposed to be going with Adolfo, who spoke good English and I had built up a good rapport with. But he’d had to go off on another project, handing me over to Mario, another local guide.. So this left me feeling a bit apprehensive. I was also a bit confused about Sunday morning’s plan as a friend of Mario’s, Edi, was coming to pick me up but I wasn’t really sure of the plan exactly!

We left early Sunday morning. Edi arrived on time in the smallest car I have ever seen! I was expecting a 4×4 but it turned out we were changing cars later. Edi is a cameraman and was very chatty, encouraging me to speak in my broken Spanish for the whole 2 hour drive. He was very patient with listening to me, and I was glad I had done the Spanish course as it seemed his English was at the same level as my Spanish.

We wound our way up the Maipo valley, following the river of that name. It is very touristy but also very beautiful, famous for white water rafting and plenty of hostels and retreat centres for Santiagoians to spend their weekends. Edi told me he wasn’t coming up to the summit, but only helping Mario in establishing the high-camps. He also pointed to some 3500m mountains near his house where he “ran regularly”. I figured his fitness and acclimatisation would be well ahead of mine!

Finally we arrived at the village of Baños Morales which seemed to me to be just a collection of trees tucked into a deep gorge. The houses were all built from wood, and the valley was filled with geo-domes and eco lodges for tourists. I also noticed that all the houses had solar panel and wind. I was later to learn that up here, living off-grid and being self-sufficient wasn’t a life-style choice but just sheer necessity.

We met Mario at his house and his wife, Elena, was there to see him off (along with their cat). I was struck that Mario looked very strong, and had dark skin from being in the mountains all the time. He also looked like he had blood from the native mountain people in him. He was a man of few words and after a quick check of equipment, we transferred everything into a 4×4 truck. The driver was another friend who was coming up the valley with us, but would turn back at the end of the 1st day.

We drove off up a dirt track toward the mule station, the last passable place by vehicle. The 4×4 was not optional. The track we were following wouldn’t get that designation in the UK. It was a road used by the mining company and had rocks and boulders strewn on it that would get it classified as “off-road” in Europe. That didn’t slow down our driver who careered around the mining trucks choosing to mount the hillside rather than slow down. I was too busy admiring the view to really care. I just was glad that at least my ruck sack had been tied on at the back!

Continental American countryside is very different from Europe. It looks dry and arid and the rocks are many different colours. The plants that grow are very different, with colourful grasses and spiky shrubs. Colourful birds were flitting around, including a very bright yellow finch. I asked the names, but honestly struggled to pronounce, let alone remember them.

We arrived at the mule station. I don’t know what I had expected but it was dirtier and shabbier than I had thought. The ground was awash with animal dung and there was trash everywhere. I guess being a muleteer is a tough life. Mario went to discuss something with the people working here. When I had looked to do this expedition on my own, one part I was sure I would need local help with was engaging the muleteers. At this moment I was glad that Mario was taking care of everything. We loaded the heavy gear into some large holdalls and potato sacks and left them to be loaded onto the mules, and then set off up the path.

The first bit of the path is an established hiking trail. It was beautiful day, but I was surprised already by the cold. There was a biting wind coming off the glaciers around us, and I had just left the humid warmth of the city. I had imagined an easy hike with just a day pack and wearing shorts, but before long I was layering up. At only 1800m I also didn’t expect to feel the altitude, but the air was dry and I was soon panting my way upwards.

All around there were soaring Andean peaks. I could not really absorb the scale of the landscape. It was overwhelming. Cliffs of 500m loomed over us and behind that stood snowy mountains of over 5500m in every direction. Even the gorge that we were following was huge by European scales and there was not a sight of humanity in any direction except the thin footpath we were following.

Mario set a good pace and I kept up directly behind him. I didn’t want to seem slow on our first day, and luckily our two companions were happy to go a bit slower at the back. We’d opted to avoid getting our feet wet fording the many rivers, instead choosing to go via a hydro electric dam that crosses the main torrent. The company clearly didn’t want people using it as a foot bridge and two layers of fences had been erected to dissuade us. However, out here no one is doing any maintenance, and it looked as if they had given up on half a job, so we picked our way through and crossed the river. The hydroelectric dams in Chile are very controversial, and looking at this ugly eyesore on an otherwise pristine landscape, I could understand why. I also later learnt it only supplied the mining company, and not the villagers who have to depend on their own means of power generation.


We continued up the valley following the river as we had now lost the path. The pace didn’t slacken but ahead I could see the end of the valley, just a few miles away and then above that a coll where the river tumbled down over steep rocks. I knew the base camp was at the head of a valley and it looked like we would be there in an hour or two. But one of my companions explained that no, we were not in the main valley yet. First we had to get up to it! We rejoined the path as the valley drew to its end, and we started to climb the rocks alongside the waterfalls. The valley below was lush and green and used as pasture land for the local horses. I learnt a new word “engorda” – meanging to fatten up livestock. This was the engorda valley.

As we climbed we were soon above the vegetation line and as we crested the coll I saw another huge valley open up. This one had clearly been formed by glaciers as it was nearly a kilometre wide by about 10km long! I realised my mistake, our hike was much longer that I had thought and the landscape so much vaster. Marmolejo was still not visible but other 5000m+ peaks stood in the background seemingly endless and I could now see the enormous glacier that marked the head of valley and the position of base camp. It was now seriously cold and we were nearing 3000m. The wind blew continuously and we had to pick our way through many rivulets that snaked across the gravely valley floor. Huge boulders stood everywhere, some as big as houses (so called “erratics”, carried into position by an ancient glacier) and rock falls and avalanches marked all sides of the valley. High above us ice falls and frozen waterfalls hung precariously, and we’d soon be in the snow line above any liquid water. I thought at base camp at least we’d have water, but this proved not to the case, the few rivulets we had crossed would be the last unfrozen water we’d see for 5 days.

It was a long way to the head of the valley and a sleeping bag but from my perspective the way now seemed at least flat. This was my first mistake with perspective! We were still climbing and had about 600m more ascent to go.

The muleteer had caught up with us by the waterfalls and now was coming down. Again there was an discussion I didn’t understand. Some money exchanged hands, a tip? an extra surcharge for our extra companion? I didn’t know. The fourth member of our group had also turned around at the waterfall, and now there was only three of us in this vast landscape that stretched 50km East to Argentina and hundreds of miles north and south along the Andes. For all I knew and felt, we were the only humans alive in the whole massif right now. It was true wilderness and exactly what I had been seeking.

As we continued, we hit another vertical rise. I hadn’t expected this, and I was tiring, having been full of false expectations already that day. I also started to feel the altitude as a pounding headache, as we climbed above 3200m. I sunk into a silent resolved plod as we picked our way through the loose and broken rock. Mario said base camp was only “4km away, maybe an hour” and I felt even more broken, I had hoped sooner but once again the vast glacier that looked so close was actually just much bigger and firsther away. In this bright sun distances were impossible to gauge.

Eventually Mario indicated a rock about 5m high and a patch of sand that would be the base camp. We couldn’t go much further. On our right we were flanked by the moraine of the glacier and to our left, avalanches had left huge gravel piles of hazardous lose rock. I could hear the occasional rumble of a rock fall and it was a worrying thought that the boulder we were building our tents by had once crashed off the 1000m cliffs that enclosed our view. Up ahead one similar sized boulder was poised precariously waiting for a nudge to set it rolling and flatten us and our tents effortlessly. It was quite a fretful night of sleep I had!

There was no water so Mario went off the collect snow while Edi and I erected the tent. Soon we had the jet boil on, inside Mario’s “kitchen” built from rocks. It takes a lot of fuel and a lot of time to melt snow, something I knew all too well from Antarctica. The glaciers around us dropped the temperature of an infernal wind to several degrees below freezing. Base camp was going to be no scout trip. We were already in the mountains, at 3300m and I needed to put on my warm clothing.

I was seriously impressed when Mario opened the food bad. Instead of dehydrated rations for the next 6 days, we were served salads of tomatoes, onions and avocados practically every day, and Mario really likes fresh bread, which is a typically Chilean thing. However, for me the Chilean bread is already dry when it is fresh and the rolls that Mario handed me were even more dry from the mountain air. By day 3 when Mario was toasting the bread to make sure it was even drier, I had to say I declined any more bread, the dry sand around me was more appealing!

I filtered the snow melt water (using the water filter my nephews bought me 👍) feeling a bit of a princess but it is full of grit and can be quite hard on the stomach and I had also heard in these mountains, minerals like lead are often found.

Its often hear that mountaineers should drink plenty of water with recommendations from keyboard warriors running to many litres a day. The truth is, every litre has to be “made” using precious gas, and every kilogram carried up the mountain – I barely saw Mario drink and myself I survived on 1 litre during the first two days, consuming another litre or so at each meal time. Any more would be a luxury in the conditions.

I slept badly that night. I was struggling to breath and I had a raging headache. I worried that the altitude would defeat me and I wasn’t sure if I should share that with Mario and give up before we had even started, or keep it to myself. I woke up a couple of times in a complete panic, I had stopped breathing altogether! I took some headache tablets, but as I laid in my sleeping bag with the hood up, all I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears. We were barely half-way and the air would get much thinner yet, but I was already struggling. But I also get migraines from coffee withdrawal, and my first and only cup had been around 6am before leaving Santiago, so I tried to assure myself that it was just that, and I would feel better in the morning. But it didn’t explain the breathing difficulties I was having. Maybe I was being stupid and I needed to go down. This was not the place to die.

It was only in the light of day I realised that there was nothing wrong with my lungs! What had been happening was the hood of my special “expedition” sleeping bag was made of a completely impermeable material. Every time I rolled over I was suffocating myself. It was like sleeping in a plastic bag with no air holes and the sleeping bag was basically a death trap. Luckily each time I had woken up!

The second day got off to a leisurely start and I was treated to bacon and more fresh avocado. I was very impressed by Mario, as good food is essential on a long expedition and six days without vitamin C can already cause health problems. Not to mention bowel problems! Some people find altitude loosens them up but I find a lack of fibre and dehydration causes me to go the other way. Which at least means I am not polluting the wilderness!

I told Mario about the headaches so he made a decision. We would cache food and equipment at camp 1 (about 4400m) but then return to base camp. That should help my acclimatisation. But in my head I worried that we could not possibly summit in that case. We had 5 days to go. The muleteer was coming on the 26th at 10am to collect our stuff, so we would have to be down on the 25th. That left 4 days to establish 2 high camps and summit. But I could not hide the fact I was struggling to breathe and my head still raged, even after coffee. I was seeing coloured dots in front of me and on the long trek the day before I had had a “halo” episode, the moment before you pass out. I had got it under control with slow breathing, but as the terrain got steeper I needed to not lose balance. Well maybe I was not going to summit but I wasn’t going to give up just yet. Mario was right, coming down was the sensible thing to do.

We loaded up for camp 1. Mario insisted on taking all the weight. I am not normally someone that does not play my part, but feeling as I did I was grateful, as his pack was easily 30kg and mine under 20kg.

The route up was quite apparent. as we were walled in by cliffs that looked unclimbable and a huge and unstable glacier, leaving the only option up to be a spine of loose rock that led up to a high coll. It still looked deadly as it was little more that scree, loose rock that you would normally avoid. But as it was cold it was quite consolidated, frozen together in a loose permafrost. We set off and very quickly the climb got tough. Mario set a slow and deliberate pace, pounding steps in to the loose ground for me and Edi to use. I nickname him “the machine”. He seemed to be able to go at this one deliberate pace without any sign of tiring or slowing. He also knew that for our sakes it was better to start steady and keep going than allow us to tire too soon.

However, I was in my own private place of pain. My head was about to explode and every breath was a fight for oxygen. I was panting like I had just finished the 100m sprint. The rock was loose and the slope steeper than 50 degrees. It was unrelenting, stretching above us with no end in sight. I was in a daze. I just thought about each careful foot placement, following Mario up and using two hiking poles to ensure I had good balance before changing weight. Here, as in the Alps and Antarctica you can not trust any footing. Each foot and hand placement must be tested before bearing weight, as any rock, even ones as big as refrigerators can break off at any moment, leaving you crashing down in a rockslide that may last a 1000m and leave your smashed body in an inaccessible gully. All I could do was focus on not slipping. Some places turned into a scramble, needing both hands and feet in the steeper sections. My rucksack lurched behind me, pulling me off balance, and if the altitude wasn’t making my heart race, then the thought of falling was.

None of this daunted Mario who was steaming along as if he was climbing the stairs at work! We had made it up several hundred meters before it was even safe to stop, finding a pinnacle of rock to wedge our bags behind whilst drinking thirstily. Now I could look down and admire the view!

The bitter wind was still cutting into the side of our bodies, but the sky was clear, a perfect blue and I could see off to the west further mountains that seemed to stretch indefinitely.

Above I could see the snow filled coll that was the top of the climb and the start of the jagged cliffs along which we would have to dance. Behind there somewhere, blocked from view, was Marmolejo herself, yet to be revealed to us.

We continued. At least we were making rapid progress. In just 3 hours we’d gained 400m but my sports watch kindly reminded me that we had made 0km forward progress and our pace was 0km/hour. It also read my pulse rate as “dangerous” and suggested I needed a 22 hour break. All advice I ignored!

Eventually with some elation we broke through the coll. The last 50m was particularly dicey with snow underfoot and everything softening in the sun. I had practically hugged the mountain to avoid slipping right back down again. I knew of course, because of my state of health and the lack of acclimatisation we’d have to be down-climbing all of this before the day was out. I couldn’t even see how that could be done right now!

On arriving at the coll I actually said “wow” out-loud, as suddenly a whole new vista opened up. Mario grinned and took my photo. On the other side I could now see a huge valley, maybe 30 miles across. It was green and completely cut off by 5000m peaks, like a secret lost world! And for the first time Marmolejo revealed itself, a tiny black triangle sat on a series of glistening glaciers that also forms the Argentinian boarder (the jagged peaks of Marmolejo). In front of us now was a huge jumbled ice fall, reminding me of the one in Antarctica that sat behind the research station. Again, the scale of it all overwhelmed me. It struck me you could lose the Alps in this landscape and barely know about it. And unlike France or Switzerland, there were no ski lifts or cafes, roads or villages. Just wilderness in every direction.

But the day was not over, and we still had to reach camp 1. Not the closest option either, Mario asked me if I was OK to push on to 4600m, to make the following day easier. I wasn’t going to jeopardise a stab at summitting so I agreed, even though I could have turned around right there. So we pushed on, now following a line along the back of the ridge we’d seen from the base camp, but still relentlessly climbing. It was less steep now but still quite precarious, as we were high above the “hidden valley” and there was not much holding the rock together.

We passed a small wall built from lose rock that marked the normal position of camp 1 but continued to climb. Now I slightly regretted my decision as the extra 200m felt agonising in my lungs but I just focused on taking one step at a time, until quite suddenly Mario put down his pack and announced we would depot the equipment here, where another pile of rocks that suggested people had camped here before.

We buried sacks of food, helmets, ice axes etc. under a pile of rocks. Not to stop thieves (!) as I fleetingly thought, but to stop scavenging birds pecking open the food bags. We had been greeted by two very bold birds that looked a bit like small condors at base camps and they had devoured our crumbs, and even now two of their kind were wheeling around near us so it was a necessary precaution. It actually had really struck me that that morning that I had been awoken to bird song at base camp. I had also heard some very loud rock falls in the night, one had sounded like rumbling water, and was so close to the tents I was sure we would be swept away, but in the morning I saw the rocks had stopped a few meters away, our protective boulder holding them back. Even so, it was a reminder that mountains are active living places, and nothing is to be taken for granted.

The birds were a pleasant surprise as in the Alps I never see any birds and in Antarctica, the only birds are penguins and sea birds that aren’t know for flying up in the mountains!

The long climb down then started. The first bit was easy and we moved fast. Now going the other way I could see the view over the cliffs and into the valley. It was giddying and beautiful at the same time. Frozen waterfalls cling below us, and it was wisest not to get too close to see. Then in under an hour we were back at the snow-filled coll. Mario was in no mood to slow down but I was terrified of the descent. What had been treacherous on the way up was now surely suicidal on the way down! There was absolutely no grip and all we has was lose shale and grave to slide on. Mario has an easy solution to this. He fairly skied down! Allowing himself to slide most of the way in a dusty avalanche of rock. I didn’t fancy this approach much, as a turned ankle or an out of control corner might not have a good outcome. Trying to use my poles as breaks, I opted to pick my way down more slowly, only sliding in places were no other option presented itself. By this point I was so tired I was shaking, and I knew from experience, this was when I was most likely to fall.
I slipped and slide and climbed and fell for what seemed like hours, but before long I could see the red tent at base camp and the gradient started to easy again. I could barely lift by feet as we trudged amongst the boulders back to the camp. Mario was already ahead and setting up the stove before I even staggered in to view.
I was so tired, I left Mario making water and I feel in to the tent laid down and avowed never to get up again! I was head to toe in dust, but at least my boots had proven themselves. They could easily have burst a seem in that rocky passage down. I also still had a terrible headache, unchanged by going up to 4600m and back down.
We ate pasta with tuna and more fresh tomato. Very little was said, and it was getting very cold and had started to snow. We all turned into our tents, even though it was barely 7pm. I lay in the tent unable to sleep Edi was restless and it was still light and my head was too sore. I took sleeping tablets, headache tablets and I drank some coffee. Nothing stopped the lightening pain between my eyes. Maybe I would just have to give up. Maybe I could not deal with altitude after all. I’ve been to 4600m before, but when I was in my 20s. Perhaps with old age, my heart and lungs could no longer take it.
Then I remembered I had some special pills for altitude sickness. I hadn’t taken them as Adolfo warned some people have adverse reactions and I would be weeing continuously. But I didn’t care. Anything to stop the loud pounding blood and allow me to sleep at this stage would help, so I swallowed one. Almost immediately I need to wee! But within an hour, my head calmed down. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleeping, listening to the patter of snow on the tent. Well OK then, if I needed these pills this was the solution. Perhaps Cinderella will go to the ball!
I filled bottle with 3 litres of pee that night! Adolfo was not exaggerating! I had only drank 2 the day before, so it must be drying me out like a prune. But I had slept. The only question now was one of time. We weren’t at camp 1, we were back at base camp and it was day 3. We awoke early to very cold conditions. It was still cold and I stamped my feet to keep some life in them. Nothing could be done without gloves, and even with them my fingers were numb. We have more avocado on toast (but it was crunchy with ice as I ate it, so quickly had it cooled) and I opted to take the rest as sandwiches (maybe they’d defrost later?) and Mario explained the plan. Today we would not go to camp 1, we would go straight to camp 2, picking up out depot on the way. It was going to be a tough day in Mario’s words. I gulped at the idea. Yesterday had already been tough, and now we were going to do the same, plus more height, plus more weight! But at least I had discovered the pills would cure my headaches, and I was fuelled on coffee
Edi was going home now, he’d helped us depot the stuff, but had no interest in the summit, instead we said good bye and left him at base camp cleaning up before going down the valley. Mario suggested to save weight I could have the 1 man tent and he’d bivvy out. Mainly because he snored! I would not hear of it. Edi had been snoring all night and i had not slept with worry, cold and the pain from my hips on the hard floor. The idea that Mario would sleep at -20C without a tent for me was ridiculous so I offered to take the 2 man tent. In the end Mario once again took more weight, sharing the tend and taking the fuel and stoves as well as the technical gear.
We set off up the ridge. It was only slightly easier knowing the way and what was to come. Not having a raging headache was actually a mixed blessing as now I could focus on all the other aches and pains in my body! Somehow the day before had been almost like a daze. Now I could actually focus on climbing and the time seemed to really drag.
Once the sun hit the ridge, it started to warm up. I got some sensation back in to my fingers, mainly the awful sting of chilblains as the blood vessels all burst. My finger that I had torn the ligaments in on Ben Nevis a few weeks back as particularly painful in the cold and made holding walking poles difficult.
By midday we were at our cache of equipment. Now it was going to get hard. I swapped my comfortable and very reliable hiking boots for the rigid plastics ones I had bought on eBay and not yet worn! We loaded both sacks with 3 days of food, racks, harness, helmets, and a rope on top of the personal equipment (sleeping bag, clothes etc.) and stood up with bags that towered above us, Mario’s weighing in excess of 30kg and mine about 23. The plastic boots making walking a whole different game and the rucksack swung around me alarmingly. We were now climbing on a mix of rock ice and snow and again Mario went ahead kicking in steps and keeping up his relentless, tireless rhythm. Before long I was sucking in air through pained lungs, panting hard and the headache was back with a vengeance. Cold winds bit into the left side of me and I sunk back in to a trance. Occasionally trying to revitalise my frozen hand. We were picking a zigzag path up a wide plateau that hid snow filed bowls and occasional lose outcrops of pumice. I had almost forgotten I was actually climbing an extinct volcano.
I had been quite surprised the day before, when on the day way down, two more people popped over the coll. Mario seemed to know the man who I took to be a fellow guide, and the lady probably his client, as she didn’t speak. They both looked younger and fitter than me and at ease on the mountain, also loaded up with similar equipment but moving faster. I was slightly annoyed, this was “my” mountain and up to this point had had it to ourselves. They were going as far as camp 1 for the night. We hadn’t seen them today so they must have already reached camp 2, well rested and ready for the final assault. We would be getting there half dead, late tonight and unrested.
That climb seemed to take forever. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that Mario was both carrying more stuff and kicking in steps and didn’t even slow. Normally because kicking steps is so tiring you would routinely rotate the leader. I was prepared to take my turn but it made sense that Mario would not have trusted me to be in front, and for once I was happy to let someone else do all the work!
at one point late in the day Mario promised me it was only a few more hours. My heart sunk. I had kept telling myself it must just be over the next crest but we’d been climbing since 8am and still had hours to go. I don’t know how I got through that day. Just one footstep at a time.
Eventually we crested yet one more lip of rock to be greeted with the view of a wide, snow covered glacier that was 3km wide. We surely wouldn’t be camping on that so we must be stopping on the rock promontory ahead. As if to confirm it the other field guide popped in to view. Sure enough there was a another low stone wall and a tent was already nestled behind. The wind was now so strong, standing was hard. I collapsed down, while Mario set about scraping snow away to make level ground for the tent. I suggested I built a kitchen, but even Mario was giving into the cold and the wind, and once the tent was up, he decided to cook inside the tent.
we chatted to our neighbours for a bit. They were a couple and both were mountain guides. They were on Marmolejo learning the route and to practice skills. This made me feel a lot better! Firstly I was still the only tourist up there, but secondly we now had two exceptionally capable backup climbers right beside us
but the main worry was the wind. It had rise to gale strength. The tent flapped alarmingly despite the low wall and the snow and rocks we piled around. It was too cold to be outside, and even in my stupidly thick sleeping bad cold drafts crept in, I couldn’t close it as the nightmare suffocation was to scary to risk so I set up a neck scarf from my jacket and tried to find a way to keep the plastic from covered my face. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I avowed to get rid of this stupid bag as soon as I was down. In fact even sell it in Chile so I didn’t have to fly it home
30am. The so called “Alpine start” that I was all too familiar with. the reason is the snow and rock freeze at night becoming “consolidated”. As the sun warms the slopes, everything crumbles turning to loose “choss”. This is not safe, and most mountains are not safe past midday, In the Alps you’d plan to be sat in a nice bar by 2pm. So even though I hate early mornings I had expected this and Mario had added a half hour for a “quick coffee then go”. It was Christmas eve and we joked about the lack of presents before turning in. Our neighbours had a radio which was playing some local music to accompany the howling wind as I tried to fall asleep
Getting up to wee, I caught the tent pole with my shoulder. It went with a loud crack. The cold and the constant flexing must have weakened things. But now we had a broken tent and if the pole was left, it would rip the fabric in half. Quickly I removed the pole and Mario got up. Between us we jury-rigged the tent with walking poles and rocks. Not ideal but at least it was still shelter. I felt really awful about it, but I also knew that the conditions had created a situation that was waiting to happen. We had no spares or repairs either, as weight had been everything. Thinking about kit, I realised that if anything breaks up here, however minor like a scratched sunglasses lens or a stove (we had already lost one of two due to icing) the whole expedition would have to be abandoned and we’d be in danger. Losing a tent could spell fatality.
On the way up Mario had been trying a UHF radio a few times. I was glad he had it as there is no phone signal but I had wondered who he was trying to call – he wasn’t getting an answer. I had not seen a mountain rescue station or police or anything with an antenna. Even then, a rescue up here would only be done my helicopter. Anyone coming from the village would also takes days to reach us and days to evacuate us.
Also given the terrain there was no line of sight to any civilisation and UHF only really works in straight lines. I didn’t want to be a smart arse, so I left Mario trying the radio, even when huge bluffs of rock blocked any signal. Sometimes odd reflections or “ground hug” can let radio waves propagate around corners, but I really wanted to know who was listening (if anyone?). So after we lay in the tent a bit I asked Mario. He suddenly opened up, having only spoken in a few short sentences up to this point. He was calling his wife at home. She was an experienced expedition leaser who had managed the Everest base camp and base camps for his own expeditions. That’s how they had met. This explained the informal radio calls and sporadic attempts. I was relieved to know that someone at least knew we were out here.
I must have found sleep eventually despite the wind. At one point a gust of almost hurricane strength hit the tent and I was sure it was gone, but it held even with the missing pole and I fell back to sleep terrified I’d be swept away with the canvas over the mountainside.
30. He went outside while I clung to a few more moments in my warm sleeping bag. I heard an exchange with the other field guides. I didn’t need to understand Spanish. It wasn’t good. Minutes later Mario was zipped back inside. He didn’t need to tell me. We weren’t going. The strong winds were far too dangerous, we would just be swept away on the exposed ridges.
Disappointment hit me hard. I tried to fight it down. At least I could have a few more hours in a warm bed. But my mind ran over the whole journey I had taken to get here. Three years of saving and training. The long hikes with friends. Carrying 10, then 13, then 15 and then 20kg on my back. The excess baggage, the search for mountaineering boots. Long haul flights, the 3000m climb we’d just done. For nothing. Not to even get out the crampons and walk on some ice. harness and helmet unused. Yes, I know. Weather is weather, that is always the risk. But this mountain in summer is normally passable and I hadn’t really come to terms with failure. At least it was not me that had caused us to turn back. I had pushed myself as hard as I could. I had tried. But still, when I next wake up I will be packing everything up, going back down and that will be it. It was over. Just like that. Stupid wind. With that I relished the warmth of my sleeping bag and fell asleep
[ to be continued! ]
During the long hike up the mountain I had thought about my many friends and the trips I’d been doing over the last year. From the age of 11 when my Dad dragged me moaning a lot over the Paps of Jura to Tom and Julie who taught me many skills like crevasse rescue in Antarctica. Vlad joining me for weekly walks in Oxfordshire and Trish summitting Ben Nevis for the first time. Zoe and I walking the Swiss alps. These were all good memories, and sometimes it is the journey that matters
30. Mario was already moving about, boiling water in the tent porch whilst remaining in his sleeping bag. The sun was hitting the tent and the wind had calmed somewhat, though the odd gust still set the tent shaking.
The disappointment flooded back. Mario greeted me with the customary “¿Cómo estás?” I couldn’t reply in Spanish so I outlined my disappointment in English. I explained I had spent 3 years preparing and a lot of money and that this was a big deal. On his normally placid face, slight shock registered. After he pause he said “OK we have two options. We can go now”. I didn’t wait for the other (probably or go down). “what we can leave now?” I was thinking about the Alpine start and the risk of soft snow. “Yes, it will be harder, 9 hours but the wind has dropped” He could read my mind. “OK” I said without hesitation. At least it was a shot. 9 hours! But did he mean up and down? I could see the peak, it wouldn’t take that long, and what about getting back? We’d be returning in the dark “make sure you have head torch”. OK he _can_ read my mind. So I rushed outside and started laying out crampons and other equipment. I swallowed down a coffee while Mario prepared the rope, ice screws and other technical bits. I threw a water bottle in a tiny ruck sack with my head torch and the bare minimum. I was too cold to take off any layers, I had all the clothes with me on. Mario didn’t even check my crampons, he just clipped the rope to my harness and we started off, waving to the other two who had surfaced to share the coffee.
At last! Even if I wasn’t going to summit at least my crampons were now on the snow. Mario immediately switched to his robotic plod, each footfall sinking into deep snow. With 3 steps I was panting again, fighting to get air into me. This was going to be tough. We were starting at the highest height I had been to and we still have over 1.5 thousand meters to go. The snow was already soft and to walk through it meant lifting each foot as high as the knee. I could see rock ahead and thought this couldn’t be too long. With the peak just in front of us I debated if it was 9 hours away, or 9 hours there and back or just 9 hours for slow people (me!)
The sun shone fiercely and the wind was a fresh continuous breeze on our left side. My fingers were frozen in the thick gloves and my left face and neck went stiff and numb. But we plodded on. I had taken a second pill against altitude (and peed more water than I had drunk) but I could feel the headache and dizziness coming back. I had skiing googles on but the white snow hurt my eyes. Perhaps getting to the top was not so important? Perhaps just getting this far was OK.
About every 100 meters the snow would collapse under Mario and he would announce a crevasse. Luckily these were small but frequent which is why we were roped up and both carrying ice axes. Mario hadn’t even asked me if I’d put a harness on before, let alone if I could rescue him should he disappear down a deep hole. Luckily I know both things, but it was either surprisingly trusting or overly confident
The problem with soft snow even with someone else tramping out footprints, is that lifting the legs high and occasionally scrambling out of meter deep holes is even more exhausting than just walking along at 4am on frozen ground.
I also started to realise the “small” glacier we were crossing extended for miles and the rock ahead was actually going to be hours away
I had to keep stopping. To get my breath, to defrost my fingers, to ease my aching neck and back that were pulled by a rucksack that only contained 3kg but was much less comfortable than the big one. Also I was intently staring at the ground, looking for crevasses and trying to follow Mario’s zig zagging path
Before long we hit our first set of Penitentes. These hard snow formations are only found in the Andes and are often covered in layers of snow. The hard ice sticks up by a metre or more. I thought the problem would be to avoid the ice, but the exact opposite is true. With crampons, it is much easier to walk on the hard ice tops, but if you slip off or cross from one to the other, you sink into snow sometimes meters deep or full of voids. It was exhausting, clinging to the ice with axe and crampons, then sinking into soft snow, only to have to climb back out. With Mario’s constant tug on the rope, I sometimes fell forward in the same hole he’d just been into and had to insist he stop while I regained my balance. I soon learnt to hate these formations, and there was no straight route through them, nearly doubling our distance.
Hours had gone by and the peak seemed no closer. I was beginning to realise that yes it was 9 hours, for a fit person to get to the summit
The little patches of rock didn’t help much either. Loose pumice that was hard to walk on in crampons. We stopped many times, to drink water, to take photos and to radio the others. At least someone was now responding to the UHF. Mario even reached his wife finally now we were on top of the world
The views were astounding. I was looking down on 5500m Andes and on the tallest peak around. Argentina stretched off in one direction and Chile the other. Not a cloud in the sky just pure Azule. The cold wind didn’t stop though and I had only taken off my down jacket with increasing exertion. I had spots dancing in front of my eyes again and aching lungs. I asked Mario how much height we’d gained. We were now over 5000m but it seemed that 6000 and the peak at 6100 was impossibly far still.
On and on the day went. I was just willing myself to go on in a numb state. I started by thinking in km. Then 100m stretches, then 20m, the distance to Mario, then finally just one foot step at a time.
Finally we’d crossed the second big glacier and Mario radioed the guides below. I understood we were on the “final glacier” and what was ahead was rock and snow, stepper, but easier to cross. The terrain had already got steeper and as a result the crevasses more frequent, the so called bergschrund where the glacier is tearing itself off the mountain. I would be pleased to be off it.
We sat and ate the last frozen sandwich and I asked Mario how much further. I was thinking an hour, that maybe we were at 5800m or so. The depressing reply came back “4-5 hours”, we aren’t at 5500m yet and the next bit is much harder”
I sunk into disappointment again. Another 4-5 hours and harder? It was already midday. We’d reach the summit at 5pm only to turn back getting to the tent at 2am. The ground would only get worse and the risks higher. What was more cloud was now forming and the summit had disappeared. Black clouds that spelt snow and fog. I said to Mario I was tired and perhaps we turn around at 6000m. He pointed out that it would be as hard as getting to the summit, and that I would need all my energy for getting back. For the first time I sensed that even Mario wanted to turn back, for my sake not his. So I said it. We had reached 5540m. That was good enough for me. I had seen what Marmolejo was like and I felt she really didn’t want us there. Those clouds were thickening and Mario confirmed my worry ” and its snowing”. So we took one last photo and turned around.
It was just as much a slog going back. Slightly faster, but we tried to use our tracks coming up only now the snow was even slushier. We both fell frequently and it was comical to have to roll over and get back up. I knew I’d made the right decision. Even if I had topped out, I would not have it in me to get safely down in the snow storm and darkness. It was nearly 7pm when we got to the campsite. I half hoped the others would make tea for us, that would be the British thing to do, and certainly no BAS camp would ever fail in this regard, But I didn’t know Chilean custom and perhaps we were just two strangers disturbing their peace any way
So it was no surprise that as I dragged my weary feet back on to the rock that no stove was on and no hot drink waited. I was too tired to care, I sat on a rock and didn’t think I’d get up again. Mario launched into a lengthy discussion with the guides in Spanish and I considered going straight to bed, except I was ravenous with hunger. So you can only imagine my surprise and delight when a thermos magically appeared and the local honey tea proffered to me! I was happy to drink several cups before climbing in to the tent. It was a still evening and the clouds darkened the sky as night started to fall. There was a moment of drama as Mario cooked our instant meals when the makeshift tent poles collapsed, and Mario had to hold up a collapsing tent in one hand and the lit stove, like a flame thrower in the other. I rushed to help but with danger of the whole tent catching fire, Mario had the sense to move cooking operations back outside while I sheared up the tent again. That had been close. A burnt tent would me no good and being burnt alive inside one even less fun. I ate my dehydrated meal still dehydrated I was so hungry and then slept soundly without the wind trying to scope us off the mountain.
That night was so cold the tent was frozen in ice and our water bottles in the tent froze solid. Mario said it was the coldest he’d known it. We chiselled the tent out with ice axes and packed up. The other two had already left at 4am, with almost perfect conditions given how hard the ice was.
We now had the longest day in my life ahead of me. The return to base camp, without any stops this time. But Mario threw another option at me. We could go to base camp sleep the night in the cold wait for the mules and hike back as planned. OR we could go straight to his house tonight have an “asado” (Chilean BBQ) and sleep in proper beds. Well! The 2nd option sounds lovely but I was so tired I didn’t think I’d make it to base camp and I remembered what it was like sliding down that ridge without a pack. Now we’d be carrying everything (except food) too. I could sense though that Mario wanted to see his wife and have proper food, and why not? Then man had worked like a slave the last 5 days and I couldn’t really deny his that. Also it was Christmas day and a light bulb lit up in my head. If we were quick I could get to WiFi and tell my loved ones happy Christmas before the day in the UK was out. Quick maths meant we’d have to be on the road by 7pm local. That was doable
The first part was OK. I changed back to normal boots, and hung the bulky plastics off the side of my sack. Now I was more unbalanced both back and forth and side to side. We raced down I could see that Mario was already smelling the drilled meat and I tried to keep up. Finally we reached the coll and the treacherous slope below. Mario set off slipping and sliding and creating avalanches as he went. HIs huge sack on his back that I could barely lift. With my top heavy load and being off balance, I opted to pick my way more slowly, but in some cases it wasn’t possible. I was so tired my legs shook and I knew this was exactly where accidents were most likely to occur. At one point I fell and slid, and only just managed to stop on a precipices one leg each side of a boulder. Mario was a long way below me and it shook me a bit. I got up slowly and decided to slow down, the BBQ would have to wait.
The ridge seemed endless and with the hot sun now beating down, the ice and gravel had melted and was now just gravel. It was like playing in a sand pit as a child, but any mistake would roll and ankle or worse. I used my two hiking poles as breaks, they had already endured a lot. But lost in though I suddenly fell and went skidding down on my arse, the rucksack pulling me over, and no chance of righting myself. When I finally stopped I had hurt my hand and bent my hiking pole and I realised Mario wasn’t even in earshot. I slowed brushed myself off but now I was properly scared and decided I would go slowly now and concentrate whatever time we ended up getting down.
It was nearly 3 when we made base camp. I hadn’t hurt myself but I was very tired. We stowed the equipment for the mules, leaving a can of Jack Daniels and coke as a tip. I decided that I really wanted to send those Christmas messages, and the worst was over. WIth a light back it was just a long walk back along the valley, then we’d be home. Or so I thought.
We ate a whole packed of spaghetti and the last of the bacon and set off. Someone my mind had shrunk the distance. I suggested to Mario we should forego the dam and take the shortest route – I didn’t mind wet feet at this stage.
The hours went by and sun beat over head. It was hot and dry and despite applying sun cream every few hours I was parched and burnt all over. We’d left that morning without making water, so I was glad when we reached the rivers and I could fill my water bottle. I drank thirstily. We had to go up and down a bit to reach the water fall and then climb down. Finally I saw greenery again, even if it was just spiky desert bushes.
By my reckoning it was now a stretch to get back before UK Christmas was over but I still wanted to try. We beelined it through the spiky bushes and over little rivers. In some places I had to remove my boots and wade into a torrent of white water strong enough to push us over. It was hard to cling to slippery rocks with my toes, and Mario opted for wet boots. The bushes were also very spiky to walk through and I wasn’t sure this was quicker than the hydroelectric station route had been
I was trying to remember the route up, wasn’t the road just ahead? Then I suddenly realised, Mario had said his house, that was another 8km down the valley. Surely someone would come to the road and pick us up?
The valley was beautiful in the evening light. In the middle lay a pile of boulders. I thought how in Europe or the USA this would be a popular sites for climbers, and how there would already be shops and cafes on the flat pasture land. But here this was just one of many vast areas that people barely bother to visit, only know my the locals
I had forgotten the road was not that close and we still had to walk down a long way from this pasture. Another hour or more went by and it was dark when I finally recognised the path above the mule station. Mario made a phone call. But when we got to the mule station no red pick up was awaiting us. I didn’t think I would get those messages off in time. It was now 11pm in the UK
Then an old lady in her car appeared. At first I didn’t connect her with us, but then Mario’s wife climbed out the passenger side. Hurrah, we did have a lift. There was no rush as greetings were made and pleasantries exchanged, but now I was watching the clock. Maybe, just maybe I could still do this before midnight
I explained the Elena who luckily spoke fluent English my need to an internet connect so we bounced back to her neighbours house, who ran a hostel. The whole hostel was available just to me, and he took an agonising time explaining the shower (necessary as the whole place was home made and whilst cute, pretty basic). Elena sensed my frustration and asked for the WiFi key. I managed to connect 1 minute past midnight!
Then I was invited over to another neighbours for food. It was delicious and there were generous amounts, I could talk to Elena about our shared experiences working in Antarctica and I tried to follow the conversation in Spanish as various neighbours dropped in. I learnt many things that evening. Firstly, it normally takes 9 days to do Marmolejo to allow acclimatisation and for weather. Mario had thought I was some crazy guy on a mission to do it in 6. This was slightly annoying as it was due to a chain of miscommunication amongst several people. Second, he would normally insist that someone had a medical, had been to 5000m and had logged mountaineering experience. Because the paper work had never got through, Mario had assumed I had all those things. Well I had 2 out of 3! The other thing I learnt is Mario has the record, 23 hours from his door to the top and back! Even though he assured me our 5 days trip had been rapid, I thought Mario must be a super man. They make films about Americans like Alex Honel but I reckon Mario would run circles around him. His wife confirmed he did have native blood, so like the Gurkhas in Nepal, perhaps Mario really does have super powers.
Mario and his neighbour have been up Marmolejo more than 20 times, but the real surprise was the old lady who had given us a lift has also been up! Clearly they are all tough mountain people
I went to sleep that night and slept very soundly. I’d been very touched by everyone’s kindness the night before and the ease with which it is possible to make friends with Chileans. I really like this country and its people. I was staggered by the scale and wildness of the mountains and had learnt a lot about my own capabilities in many ways exceed my own expectations. I had chosen 6000m rather arbitrarily as a goal. and maybe should have tried 5000m first. The other two guides were still out on the mountain, expected back in their tent around 2am. Despite better conditions they were actually slower than us which made me feel a bit better, if even the pros found it hard!
On the way up I had mentioned that I would really love to visit a hot spring after my adventure. So the next day, Sunday, after a very big and delicious breakfast at Mario’s house (Elena is a very good cook and I was happy to see lots of salad) Mario took me down the bumpy mining track again and past the mule station. The road was just rocks but there were tourist buses headed up there and I wasn’t sure if we we were heading to a fancy hotel or just a hole in the ground where the volcano shot up a hot geyser.
After a bumpy ride that almost made me sick, we arrived at something that is a cross between both. A man collected a fee at Portakabin and then there was a series of pools on the side of the mountain. Hot water was just spewing out and caught in a series of pools. Some enterprising local had built a shack to get changed in and some hand rails to hold onto. It was a popular site for the Instagram crowd mainly for photos in bikinis with the magnificent mountains as the backdrop
It was a really hot day and the sun beat down. It was hard to think just 24 hours ago I was chiselling ice off everything. I soaked in the hot water and relaxed, feeling like I had no body. I had very few aches and pains but I felt the sun burn. For a moment I really felt like the luckiest person alive,
Mario picked me up an hour later. It seemed the regular mule man had gone to Santiago and his replacement was late coming back. So we went back for another asado, this time it was a proper grill and Edi had come back up from the city with his daughter. Neighbours dropped by and I tried my rusty Spanish. It was a really lovely meal
By the end, when we finally got our bags (I think the muleteer had found the JD and coke, drunk it and fell asleep in the sun!) I went to take some photos of the village
Just 22 inhabitants and a strange mix of self built houses and eco lodges. Mario (of course!) had built his own house overlooking the valley. But everything was simple and wood, like a British shed. Elena explained this was because of the frequent earth quakes, better to not have concrete rain down on your head! I liked the whole village and imaged living here.
But Edi was ready to drive back and I said good bye to the villages. One old man gave me a hug and it felt really sad, we’d only met 12 hours early and yet it was almost difficult to leave.
On the way back Edi forced me to talk more Spanish and tried to encourage his shy 14 year old daughter to use her high school English. We rode back through the Maipo valley past the tourist amusements and finally back in to the city.
I had been expected to be presented with a bill. I mean it would be fair if Mario had wanted something for all the extras or if Edi had charged for the long ride to and from Santiago. But no, nothing, I had to press gas money on Edi and a large tip on Mario. Anyone that can get me up a mountain that size deserves it!
That’s it for now. Today I did nothing except type this and rest.

It’s been a few days since I last wrote an update and already it is the end of my course! I have a certificate that says I can now speak Spanish…. incredible considering we’ve done a different tense each day (some days 2 or 3) and were meant to learn about 100 vocab words a day, and I can’t remember anything! But it has been a fun experience and I liked our teacher who was very entertaining with his improvised stories that follow the drama of “Juan”, “un amigo” of the teacher, and his infidelities and other adventures. It seems our teacher invents these scenarios on the spot but I find them highly amusing, if not educational. Another long morning in a hot class room labouring over indefinite something’s and past tenses… then this afternoon it was all over!

We had a cooking class in the afternoon where we prepared a traditional dish called Charquican. Traditionally made with horse meat but thankfully it was substituted with beef. It wasn’t really a cooking lesson, we just prepped the vegetables, drank red wine and were forced to discuss the names of vegetables in Spanish, but the outcome was a tasty dish and some good chats with my fellow students, who all scatter tomorrow.

There is a saying (I don’t know who said it!) “when travelling never talk religion or politics” to which I say “bo@**ks! Always talk religion and politics”. It’s all most people want to talk about when you’re new in the country. I went on the school tour to the “general” cemetery in Santiago. I thought it might be boring, hearing about dead Chileans, and I admit I got lost with all the presidents, dictators and assassinations. But it was a fascinating place, some mausoleums are bigger than houses are in London these days. But it was really the conversation in the bar after that was most fun. Our guide was a very entertaining man who also teaches history at high school, and the conversation turned to everything from the rise of right wing politics across the globe to the meaning of Eurovision and everything in between. Plus a discourse on the joys and woes of marriage vs polyamory. All of course conducted in Spanish. I was the only one who said nothing, mainly because my vocabulary barely extends beyond “mas vino por favour”. But I think I understood most of what was said.

Also yesterday I braved the shopping mall once more to find a replacement coat and some groceries. It amazes me the highlight for so many people at this time of year is to trawl a shopping mall. It is actually my idea of hell, especially as I had trouble escaping (there were two sets of escalators and one set was broken so I ended up at the wrong door). I opted to buy a cheap jacket on the basis that my insurance will never pay up and I am stuck with a jacket I don’t really want. Then I rushed home but I had missed most of the salsa lesson, which was a real shame because the last 10 minutes that I did catch was really fun and all my class were finding it hard, so I would have been in good company.

It’s really hot here now, and I am finding sleeping hard, with restless nights filled with vivid dreams.

I went to yoga on Thursday night. The confusion started with the price. Advertised at 1500 CLP (about £1.20) I was confused when the receptionist apologised because it was only now 1000 CLP and did I want to buy a better deal? I thought I might have missed a zero, but no the class was 68 pence! It was quite an experience. The studio was really nice and it was a small class. The class followed a very traditional teaching method and we did four asanas before sitting and doing a lot of, well, I don’t know what to call it. Contemplation? It wasn’t meditation as the teacher didn’t stop gabbling in Spanish and (from my limited understanding) the discourse was about spiritualism and had many similarities to Catholicism which of course dominates Chile. It wasn’t a bad class, but it didn’t really suit me, with my lack of the language.

There was a after-school pool party on Tuesday at a really nice old hotel on the other side of town. I was a bit nervous to go at first, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a pool party before (what do you actually do?) but as there were free drinks (wine mixed with fruit juice) and my class mates were there to talk to, I had a good time in the end. It actually got a bit cold in the pool and I ended up coming home and falling asleep. I guess a combination of “vino tinto” and “sol” will do that!

It’s easy to forget all about Christmas, there is not really a whiff of it in most places, but I did feel a little homesick in the shopping centre, where they insisted on belting out Christmas songs and I realised I will be missing Christmas back at home. Apparently I will be having the “worst day of my life” (see below) when you all sit down for turkey.


I’ve noticed a few things since I have been here. My eyesight has improved. I can read a book again without classes whereas on Monday I couldn’t even read the title of the course book. Also I have not missed television or used the Internet except for essential things. I don’t have back pain or other aches. So being away from the computer is obviously good, and interacting with real humans is also good (excepting these posts!)

I am always impressed how friendly and helpful everyone has been here. From the people to the school to the bus drivers, I have not had any bad feeling from anyone yet. I hope this continues.

Luna has been hard at work searching for horses and we think we have found a place to stay in Patagonia. At least we are in contact with people down south, so it looks promising. There are a lot of people here in Santiago driving motorbikes or camper-vans either across the whole continent or the length of Chile. It only makes me wish I had more time. I would love to go north and gaze at the stars in the Atacama, explore the many hikes in the lake district, or do the super-touristy Torres del Paine walks (that cost a small fortune and require booking months in advance) but I have two big projects to do and the first one starts this weekend.

Adolofo, my guide, has just been by tonight to lend me some equipment and check I have everything for the big climb on Sunday. He also just told me that “you will be very cold, miserably cold, but you won’t die. The summit days will be the worst two days of your life but you will remember them forever”. I just can’t wait – I can’t believe it is now only a day away!


Here’s some pictures from the cooking class and the cemetery visit. Also showing how I make coffee and filter the water in the morning!

I probably won’t write every day (phew! everyone says) but I thought I would give a quick update for my first day back at school after 32 years and a brush with Chilean bureaucracy…

I woke up and attempted to make coffee this morning. In the end, I had it “gaucho” style. i.e. grains in a cup, no filter, no press. It seems Chile is only slowly embracing coffee culture, and most people still drink the powered stuff. After that, I went over the road to “school”. It really was like stepping back to a 19th century school house. When I arrived, the receptionist already had my “exam” open and on my appearance, called over a senior teacher.. I started to worry that it was so bad they wouldn’t know what to do with me… send me home? In the end I was put in a class with a few Germans, Dutch and one Brazilian (who surely will find Spanish easy?!)

The teacher came in, and started in Spanish straight away. I was lost before we’d even started! I am so useless at languages that I spent the whole class thinking “frage” means question in Spanish, but this is actually German! (Thanks Luna for setting me straight on that one). I am happy doing quantum physics and thinking in infinite dimensional Hilbert space, but ask me to conjugate a verb and my mind goes to jelly. We had a whole 3 hours on topics that I don’t even understand in English (reflective verbs, nuclear verbs, transitive something or other… ) the explanations came back in Spanish, but I don’t think it would make a difference if they were in Mandarin…

Somehow I struggled though, asking a lot of questions (sorry to the fellow student that had to leave and go up a class, I think I was holding her and everyone else back!). Still, I didn’t come to pass an exam or get a job. I hope I just survive the week… It’s 3 hours every morning and they are organising various excursions in the afternoon. To a cemetery and a dead poet’s house – Pablo Neruda.

In other news… Well you’d think I was experienced at travelling and being careful with my stuff. Given that I am carrying around a ludicrous amount of specialist mountaineering equipment, I’ve been especially worried about losing a bag. Of course, it happened. I lost my down-jacket on the plane. I think in the confusion and tiredness whilst disembarking it was picked up by someone who recognised its worth. I was hoping it would be handed in. I would literally die if I went to -20C on the mountain without it. So I am rather upset that it has not been found at the airport or on the plane. So today I had the fun of reporting the matter to the police.

I could be philosophical about this and think “it’s an experience”. Sitting for two hours in a hot empty waiting room built in colonial days wondering how is it possible for civil servants to actually manage to do so little (it’s an art form) but by the second hour, I was a bit bored of watching the coming-and-goings of the local gendarme. I mean I think I would actually find it hard to do nothing while people wait. However, in the end, the policemen was very helpful and friendly and patient with my non-existent Spanish (thankfully he had chat GPT to his aid) and I got my report filed for the insurance.

Today we also had a welcome from the head of the school (a husband and wife team who shared local wine and home-made empanadas with us). I didn’t understand everything that was said, but it included an explanation of the public transport system (thanks! too late to be of use to me) and the kind of tips you’d follow in any city (don’t get your phone stolen). Plus a few recommendations of restaurants and a reassurance we are in a safe neighbourhood.

Anyway, that concludes my second day and my continued humiliation as the world’s worst language learner!

I arrived yesterday morning safe and sound. The last few hours of the flight were spent in some trepidation. There is always a mix of fear and excitement for a trip like this. I can’t help but worry if I am in the right state of readiness, both mentally and physically. I also had a concern that the three bags I had taken off me at Heathrow might not make it all in one piece. But in the end the flight went without a hitch. It was only the pre-booked taxi (a “collectivio” – shared minibus) that refused to take all my bags and I had to take a private taxi. In booking the taxi, I also managed to get my credit card blocked. The only way to unblock it is to visit a UK cash machine, which is not very helpful.
The hostel I am staying at is very nice. I was worried it would be full of 18 year old students partying all night, but in fact most of the residents here are on the same language course, and all seem very respectful and I even feel like I am being too loud! The kitchen conversations have taken place in a mix of German and French as well as English, as we have Swedes, Swiss, French and many othe nationalities. This is just as well as it materialises my Spanish is even worse than I thought!

Flying over the mountains the day before, I was awestruck by the vastness of the Andes. There must be thousands of unexplored peaks down there. Just to get to them would require climbing through vast inhospitable terrain. This morning I set myself a more modest task. The locals’ favourite “Sunday stroll” as the guide describes it, up Cerro Pochoco and because that felt too easy I decided I would summit Loma de la Vaca (which I translate roughly as the cows backside) as well. The name in fact means “Loins of a cow” as in a cut of meat.

The first mystery I had to solve was how to navigate the Chilean public transport. Today was the Presidential election day and also a Sunday so everything was doubly shut. It’s amazing that exactly the same thing had happened to me exactly 25 years ago when I was here previously! That time we had ended up sleeping in a brothel as it was the only lodgings available.

It didn’t bode well that I saw groups of public service workers standing around smoking and drinking coffee and clearly enjoying their day off.
I’d set off quite early, managing to forget my lunch of “empanada” – the Chilean equivalent of a Cornish pasty. I managed to find a bus (in fact all public transport was running to ensure everyone could get to their polling station). But it rattled past my stop much faster than the timetable. I went forward and asked the driver, and this would only happen in Chile, who pulled in to a side road, stopped, and read my phone before pointing out I needed to walk back 100m.

After that the walk was straight forwad and I was soon on top to the hill. After meandering through some houses for a bit, I was flagged down by a lady driving her 4×4 (everyone here drives off-road vehicles, which is clearly needed in a mountainous city with poor roads) and pointed out I had just missed an unmarked gateway that was the start of the trail. Another example of just how kind and helpful people are and how I must look like a clueless tourist!

The trail begun pretty steep and stony. I was over-taken by a party of school children, so I decided I needed to step it up. Before long I had lost the path and was scrambling up steep gorges, grabbing thorn bush roots to prevent myself sliding back down. Everything here has thorns! It’s very arid, and the day was quite humid. Unfortunately two women followed me, and were soon in the same predicament as I was, no longer on the path. I did find the path again and there were several other people out on the trail. All were well equipped, which proved necessary, as the “Sunday stroll” started to become a grade 3 scramble, and when I lost the path again, I had to do a proper climb of a vertical face. I notice the flora and fauna here are refreshingly different from at home, with many birds I can’t identify, and towering cacti. One bird sounds very much like a person whistling which I found quite disconcerting.

The hike went well, and I made it to Cerro Pochoco with no problem. After that there were no more people except a young couple who had camped the night up there. Lomo de Vacca was disappearing in the mist, so I decided I would summit and return quickly. Although the path had some faded paint marks, I didn’t fancy my chances if I lost my way. I did find the summit and took a photo before turning back.

Coming back was harder, as the lose stones and sandy soil made it easy to slide. Down-climbing the rock was also a more daunting prospect than going up. But I got back to the road, and thanks to a small shrine, there were some well-maintained steps down that made a short cut to the bus stop.

I had another whirl-wind bus ride, this time to the sound track of soft-rock. At one point the driver stopped and asked us each where we were going. I asked if there was a problem, but quite the contrary! He just wanted to speed us to our destinations without stopping! He reduced my scheduled 1 hour journey to 25 minutes (though he skidded to a halt about 50m past the stop, so I don’t think I’d want him running the scheduled service!)

I am now back and showered. It’s gone 6pm, the curfew is in full force so with no other food options open, I’m finally eating my lunchtime empanada!

I completed 17km and 1200m ascent. A small warm-up for what’s to come next week! Tomorrow I start my language course. They sent me a pre-assessment yesterday and I couldn’t get past the first 25% of questions! Hopefully they will be kind to me and treat me as a beginner. I also need to get some more practice hikes in. I carried 5kg today. I will be carrying 25kg next week, so the next hike will need to be with more weight. For now, Hasta Luego!