Piedras Negras on Mt. Aconcagua
Mark on Aconcagua Summit
Rick and Mark Headed Down the Mountain
by Rick Hoffman
We started down, and Mark and Martin started up. It was difficult since Laura was in tough shape. She fell several times, and we had to hold on to her and jamb our ice axes into the snow to prevent a slide. We arrived at the tents at 2 PM expecting Martin and Mark to have joined us. We got Laura tea and a bit of food, and she seemed much better at 19,300 feet. I collapsed outside the tent in the snow, exhausted. After some tea and rest I felt improved. It continued to snow, and at around 4 PM I was getting very worried about Mark. Where were they?
About this time a young man stumbled into camp. He asked for help since he was very cold and his feet were frozen. We noticed he wore leather boots which are forbidden above base camp on Aconcagua. Allie examined his feet and noted severe frostbite. We could not provide the needed help, so Allie radioed to determine if there were climbing rangers in the area who could help him down the mountain. In about an hour the rangers arrived, and then they assisted the man down to base camp where a rescue helicopter could land. We later learned he lost several toes.
Mark was still not in camp, and I became more worried. About 6 PM another pair of rangers walked into camp with a lone, female French climber. She was very cold and scared. Apparently today was her second attempt to reach the summit solo, but she became lost in the storm and missed camp. She would have died if the Rangers had not found her. This feline apparently used one of her nine lives on the descent. Little did she know she would use another later that night.
By now it was approaching dusk, and my son was still on the mountain. Allie reassured me that Martin had been on the mountain many times, but the thought of avalanche, dehydration, or a fall was in my mind. Then just before dark we saw them making their way down by the black rocks or Piedras Negras. They stumbled into camp, and we learned against all odds they had reached the summit. Both were dehydrated and exhausted. I led Mark into the tent, removed his boots and helped him in the sleeping bag. Soon tea and food arrived, and he started to recover. I was very thankful he was safe.
We talked about the summit climb in the tent that night. Mark described the climb in the deep snow, meeting another climber who thought he was injured but just suffering from the altitude, the difficult climb up the steep section before the summit ridge, and finally the top. Due to dehydration he did not recall the descent except for the need to continue down and the ever present agonizing thirst. He finally went to sleep as I continued to write his account in our journal. Even though I had not reached the summit, the expedition was successful since Mark and Martin had achieved the near impossible.
At around 11 PM I heard some sound over the howling wind. Was it a cry or call for help? I listened and in the calm between gusts it was clear it was the latter. “Help me! I can’t breath! Help, help, help!” was the cry. I opened the tent in the storm listening for the source. No one was up and the blizzard was raging. I pulled on my boots and went out of the tent. Suddenly, I heard the shouting from the French woman’s tent. I called for the guides to get the dexamethasone, a powerful steroid, used in the treatment of shortness of breath due to pulmonary edema, a condition where liquid fills the lungs. I rushed to the tent, opened it, and saw the woman was blue and frightened. Allie quickly arrived, and we literally pulled her out of the tent and threw her into the snow. The shock made her breath vigorously, and she started to regain her color and calm down.
Allie knew what had happened. The woman was in a single wall tent and had not opened the vents after her rescue. Condensation from her respirations had frozen to the tent’s inside surface, making it air tight. The more hypoxic the woman became the more she hyperventilated. Each breath added to the layer of ice and further sealed her tomb, as she became progressively more confused and short of breath. She was using a borrowed tent and failed to remember to open the vents after the exhaustion of the climb and rescue earlier in the day. We saved her life and moved her to the guide’s tent and began the rehydration process.
The next day the French woman was fully recovered and grateful. We broke camp, cold but elated that two members had reached the summit. We started the hike to base camp and arrived before dark. Pizza and wine were waiting for us at the table in the main tent, and the celebration was underway. This was the lap of luxury. We slept well, and the supply of oxygen seemed overly abundant at 14,000 feet.
The following morning we started the twenty mile hike to the trailhead, where big steaks awaited us on the dinning room table in the hotel. After dinner we peeled off smelly layer after layer of clothes we had been wearing for several days. The next day we traveled to Mendoza for more steaks and wine and then the long flight back home. It was an adventure my son and I will remember forever.
As I said in the beginning, don’t let your age or health get in the way of your dreams. Next October I will be sixty-three and hope to be back in Nepal for a month of trekking with another high school friend on the Annapurna Circuit among the giant peaks of the world. Good luck on your adventure.
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