Cleaning Up Mt. Aconcagua

by Matthew J. Nelson

When I stumbled out of the cold, windy Central Andes last year I swore I would never return. After two years and three unsuccessful summit attempts of Cerro Aconcagua—the highest peak outside the Himalayas—I’d had enough. But fate has a funny way of bringing you back to places you were meant to be. So when the phone rang one afternoon with an invitation I couldn’t refuse, it was a matter of minutes before I began preparing for another expedition to the 22,841-ft. mountain.

The call came from Angela Hawse, director of The Wind Horse Legacy, who was putting together an environmental expedition to the very same mountain that Mike Wilke and I (both lead guides for Southwest Trekking) had helped clean up in 1999 and 2000.

Our dedicated team of ten assembled in Mendoza, Argentina just days before the New Year and began preparation for the 20-day expedition. After gear had been stashed and food had been sorted into bags and buckets, a 500-kg pile of duffels had appeared. Aside from the usual bounty of equipment needed for such a trip, we also had along two video cameras for documentation, a satellite phone, and state-of-the-art mobile solar panels.

I’ve heard the long hike to base camp described as barren, boring, even ugly. Maybe it’s my desert soul, but I’ve always found the Horcones Valley to be a treasure of the Andes. Chocolate-colored streams flow down from the scree hillsides over opaque stone and tiny clumps of green vegetation, all surrounded by some of the most impressive peaks in the Americas. Kinda’ like Death Valley nestled inside one of the deepest canyons of the Sierra Nevada. The hike is long, the air is thin, but beauty is omnipresent. After our first day on the trail we enjoyed New Year’s Eve under the stars of the Southern Hemisphere.

Once in Plaza de Mulas, our base camp at 14,000 ft., we began the long process of acclimatization – hiking up the mountain with a pile of gear and food, hiking down to sleep, resting, then moving up the following day. It’s a slow way to go, but it’s the only sure way to avoid altitude sickness. Within six days we were at Nido de Condores (Condor’s Nest), 17,700 ft., staring up at the snow capped summit of Aconcagua. Although it was in our plans to wait another two to three days for a summit attempt, the weather was warm and the cloudless horizon was a sign that tranquility was blowing in from the Pacific. It may only last a day. So we decided to go for it.

Man masters nature not by force but by understanding

- John Brownowski

The day before our summit attempt we slept at Refugio Berlin, the traditional high camp at 19,000 ft., where we enjoyed a night free of wind. Could this be the same mountain whose continual gusts nearly shredded my tent in years past? Eb Eberlein, my tent mate and good friend from Tucson, was the first out of the tent. It seemed too cold to even stick my hand out to start boiling water, so I buried myself deep in my sleeping bag for another 30 minutes. When ambient light began to sneak in I knew that it was time to go.

Lirain Urreiztieta, another Tucson mountaineer, and I began the long trudge together. Switchback after switchback of cold, loose rock seemed to go on endlessly. We stopped every hour to rewarm our extremities, eat some GU, and drink whatever liquid hadn’t frozen inside our backpacks. The hours ticked by and the summit got closer with each footfall. By the time we passed the infamous traverse across the Gran Acarreo we began the grueling stumble up a veritable wall of loose scree that was as much a test of patience as it was physical ability. We navigated the rocks, sand and ice delicately, always careful not to kick loose any boulders that could tumble down on climbers below us.

The “crux” of the summit push is known as the Canaleta. It is something I had both feared and lusted after for many years. As Lirain and I rounded a rocky outcropping and stared directly up at it, I realized for the first time that the summit was attainable. We moved very slowly, breathing what little oxygen we could find in the thinning air. In the time that it took for us to reach the summit ridge I had sung every Bob Marley song I could remember and eaten an entire film canister full of Tylenol and guarana pills. With the wind at our backs, we enjoyed the final emotional steps toward the summit.

A small aluminum cross marks the highest spot in the Americas. I’d heard about the high altitude crucifix but had no clue of its power until I stood at the point where Earth and sky meet. It brought me to my knees. Lirain and I snapped a few photos, said a few prayers, congratulated each other, and enjoyed a vista that I consider one of the most precious of my entire life. From the summit of Aconcagua we could see the Pacific Ocean, nearly 23,000 feet below us. The wind was still. The sun was shining. There was never a more perfect day to be on top of the world. Clean Up at High Camp Of the 4,000 mountaineers that attempt Aconcagua every year, 80% use the same route that we took to the summit. Refugio Berlin is the highest of the camps, and although it’s little more than a flat spot with a few emergency shelters, it takes a lot of abuse.

Long abandoned food caches, discarded fuel bottles, and trash of the nastiest order has accumulated over the years. And since it takes a single piece of toilet paper 25 years to decompose at 19,000 feet, I often wondered how long each piece of trash had been waiting there for us.

The Wind Horse clean-up crew, along with porters from Plaza de Mulas, got down to business by hauling the small mountain of garbage down from high camp. Aconcagua’s Park Service assisted by cutting a large plastic barrel in half, which was then bolted together to form a large sled in which we could haul down our loot. Bag after bag was piled into our makeshift trash toboggan, then tied down with discarded rope. With one person on each corner, and one person that alternated between anchor (pulling behind) and mule (pulling forward), we made our way down the snow and scree toward base camp.

After two sled loads and numerous bags that came down on our backs, we delivered a gigantic mound of overstuffed trash bags to the Park Service in Plaza de Mulas. They warmed us with tea and heartfelt thanks for helping to make the mountain cleaner than it’s been in many years. The next morning, a helicopter arrived to begin removing the half-ton of trash to a facility outside the Park.

The day we walked out of the mountains, the summit was illuminated by the golden glow of early morning light, shining brighter and more beautiful than I’d ever seen it before. The mountain almost seemed to smile. Was it because our efforts had amounted to the largest American clean-up project in Aconcagua’s history? Or was the summit, which remained elusive for so long, finally revealing its secrets to me? Either way, I consider myself fortunate to have been involved with such an amazing expedition and blessed to have touched the top.

When I vowed never to return to Aconcagua last year it was for fear of not reaching the summit, and the duty of cleaning the entire mountain seemed an impossible task. I guess that goes to show that perseverance, desire and the power of a dedicated group of individuals working together are as mighty as the peaks we aspire to climb.

Special thanks to all of the sponsors and individuals who helped make our dream reality, especially Southwest Trekking, PBAA, GU and the Food Conspiracy Co-op.

For information on future Wind Horse Legacy expeditions, including an upcoming ascent of Kilimanjaro, visit: www.windhorselegacy.org.