Back in the hosteria/farm of Papagayo and getting fat on the delicious pancakes, it was time to get climbing, and get some practice at altitude before attempting Cotopaxi. Getting in late Friday night, I met Nath, a consultant from New York who was to be one of my companions for the following mornings climb up Pasochoa. This was the ease-in for climbing with this one only 4200m high, so after a laid back breaky (of more pancakes) we hit the road with our guide Abel, and one the kid Santiago from the farm.
After driving virtually all the way us Pasochoa, we felt pretty comfortable with a quick hop, skip and a jump to the top. Nath was not on top form having picked up a bit of a bug he day before, but needless to say, no climber ever ascends unprepared. At the time, jokes about mountain spring water being so fresh sprung to mind, but such jest was a touch premature, as lets just say, if I see mineral water from Volcan Cotopaxi, I may have to pass, and so should you.
By noon we had reached the top for an early lunch.
The views were spectacular, and Nath and I were rather pleased with ourselves. The trip back down was quick, and our guides proceeded to jog down. I think they felt very smug for a little while, leaving the panting gringos behind, but after turning around to see me right behind them it was my turn to feel a bit smug. We then all collectively felt a bit bad as we'd left the slightly delicate Nath some way back. We passed a Canadian on the way down just metres from the summit unable to go that little bit further. We decided he deserved no sympathy or encouragement and that he was a complete and utter fairy. He had one of those stupid hat-umbrella things on, so felt he deserved not to get to the top in the first place. Silly man.
Back at base, and suitably stuffed with cake, we met our other partner for the next days climb, a Swiss chap called Danny. The evenings in the very quiet Papagayo were thankfully assisted by the arrival of a Belgian couple who would also be climbing with us, along with the huge collection of pirate DVDs, something that any Latin American hostel is rarely without (pirate DVDs, not Belgians you understand).
The next day we were all gun-ho and still trying to digest the worlds best pancakes as the Land Cruiser thankfully stopped bouncing up the hill to the mountain for that day; Corizon, 4800m.
With a lot of fresh blood on the mountain, the going was not smooth at first, but after necking vast volumes of water we were soon motoring up. The terrain at first was easy going, but soon the grass and earth gave way to loose scree which was unstable to say the least. Danny is a former air pilot for the Swiss air force which I blame for his ability to climb quickly and fairly soon we'd gotten ahead of the others, for the final stage, which was a full-on scramble, and by far the most exciting part of the climb.
Along the way the site of Cotopaxi, was as impressive and ominous-looking as ever, but from so far away, it looked like it would be easy. Foolish.
Up on top, the mist surrounded us, which made for a very eerie and strange feeling, like the clouds might suddenly disappear, like some giant playing peek-a-boo. Clearly, and as the photos also demonstrate, the altitude was doing strange things to my head.
After a hasty lunch, the guides were keen to get moving in case the mist got worse. The scree on the way up that had proved to be so annoying turned into a super-quick way to descend as you could literally skip down hill at a decent pace, besides, we all knew there would be tasty cake waiting at the hosteria, so we had to motor!
That evening was the beginning of my rest day before climbing Cotopaxi. The others were all climbing Iliniza Sur (mountain on the right) the next day, but I was going to be stuffing myself with as many calories as humanly possible.
Photos in the usual place:
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