Aconcagua, at nearly 7,000 metres, is the highest mountain in the Americas and the highest outside Asia. Aconcagua, Ackon Cahuak in Quechua, means “Sentinel of Stone”. From the south, it is a hard, dangerous climb. From the north, given good weather, it is relatively easy.
In my twenties, I read a book about three Polish climbers who, in 1934, made their own equipment and climbed it by a new, elegant route up the east ridge. It captured my imagination, and I had always wanted to climb it. I asked a friend to come with me before it was too late. He pulled out, and in desperation, I found a trekking company on the Internet and booked.
I flew to Buenos Aires and then. Mendoza. And our approach was from the east and north by the Valle de las Vacas, which was more pleasant than via Plaza de Mulas in the south. The climb took just over two weeks, and, apart from the last day when you go for the summit, you have to climb to each camp twice to acclimatise, taking gear up on the first day and moving the tents and sleeping kit on the second.
We have a long break at the Independencia hut. It’s a tiny wooden A-frame; some of the boards have gone, and it’s full of snow. We climb a steep snow slope to the long traverse of the Gran Alcarreo, then ascend the Caneleta in a single slanting leftward traverse towards the summit. There is a small cross on the top and a metal box with a visitors’ book, and we spent an hour on the summit.
Sitting on the bridge near the end of the trail, I was able to contemplate the trip. We were lucky with the weather. On the summit day it was cold, but this wasn’t a problem. I hadn’t done the route I’d wanted to do, but that’s just tough. Coming on an organised expedition enabled me to climb a mountain I’d wanted to do for thirty years. The main difference between a guided trip and what I’m used to lies in decision-making – planning the trip at home and making decisions on the trip itself are a major part of my enjoyment.