Ancohuma is a high mountain in the Cordillera Real of the Bolivian Andes. Until a team of three American teenagers and one adult guide collected summit data in 2002, its elevation had never been determined. There was conjecture up to that point that its height was possibly over 23,000 feet, which would have made it the tallest peak in the Western Hemisphere, but that turned out not to be the case. It ended up being 21,079 feet- tall, but not the tallest.
The expedition to accomplish the goal was a significant undertaking. In addition to the usual difficulties associated with ascending a 20,000-foot peak, collecting the elevation data required running a professional-grade GPS unit on the summit for over 10 minutes. Various groups had tried to do just that in the past, including a team of British Royal Engineers. But for one reason or another, none had yet been successful.
The expedition involved U.S. and Bolivian resources, including three commercial companies, various guides and leaders, a mapper, a doctor, a nurse, and a videographer supporting 1 Bolivian and 11 American teenage climbers. It was one of the biggest adventures I was ever involved in, but I didn’t go on it. My company, Outpost Wilderness Adventure (or OWA), organized and facilitated the event. As the OWA Director, I assembled the team and handled some logistics. The expedition ultimately began with the team assembling at our Colorado base. I just watched as they drove away, heading to the airport, South America, and the adventure of a lifetime. If you consider an expedition a sports game, this was the Super Bowl.
As for the event itself, there was undoubtedly an element of good fortune in getting even one person onto the summit. Thankfully, the weather was mostly clear and dry, although on summit day, it was frigid. Fortunately, while the temperature hovered in the single digits and low teens, it wasn’t particularly windy except high up on the summit ridge.
There could have been an adverse weather event that would’ve likely altered the outcome, but it never happened. A handful of the group finally reached the top of the mountain, where they set up and ran the measuring equipment for 11 minutes, then safely returned to high camp. The measuring business happened, in part, due to the cooperation of the weather gods. And it was also partly because everyone on the expedition team played their best game at the same time.
Back in the mountains of Colorado, visions of various things that could be going wrong on Ancohuma kept cropping up in my camp director’s mind. But every time they did, I thought about the people involved, and my worries about Bolivia and Ancohuma inevitably melted away.
During the actual event, there was an abundance of daily intrigue, personal perseverance, and acts of compassion. And that’s even more pronounced when the prequel and aftermath are included. First, the group flew into Bolivia’s capital, La Paz, and then drove a short distance to the Refugio Huayna Potosi. That lodge/hut sits at around 14,000 feet and lies between the peak Huayna Potosi and Charkini, another nearby mountain. While at the hut, they spent several days acclimating, practicing alpine skills, and discussing medical issues. And they also learned how to operate the GPS unit and a portable emergency altitude chamber they were carrying called a Gamow Bag.
After a few days of enjoying the relative luxury of the hut, they took a private bus to the small mountain city of Sorata. From there, they began walking toward the mountain after loading the bulk of their gear onto pack animals for the three-day trek. Once near the base of the final summit pyramid, they set up a high camp just below a massive glacier. And from that camp, they launched the summit assault.
Summit Day came early. The entire group was organized into five separate rope teams, each led by an adult guide. As mentioned, the sky was clear, but the air was frigid- likely near 0 F when they started the climb. As noted, until they reached the summit ridge, thankfully, the winds were relatively light. But above the ridge, it was blowing a gale, which made conditions especially harsh for the final bit of climbing.
Jose Lima, an experienced Bolivian Guide, led the way as the leader of the first rope team. Teenagers/young adults Elliot White, Christian Dean, and Michael Sproul, who were on his rope, carried, and ended up operating the GPS equipment. The ideographer, Chris Haaland, stayed back near the high camp to film the event from various angles, distances, and locations as it unfolded. OWA Guides Brett Merlin, Paul Johnson, Peter Merlin, and Quentin Keith (the expedition leader) led the other groups. Those subsequent rope teams included team doctor Ken Adnan, Holly Gryckowski (an R.N.), mapping guru Jerry Brown, and climbers Jody and Caudill Miller, Paul Caine, Sam Feather-Garner, Peter Livingston, Jason Yeatman, Natalie Dean, and Scott Kramer. Dr. Hugo Berrios (Bolivian owner of the Refugio Huayna Potosi and our longtime in-country logistics coordinator), his son Jose, and the company cook, Marta, rounded out the team and took a separate, unsuccessful route toward the summit from high camp.
Getting to the base of the summit ridge was laborious, physically demanding, and cold. At least the lower part of the route wasn’t excessively steep or technically challenging. However, the rope teams began to spread further apart as the climb progressed. After a few hours, the first group arrived near the summit and started ascending a 300-foot steep headwall of snow and ice that would take them almost all the way to the top. It was separated from the lower part of the mountain by a significant Bergschrund (basically, a crack in the snow and ice). As if the altitude, cold, and steepness were not problematic enough, crossing the “schrund” presented additional challenges.
Ultimately, the rope teams needed to cross the giant crack to reach the summit. There was simply no other realistic route choice. The Bergschrund/crack was well over 50 feet deep and several feet wide in places. Crossing it was a slow, complicated process, exacerbated by poor snow quality. And, all the while, time became more of the essence as the cold began to exact its toll.
The lead team finally got across it and onto the steep slope. But not until after some drama: Elliot partially fell into the crack (remember, he was part of a rope team and connected to a climbing rope). Paul and Brett arrived with their groups just as he was beginning to get himself out, and assisted as much as they could. His fall caused a delay, but once he was out and on the headwall, his entire team resumed moving toward the top. At that point, Paul crossed over and began leading his team over the chasm and onto the steeper snow. At the same time, Brett stayed at the Bergschrund to assist Paul’s group in getting across.
Up on top of the ridge, the lead group’s progress came to a near standstill as the full force of the wind and deep snow conspired to create horrendous conditions. But at that point, the actual summit jutted right up out of the ridge only a few hundred feet away, and the sight of it relentlessly pulled them toward it.
Meanwhile, Paul’s team continued slowly making their way across the Bergschrund, and Brett continued to help, even as his hands began to freeze, literally. Further down the mountain, Quentin and Peter kept moving up with their teams. But ultimately, Quentin became unnerved by the slowing pace. He looked ahead and noted that the challenges of both getting onto and ascending the summit ridge were formidable, creating a bottleneck. And so, he put a stop to the ascent. Everyone turned back, except for the lead team, which was already approaching the summit by that time.
The four climbers at the front ultimately dealt with the thigh-deep snow and howling winds and made it to the top. After a few moments of back-patting and fist-raising, they pulled out the GPS and set things in motion to determine the elevation. Operating the equipment was tricky as the process required nimble, ungloved fingers to push the buttons and turn the dials. Finally, after 11 excruciatingly cold minutes, the data was recorded, and they were able to put their gloves back on. At that point, they loaded the recording equipment back into the backpack and immediately began the descent.
Backtracking down the steep slope and across the Bergschrund was tedious. But eventually, they got across and back onto gentler terrain. Slowly but surely, the temperatures warmed as they descended, and ultimately, they rejoined the other teams. Finally, after a few hours of going down, everyone walked from the snow onto the grass, where water, food, and the high camp tents awaited.
The initial aftermath was a mix of euphoria and disappointment. The summit was measured, but the elevation was lower than hoped. Everyone returned safely, although Christian, Elliot, and Brett had a few spots of frostnip to show for the experience. Four people reached the top of the actual peak, but 12 did not. The sentiments were complex. Years and months of preparation culminated in a few harsh moments in a frozen, oxygen-starved world far from home. And that alone is more than most people ever experience.
Quentin made the right call when he turned everyone around. Undoubtedly, it’s what needed to happen. He realized that while the journey should have been the goal, reaching the summit and measuring its elevation had become the priority for many team members. And that, he understood, can be dangerous, as some people tend to go too far in pursuing the priority rather than relishing the journey.
In this case, the summit was reached, and everyone returned home safely. In the near aftermath, there was a lot of discussion of priorities and the journey. Like the Bergschrund, it’s complicated. And now, the teenagers have become adults, and those adults have become older adults. Undoubtedly, years down the road, they’ll recall bits and pieces of the exhilaration, frustration, exhaustion, thirst, and cold they experienced high up on that mountain. But I’m hopeful it’s the journey they’ll remember most.
