At 8.30 we reached the top. My guide dropped to his knees and prayed for our safety. The wind was strong and visibility was less than five yards. The feeling of reaching the top was surreal. The climb had been tough, and I was glad we overcame being so close to a forced decision to turn back.
Was I excited? Definitely. But we knew well that the most dangerous portion of the climb was still to come since most climbing accidents occur on the descent.
Dizzy from having eaten barely anything in over 24 hours and fatigued by our exertion, we started out return to the refuge, battling the wind and sleet. Step by step, we descended, working hard to keep our focus. On the quieter slopes, I was able to take in some of the beauty around me and like a child in a story book I felt lost in the wild elemental nature of this land above the clouds.
Only 20 percent of the climbers that day reached the summit, and on the trip back to Quito I took stock. I always thought that when climbing you ‘fought the mountain,’ yet what resonated with me most that day was that, as in rowing, it is a battle against yourself. Your success is determined by your own desire [eds: and some good foutune]. Desire is really the only true endogenous variable to any success. Though my assent was hardly epic in nature, the adventure I experienced has been plenty enough to excite me: I’m already dizzy on my next vertical challenge - Kilimanjaro? Aconcagua? Mount Cook?
