Fire and Ice: Climbing the Cotopaxi Volcano

Ecuador is replete with volcanoes, but none are more photographed and publicized than Cotopaxi.  It must have to do with it's perfect, smooth shape, and the smooth white cap of snow and ice.  It's just so photogenic!  Last week, I decided to splurge on a day trip to the volcano, which touted climbing up a bit, and mountain biking back down.  Seemed like the perfect combination for me, given that I enjoy the hiking up, but find that climbing down is agony on my knees.

 

After gathering all 9 guests, comprised of a sweet mother and daughter duo from Vancouver, 3 American and Canadian volunteers working in a small town in Peru to teach healthy habits like hand-washing and tooth-brushing, a Swiss couple, a young German girl hopscotching through Latin America, and ME!  We made pleasant conversation in the 2 hour ride to the volcano, starting out by first visiting a small museum dedicated to explaining the environmental hazards to the glacier and to teaching about all the different volcanoes in Ecuador.

 

 

 We stayed only long enough to snap a few pictures and be on our merry way.  Another 20 minutes of driving led us through the National Park surrounding the volcano, but as we got closer, we saw that the weather conditions were not in our favor.  It had been cloudy and drizzly all morning, and the volcano seemed to grab and hold on to each on of these clouds.  We saw little to nothing of its glacial peak.

 We were undaunted, and pressed on, hanging on to hope that it would eventually blow over.  From it's base, we drove anther 15 minutes or so, switch backing our way up the base to get to the parking lot, 300 vertical meters below the refuge/base camp to which we planned to hike.  Parked, and looking up, it looked like a fairly simple task.  We had to climb from the parking lot, to that yellow house that you can barely see over the first ridge. 

 So we set off, eager and excited to see what was on the other side of the clouds.  Pretty quickly, though, we realized this was going to be slow going.  The entire base of the volcano was a gravel/sand/ash combination, affording us only a loose foothold.  For every step you took up, you inevitably slide a ways back down.  To imagine this, picture walking across the sand on the beach....  Are you picturing it?  Now tilt the beach to at least a 45 degree angle....  Got it?  Now picture starting your climb at 4200 meters (Americans, that means over 12,6 00 feet above sea level).   Have you calibrated all that?  If so, then you probably have an idea of why that little climb up to the refuge took nearly an hour.

 Not only were we combatting loose ground cover, but the elements battled as well.  The stormy clouds brought with them gusting winds, which not only stung exposed skin, but also whipped sand and ash into your gaping mouth as you heaved your way upwards.  For the duration of the day, clenching my teeth inevitably made a gritty crunching sound, as the finer bits hadn't worked their way out yet.  The wind also carried with it occasional rain/snow/sleet.  This was more of a scene-setter than a problem for me, but it did make me very grateful I had tucked my hat and scarf into my day bag, and had purchased some gloves in the gift shop of the museum.  My raincoat however, would have served my better in my day pack, than packed at the bottom of my travel backpack, where it spent the entire day.  :(

Despite the combatants at hand, I was pleasantly surprised to find that all my hiking at elevation in the Cloud Forest served me well.  Though as before, the higher I went the more frequent my stops became, I managed to make it to the refuge before the rest of my group, and with a good amount of wind left.  


In case you can't make it out, "Base Camp"is at 4864m/15,963ft.  

 Once the whole group made it to the refuge, we decided to stop inside for something warm.  It turns out that this refuge is somewhat like a ski lodge.  They serve as a midway point for day hikers like us who come to snoop around, as a café selling hot soups, hot drinks and snacks, and as a lodge for hikers who plan to hike the whole thing.  I enjoyed a nice quinoa soup and some chips, warming my core back up after my chilly and moist climb.

Some of the group expressed interest in climbing further up the volcano in order to be able to see the glacier.  Our guide discouraged us, saying that the weather has turned worse.  Clouds and rain, he said, are expected for the afternoon, making this additional hour of hiking even more daunting.  As I was the only one without a rain layer, I was reticent, but in the end agreed that it was worth the risk.  So off we set, leaving our warm bubble, and heading back out to the elements again.

 It turned out that the hike was a pretty easy 20-30 minutes further, and the "rain: turned out to be no worse than earlier.  We arrived at the base of the glacier, which was still very obscured by clouds, but still unmistakably ice.

 As we stood marveling, we were even lucky enough to have the clouds ease a bit, letting in some sunlight and even granting us a bit of a view.  We cheered greatly as this turn of events, taking advantage of the break to thaw a bit, snap lots of pictures, and relish our good fortune. 

 Not a moment after we had our fill and decided to head back, did the clouds return.  A slow fog rose behind us, pulling our pathway back into grey oblivion.

 We chatted happily all the while back...  Actually, to be more accurate, my companions chatted happily all the while...  I was too busy concentrating on my footing.  It is usually in the decent where my knees tire to the point of being unstable, causing me to lose my footing easily, rolling an ankle, slipping or falling.  But onward we went nonetheless, even catching glimpses of our view in the moments between clouds.

 We reached the lodge easily, and I was elated to find that the way down from there was even easier.  Though I was definitely feeling the work of the earlier climb, I enjoyed the looseness of the footholds now.  Instead of hard impact of footfalls, I could nearly run down, sliding steps that cushioned the impact.  I made it down quickly and easily, though incredibly dirty as my low-cut sneakers were completely filled with dust, dirt and pebbles.  I knocked what I could out of my shoes and socks, wiping off my dusty toes as I waited for the rest of the group.

Once we had all made it back to the parking lot, our guide informed us that the weather had turned sour enough that it wasn't safe to bike from here all the way down, as was the original plan.  Though disappointed at less biking time, I agreed with his decision, as visibility was poor, and we were to be sharing the road with all sort of vans, buses and cars making the journey up to the parking lot.

 

So we drove a bit more of the way down, the wipers constantly moving to sweep away the slushy mix that had started again.  Once we made it below the cloud line, it was clear enough to ride safely, so we unloaded ourselves, grabbed our bikes from the roof, and set off on the switchback road, all the way back down.

 

 

Those of us more accustomed to bikes whizzed our way down, enjoying the breeze in our hair (under our helmets, of course, so don't worry, dad), and the change of scenery as our altitude lowered.

 

We reconvened at a nearby lagoon, snapping pictures and enjoying the view as the stragglers rolled in.  It turns out, though the clouds do obscure it a bit, that the lagoon is at the base of another of Ecuador's volcanoes, though this one is extinct.

 

 

Once we were all accounted for, and all bikes and passengers reloaded, we headed off to lunch, happy and fatigued from our long day.  We were even afforded one last look at Cotopaxi as we left, giving us the best view of the day.  The clouds had lifted just enough to give us a peak (no pun intended) at the glacier from far away.  

 

That night, I slept like a log.