Forrester Jr, who was sick with gastritis, wretching violently from the tent next door. A couple of hours later the sun rose and we all convened to discuss the plan. Joe was sick and in no shape to continue on, and decided to descend on his own. As we woefully watched one of our key team leaders disappear over the ridge headed back down to 14k, the rest of us broke camp and made way for high camp at 19k. Once arriving at high camp we realized that we had sent all but our last two tabs of iodine down with Joe Jr. We quickly set up our camp in a slightly drunken haze and took shelter in an old rundown A-frame where we began boiling water and making an extremely salty batch of mystery noodles. Making water took forever and Joel and I didn’t head for the tent until after midnight. Once back in the tent we realized that Robert Roop, our senior climber at 62 years old was sadly too exhausted to safely join us on the summit bid the next day. Nobody slept all night, so we decided to depart from camp earlier than scheduled and the five of us who remained were headed out of camp at 3:30am.The summit hike was tough on everyone; it took us several hours to make it to the dilapidated tiny shelter at 21k. There we each choked down a candy bar and pushed on. We donned our crampons at the beginning of a long traverse across a mile wide snow-packed slope and rested once again beneath a giant buttress about 800ft below the summit. From there on, our team spread out considerably with Joel powering ahead and Joe Sr. following shortly behind. The five of us reunited as the only group on the oxygen deprived summit (we were actually the only group to go for the summit that day). We snapped some quick photos on the top of South America and raced down as the altitude sickness began to sweep in. On the descent Joel and I stopped at around 21,500 at a flat ridge to take a short rest and remove our crampons. As Joel approached the ridge he stopped momentarily to let a jet stream of partially digested orange tang spew from the tiny whole in his balaclava. Meanwhile Joe Sr. slipped while crossing the vast snow slope due to fogged glasses, but was
fortunately able to self arrest within 20ft, ripping a large hole in his down jacket. Eventually we all made it back to high camp at 19k where Robert held down the fort. We decided to spend that evening at 19k where we once again stayed up late boiling water, during which Joe Sr. pointed out that I had developed a white crust over the tip of my nose, a clear indication of minor frostbite. On our 8th day we made the long decent back to base camp at 14k where we met Joe Jr. and shared our stories. As six of us prepared for our first night of decent sleep, Joe Jr. stuffed a few essentials into a light pack and headed back up the mountain for a renegade style attempt for the summit. As the sun drew down the weather turned nasty and a thick fog settled in. In the morning we rose to find the first significant snowfall of the trip, with the peak shrouded in storm clouds with Joe Jr. somewhere in their midst. Before long we were gleeful to see Joe tromping down the steep slopes above, apparently no worse for wear. While he did not make the summit on that stormy night, he had made an impressively speedy track for the A-frame at 19k before wisely deciding to head down. Shortly after Joe’s return we packed up and headed down the arid valley to 10k where we spent our last night on the mountain. The next morning we were chased back to the ranger station at the trailhead by an intensely beautiful burning sunrise, providing an ominous backdrop for the daunting South face. We ended up summiting on day seven, and we were back in town drinking ice cold beer and inhaling giant hamburgeusas on day ten. We celebrated hardily back in Mendoza, barely escaping the clutches of a dimly lit late night tavern of strangely mixed patronage before all heading off in different directions for more adventures.
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