The seven summits

Kilimanjaro - December 1998

It seems like a lifetime ago that I climbed my first big mountain: Kilimanjaro. I wanted to celebrate receiving my degree and decided that it is a fitting time to realize my lifelong dream; to climb to the icy top of the highest mountain of my native continent: Africa!

Looking back at the pictures I can see that my gear was in a dodgy condition to say the least, but I was 23, anything was possible and nothing seemed to be a problem.

We climbed the Machame route, a little more scenic and difficult than the “Coca-Cola” or otherwise known as the Marangu route.

On Kilimanjaro the challenge to me was to find out how my body would react to the altitude. The highest altitude I have previously reached was 3 200m in the Drakensberg, the summit of Kilimanjaro is another 2 695m higher. To add to this, I have lived near the coast all my life, still I was confident that I would be standing on the summit very soon.

We were told to go slowly, but my competitive nature kept on kicking in. I simply had to force myself to take it easy and rather focus on my surroundings. I had the time of my life.

While we were climbing higher and higher I was taking note of how my body was re-acting to the increasing altitude. There was nothing to be apprehensive about. It was almost as if I was feeling stronger the higher we went.

On summit-day we started climbing at midnight. It was freezing cold. Every hour we stopped for a tea break. This was a catch-22 situation. You don’t want to stop, because the moment you stop, you feel the cold. But you have to stop to nourish your body, to give it a bit of a rest. I remember seeing the lights of a town within the borders of Kenya, far down below us.

You go into a meditative state, where all you do is put one foot in front of the other. Finally we reached Stella Point, the crater rim. From here we could see the summit.

There is something about seeing your goal right in front of your eyes. It just gives you the energy and motivation that you need to finish the job!

And then there I was, standing on top of my African summit. Besides the cold I was feeling very strong and in good spirits.

Suddenly it dawned on me that we still have to go down. While visualising the climb I always did end up on the summit, but never did I visualise going back down. This was probably the most valuable lesson that I’ve learned on Kilimanjaro: When you are standing on the summit you have only come halfway!

Mount Elbrus - August 1999

Mount Elbrus to me was more of a cultural than a physical experience. In the Out There magazine of December 1998 there was an article about a windswept mountain in Argentina. I couldn’t even pronounce the name, but I already decided that I wanted to climb that mountain.

Elbrus crossed my path accidentally, but I used the opportunity to gain experience in order to later climb Aconcagua, the windswept mountain I first read about 8 months previously.

Mount Elbrus is not a spectacular mountain, but still it is one of the 7 summits, the highest mountain of the European continent. I am very glad that it was only my second mountain. I could appreciate and respect it more then; I didn’t look down on it with arrogance. Also I had a lot to learn and Elbrus was a safe mountain to gain the necessary experience.

A sad fact about Elbrus is that a climber gets taken up to 3 400m by a cable car followed by a ski lift. I did not know this before we left and remember being very disgusted by this fact. In my diary I wrote: “I didn’t come to Russia to ride on a ski lift, I came to climb a mountain.” Ironically the thing that makes the mountain an easy, accessible mountain can also cause an epic disaster. You use those ski lifts at your own risk!

Climbing Mount Elbrus was one of my most relaxed and enjoyable expeditions. The Russians are the friendliest of people, very down to earth, with no pretence. They are a tough nation, who takes no nonsense. I’ve adopted their famous saying: “It is not about the altitude, it is about attitude!”

This came in handy on summit day. The previous night we experienced a typical Caucasus thunderstorm. We woke at 03:00 underneath a perfect sky. Two hours later however, we were moving in full on white out conditions. Looking back now I’m glad we experienced this blizzard; the situation brought a bit of excitement as well as valuable experience. At the saddle we had to wait for the rest of the team to arrive. It became bitterly cold. When they arrived we had to decide: up or down. Had it been any other mountain we probably would have decided to go down, but we felt confident to give it a go. We continued upwards and with the help of a GPS found the summit. It was an anticlimax. I was glad we were there, but we couldn’t see further than 10 meters.

It was a dash back down to the valley, to warmth and good vodka! My thoughts were already with the next windswept, Andean mountain.

Aconcagua - December 1999

With my Aconcagua expedition the challenge, once again would be the altitude. Aconcagua is the highest point in the Western hemisphere and also the worlds’ highest mountain outside of Asia.

From Cape Town we flew via Buenos Aires to the town of Mendoza. It was in Mendoza where we got a real taste of Argentinean life. From Mendoza we took the bus to Penitentes, a ski-resort near the town of Puenta del Inca, from where the expedition would start. On this drive from Mendoza, the landscape suddenly started to change – we were entering the Andes. It felt good to be back in the mountains.

Our first day of hiking to Camp Confluencia was pretty straightforward. The hike from Confluencia up to Base Camp (Plaza de Mulas) was a different story though. A continuous headwind blowing down the valley hammered us. In order to make any progress, we had to turn our backs to the wind, take a breath and walk as far as you could before running out of air, just to repeat the whole process over and over again.

During the first food carry from Base Camp to Camp 1 (Nido de Condores), I realized that something was not 100% with my body. At first I kept it to myself. I tried to figure it out. I had no headaches, I didn’t feel any nausea or dizziness and I hadn't lost my appetite (the signs of Acute Mountain Sickness), still I felt very weak. It got worse and I had to share my concern with the rest of the group. The team took my load and I went down to Base Camp.

Back at our tent I struggled just to get rid of my Double Plastic Boots. I went to see the Base Camp doctor and to my relief he prescribed two bags of herbal tea. My lungs were in perfect condition; the only problem was a case of dehydration. The cause was Diamox, a diuretic that the whole team used to enhance the acclimatization process. When you take Diamox you have to drink at least one extra litre of water per day. I stopped taking it immediately and haven’t touched it since. There are other, much better ways to acclimatize the body to high altitude conditions.

When I think back of this expedition, I remember a lot of time being spent either inside my sleeping bag or in our kitchen tent. The Viento Blanco (white wind) was doing its job and we were fast running out of food, fuel and time, so much so that we decided to push for the summit from Camp 1 at 5 000m. We had to make it work; it was now or never.

We started out at 05:00, had a quick snack at Berlin Camp and carried on to Independencia where we had to put on our crampons.

Slowly but surely we were moving closer to our goal. Then I saw it, the cross that marks the summit. At 20:00 we were back at Nido de Condores, just in time to see the sun set over a perfect year.

One year, three mountains, three summits, little did I know things were about to change…

McKinley / Denali – The great one - May 2000/May 2001

Of all the mountains that I have climbed Denali is closest to my heart. Maybe it is because I got to know it so well. I was lucky enough to have gone there twice.

From its base Denali is the highest mountain in the world and because of its sub-arctic location it is also known as the coldest mountain worldwide. It will then be needless to say that the success rate on Denali is very low.

The first time I went was with three fellow South Africans. It was May 2000 and we had bad weather from the start. All of us had to get use to pulling sleds and walking with snowshoes. We must have looked like fish out of the water. Four people from sunny South Africa, where it hardly ever snows, were climbing an ice mountain with no tree line.

In white out conditions we moved up to Camp 3, just below Motorcycle Hill. Here we had to sit out our first storm. (When you climb Denali, do yourself a favour and take more than two books with!) The storm moved on and so did we, up to Camp 4, a cosmopolitan haven. Again we got to know the insides of our sleeping bags really well, as we had to sit out our second storm. From Camp 4 we moved up the headwall. This is a 50-55 degree snow and ice face, which you need to negotiate before you top out onto the ridge leading to High Camp.

This specific morning started out badly. We were running behind schedule. In our rush to melt enough snow (an oxymoron) for our water bottles, we burnt the snow. The normal procedure of melting snow is to put a small amount of water into the pan first, only then do you add the snow. This important step was left out and the result was burnt water with a horrible taste.

Later that morning the crampon-strap of a climber who was above us on the fixed lines broke off. All we could do was to stand in a very uncomfortable position and wait for him to fix it. Denali is not really a place where you want to keep still, especially not in the shade. With my small frame I’m always the first to feel the cold. Drinking cold, burnt water on top of this was not my idea of fun.

Finally after what seemed to take a lifetime, we could start moving again.

I was feeling weaker and weaker. The same thing that happened to me on Aconcagua was happening once again. Only this time it was for a different reason. I remember reaching Washburns’ Thumb (a familiar landmark on the Western Buttress route) and just sitting there, by myself, thinking: “How could I have made the same mistake twice?” I was very annoyed with myself, but I still had a job to do and couldn’t surrender to any negative emotions.

Listening to the weather report at 20:00 that night, I was for the first time actually hoping for bad weather conditions. Just one day of bad weather would have been enough for me to recover and climb to the summit.

It was a favourable weather report and I was forced to make a very hard decision. If I decided to go for the summit without having fully recovered, I stood the chance of loosing my fingers and toes to frostbite. Also, to start out for the summit, but to turn around halfway there, would mean my rope mate would have to turn around as well. It would have been a very selfish move to make. I decided to stay behind and wait for the others at High Camp.

It was eleven very lonely and miserable hours. While I was lying there, alone in the tent, looking out towards Denali Pass, I made myself a promise. I promised that I would come back the following year to finish the job that I had started.

I remember arriving back at Base Camp all smiles. People started to congratulate me on reaching the summit. As I corrected them, they asked me what then the reason was for me being so happy. So I answered: “I’m the happiest one in our team, because I’m the only one who will be back next year!”

Exactly 365days later, after spending another 5 days stormbound at High Camp, I stood on the summit of Denali, the great one!

Carstensz Pyramid - October 2003

“Some of the world’s greatest feats were accomplished by people not smart enough to know they were impossible.” – Doug Lawson

Reaching the summit of Carstensz Pyramid was more of an emotional relief than anything else. It took me two years and five months just to reach the base of the mountain. I was aware that Carstenz Pyramid would be costly. What I wasn’t aware of, was the fact that it would test all my nerves and patience, long before I reached Base Camp.

Carstensz is literally and figuratively situated on an island.

The mountain is positioned on the western side of the island of New Guinea, in the Indonesian province of Irian Jaya. Even more significantly; towards the north of Carstensz one has rebel activity that prevents westerners from reaching Base Camp. And on the southern side you have a gold and copper mine which don’t allow any climbers across their premises.

On October 15th we arrived in Jakarta. Three days later we flew to Timika, a sweaty mining town on the South East coast of Irian Jaya. From here our expedition started.

Time was limited and we knew, weather permitting, we would have to head up the hill as soon as possible. 1AM on the 25th we started our summit attempt. Pete* and Tim* were our guides, but it turned out that neither of them were up for the task. Pete turned around thirty minutes into the climb, the altitude got to him.

From 2AM until 5AM we searched for the beginning of the fixed lines. These lines were an indicator of our route. Tim told us that he had been up this route three times previously. He couldn’t find the lines either. After Sean Wisedale (team-mate) and I had almost opened our own route, it became light and our team-mates found the lines. All the while it was ten metres away from us.

From that moment on we climbed at a fast pace, too fast for Tim to keep up with. He stayed behind.

Carstensz consists of limestone, what a pleasure to climb on; even the tiniest hold was strong enough to hang your body from. We reached the summit ridge still in beautiful weather, but we could see that the clouds were approaching slowly; there was no time to waste.

From this point on we had to negotiate three technical sections. Being on a summit ridge you always have to be alert, if your concentration lapses, the consequences could be disastrous. First we had a ten metre plus abseil, followed by a five metre bouldering traverse, then the grand finale, a twenty metre jumaring section. While you complete these sections you are accompanied by 700 metre drop offs on either side. In the back of your mind you know that you still have to go down the same way as well.

At that stage we thought that the technical sections were all over, but there is no such thing as an easy summit day. Two mid-air traverses were waiting. Constantly you wonder how old these ropes are, you just hope they will be strong enough to hold you and your team-mates. If something goes wrong now, nobody will be coming.

It clouded over and we prayed that it would not start raining, that God would grant us three more hours of dry weather. He answered our prayers and at 1PM on the 25th of October 2003 all four of us stood on the summit of Carstensz Pyramid, safe and elated. We couldn’t relax for too long, as we still had to go down.

Seven hours and forty minutes later we walked back into Base Camp. I had three things on my mind: Food, sleep and my next mountain…

*Not their real names.