Chachani Volcano
Peru
As if a midnight start for a tour wasn’t hard enough, my ride arrived at 11.35 p.m. and my alarm had only gone off five minutes earlier. I rapidly dressed in all my warm clothes, grabbed the bag that I hope I fully packed the night before and flew out the door before the driver woke up the entire hostel with his incessant bell ringing and door banging.
After collecting 4 other trekkers and 2 guides, we drove 2.5 hours along mostly unpaved roads to the start of the hike up Chachani, a volcano that reaches a whopping 6,075 m. This was to be my highest summit to date, and my entry into the 6,000 m club (note: there is no club).
With only our head torches and the glow of the full moon to guide the way, we commenced around 3.30 a.m. on a fairly easy dirt path with a short boulder section thrown in. The starting point was already close to 5,000 m and my hands and feet quickly froze in the chilly air. Breaks were given often, which only served to cool me down. After an hour, we reached the base camp used by hikers completing the 2-day trek. It was empty tonight. From there, the only way to go was up.
Thankfully most of the trail consisted of gentle switchbacks on fine, sandy soil. I felt extremely fatigued and struggled to keep my eyes open (not surprising after getting barely 1.5 hours of sleep). Colour eventually appeared in the sky, but the actual sunrise was obscured by the mountain we were ascending. When we could make out the features around us, we realised there wasn't much to look at except for grey-brown rocks as far as the eye could see. One mountain in the distance was covered in snow, while another volcano intermittently spewed out a grey plume of smoke. Once the sun hit us and I didn't feel like an icicle anymore, the fatigue slowly dissipated and I could concentrate more on my breathing.
The altitude hit everyone differently. One man had to descend at the halfway point. One quickly fell behind the group, while another laid down on the ground and gasped for breath at every rest stop. The last guy vomited violently, but he felt much better afterwards. I seemed to be the most acclimatised of the group, but my heart was beating out of my chest for much of the upper section.
The higher we climbed, the steeper the path became and terrain more unstable. Our pace slowed and the breaks were more frequent. Near the end we were stopping every 2 minutes, much to my annoyance. When we reached the rim of the volcano, we had our first glimpse of the summit. It looked so close yet it was still so far away.
To reach the top we had to cross a short ice field, maybe only 30 m wide, that had been whipped up into peaks by the wind. If you stood on the peaks you risked their breaking underneath you, or slipping on their partly melted surface. Trying to find space to place your feet in between the peaks was laborious. Everyone else appeared to bound across the ice, while I was left calculating each footstep. It was frustrating to say the least.
Most tour companies will tell you it's an 8-hour hike to the summit. Our group made it in 6 hours and 20 minutes, of which (according to my watch) only 4 hours and 15 minutes were actually spent walking. I had achieved my goal of surpassing 6,000 m, which was extremely satisfying, but sadly it wasn't the most breathtaking view of my life. On one side was a hazy outlook over Arequipa. In all other directions were brown mountains and volcanoes, only one of which was topped with snow. The most picturesque part was a colourful mountain range beside us, with white, yellow, orange and brown steaks adding variety to an otherwise monochrome landscape. It definitely didn't have the wow factor of the scenery around Huaraz.
Twenty-five minutes later we began the descent. The dreaded ice was just as awkward, but that turned out to be the easy part. As soon as I saw the route going down, I knew I was in trouble. Just below the rim we needed to traverse horizontally across a very precipitous slope that was covered in loose rocks. I fell on the first step, then again many more times after that. Not only was our guide giving me 1:1 assistance by putting her feet out to prevent me from slipping, but the other 3 guys stood downhill of my position, ready to catch me when I went down (2 were European and evidently very good skiers, which they said helped them a lot). I was still nursing a sprained ankle from Huayhuash, and ankle support was absolutely vital here. I hated every minute of this section.
Once we had made the crossing, we turned to go straight down the dusty scree slope. I was looking forward to having the switchbacks again, but apparently that would have been too easy. Going directly down wasn't as bad as I thought, and it was definitely better than going sideways across the mountain). Each time I took a step, I would allow myself to slide an extra foot or so in the scree. As long as I could keep my balance, I just needed to ski all the way down (I still fell over repeatedly). The other guys took off and were gone in an instant. I felt like I was speeding down this part, but I was no match for them. It was a long, long time before I made it back to base camp.
The route after that was straightforward, with little elevation change and no need for poles. On the boulders we spotted a couple of viscachas, the hybrid rabbit-squirrel rodents I first laid eyes on while trekking around the Huayhuash Circuit. It was the only wildlife we saw all day. By 1 p.m. we were back at the car, covered in dust from head to toe. After gorging on food and water, we made the tiring drive back to Arequipa, where a shower and sleep were definitely in order.
