Mt Aconcagua
6964 Meters
Three lads escaping reality will be climbing what's known as one of the 7 peaks
Mt Aconcagua situated in the Andes is the highest mountain outside the Himalayas.
The climb will require every ounce of their skill determination and the latest in mankeeny technology.
The team consists of:
Mr Max Roche
Mr Viet Bui
Mr Murray Smith
Maximus as of the beginning of January has flown to Argentina to kick off a month of Spanish Schooling and to improve his chances with the local girls!
Viet and Murray will then head out at the beginning of Febuary to start the ascent.
Max's Diary
14th February 2010
The mount stands, and has stood, for millennia, broad shouldered and immovable. His defiant form gnarled and distorted by the frozen tempest, sculpted and cast by gravities watery knife. He stares down upon the earth below as if to say I maketh thee all seem as trifling as the dust on the eyelash of a giant. Our lives in their sheer fragility matter not one crumb to one so colossal as he. Those who clamber athwart him leave nothing but oily human smears upon his hide, lasting but the turning of a season, a lone heartbeat for glorious he. Not a soul can best him if he not agree. One effortless sigh from his cavernous lungs obliterates all. Triumph comes only to those who stumble upon him at peace, gaze turned asunder, ponderous and unaware. Only then must we strive to conquer his insurmountable majesty and stand in glory for a moment, rising and falling, upon his latent chest. And be gone we must, before he stirs once more, shaking forth his imperial mane and yawning long and deep. For the mountain, many a credulous soul doth he keep.
ThrobThrobThrob With every step comes a new dimension to the pain. _ 5200m its as though Andy Rodick is doing service practice with my brain whilst the 7 Dwarfs tunnel for diamonds behind my ears. The nights are worst of all, writhing around in the tent between my two companions, who lie at peace, snoring in harmony, oblivious to the struggle so close at hand. The darkness seems a never ending focus upon only that which I wish to ignore. On the afternoon of the 10th , after trekking up to and down from Camp 2 (Nido de Condores) 5200m, in one last bid to acclimatize, Im mortified to say, I threw in the towel, said goodbye to the boys, and ran, close to tears, back down the mountain. Another excruciating night at base camp and a 20 mile hike through the 35 degree valley, and a 4 hour bus ride leave me right back here in Mendoza, exhausted & heartbroken, but, dear lord, well, once again. I should have known when first I found myself curled in the dirt outside our tent, blood clogging my nose, needing to vomit, world spinning furiously as I attempted to crawl from the camp so as not to alert the ranger that, altitude, just aint for me. At the time, if someone had promised to make it stop in exchange for an arm or a leg perhaps I would have accepted without a moments consideration. Unfortunately however hope arose on a few occasions in the from of a slight dilution to the pain. It was these fleeting moments that spurned me higher, and deeper into the world of pain.
What I find most frustrating about the whole situation is the insignificance of the problem. Here we are, three young lads, after rigorous planning, fit as farmers, packed and ready to achieve something great, scale a huge mountain, and theres me, feeling as though I could run up and down the thing several times in a afternoon with both of the other guys on my back, pathetically crippled by an agonizing, unrelenting and ever increasing headache. This insignificant trifle has proceeded to turn what was to be one of the best weeks of my life into what is most certainly one of the worst, which, company and landscape considered, is hard to believe. The mountain has done to my brain what is equivalent to the sudden and deliberate swiping of cake from the accustomed jaws of the obese, my mind thirsting and revolting against the loss of the oxygen it had grown so reliant upon..
Oh well, I have now developed a distinct disaffection for my surroundings with their arid countenance. The beautiful bus ride back to Mendoza this afternoon didnt tickle so much as a heart string. However, all is most certainly not lost; Muz & The Buister are still on the move. On the fateful afternoon I crumbled and descended the weather forecast was looking near perfect and they were set to move up through the snow the following morning to Camp 2. The 12th should see them at Camp 3 (Berlin) and the 13th, tomorrow, at the summit. Both of them seemed composed, resolute and energized when I left so I have absolutely no doubt they will make it. After everything it is only a matter of hours now. The view from the summit, with such flawless skies as those predicted, will no doubt be even more spectacular than it has been in my imagination all these months. So, fingers and everything else crossed for the remaining team, the beer is on ice back here in Mendoza. Unfortunately it is as much as I can do at this stage, along with the masking my ´Oh so bitter´ disappointment, in order not to take away from their thoroughly deserved and imminent triumph. Via con dios mis amigos!. Love to all back home, news from the team will no doubt be with us in a few days, big sorry for the let down, Id do anything to be up there but alas it wasnt to be. I wonder if this is gods way of telling me to stop larking around and get a job. Ha-ha, in fact, Im almost certain that it is. Oh dear.. Well, all it seems to have done is inspire me to climb harder, albeit lower, than ever before, so watch this space
XXX Maxi XXX
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9th Feruary 2010
Yo Chicas,
Maxim, Muzzmeister & Buister checking in. It´s 20 dollars for 15 mins so we`l make this quick. Alls well would you believe. Theres been a few tiny weeny problemos with altitude, headaches, vomiting, dizzyness, bleeding noses and insomnia but regardless, spirits are high and blood o2 levels are perfecto. We are currently at base camp (Plaza de Mulas) 4225m and will be setting off any minute now for camp Canada 5050m. One night will be spent there and provided our brains havent squeezed through our ears we will then move on to Nido de Condores 5560m. Nxt will be Berlin at 5930 before setting of in the middle of the night on the 8 hour slog for the summit 6959m where we will be the highest men on earth, or i will at least because i´m the tallest. Weathers look classic, clear blue skys etc. Muz says the spotter device is working perfectly so just click on the website and track our progress. Lloydy, if you could write on both my facebook wall and Muz´s the link to the website and update this also. Saaaweeeett. All being well we should be back in contact on the 13th/14th happy and heathy. Love to all, big besos x ´The Team´ x
3rd February 2010
And so we wait... It´s been a full 42 hours since we arrived in the Argentinian ciudad of Mendoza and its closing in on 42 degrees. Viet, (Our one and only Asian teammate), having stumbled out of a cab late on Sunday night, now sleeps amoung the carnage of our ramshakle hotel room, crampon for a pillow, gathering all his strength for what is to come. My rear end, still sore from the 26 hour ordeal to reach here from the south, currently enjoys a spongey berth in the hotel lobby. The preliminary stages of the expedition are now complete. Our passes for the Aconcagua national park have been obtained{ at great expense, along with the last remaining items of equipment. We also have ourselfs a donkey, stubborn and stout, to transport all our unnecessary equipage to the base of the mountain{ where it will await our expected arrival in 3 days time. Young Muzz, so far as we know, is alive and well and currently negotiating what will no doubt be the most challenging part of his trip, the logistical nightmare that is airport transfer and bus travel in a foreign language. Given that his plane landed this morning we expect him anytime between 8 oclock tonight, and the first tuesday of next month. All being well we expect to be leaving the city 2morro afteroon aboard the 3.15 bus to Punta del Inca, a small town on the boarder of the national park situated at around 3500m above sea level. There, we plan to rest for a day, maybe doing some last minute gear checks and a mini aclimatization trek. On the morning of the 5th all our cold weather essentials will be transfered over to the mule handlers and begin their journey to base camp. On saturday, provided health and happiness are still abundant, we will hike onwards to the small campsite of Confluencia (3700m) where will make our first legitimate camp. As a result of some good advice we have decided not to head straight to the base ´Plaza de Mulas´ on sunday, and instead to hike 6 hours NW along a gradual ridge to ´Campo Francia´ (4100m). In the afternoon we will decend to Confluencia for the night. All still being, and feeling, well, Monday will be the day we make a break for the base camp (4200m), hopefully arriving in the early afternoon, hydrated and bursting with excess energy. This, so far, is all we have dared to plan. The journey beyond this point seems best not considered as yet. Baby steps is key, or so we are told. In the last few days I have pondered long and hard upon various subjects, primarly however my thoughts have been occupied painting pictures of the mountain. Of what it will feel like to hike for 2 weeks up a 45 degree gradient in a pair of solid plastic boots, of what it will feel like to hike wearing a bag weighing 30kgs for 2 weeks up a 45 degree gradient wearing solid plastic boots, of what it will feel like to hike in temperatures as low as -40 with a backpack weighing 30kgs for 2 weeks on a 45 degree gradient in a pair of solid plastic boots, and finally of what it will feel like to do all this with little more than half the oxygen I am accustomed to and 1/5th of the sleep. Success or failier completely depends on our combined fitness as a team and combined ability to deal with the altitude. I have grown exhasted by the constant barrage of warnings regarding it. Before, ignorance was bliss, now, my thoughts are saturated with nausiating imagery: gurling lungs, buldging eye balls and swollen brains. I can almost hear the swirling blades of the helicopter and the worried conversation of the medics. Pulmonary this, Cerebral that, edema edema edema. Way to go and spoil our fun. Unfortunately for us it seems the warnings are, evidencialy, well supported, so we have been forced to understand and appreciate them. Humility, they say, is also key, and I agree. I think i speak for all of us when I say ´Success is important but not everything´. No risk without reason just Luck Luck Luck. It´s perhaps the most crucial ingrediant. So, if old Zuesys on our side, parting the clouds and diverting the snow, and all the while puffing in the opposite direction, I have no doubt we can make it. For now though, we will leave you all with a fond farewell and a promise to return, succesful or no, with tell of sights, sounds and smells, beknown to only those who dare.
P.S It´s 105 degrees, the beers are cold, the girls are hot and the steaks are massive so, worst comes to the worst weve had a good run..
Muchos Besos,
See you all soon,
Max, Muz & Señor Bui.....
Also, sorry for the spelling, i´m lost without MS Word..
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Hmmm I shift from the right cheek to the left, flexing my swollen ankles, filling every corner of my right angled berth. The powerful smell of scotch breaches my nasil cavity, my crotch still embarassingly wet from the spillage. Well hello there.. a Brazillian stewardess leans over in her spray on uniform, making sure i´m aware of a few things. We will shortly be arriving in Sao Paulo, cabin crew please prepare for landing. The upright position needed be adopted, it goes without saying when you´ve paid as much as I did. Mi cerebro flickers back to 12.00pm above Mediera, the intermitant splatterings of light below, igniting the atlantic, flagging in the new year. Eeeek & Squeek.. Touchdown. Get a wink from the spray on stewardess upon exit. Goodbye my darling An old fela from Guilford keeps me company between between flights, turns out he is poco loco & racist beyong belief...tick...tock...we find ourself accidentaly in the line for JFK. Mr racist seizes his opportunity to tote some anti Janky vocalisms. Slowly but surely.... I back away. Another plane, this time Rio... Well you certainly dont look rich, I´ve got a feeling the robbers of Rio will give you a miss says Mr Guilford to little Miss Texas. She promptly exits stage right, heartbroken. Cheap cab with old fela, drop him off some way from the ciudad central, sweep brow and enjoy watching him leave. Via con dios...Dont fancy his chances in this part of town, corregated rectangles stacked one atop the other, balanced at impossible angles on impossible slops... dogs..cats..babies, all going coco loco in the bario, to my tender western nostrils it smells like trouble, everyone sweaty with favela fever. I wander the streets to ´Sugar Loaf´, doesnt feel sensible...Boom..Boom..the sound of distant gunfire. Beach is as white as a cue ball, shirt off to blending in, shirt on within seconds, Im sticking out like a camel in kingston...bouncing to the beats of the beach.....heckels insue, not all hecklers unattractive. One wearing a bikini made by Oral-B. This is useless, Brazil needs months not moments of exploration, so off I go, promising to return one day with a black belt and an eight pack...VVVVvv splitting the thick wind were off again. Airbus, no fuss. Bing..Bong..Argentinas out the window.. Two hops and aflop into a cab.. Cuanto cuesta parrrrr...aaaaaahhhhh! 100-120-140kph. Watch that kid, watch tha..ahhh." Errrkkk. Woah, throw him the money and get the hell out. Bus now, back in the saddle, 20 hours, oww. Syrupy sunset over Buenos Aires...as we rev off into sunflower seas, undulating into infinity. Peel my face from the window, dog tierd, Nevadas out the window.. ruby red canyons, weeds tumbling.. gravity gets the better of my eyelids once again. Snap..there open for good this time..greeted by milky lakes and snow dusted sires... it´s over, no more fuss no more buss. Taxi 3.. voy a 802 Pasaje Gutierrez..my place. I smell like a hippo in a hot tub, no shower, 72nd hour. Gates locked..bags go over and so do I as I spy the open eye of senor perro..straight back over, he looks mean as a green bean. Shes a bungalow and shes all mine.. kitchen dining room.. living room..ahh, shower for an hour.. new power.. School begins manana. I sit the test, not the best. Intermediate you say? Flattered but worried. Encounter many student types habloing the old espanol pero no puedo habo so I vanish up the stairs and stare for two hours understanding at best 16.5 % of what the nice Argentinian mujer is saying. Lo siento senora es un poco demasiado dificil para mi.. Off to begginer I go..head low.. Over three weeks in now, somehow, spent a small fortune but happy as a frog in France. Played 18 on a course named Llao Llao, wow. Have trekked all significant summits cerca de el pueblo & even paid to have myself sucked across the Chilian boarder by the raging grade IV rapids of the Rio Manso. Dizzy myself daily by swimming in the gracial waters of lago Gutierrez each time reaturning to warm myself on the hot potatoe stones. Soon as schools over cada dia the games begin. Been bending it like Beckham against the locals in multiple Arg Vs Rest of the World footy matches, and have been called more names than a fat Swedish teenager. A young Argentinian lad was subbed into our team in the dying seconds of last weeks match and proceeded to score the winning goal for the united nations. He seemed pretty pleased to have defied his fathers instructions to sabotage our chances, much prefering the likes of Frank Lampard to old has beens like Maradona. After the goal his father slapped him straight round the head exclaming Aye..aye..aye.. Vos score para Inglattera, are you a Retardo? They havent taught us that one in class yeat but im pretty sure what it means. During all this I have been keeping more cosmopolitan company than you´d find in Brangelinas hollywood nursery. Also drinking sublime wine, extra fine, Argentine Malbec. Cheap as chipolattas. So over all, doing fine, having a bloody great time. Muchos besos para todo del mundo... Maximilliano Lopez
Cuz Muzz
Maximus Roche
Viet Bui
Horticulture is simply a camoflage for this man, the days spent caring for the next generation of seedlings were a simple repayment to the earth for all that life has given him..
Includeing Crispy Duck wraps
surfing several continents,cycling across Australia, and climbing much of the Swiss Alps.
Mr Viet will be climbing down from his office in Canary Wharf to climb up Aconcagua, the man has a constant smile and has massive persuasive powers, Muzz recalls after Bui sent him up a rediculous cliff in Spain 'the first one ever' and then proceeded to send him into a 20meter freefall on his first absail, with evil laughter echoing round the surrounding valley.
After winning £2 on a scratch card the floodgates to all Muzz's adventureous dreams will be unleashed once again.
When asked 'why a mountain?' Muzz replied 'there's nothing like getting high and spinning out'.
At 6,962 metres (22,841 ft), Cerro Aconcagua is the highest mountain in the Americas, and the highest mountain outside Asia. It is located in the Andes mountain range, in the Argentine province of Mendoza. The summit is located about 5 kilometres from San Juan Province and 15 kilometres from the international border with Chile
It is also classed as one of the Seven Summits ( highest mountain on every continent )
The effects of altitude are severe (atmospheric pressure is 40% of sea-level at the summit), the use of supplemental oxygen is not required however altitude sickness will affect most climbers to some extent, depending on the degree of acclimatization
We will be carrying a SPOT Locator beacon, a small device that transmits a gps burst every 10 minutes , it will then automaticaly update our posistion on the Google Earth system.
Simply click the SPOT icon above and keep an eye on our website and we will update you to when the weathers looking good and our ascent imminent .
