That evening back at Hacienda Rumiloma I started doubting the whole trip. I know what it’s like to be at high altitude for a couple of weeks and there’s a lot of misery along the way. The same feelings at the start of the Nepal EBC trip were coming back. I’d seen all the volcanoes in a beautiful setting, I figured I’d be cramping up tonight, wouldn’t sleep, etc. etc. And I wasn’t getting to Cotopaxi, my main goal, for well over a week. There would be 5 or so days of glacier mountaineering school mostly on subjects I had no interest in as I didn’t have any intention of doing more and more complex mountaineering and ice climbing. And I’d realized I would have to climb Cayambe (19k) and then with not much more than a day’s rest climb Cotopaxi (19.5k). So I was somewhere between down and dismayed whatever that means.
Had taken my oxygen sats on the way down Rucu and they were in the upper 70’s. Not a good sign.
Lots of texts with a couple of buddies helped straighten me out a bit and realize altitude and fatigue were messing with my head. I thought through all kinds of options and in the end decided to forget about Cotopaxi and focus on Cayambe. One day at a time. What was against me was that, unlike Kilimanjaro and Everest Base Camp, neither of these Ecuador mountains was my dream to climb. I was here for the experience. These trips are as much mental as physical and my head was not into it like it needed to be. Big handicap.
I had another thought. maybe I’m ready to start acting my age. I’m turning 60 this year. I think I can live with that.
OK, so that’s ridiculous.
Brad (5 ironman triathlons) just came down to the bar, dragging, and said he’s ‘too old for this shit’. He’s 45. Made me feel a little better.
Anyway, we had a good dinner. Sea bass.
Wrote in my journal and turned in.
