Much like the title, I got high in Ecuador. In fact, I got higher than I have ever been before. No, you silly goose, I’m not talking about los drogos or anything like that, I’m talking true heights: elevation. Prior to my excursion yesterday, the highest point I’ve stood in the world is the summit of Mt. Elbert in Colorado at 14,433 feet (4400 meters). I’ve been on the tops of several other of Colorado’s Fourteeners, notably Pike’s Peak, but, Elbert was my highest — until yesterday.
The day dawned with sun and some clouds, a perfect start. B and I had a nice breakfast of eggs (I ate hers too. No, I didn’t simply distract her with a “Hey, look at that!” while pointing at something behind her and Bogart them, she offered. I guess less than cement-set heuvos revueltos aren’t to her liking. Of course, being the gentleman that I am, accepted her offer, and snarfed like less than a gentleman.) We packed up (we moved residences), parked our bags behind the reception desk, hopped in a taxi and motored to the TeleferíQo cable car to ride up to about 13,000 feet (4000 meters). We got there early, before it opened, because of the weather forecast: afternoon chance of rain beginning about 2:30: 100%, and lasting through the evening. No thanks. Neither of us relished the thought of hiking down in mud and rain, so it was early, in order to be back ASAP. I thought we could do the round trip in less than 4 hours, and since the cable car began operations at 9:30, that’d get us back by 2:00-ish, factoring in the time it takes to ride up.
We rode up in the second car of the day. The first car was a family on vacation from Wisconsin. I sleuthed that fact much like Holmes would’ve by the plethora of Wisconsin-based clothing they were sporting. Equally obviously, they weren’t going to the summit, as the teen daughter was wearing pink Crocs. I guess B was my Watson.
I also scoped out the others lining up early, and it appeared I was the only one in shorts, and B in leggings. Neither of us had trekking poles, either. Huh. We both had multiple layers on above, and raincoats and the lower part of my REI zip-offs in my pack, but still... were we deluding ourselves? The temperature was in around 50°F/12°C — not unpleasant in shorts when expending effort. I guess time would tell. We rode to the top, disembarked, and off we went. Target: Cumbre Ruca Pichincha.
The day dawned with sun and some clouds, a perfect start. B and I had a nice breakfast of eggs (I ate hers too. No, I didn’t simply distract her with a “Hey, look at that!” while pointing at something behind her and Bogart them, she offered. I guess less than cement-set heuvos revueltos aren’t to her liking. Of course, being the gentleman that I am, accepted her offer, and snarfed like less than a gentleman.) We packed up (we moved residences), parked our bags behind the reception desk, hopped in a taxi and motored to the TeleferíQo cable car to ride up to about 13,000 feet (4000 meters). We got there early, before it opened, because of the weather forecast: afternoon chance of rain beginning about 2:30: 100%, and lasting through the evening. No thanks. Neither of us relished the thought of hiking down in mud and rain, so it was early, in order to be back ASAP. I thought we could do the round trip in less than 4 hours, and since the cable car began operations at 9:30, that’d get us back by 2:00-ish, factoring in the time it takes to ride up.
We rode up in the second car of the day. The first car was a family on vacation from Wisconsin. I sleuthed that fact much like Holmes would’ve by the plethora of Wisconsin-based clothing they were sporting. Equally obviously, they weren’t going to the summit, as the teen daughter was wearing pink Crocs. I guess B was my Watson.
I also scoped out the others lining up early, and it appeared I was the only one in shorts, and B in leggings. Neither of us had trekking poles, either. Huh. We both had multiple layers on above, and raincoats and the lower part of my REI zip-offs in my pack, but still... were we deluding ourselves? The temperature was in around 50°F/12°C — not unpleasant in shorts when expending effort. I guess time would tell. We rode to the top, disembarked, and off we went. Target: Cumbre Ruca Pichincha.
The beginning of the 5K to the top was a threaded, mostly double track, moving inexorably up. Most of the time the grade was not terrible. The surface was mostly decent, some mud, some gullies with puddles, with the occasional pile of unmelted hail along the way from the previous day’s storm. B and I held a nice pace, grooving and checking out the local flora and fauna. I especially liked the pink fauna.
That was the first two thirds. We made great time on the way. I don’t recall specifically, but I’d guess we did that in just about an hour. The last third, though. That was a different story. The last third climbed as much as the first two thirds, and where there was a trail, it was skirting cliff faces and boulders that made footing treacherous at best. The last bit was a scramble first through such loose sand and scree as to lose most of the distance of the step each time. One foot forward, nine inches back. It pretty much was a suck fest. Not only because of that, but the clouds had decided to take up residence, so that we really couldn’t see where we were going: just... up.
Once we got past the loose scree, things got worse. Now it was the scree-source, rocks that required hands and feet and waist-high step ups. Perseverance is B’s middle name, because she kept on keeping on. And... we finally summited 15,406 feet! My new all-time high. Woo!. It was a great feeling to make it. Maybe it was the light headedness of being oxygen deprived. Either way, I’m taking it. Now, it was time to descend. Up is one thing, down is much more challenging. For me, once we got past the rocks, it was time to channel The Police song “Walking on the Moon” cuz it was all giant steps. B was not quite so into the method and came down under more control. That’s probably why she didn’t end up on the ground like I did. Heck, I only did three times and only one of those really hurt. No blood, though, so an all around win.
We did get some views through the clouds on the way down, intimating what it would be like on a clear day. Of course, on a clear day, I’d have needed sunscreen, which I didn’t take.
Once we got past the loose scree, things got worse. Now it was the scree-source, rocks that required hands and feet and waist-high step ups. Perseverance is B’s middle name, because she kept on keeping on. And... we finally summited 15,406 feet! My new all-time high. Woo!. It was a great feeling to make it. Maybe it was the light headedness of being oxygen deprived. Either way, I’m taking it. Now, it was time to descend. Up is one thing, down is much more challenging. For me, once we got past the rocks, it was time to channel The Police song “Walking on the Moon” cuz it was all giant steps. B was not quite so into the method and came down under more control. That’s probably why she didn’t end up on the ground like I did. Heck, I only did three times and only one of those really hurt. No blood, though, so an all around win.
We did get some views through the clouds on the way down, intimating what it would be like on a clear day. Of course, on a clear day, I’d have needed sunscreen, which I didn’t take.
We made it to the cafe at the top of the cable car at an elapsed time of 3:58:37. Nailed it! And as we started in on some refreshments (passion fruit cheesecake and mocachinos), the rain came with a vengeance. It was even cold inside the gondola on the ride down. Still, I’m glad I didn’t wear long pants. My ego is pretty chuffed about being the only person on top in shorts. B and I were only passed by a few people: all in their 20s and a couple of local guides who weren’t a lot older. There was nobody over forty except us, and no women except B. Like George Zimmer for Men’s Wearhouse would say, “I guarantee it.” I’m fit and she’s a beast. Good combo.
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