My Freshman Year in El Chaltén
Arrival
I woke up in the early morning on my plane ride to El Calefate and peered out my window at the landscape to my first glimpse of the Chaltén Massif. I landed in El Calefate and purchased a bus ticket to El Chaltén. I knew that my good friends Adam Martos, Cedar Christensen, and Chris Farrah were already in the mountains and even though I knew I wouldn’t have an opportunity to climb during the present weather window, I was eager to arrive as soon as possible. The site of Cerro Torre and the Cerro Chaltén was mindboggling on the drive in and got even better the closer I got. I unloaded my excessive amount of baggage from the bus and shuttled it on my back in two loads to our apartment where I found an unlocked door with a sign that said “Welcome Chris”. I dropped off my bags, unpacked a bit and ordered a pizza at a nearby restaurant. I paid in US dollars and was quite confused when I received two times the change I expected. I picked up a map of the town and noticed a hiking trail marked for a place called “Laguna de Los Tres” with an image of a picturesque view. I went back to my apartment and packed a bag for a hike. I powered up the trail passing hundreds of people and made it to the lake for a glimpse of the mountains of my dreams. They were even more beautiful than I expected but I felt slightly bummed I wasn’t climbing them. I ran back down to El Chaltén, literally jumping over and around hikers as I sprinted down the steepest part of the trail.
I made it back, showered and asked someone where the climber bar is. I was told “Fresco” and wandered over there, running into Josh Huckaby, another Gringo climber who has spent a lot of time down here. I drank a beer with Huck on the backyard grass. I had only been in Chaltén for eight hours but my stoke was out of this world and Huck could tell. He told me that Chris, Adam, and Cedar had summited Aguja Saint Exupery via Chiaro de Luna in good time and a rescue was ongoing in the Torre Valley, likely with a fatality on the horizon. This mix of bitter and sweet news was quite the prelude to my Chaltén season.
I went to bed that night wondering when my three roommates would be back from the mountains, excited to hear their stories. They arrived the next morning, smelly and with big smiles on their faces. They had successfully climbed Chiaro de Luna and were planning to climb El Mocho the following day. That morning, Adam woke up at five am, glanced up at Cerro Torre, and noticed a headlamp signaling SOS. He radioed Cedar down in a lower camp (Adam had slept higher in order to retrieve his jacket he had lost on the descent), and a rescue was initiated. The rescue effort involved something like 50 climbers and after 30 hours, one climber was rescued. Unfortunately, the other was left up on the Northeast face of Cerro Torre with serious injuries from a mushroom avalanche… everyone knew he would die. I had never heard of Korra Pesce until his death but it was obvious he had made quite a mark on the alpine climbing community. This was the second death of the season. The first was from an avalanche on Guillaumet.
I was still in the googly eye phase and acting like a spaz those first few days as the four of walked around town, enjoying all that El Chaltén had to offer. On day two I bumped into Alex Vaught, another California climber who had also arrived towards the end of the last weather window. He was also suffering from googly eye syndrome so we agreed to link up for a hike out to sample one of the approaches the next day. We decided on Paso Superior which worked out well for me because it was one of the spots where I was hoping to stash gear. I packed a bag with a double rack, rope, tag line, and six days of food and met up with Alex at the trailhead just past seven am. We cruised up 10km to Laguna de Los Tres and hiked up the glacier with ice axes and crampons to the pass. It took us around five and half hours and felt like one of the best hikes I had gone on in my life. I recall stating it was the very best at the time. I was so happy as we sat down half way back for a Mate and cigarette break. This was my first time really getting to know Alex and it was such a good time out. We made it back to El Chaltén, showered and headed to Fresco.
We spent the next few days sampling the restaurants and bars in El Chaltén while enjoying the strength of the US dollar relative to the rapidly inflating Argentine Peso. El Chaltén life was too good to be true and I was psyched out of my mind… still googly eyed. Suddenly Adam and Cedar woke up one morning feeling sick and it was apparent they caught the Rona. Neither of them had been boosted which seemed to make the ordeal worse as they fell bedridden for more than a week, missing the upcoming weather window.
Franco-Argentina
After spending many hours trying to figure out how to read weather forecasts, we concluded that an amazing weather window was on the horizon. We found out later that most of the locals considered it to be marginal and didn’t even end up going out into the mountains but we were over ambitious, a little naïve and psyched. Before coming down to South America, I had committed to climbing with Lance Colley for the full duration of my stay in El Chaltén. Lance is a friend and climbing partner of mine from Yosemite Valley, and is a fast climber with numerous El Cap speed records and a solid alpine resume. Lance was delayed getting to South America due to COVID, and his new flight was scheduled to arrive on the first day of good weather… sadly one day too late. After an awkward and complicated partner selection discussion in the apartment, it was agreed that I would climb with Chris.
We racked up with plans to climb the Franco-Argentina on Cerro Chaltén and hopefully link up with Lance to climb the Red Pillar on Aguja Mermoz the day after or the day after that. With gear already stashed up at Paso Superior, we rocketed up to camp in 4:45 and spent the afternoon lounging in the sun on top of a flat boulder. A couple hours after we arrived, Sam Stuckey and Billy Onjea rolled into camp. They were planning to climb the Franco-Argentina as well. We discussed wake up times and they planned for 12:30 am while opted for an hour later. We popped some Melatonin at six pm and passed out just after a Swiss team arrived.
I slept horribly and woke up to my alarm with a sore throat and certainty that I had COVID. Chris was feeling similarly but we were still psyched to go for it. We descended the fixed line from camp to the glacier and trekked across the crevasse field. We caught up to Sam and Billy’s headlamps in time to watch them cross what appeared to be the wrong part of the bergschrund. Chris urged us to move right and we found a good looking place to cross. We climbed it unroped and made it to the water ice above, passing Sam and Billy. I was already out of my comfort zone and knew Chris was as well so I suggested we rope up. I built an ice anchor with two of our four screws and quested up a full 60 meters of 60-degree ice and built another anchor to belay Chris. In the middle of our third pitch, I came upon a single ice screw and alpine draw that I was able to chop out of the ice… Booty! I now had one protection screw to place half way through my 60-meter pitches. Even though the slope was only 60 degrees, it felt steep and sustained. My calves were pumped and I was relieved to rest each time the rope came tight at 60 meters and it was time to build an anchor.
Chris Farrah feeling stoked and relieved to be back on rock after the 60 degree ice slope on the approach to LA Brecha de los Italianes. Our friends Sam Stuckey and Vasili (Billy) Onjea can be seen above Chris’ head. Our Swiss friends Erik and Florian can be seen lower down on the slope.
We were relived to be on rock at sunrise and began to quest up 4th class terrain to La Brecha de Los Italianes, the col that is the low point just south of Cero Chaltén. I was able to glimpse my first view into the Torre Valley. It was breathtaking to see Cerro Torre plastered in orange at first light. Wind speed increased in this zone as I added a layer and downclimbed then up climbed some 5th class rock and snow in my mountaineering boots. We made it to a patch of rock just before the snow ridge called “La Silla” and dropped off one backpack, in addition to the half-liter of water we brought up… accidentally. I led another pitch of ice up to the base of the route and performed some shenanigans to get up to the first anchor, now a few meters above the snow line. I fixed the rope for Chris and kitted up to climb rock.
The first pitch is a diagonal splitter rated 5.10b. It was intermittently filled with ice but I managed to free it while at one point being hit by falling snow. The snow and ice were a reminder of how real this place was and a part of me loved the additional challenge. I fixed the rope and watched Chris French-free with the heavy pack to get up the pitch… We should have brought jumars. I continued up in free mode until I arrived at a chimney on pitch three. The pitch is rated 5.9 but the chimney was filled with ice. I didn’t have any gear below the start of the chimney and it looked unprotectable. With no other options, I placed a #1 cam in between ice and rock… my first time doing so. In hindsight, I could have placed an ice screw but the thought never even occurred to my Yosemite trained brain. I tugged on the remnants of a fixed line that someone had clearly left to pull through this section and arrived at the next belay after scrambling over more snow. I climbed more pitches of mixed terrain in rock shoes until I arrived at the base of the technical crux pitch of the route, a steep splitter crack rated 5.11-. It was completely devoid of ice and turned out to be a romp. I linked it into the next pitch forcing Chris to simul 10 or 15 meters. We brought one #4 on the route specifically for this pitch but I had managed to leave it backing up the belay at the start.
Chris took over and I was forced to carry the heavy pack, French-freeing the upper pitches of the route. Chris got off route at one point which required me to swap over to a jugging set up to clean the overhanging crack he had aided through. I took back over on lead as we simulclimbed the final lower angle ice and mixed section. We unroped, ditched our gear and scrambled to the summit. I shed a few tears just before arriving on top of what I believe to be the most beautiful summit I’ve been on to date. The views were outrageous and I felt proud. We had been on the move for over 14 hours with no breaks and it had been full on. I only brought three bars with me in addition to two packs of shot blocks which was a totally inadequate amount of food. In addition, we were both completely dehydrated since we had mistakenly left our bottle of water at the base and ignorantly assumed we would find water on route. We ate some snow to comfort our sore throats and aching headaches. My body felt weak from being sick but I felt confident I would have enough strength and energy to get back down.
We downclimbed as far as possible and began our rappels. We passed Sam and Billy on their way up on rappel number four as we quested down to overhanging terrain. I led most of them and we managed to get down to the base of the route only getting our rope stuck once which took just a few minutes to fix. We made it back to La Silla and then down to a pile of rocks with boots sticking out. It was a dead body… The first I had ever seen with my own eyes. We climbed back up to the snow ridge and made it back to our pack and that half liter of water we left. One rappel and some downclimbing got us to La Brecha and then seven single rappels and one double rappel brought us back to the glacier. We crossed it roped up and made it back to our tent at Paso Superior at midnight. We had been on the go for 22 hours.
Lance had arrived psyched to climb the Red Pillar the next day but I informed him that would not be happening… I needed at least a rest day and I was feeling quite ill. I woke up that next morning feeling awful. I am usually one to suck it up but between my sickness and the surprise rain, I made the decision to go down. I felt bad for Lance but it was a good decision. We hiked back down to town through light rain and I spent the next two nights sweating in my bed with a fever. We semi-isolated for the following four days. I wanted to go to Fresco.
Trek into the Torre Valley
Another marginal weather window was looming on the horizon, and even though I wasn’t fully recovered from COVID, I felt inclined not to waste it. Lance and I decided to hike into the Torre valley in hopes to climb Chiaro de Luna on Aguja Saint Exupery. We brought food for five days and walked into the valley with Sam Stuckey and Cedar in the cold rain. My hands became numb as we trekked past Lago Torre and onto the steep sketchy talus on the north side of the lake. We finally got to the glacier which was no relief since the glacial talus proved to be even more unstable and miserable to hike on. The original plan was to make it to base camp at Polacos but it had snowed way more than expected so we stopped at Niponino. We set up camp with Cedar and I in the isolated COVID tent. Our two Swiss friends passed shortly after on their way up to camp at Norwegos. I went to bed around seven pm and slept till 10 am. I honestly credit this sleep for my full recovery. We stayed in our tents till around noon when the sun finally poked up above the mountains to the northeast.
An image of Chris’ Calf with Cerro Torre in the background. I don’t recall who took this photo but it’s a beauty and it needs to be on the internet.
We debated what to do that day and settled on attempting to climb Media Luna, a 1200 cliff face at the base of Cerro Torre. We packed up at Nipo and hiked perhaps a half a mile before dropping most of our gear off on top of a boulder with the assumption we would be back down to hike to Polacos. The four of us zoomed up the approach and navigated a debris field of glacial ice balls to the base of the route Rubio y Azul. Lance took the first lead and started up a corner filled with snow. Cedar came over and informed us we were off route, and that the true start was around the corner. We should have known better than to listen to Cedar’s advice on route finding but we did and came all the way down and around the corner to realize they were in fact off route and we were on the correct one. It was a significant waste of time but Lance got back up on lead and continued to dig snow out of the wet corner. He made it perhaps 30 feet up to a wet and unprotectable offwidth before deciding to lower down and pass off the lead to me. Lance led the next three pitches of wet and snowy cracks in cold temperature before handing off the lead to me for the first money pitch. I climbed up a series of splitter cracks that brought us into a big chimney system, the crux pitch. I took a nice whip at the very end of the crux and eventually made it to the final anchor of the route just as Cedar and Sam began rapping down. We were quite cold and got down as quick as we could after both tagging the summit ridge. We made it back to the base and met up with Sam and Cedar to walk back down to the Torre Valley. The climbing honestly wasn’t very enjoyable due to the cold and snowy conditions but there were a few good pitches and I was just stoked to get in a day of climbing in these mountains.
On our way down, we still observed plenty of snow in the west facing gullies on the other side of the Torre Valley. We considered hiking over to Polacos but it was late in the day and we were skeptical that the approaches would go without crampons or axes. Instead we opted to spend the night at Norwegos and climb El Mocho the next day. We arrived at Norwegos, dropped off Sam who was suffering from COVID symptoms and ventured down to pick up the rest of our gear below and shuttle it up. The down and up was way longer than I remembered but we got our tents set up just as it got dark and passed out.
The next day, we woke up at Norwegos to better weather and it appeared El Mocho was on! Sam was deteriorating and choose not to climb. I was hoping Lance would be open to climbing in a party of three but before I could ask, he made the call to sit out as well. Cedar and I hiked maybe 10 minutes to the base and chatted with a group of Argentines as we roped up. They let us pass and I raged up the first half of the Frader Pisafe, the classic line on the north face. It follows a huge red granite corner system and contained incredible quality and fun climbing. A few pitches were wet but the climbing was pure fun and it felt like we were in Yosemite with the sun. Cedar took over at the crux pitch and maneuvered around a sketchy block, refusing to clip the bolt at the crux, insisting to place gear instead. Cedar continued to the summit placing minimal gear as usual. Our ascent must have taken less than three hours to climb something like 1500 feet. We rappelled down efficiently, passing our Argentine friends semi-epicing on the corner pitches. I got one of their cams unstuck on the pitch below them and sent it up via a bite of their rope. We said goodbye and headed back to Norwegos.
Sam and Lance had left just an hour or two before for Polacos and we followed suit. Cedar and I took the direct route which I do not recommend. We ended up going straight down from camp to a steep slope that resulted in multiple ass slides. We eventually made it to Polacos to a sight of familiar tents but no familiar faces or faces at all. Lance and Sam eventually crested the horizon after coming back from a water run and less than an hour later we noticed another big crew coming down to camp. Chris, Adam, Natalie Afonina, and Beau Skalley were all on their way down from Aguja de l’s. They had just summited! Stoke was high at camp but forecasts came in from various InReach's and told us that it appeared our climbing days were over. The wind was about to pick up significantly. We hung out the night as a big crew and went to bed as the winds began to pick up. The winds raged that night and kept us from sleeping well. They were even worse in the morning as we huddled behind a rock, drinking Mate and shooting the shit. Jacob Cook and Shira Biner rolled down from the base of Chiaro de Luna, and hung out for a little before heading back to town. Everyone began to pack up and leave stashes for future visits. Lance and I committed to climbing out of Polacos for the next weather window so we left a rack, rope, tagline and food.
Lance and I were the last to pack up and head down but we eventually got our shit together and began the trek. We continued our walk back until we encountered the rest of the crew lounging at Lago Torre. They had all just taken a dip in the freezing cold Lake filled with icebergs. I dropped my pack and jumped in. Lance followed suit. It felt amazing. The sun was intense that day and we walked back the remaining nine km to town in warm temps. If I recall correctly, we immediately walked to Domo Blanco and got ice cream.
We came back from that weather window to what I consider the social golden age of Freshman year. We had such a good crew of friends and I was in a very happy place. My anxiety that I entered Chaltén with had quelled now that I had some time in the mountains and more friends had joined our big California crew. Our crew had expanded as John Bolte, Natalie, and Beau rolled into town. A couple Canadian chicks, Shira Biner and Ellie Hand also joined our crew and we roamed the town from restaurant to restaurant, requesting tables for 12 or more as we sat for out $7 steak and wine dinners
Aguja de l’s
Town days were always spent staring at a computer screen attempting to understand the forecast and predict weather windows. It appeared that a slight bump up in pressure was on the horizon and climbing Aguja de l’s, the easiest peak in the massif, seemed like a possibility. The night before, our big group went to some fancy restaurant courtesy of one of Cedar’s business acquaintances. The crew continued on to Domo Blanco as Lance and I continued on to bed.
We woke the next morning and walked down main street in whipping winds and a feeling that we would be taking our gear out for a walk. Mojon Rojo is a 3rd class peak just south of De l’s and we quickly shifted our mentalities to make that our objective as we walked up the approach in the wind. As we got closer, the wind died down and as we stepped onto the glacier, it seemed like de l’s would actually go. The winds were coming from the west side of the mountains and we were on the well protected east side.
We roped up for the glacier as Lance led us to the base of the route and up an icy and snowy ramp that appeared less snowy than the true start to the East Face. On the glacier, we could see another team on the Austriaca, a route that we had assumed would be too windy. We climbed mostly dry cracks left of the east face line and made it up to the summit block in perhaps an hour from the base. I led the enjoyable climbing of the summit block in one pitch and belayed Lance up in heavy winds. The last 30 feet of climbing was on the ridgeline and we could finally feel the raging winds coming from the west. After a quick celebration we saddlebagged the ropes for our first rappel and made it back to the sheltered east face in time to observe the other team walking back along the glacier after bailing.
The descent was easy and we made it back across the glacier in quick time. We threw back on our soaking wet shoes and hiked down. We caught up to the other party by the bivy cave and said hello once again to our Swiss friends, Erik and Florian. As we passed Laguna Capri a few kilometers from town, we ran into Adam and Bolte taking a rest on the beach, classic Santa Cruz dudes. We joined them and hung out for a bit before hiking down together.
Chiaro de Luna
A huge weather window was on the horizon and the climbers of El Chaltén were buzzing. Lance and I agreed to attempt to climb the three remaining summits of the skyline south of Cerro Chaltén from Polacos. We were planning to climb a difficult line on each one and I felt psyched on the objective. Two days before the start of the weather window, I got back from a day of sport climbing to a text from Lance that he was bailed on me to climb with some El Chaltén local named Horacio. Apparently, Horacio had an FA project on the east face of Mermoz and Lance felt psyched to join. I was outraged that he would bail on me with such short notice and even more upset by the way in which he did it… but I had some empathy for his desire to follow his stoke. I texted everyone I knew for leads on a partner and literally walked the street looking for more climbers to ask. Shira Biner, who I had met a couple weeks earlier was also partnerless for the upcoming window and agreed to be my backup in case I couldn’t find someone “better”. Shira claimed to be slow, weak, and high maintenance but I suspected she was a bit better than advertised. We finally agreed to link up and made plans to climb Aguja Saint Exupery via Chiaro de Luna on day one of the window and Aguja Rafael Juarez on day three after Chris and Billy kindly agreed to let me join them on Aguja Poincenot on day two while Shira rested. After rolling into base camp at Polacos in under six hours, we went to bed with alarms set for five am. At three am, we woke up to one of the loudest noises of our lives as massive rock fall rained down adjacent to camp. Our tent was hit multiple times from smaller stones as we ran outside and huddled behind a large boulder for shelter. I glanced over the boulder at one point to witness what appeared to be a fire storm resulting from the fiction sparks of the rockfall. We were shook up and I was fairly certain we would not be climbing that day. The assumption at camp was that the rock came from the gully between Poincenot and Rafael Juarez so Chris and Billy opted to forgo their attempt on Raf. Our approach to Saint Exupery only crosses the gully briefly so we decided to wait till it was light to scope it out. We arrived at the edge of the rockfall zone in the light and made the call to book it across the gully which took about 10 minutes going as fast as possible. Once we were across, we could see that the approach to Poincenot and Rafael Juarez was actually not any further in the fresh rockfall zone and therefore a similar risk.
Shira and I made it to the base of Chiaro de Luna just after eight am and roped up in cold and wet conditions. Checking in at 5.11a and 2400 feet, Chiaro is a moderate classic with incredible free climbing. The first vertical pitch of the route is also the crux and was dripping with water. My hands completely numbed out but I managed to free it. Shira got the screaming barfies on the approach pitches and I was almost certain the pitch would be a disaster for her but she managed to second it faster than I led it with no complaints of cold. I was pleasantly surprised. We quickly fell into a grove, simulclimbing up to 5.10-, with Shira zooming up behind me. We made it to the headwall pitches in two and half hours and I hadn’t even eaten a bar or taken a sip of water. We raged up the head wall, had a little hiccup on the traverse and made it up the chimneys just in time to run into Thomas Huber and Pedro Odell on the summit. Our time from base to summit was just over six hours. I led every pitch, carrying the tag line in a pack and felt completely in the zone… Stoke was high. We chilled on the summit in perfect weather and zoomed down the rappels in two hours. After never ending talus and a run through the rockfall zone, we made it back to camp with day light to spare.
Poincenot
After getting back to Polacos from Saint Exupery, I informed Chris and Billy that the rock fall danger on the approach to Poincenot wasn’t as bad as expected and we were good to go. We racked up in a rush, utilizing the last light, and went to bed with alarms set for 3:40 am. We woke and raged our way up the heinous approach gully in under two hours, arriving at the base of the Southwest face earlier than expected. We had to wait till first light to attempt to find the start of the route but that didn’t really matter because we started up the wrong way anyway. We eventually merged onto the correct cracks after a few pitches with Chris in the lead. Chris brought us up to the base of the headwall after climbing through many pitches of wet and icy crack. I started out attempting to follow everything free but shorty gave up since the rock was often coated in verglas.
I took over the lead at the headwall and climbed five 60-meter pitches of perfectly vertical splitter cracks up to 5.12a. The first pitch contained a perfect hand crack for 50 feet but eventually widened to 4”-5” inches for almost all of the remaining 150 feet. I leapfrogged a single four and five, while looking down with some concern at over 100 feet of rope with nothing clipped. The next pitch contained steep finger and hand crack on perfect rock that I mostly freed and clocked in at 5.12a. The third pitch was a bit of breather but the angle steepened and rock quality deteriorated in some places on my last two pitches. I finished each having placed my entire triple rack, feeling quite worked and bleeding profusely... Perhaps I should have worn crack gloves. Billy took over and quested off on an epic 1.5-hour lead that took us off route to sketchy and difficult terrain. I almost suggested Chris take back over but Billy more than made up for it, rocketing to the end of the steep terrain quickly and leading our 1000-foot simulclimb in three blocks to the summit. We celebrated for a brief few minutes before starting our rappels.
Back at camp, another rock fall camp down and put a hole in our tent (Photo: Shira Biner)
The terrain above the steep part of our route was complex and wandery, and I was nervous about getting back to a familiar anchor before the sun fully set. I led the rappels off the summit, desperately searching for anchors that were often buried by snow and almost always missing a carabiner. We built a few anchors of our own and managed to get almost all the way down to the steep section before the dark. I was worried we were off route and wasted a bunch of critical time of last light but Chris took over for a few rappels and got us back on track to known terrain. I took back over as we began making full 60-meter rappels down vertical terrain. On the steepest pitch, we managed to get our rope stuck which required a fully overhanging jug to reset the knot below a crack. I volunteered. At 1:00 am, we heard another huge rockfall event below us and I hoped everyone at Polacos was okay. It turned out to be a slightly smaller event but it did put another two holes in my tent which Shira was sleeping in. I led all the remaining rappels back to the base where we finally found the true start to the route, maybe 300 feet to the left. We arrived on the ground at 2:50 am and hiked back to our packs hungry and thirsty, having consumed everything we carried on the climb. Chris and I had brought up bivy gear having planned to sleep at the base but Billy, exhausted, opted to delay the hike back to Polacos and just pass out on the ropes in an emergency bivy sack. He didn’t quite make it that far, passing out on top of some rocks with no cover. Chris and I went to melt snow, got Billy a bit more comfortable and then passed out ourselves at 4:30 am.
Rafael Juarez
After getting down from Poincenot, I messaged Shira at 3:30 am and told her that we weren’t sure if we were planning to climb Rafael Juarez the next day. I was exhausted and my arms were very tired. I spent nearly an hour melting snow for water before shooting out another message telling Shira to be here at nine am sharp because we are for sure going up. I slept that night in my helmet, in fear of rockfall, and woke just before nine am. We racked up as we debated what route to climb. My vote was to climb the easier line which is the Anglo-Americana but Chris wanted to climb the Piola-Anker, a route that I had never heard of that had six pitches of grade 6a or higher. I reluctantly agreed and we set off up the north ridge climbing splitter after splitter of amazing granite. The route contained some of the most enjoyable climbing I’ve experienced down here even though my arms were so worked that 5+ was a struggle. We climbed the route in perfect weather and chilled for maybe 30 minutes on the summit. It was pure bliss. The standard descent is to rappel the Anglo Americana but we choose to rappel the Arteballeza since our packs were on that side of the mountain. The raps went quick except for one stuck rope again on the steepest pitch of the rap line. Chris felt obligated to volunteer for that one. We romped back down to Polacos in the late afternoon and moved our tent to a safer location down the hill.
Death of John Bolte
I went to bed that evening feeling incredibly fulfilled and psyched out of my mind that I was able to climb three summits via three high quality lines in only three days with the company of three incredible people. The views at sunset were unreal and I was in a state of euphoria. However, I did feel like I perhaps got away with something… While I was only in the exposure zone for a brief duration, crossing the fresh rock fall path four times was sketchy and not something I am proud of. On top of that, each day was filled with dozens of close rock fall events and there were many massive rock slides and avalanches both visible and audible regularly. The reality of this place is that the climbing here requires one to take on significantly more risk and accept a higher probability of objective hazard than any other climbing area I’ve ever been to. Every single climber I have met down here has a story of a close call or near miss this season. It appears to be the case that this climbing season in particular has been worse with rock fall and avalanches due to the fact that it has been so dry the past year. However, that is a trend that will likely continue due to climate change and I foresee this place becoming even more unstable. The problem is that the climbing down here is so beyond incredible. I feel like I thrive in these mountains and it is a place where my dreams come true. This conundrum is something I am in the process of grappling with as I write this.
As I went to bed that last night in Polacos, I turned on my InReach to message my parents that I was safe and back in camp after three days of successful climbing. I didn’t sleep well, waking up regularly through the am hours which is quite unusual for me. I had ample time to think that night as I watched the headlamps of a party descend the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre across the valley. The thought that someone had died during this weather window kept coming back to me. The mountains were visibly falling apart all around us and I had some sort of premonition that we would arrive back in town to news of an accident.
Sadly, we didn’t even have to get to town to be informed of such an occurrence. The next morning, I woke up and turned on my InReach to check if my parents responded. They had but I also saw a message from my friend Beau Skalley who had been climbing on Cerro Chaltén. I opened up the message and had to read it multiple times before it sunk in. I sat in my punctured tent and read the message out laud to Shira and Chris as I began to weep. “Hey Tyler. Cedar, Adam and I are safe back in Chaltén. Unfortunately, there was a rockfall accident on rappels and John passed away (2/23). We are in communication with the parks service. We need John’s family contact info, did he give it to you?” John Bolte had sent me his dad’s contact info just a week before and I forwarded it over. We packed up our base camp and hiked back to El Chaltén with sad and heavy thoughts in our heads.
John Bolte and Adam Martos left our apartment on the 20th shortly after myself and set off along the Rio Electrico to the North side of Cerro Chaltén. They were planning to climb the peak via the Afanassieff, a popular 5000-foot ridge climb. They started up the route on the 21st and made it to the summit of Cerro Chaltén early the next evening as planned. They bivied on the summit that night surrounded by what are perhaps the most beautiful views in the world before descended the Franco-Argentina the next morning. They made it to the col at La Brecha de Los Italianes in middle of the day and began to rap the loose rappel gully below as it went into the shade. At the final anchor just above the glacier, their ropes were rigged for the last rappel when rock from above fell and killed John instantly. Rock continued to fall so Adam fixed the ropes and rappelled down to the glacier. He ran back to Paso Superior alone where he ran into three other climbers that he was able to get back to town with. Adam made it back to El Chaltén at 1:30 am on the 24th, physically unharmed.
John Bolte was a one of a kind human and incredible character. He was a good friend and climbing partner that I will miss forever. His obituary is linked here: https://www.climbing.com/people/john-bolte-american-climber-dies-in-patagonia/
Rolo Days
John Bolte is dead. Huh? I’m confused. I always knew people die in these mountains and it was a possibility for any of us but I was naïve enough to hope it would never happen to myself or any of my friends. Now my friend is dead and I have to reckon with that fact. I’m coming back to write this a few weeks after his death but I am still unsure what to say for now I’ll just stick with writing the facts.
I arrived back in my apartment from Polacos with Shira and Chris and quickly ran into Adam. We hugged and cried and I hoped he wouldn’t be too fucked up from this. Rolando Garibotti aka “Rolo” was with him and kindly introduced himself to us in a soft-spoken voice. Rolo had spent the entire day with Adam and continued to hang and just shoot the shit with us that afternoon and evening. None of us had ever met Rolo but we all of course knew who he was being the author of the guidebook and legendary Patagonia climber himself. I looked up to Rolo as a climbing legend and respected him for his climbing reputation but I did not know it would be his heart that I would come away respecting more so. Rolo knew all the right things to say and guided us through the early process of coming to grips with our friend’s death emotionally while simultaneously overtaking the responsibility of handling the logistics. For over three weeks, Rolo entered the doors to our apartment every day and spent hours with us just shooting the shit through our last day in Chaltén. His time with us started off as much needed support but grew into a mutual friendship, thanks to John.
As the Rolo days trickled on, talk of the body recovery was discussed daily and plans were made, modified and changed constantly. Once we determined John did not have body recovery insurance, and that his body would be difficult to find, it was decided that a small group of us would go up to attempt to find his body before a larger effort would be organized by the town rescue team to fully bring his body back to town. It was during this period that we got word that John’s mom, dad, and sister were planning to come down to El Chaltén.
Body Recovery
After John was killed, the weather turned bad and a storm ripped through the mountains depositing over a meter of snow in some places. We knew from other climbers who rappelled after Adam that further rockfall had cut the sling John was tethered to on the anchor dropping him to the glacier. It was a gift in some ways being that we would not have to venture up vertical terrain to retrieve his body but it also meant that he would almost certainly be covered by snow and difficult to find.
By the start of March, there were only eight of us close friends left in town. Other than Adam and myself, the rest of the crew barley knew John but that didn’t matter. We were all eager to participate in the body recovery because John had made quite the positive impression on everyone. The group of eight was comprised of Chris Farrah, Cedar Christensen, Adam Martos, Billy Onjea, Thomas Burkowski, Ellie Hand, Shira Biner, and myself. We were not optimistic about finding him but that didn’t matter, we all had a desire to go up and at least put in the effort to find him. It just felt like the right thing to do and was an obvious decision for me.
On the morning of March 5th, I woke up at 6:30 am to drive to El Calefate with Rolo to pick up the remaining three in the Bolte Family and drive them to El Chaltén. Rolo borrowed a friend’s car to have space for the five of us. The drive to the airport was a blast as I chatted with Rolo about climbing and life in general while attempting to cherish the wise and inspiring words he would pass on. We arrived at the airport maybe 40 minutes early and shared a Mate. The Bolte’s eventually walked through the doors and we began our journey to El Chaltén. The five of us mostly engaged in small talk during the drive and it wasn’t full of tears as I had expected. I was trying to have a relaxing chat with the Bolte’s in order to make them feel comfortable and I think it kind of worked. We arrived to a picnic out front of our apartment. Some tears were shed as introductions between the Bolte’s and our crew finished and we prepared to head into the mountains.
The crew at the start of the approach to Paso Superior in the early afternoon. From Right to left: Chris Farrah, Tyler Karow, Shira Biner, Adam Martos, Vasili (Billy) Onjea, Cedar Christensen, Ellie Hand, Thomas Burkowski. (Photo: Rolando Garibottti)
Rolo fit all eight of us in his truck and drove us to the trailhead at El Pilar. We started hiking at 3:30 pm and made it to Paso Superior in the dark after navigating glaciers, snow, ice, and rock that was unrecognizable from my past journey up there due to warming temperatures and a big recent snowfall. I led the team the entire time and fixed ropes in a couple sections to keep things extra safe. It was clear that some in the team were uncomfortable on the terrain so I tried to keep moral high while making conservative decisions. To be honest, I was having a blast being back in the mountains and felt completely in my element questing up complex glacial terrain in a light snowfall at night. We set up our tents, melted snow and went to bed after midnight with alarms set early. We woke up before sunrise and began navigating the crevasses of Glacier Superior through knee deep snow, digging snow pits on occasion to evaluate avalanche hazards. We had photos from other climbers of his location on the glacier and used that information to determine the search area. We probed for his body through fresh snow and eventually found it after three hours. We dug him up, rigged him on a sled and brought him back to camp at Paso Superior by the early afternoon. We placed Bolte in a safe spot and said our goodbyes as we drank Budweiser’s alongside him… Adam and Bolte had stashed a few up there to drink on their descent. It was a moment I can’t describe in words. We roped up again and headed down in good spirits, singing and dancing on the glacier as we made it back to Laguna de Los Tres. We made it back to the trailhead at 11 pm to surprise empanadas and a pick up from Rolo.
The mission was a huge success and went about as smoothly as we could have envisioned. The Bolte’s were incredibly grateful and I felt a sense of closure. It was a proper goodbye. The idea of leaving our friend behind on the glacier did not feel good so it felt satisfying to know it would only be a matter of days before he was back in town. Only three days later, a group of 17 people on the Chaltén rescue team went up and carried down his body.
We spent the two days after phase one of the body recovery with the Bolte’s and Rolo in town. There were moments of sadness but our Chaltén family was becoming closer and an energy of positivity and joy emanated from our group. I think the Bolte’s came to town unsure of what to expect and left with perhaps a little more light in their eyes. We shared stories of their son and helped them retrace the last few weeks of his life up to his death. We made them laugh and shared emotions that I hope brought them to a more positive place.
After the Bolte’s left, our “spiritual leader” Rolo continued to spend hours every day hanging out with us. By this point, we all had agreed that Rolo was the coolest person on the planet and felt privileged and slightly confused why we was choosing to spend so much time with our crew. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversations with Rolo and was very happy to have become friends with him. Our nightly conversations continued up to my very last night in Chaltén which was spent at his cabin sipping tea and eating dark chocolate.
From left to right, first row: Mike Bolte, Rolando Garibotti, Cedar Christensen, Adam Martos, Kitty Bolte, Thomas Burkowski, Tyler Karow. Second row: Vasili (Billy) Onjea, Francis Bolte, Shira Biner, Ellie Hand, Chris Farrah. (Photo: Mike Bolte)
A Hike to Pierda Negra
It appeared a weather window was on the horizon after the Bolte’s dipped out of town and I was feeling an urge to climb again. The only two peaks I had not summited along the Cerro Chaltén Skyline were Guillaumet and Mermoz. It just so happened that one of the best linkups in the Massif called the Motocross Traverse combined both of those peaks and appeared to be the perfect objective for the coming window. Cedar agreed to climb with me and after a very rushed pack up, we left our apartment to hitchhike to the Rio Electrico Bridge. We caught a ride with a taxi and started the hike in the late afternoon. The day had felt rushed and something about going back into the mountains didn’t exactly feel right so soon after John’s death. Cedar and I discussed this and agreed that we should play things super safe and bail as soon as either of us feel even the slightest reason to do so.
We passed the refugio at Piedra del Fraile and started up the 3000-foot slope that guards Piedra Negra. The wind picked up and made the last uphill leg of our trek quite unpleasant as we were thrown to and from the trail by Patagonian wind. We found the bivy cave Ellie had told us about and immediately warmed our hands and boiled water for dinner. Cedar boiled his water first and dumped a half liter in his freeze-dried meal before zipping it up and putting it inside his jacket to keep it insulated. Perhaps 10 seconds later, I witnessed him fumble it as all of the water poured out and onto his waistline. It was hilarious, and we both began cracking up while both simultaneously coming to the realization that he had completely scolded himself with boiling water.
In a matter of seconds, we made the decision to bail but it was hours of moaning and pain for Cedar that night. No alarms were set and I slept in till 10. We packed up and walked out with smiles on our faces after grabbing a beer at the refugio… it felt right. I was happy to bail.
Pilar Rojo
The first thing I did upon coming back to town from Piedra Negra was peak at the weather. It appeared there may be another short window in two days and I felt eager to climb. Everyone remaining in our crew was uninterested or occupied picking up stashes so I decided to text Pedro Odell, a local 18-year-old who I had recently met in the mountains and knew was a crusher. He texted me that he was interested and the next day we linked up to make a plan. I wanted to climb the Motocross Traverse but Pedro had just done it earlier that season and seemed uninterested to repeat it. The wind in the afternoon was also looking problematic so I suggested that we go for the Red Pilar on Aguja Mermoz, a long, hard, and sustained free climb that goes up the east face of Mermoz. The East faces of the Chaltén Massif are significantly more protected from wind and therefore I figured it would be the perfect objective.
I told my plan to Rolo and he was skeptical that conditions would be good because of all the snow and rain the previous days. Our single day weather window was really only about an eight-hour window since it was raining the night before but I felt confident it would go. Pedro and I racked up for the climb and opted to go light and fast in a single push from town. I went to bed the night before at seven pm with my alarm set for 11:45 pm to get picked up at midnight by Max, Pedro’s dad. Max drove us to El Pilar and we began hiking at 12:32 am.
We chatted for the first hour and then enjoyed the silent of the night as we booked it through the forest and up the trail to Laguna de Los Tres. We quickly found ourselves in a cloud which I knew to expect. The forecast showed the low clouds dissolving by six am and perhaps by 4:30 am, we could see the stars… perfect timing. We motored up the glacier in our crampons and made it to Paso Superior just after five am. We stopped for maybe 20 minutes to boil water before downclimbing to Glacier Superior and hiking to the base of the ice slope below the Red Pillar by first light. The bergschrund looked relatively chill to cross and a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, settled that Pedro would be leading it. He climbed up placing a couple screws for a few moves of steep ice before passing over to the 50-degree snow/ice field above. He placed a Microtraxion and continued up as I simulclimbed behind with one ice axe in hand. Pedro looked quite confident as he climbed over 150 meters of ice and I took extra caution not to fall once I removed his last Micro.
Pedro got us to rock and I led a short pitch to the first bolted anchor of the route just as the sun crested the horizon. We were off the ice… perfect timing. Pedro had climbed the first four pitches of the route in the past and offered to take the lead of the first three pitches. He led up the relatively easy pitches quickly depositing us at the base of the first crux. Pitch four is rated 7a or 5.11d and appeared to be a steep and perfect splitter crack ranging in size from fingers to hands. I had heard at least three accounts of people getting shut down on this pitch and being forced to aid climb it, eventually leading to a bail… this was also the story of Pedro’s last effort.
I quested up the steep splitter and climbed my way to the top of the pitch happy to have sent without too much fight. It was truly an amazing pitch and my Yosemite crack climbing skills had prepared me well. Pedro took some rests and pulled on gear in a few places but got up the pitch in quick time as I hauled the bag. The next pitch is also rated 7a and turned out to be significantly more difficult as I was forced to hand jam an icy crack at the crux roof. I finished that pitch panting and very satisfied to send. I linked the next two pitches for 60 meters of perfect hand crack and made it to the base of the final 7a. I wanted to send badly and shed a layer in preparation to try hard. I made it most of the way up but a foot slipped and I fell out of finger lock as I was clipping a cam. With the extra rope out, I took a sizable fall, perhaps more than 20 feet. My freeclimbing pursuit was now over and my mentality shifted to climb as quickly as possible to get to the summit before it got too windy. It aligned nicely with conditions since the terrain from here on became icier and colder as the sun fell around the corner. Pedro took over the lead and tied our whip count with one each on his third lead of the block. I took back over and French freed my way to the top of the vertical terrain.
The quality of the route blew me away. The climbing was steep and sustained at 5.11+ on perfect red granite. I would claim that it’s far more sustained than say the Rostroman linkup. We arrived back into the sun as we crested the ridge which was a huge relief for our cold bodies. My hands were throbbing from being pumped and were bleeding profusely… typical. Pedro and I ditched our boots and tag line and continued up the ridge to the summit. The wind was picking up and I almost made the call to bail close to the top. Rolo had told us high winds were starting up at three pm and we made it to the summit at 4:06 pm, later than I had hoped. After a brief celebration, we down-scrambled and rappelled back to our boots that we left at the start of the ridge. We had to saddlebag the ropes on each rappel as we rapped of single bolts. Once we made it back to the east face, the wind died down and I felt more at ease.
Put up by Kurt Albert and Bernd Arnold with a power drill in 1999, all the anchors on the Red Pillar are comprised of quality stainless steel expansion bolts… quite the treat for a place like Patagonia. They probably placed around 70 bolts on the route, many of which were lead bolts located adjacent to easily protectable cracks. According to Rolo, Arnold cut his teeth climbing soft sandstone in Europe and gained the ethic for placing bolts next to splitters where knotted protection would not be suitable. In my opinion, that isn’t a justifiable excuse to place bolts next to granite splitters; nonetheless, I clipped every one of those bolts.
The bolted anchors also allowed us to rappel quickly. I led the first half and Pedro brought us down to the base in perhaps two hours total. It felt fast and efficient. The wind picked up on the very last rappel and began to rage as we walked across the glacier to Paso Superior… once again, perfect timing. We ate some food at Paso and basically ran down to the base of the glacier in hopes to get down to our shoes in the light. We made it just in time as we happily took off our boots and packed them away. From here we only had 11 km to go, and almost all on easy trail.
We made it back to El Chaltén at 11:50 pm after what would be the longest day out for either of us to date… 23:20 on the go and nearly 24 hours town to town. I made the claim it was one of the best days of climbing I’ve ever had, and Pedro quickly agreed. The wind whipped through town once again reminding us that we made it back just in time. We parted ways at the intersection of Main Street and Lago de Desierto. I barged straight into the Laborum, my favorite restaurant in town, and asked Diego, Gula, and Emanuel if they had any food left over. They could see I looked haggard, and Emanuel offered to make me a sandwich while Gula poured me a beer. It tasted amazing as I hung out and ate in happiness for 45 minutes. I eventually made it back to my apartment to find Chris and Adam happy to see me along with a text from Rolo asking if we were back yet. They were all worried. I felt bad that I worried them as I made some tea and went to bed. It turned out that Pedro’s dad had been watching us for much of the day with binoculars so thankfully his parents were not worried.
The Ride to Piedra Parada
After the Bolte’s left, our crew of eight slowly began to fade. Billy and Cedar left first, then Thomas and Shira. Adam decided to stay in El Chaltén for an extra week before heading back to the states and Ellie opted to stay with him till he left. It appeared Chris and I would be traveling together once again! I felt committed to taking some time to travel after Chaltén but nothing was really calling out to me. We had heard of a couple good climbing spots to check out in Northern Patagonia and decided to try to make it happen. After attempts to purchases bus tickets and flights north failed for various reasons, a local friend offered to post on a Facebook group asking if anyone could give us a ride. Just a few hours later, we were set.
Rodrigo told us he was waiting for a package to arrive in Chaltén and we could leave as soon as it was received. The day it was supposed to come, Rodrigo told us to be ready at seven am, and we were picked up after 10 am. He drove us to where he was staying in his van and proceeded to pack up for the next two hours with Emanuel and Luli, his two other friends who would be joining us on the drive. We were on Argentina time and it felt appropriate. Chris and I are typically not the most patient people but we followed along at their slow pace happily. We hit the road after noon and made a stop at the post office to pick up the package. It looked like a box of climbing shoes and I asked if it was, but they said no with a smile. Their faces showed a look that the contents were more interesting than a simple pair of shoes. They opened up the shoe box and unpackaged two big jars of weed… it was then that I realized this ride was going to be an adventure. The five of us left Chaltén and began our slow journey north as we drank Mate, smoked weed and ate fresh baked good from their friends. We spoke in Spanish the entire duration of the ride which was difficult but rewarding for me and perhaps a bit boring for Chris.
On day two of our journey, we hit a police checkpoint. Emanuel spoke with the officers and handed over all of our IDs or passports, we were held up for maybe ten minutes before being allowed to continue. We continued on and lit up another joint just before arriving at the next police checkpoint. Rodrigo, quickly put out the joint and sprayed some sort of perfume to mask the stench. The police took our identifications but this time, they asked us to get out of the vehicle. Chris and I didn’t fully understand what was going on but suddenly we were removing all of our bags from the car in preparation for a drug dog to take a sniff. The drug dog roamed the van, which still very much smelled like weed along with all of our bags. Mine had a joint inside and I was slightly stressed but not nearly as worried as Emanuel must had been with his two big jars. The dog found nothing and we were free to go. Unbelievable! We got back into our marijuana scented van and drove off to Piedra Parada.
