Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre
Photo: Ty Lekki
I first heard about the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre back in 2017, after listening to Hayden Kennedy’s now iconic Enormocast interview from 2011. I had only been climbing for about a year, and this was the first time I’d even heard of Patagonia as a climbing destination. Hayden’s story fascinated me as well as his description of the climbing in Patagonia and the wild controversy regarding Cerro Torre. I recall Googling “Cerro Torre” after listening to the interview to see what the mountain looked like but never once during this time, did I consider I would ever climb the mountain let alone the Southeast Ridge. Regardless, the episode left a mark on me, and I was inspired to eventually make it down to Patagonia.
Fast forward to 2019… I’d hit the road to climb full-time, and I arbitrarily came up with two major goals: to free climb El Capitan and to experience climbing in Patagonia. The latter was an ambiguous objective in some ways, but it became reality in January 2021. It was during that first trip to El Chaltén where I finally laid eyes on Cerro Torre for the first time and decided I wanted to climb it.
To me, Cerro Torre is the most beautiful mountain in the world. I know it’s a bold statement especially considering I haven’t seen the Himalayas or other legendary mountain ranges in person, but I’ve poured over countless images of iconic peaks, and none of them quite measure up in my opinion. Cerro Torre’s sheer presence is breathtaking. It’s not even that tall in elevation at 3,128 meters (around 10,000 feet) and some would laugh at such a low elevation mountain being considered for this title. The thing that makes Cerro Torre so incredible is the way it looks. It is shaped like a tower, jutting upward from glacial terrain and glazed over and ultimately capped by wild rime ice formations.
The Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre is perhaps the most striking feature on the mountain, and it has a fascinating history. It has been written about many times so I will not elaborate on it too much here, but the short version of the story is the following: In 1959, Italian Ceasare Mastri claimed to have climbed Cerro Torre via the North Ridge. The current consensus is that this claim is bullshit but even at the time, there was significant skepticism. As a result, Mastri made a second attempt on the mountain via the Southeast Ridge in 1970, climbing 99 percent of the mountain to the summit, mostly via the Southeast Ridge before stopping at the top of the granite headwall capped by a rime mushroom. On this ascent, Mastri placed something in the realm of 600 bolts (which are really just pressure pitons) to make upward progress with a gas-powered pneumatic compressor that was left at the belay of his high point. His climb, known as The Compressor Route, was completed to the summit by Jim Bridwell and Steve Brewer in 1979 but after an Italian Team made the first true first ascent of the peak in 1974 via ice and rime formations on the West Face. The Compressor Route was for many years the easiest line up Cerro Torre until 2012 when Hayden Kennedy and Jason Kruk climbed it using variations to avoid the bolt ladders and removed over a hundred bolts from the route on their way down. Hayden and Jason opened what is currently known as the Southeast Ridge, a harder and more committing climb that still shares the bulk of terrain with the original Compressor Route. Over the past 13 years, the Southeast Ridge has been climbed over a dozen times, making it a modern classic but it is certainly still a challenging line up one of the most badass mountains in the world.
After laying eyes on Cerro Torre my first season in El Chaltén, I had a strong desire to climb it and came back the following season with my friend Jacob Cook with the intension to do so. Plans never seem to work out the way they are intended in Patagonia and we never even hiked into the Torre Valley that season, but I knew I would be coming back. I skipped the following 23’/24’ Austral summer season but finally made it back down to El Chaltén in mid-December 2024, to climb with Colin Haley for a two-month stint. Colin has climbed more classic routes in this range than literally anyone in the world and luckily for me, the Southeast Ridge was not one of them. Colin and I had chatted about a variety of potential objectives prior to coming down and when we eventually met up, we wrote down a fairly long and comprehensive list of climbs we were interested in attempting. For me, this climb was at the pinnacle of that list, honestly being the single most climb that I wanted to do anywhere in the world. For Colin, the Southeast Ridge was high, but I got an understanding he would be only willing to give it a shot under a very specific set of conditions in which we had a high certainty of success. This made sense being that Colin had attempted the Southeast Ridge 3 times prior, making it within 3 pitches from the summit mushroom on a previous attempt. I just had to hope the correct window would present itself for my dream climb.
After my arrival in town on the 18th of December, I had about a week of bad weather to sit in town before the first weather window presented itself. The forecast showed a day and half of good weather followed by a couple days of bad and then another blip of something good. It’s typically unwise to make plans for windows too far out and being that this blip was still 5 to 6 days away while packing up for the first window, we decided to ignore it. We went into the mountains for the first day and half of good weather to attempt the Italian (East) Pillar of Aguja Poincenot. The weather turned out to be a bit worse than expected but that didn’t even matter because we ended up bailing due to non-weather-related reasons.
With the knowledge of the upcoming blip of good weather, we sent an InReach message to our friend Rolo to see if he could provide some insight into what we would do that day. This was in part due to my suggestion of going for a consolation summit attempt of Mojon Rojo which Colin was interested in but inferred would be a waste of energy if in fact the weather was looking good enough to go out again in a couple days. Rolo never responded in time and I successfully convinced Colin to romp up Mojon Rojo. However, upon arrival back in Chaltén on Christmas Eve, it did appear that little blip of good weather was certainly good enough for something big. As I checked the weather that evening, I immediately thought to myself that the window may in fact be ideal for an attempt at the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre but I knew I would have to be careful in the way I presented this idea to Colin, being that he is a natural skeptic. If we were to decide to attempt the Southeast Ridge, we would have only one day of rest on Christmas day before hiking into the Torre Valley and that entire day of rest would consist of us packing up. In addition, we had no gear cache in the Torre Valley meaning that our approach day would be brutal due to the weight we would be required to carry for this gear intensive objective. Being that we were already fatigued from Poincenot and Mojon Rojo, I knew Colin would feel uninclined, but I had a card left that I had not played… my friend Danny Buecker.
Danny is a friend of mine from university and while we were not particularly close during our time in school, we seem to be able to link up every couple of years post-graduation. Danny was nearly finished with a 7-month motorcycle trip from San Francisco to the southern tip of South America. He was on his way back from Tierra del Fuego and sent me a message just before we left for Poincenot offering “very affordable” portering services.
I woke up the next morning, slightly sore and fatigued from our previous mountain mission but feeling generally well, especially after reviewing the forecast again and noticing that it had improved further. Conditions in the range were dry, and the forecast offered 2 days of high pressure with sunny skies and gusts of 15 knots or less at an elevation that corresponds to 700 hectopascals which is just above the summit of Cerro Torre. In addition, the first morning of good weather was quite cold, which was ideal for getting up the mixed terrain on the approach to the Col of Patients. I texted Danny that morning asking if he was interested in hiking into the mountains the next day to spend the night because I knew portering to the Torre Valley was a two-day mission. He said he was in. Shortly after, I got a text from Colin suggesting we go on a morning “recovery scramble”. Thomas Bukowski, Colin and I went off across the bridge just north of town to Pared de los Condores to climb some 5.7 multipitch in order to “recover”. It turned out to be incredibly fun as we climbed up to the plateau north of Rio Blanco to a beautiful view of the mountains with the town of El Chaltén in the foreground.
We discussed the conditions, the weather, and the portering services but I was careful not to outright suggest the Southeast Ridge. My hope was more so to steer Colin into suggesting the objective himself, but I must concede it was difficult for me to hide my excitement for the idea, so it was perhaps obvious what my intensions were. After getting back from our scramble, Colin and I peered through binoculars at the headwall of the Southeast Ridge and concluded that it looked dry and thus committed to the objective. Danny met up as we began to rack up and pack up and Colin clarified that we would not be attempting such an objective unless it were in fact for Danny’s help to carry in weight.
The route itself is 3000 feet and rated 5.12- C1 WI5 M3 R, meaning that we would need to bring gear to ice climb, mix climb, free climb and aid climb and fit all of the above on our harnesses or in a single 40 liter pack for the follower on route. Most parties who have climbed the route complete it with a single bivy above the Col of Patients, but we opted to climb it in a single day. The plan would be to start early in the morning and climb as quickly as possible while the follower jumars behind. I was most excited about climbing the headwall pitches and expressed this to Colin, but we ultimately decided to break up the climbing so that I would lead the first 15 pitches of rock with interspersed sections of low angle snow. Colin would lead the final 10 pitches starting with ice and mix terrain and culminating with the 4 awe inspiring headwall pitches. This was the most logical way to break up the climbing being that I am faster on the rock and Colin is faster on mix and ice terrain.
We packed communal gear first, debating what to bring and what to leave in town. We opted for a single 80-meter rope and no tag line as our rope system. We brought 100 feet of Amsteel for adding cord to rap anchors and for tagging up gear while short-fixing the headwall pitches. For rack, I convinced Colin to forgo the pitons and only bring cams and nuts for protection. We brought a double rack from .2 to 3, a single .1 and 0, an offset .1/.2, and a set off nuts. Once the communal gear was sorted, the bulk of it was handed to Danny and we subsequently went out to purchase food. In addition to the freeze-dried meals and high calory per gram bars that we brought from home, it’s always nice to supplement them with empanadas, Chipas, Alfajores, and other local foods specifically for the hiking days. We eventually packed up our bags by the late evening and went to bed with plans to start hiking at 7:30am.
The hike in was honestly quite enjoyable being that my pack was relatively light. Despite spending the majority of the past 7 months sitting on a motorcycle and drinking beers as Danny claimed, he had no issues with hauling the bulk of our gear. Halfway through the hike, we even gave him a bit more weight in the form of one additional boot each. We arrived at Norwegos camp the afternoon of the 26th in cold and windy conditions. We decided to wait to set up our tent and sought shelter in the Norwegos bivy cave. We ate food and hung out as Ty Lekki, another friend and talented photographer, rolled into camp and the wind began to die down. We set up our tent and went to bed with alarms set for 7am… quite a late start for the alpine.
The tent billowed among strong winds that night and I recall waking up to go to the bathroom and looking up at Cerro Torre to still see it covered in clouds. The forecasts are never perfect down here and I was starting to worry we would not be climbing the next day. However, by the time we awoke, there was no wind and no clouds. Just crisp temperatures and sun… perfect. We packed up camp and began our approach to the Col of Patients at 8am. We knew that at least one party of three was ahead of us but as we came into view of the approach buttress, we noticed a second party near to the col.
I have read more than once that the approach to the Col of Patience “is an alpine climb in its own right”. It covers roughly 1500 vertical feet of moderate mixed terrain and snow, changing a bit year by year. Colin had proper steel ice climbing crampons with him and kindly offered me his Nomics for the unroped section of crossing the bergschrund being that I had a pair of Irvis Hybrid crampons with aluminum heal pieces and dull horizontal steel front points. Colin led one pitch of easy alpine ice to a large snow slope, and we wallowed through it to the rock buttress. From there, Colin led all of the roped climbing to the Col of Patience making it to our camp by 12:30pm, 1:30 faster than we had planned. This was pretty much my first time ever properly mixed climbing, and it was a blast. I found climbing rock in crampons to feel surprisingly more secure and enjoyable than I had expected but I still couldn’t help but laugh at the concept of climbing sunny and dry 5.8 in boots and crampons. It is practical to do this because changing shoes or boots frequently would require a significant amount of time.
By the early afternoon, we had set up our tent, melted enough water, and ate dinner. It felt silly not to be utilizing the perfect weather to climb but we stuck to the plan and went to bed before 5pm.
I started my lead block of the first 15 pitches of the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre at 12:30 am from the Col of Patience. Climbing under headlamp through the early hours of the morning, I regularly switched between climbing shoes and mountain boots to navigate low-angle snow slopes staggered between sections of rock. The first 10 pitches were relatively straightforward, and by 4 am, we reached pitch 11 which is an overhanging aid crack completely plastered in rime known as the Haston Crack.
We had hoped the two parties who started the day before would have hacked it out, but as I tiptoed past their camps in the dark, just shy of the crack, it was clear I would be the one doing the hacking. At the base of the pitch, I swapped back into my boots, this time without crampons, and with an ice axe in hand, I started swinging away at what started out as a 2 foot thick section of rime.
The first 20 feet were slow due to the thickness but as I got higher, I eventually got into a flow state rhythm: hack away rime, place gear, yard up, step in the sling—repeat. As I worked my way up, the rime thinned out, the sun started to rise, and by the time I reached unencumbered rock, I was able to switch off my headlamp and change back into climbing shoes. The last section of the pitch featured lower angle, fun and exciting face climbing that I did very much wishing that I had a little less rope drag!
When I finally arrived at the anchors, I was buzzing from one of the most enjoyable and unique pitches I had ever climbed. A couple of days earlier, Colin had estimated our chances of success at just 60% after seeing how caked the crack was and while I remained skeptical of that figure, getting past it in quick time provided me with a lot more assurance that we would succeed.
We arrived at the base of the ice towers of Cerro Torre at 7:30 am meaning that my block was over, and I would be passing over the lead to Colin for the rest of the day. Colin meandered through a labyrinth of wild rime formations, concluding in a long pitch of vertical ice up a narrow chimney. As I jumared up, I honestly felt slightly out of my element as I ascended diagonal pitches of ice and mixed terrain in my dull crampons as rime and ice fell around me due to the warming temperatures.
Colin got off route once, moving left to enter the ice chimney prematurely but a short rappel on a v thread and a horizontal jumar to a new anchor brought us back on route. As we arrived back to my familiar medium of vertical rock, I felt some form of relief as well as a sense of gratitude towards Colin for leading the ice and mixed pitches in the speed at which he did. The dude clearly knows how to climb in the alpine and it was a treat to watch him perform in his element as I took mental notes.
I was honestly a bit bummed that our blocks worked out in a way in which I would not be leading the headwall pitches but as we arrived at the base just before 11am and glanced up at the series of soaking wet flakes, my tired body felt a wave of relief that I would be the belayer. The first pitch went quickly but the next three took a solid chunk of time as Colin navigated a maze of soaking wet flake systems with occasionally sparse gear placement opportunities. As I jugged up the third headwall pitch, I could see the compressor just left of me, perhaps 50 feet away. It was a surreal feeling to see that piece of machinery. I have been dreaming about standing on top of it for years and it appeared I would be doing so shortly. The final pitch was the crux, and I belayed Colin attentively as I watched running water occasionally drip down his arm as he pulled moves of run out 5.11+/12-. It honestly didn’t look like it was too difficult or run out of climbing if conditions were dry, but the wetness added quite a bit of flavor. Colin opted to break up the final pitch into two and on the second to last 1/2 pitch, he left a series of horizontal placements that would have proved to be challenging to clean if it wasn’t for my idea of leaving a .4 to lower off at the start of the traverse to be retrieved on the way down. We had already bootied another .4 on route and Colin seemed quite pleased with this tactic as I lowered out and cleaned the remaining gear in quick time. Thus far, we had been climbing in the sun but as we got to the final ½ pitch, the sun went behind the summit of Cerro Torre, and we got a taste of the cold.
Colin eventually topped out the headwall, reaching the base of the summit mushroom. The sun and its warmth were back, and I knew the climb was essentially over. While the summit mushroom from the west side is well known to be difficult, especially in virgin conditions, the mushroom from the east side is a relatively low angle romp up well consolidated rime and snow. I jumared up the final pitch on an ice screw anchor (a first for me), and we climbed/hiked up the summit mushroom, arriving on the true summit at 3:30pm. When I reached the top, Colin was sitting down in a little depression he had constructed and advised me not to fall as we were not anchored to the mountain.
I recall being in a state of euphoria on top of that mountain. The view towards the Fitz skyline is mind blowing, especially understanding the relative size of many of its walls. To the West is the Southern Patagonia Ice Cap which is a sight that I struggle to describe in words. I came down to Patagonia with zero expectations or preconceived objectives this season but in the back of my head, this single climb was in fact the objective my heart desired most. I felt elated, overjoyed, stoked, proud of myself and grateful for my partnership with Colin.
I had the thought that it was a bit absurd to be standing on top of Cerro Torre with Colin Haley after having been climbing for less than 8 years. Colin is one of the best alpine climbers in the world and the most accomplished climber in Patagonia and here I was, standing on top of the most iconic route in the range with him as my partner. I’ve almost always felt like the more experienced and dialed climber in most of my partnerships but with Colin, that certainly is not the case. Due to this plus the fact that Colin led all the crux pitches on the route, a thought came to me that I was being guided up the mountain. It was a bit of an interesting concept for my ego to digest.
With hindsight, I do not think this is the case at all, as I do feel I put in an equivalent effort, but I do distinctly remember asking myself the theoretical question: How would two Tylers fair on this climb? I’ve had this thought on several occasions in the past and I think it’s a fun speculative exercise. I am confident that two Tyler’s would be able to get up the route in similar conditions but not in a single day solely due to the ice towers. However, for the purposes of this theoretical ego exercise, it is worth mentioning that even if I was theoretically unable to lead certain terrain, I believe that is irrelevant to meaning that a climb is guided since there are many scenarios in which climbers link up with strengths and weakness where one partner cannot perform at a similar level as the other in certain terrain.
Before I get too far into the reflection, I still must write about how we got down the mountain. Colin, reversed course first back to the ice screw anchor and began setting up a v-thread rappel as I down climbed to meet him. We took off our crampons and began rappelling down the headwall. The first rap deposited us onto the compressor. I was giddy with excitement and took many pictures as we pulled the rope on the first of many rappels. We made it back to the ice towers quickly, put our crampons back on, and began a series of traversing rappels on ice and snow back to the proper ridge. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and we eventually made it back to the Col of Patience by 10pm without the need for headlamps.
Both of the teams attempting the same route had bailed at or before the start of the ice towers and arrived back at the Col an hour or so before us. One team had planned to stay the night on the Col while the other was just beginning their rappels back to the Torre Glacier. The team that stayed was comprised of 3 ladies and one of them named Caro North kindly fed us warm soup out of a thermos as we began to de-rack. We spent the night eating the last of our food and packed up early in the morning to rappel down the same alpine buttress we ascended. The now typical rappel line is apparently to the skiers’ left but with a single 80-meter rope, we did not think we would be able to use it. The rappels back down to the glacier went smoothly with the final one being a full 80-meter rap using a Beal Escaper. We tugged the rope down past the Bergschrund and roped up as we descended the glacier. Over the course of the many rappels, the rope obtained 2 core shots, but we continued to use it being that they were not so bad. We arrived back at Norwegos Camp in blazing hot temperatures to a populous scene which included Ty and Danny. They were stoked to see us, and we were stoked to see them.
We took off our packs and basked in the sun as we very slowly unpacked and repacked our bags for the hike out. The weather was forecasted to be solid and we were in no rush. As we sat on the boulders of Norwegos Camp, Danny and Ty recounted their time watching us on the ground and through the drone camera with smiles on their faces. Danny informed me that this was the first time he had ever witnessed climbing outside of a gym and we laughed at that absurdity. Vibes were top notch as we eventually started our hike back to town in the early afternoon. The hike back was relatively uneventful other than reversing the Tyrolean sans harness and randomly running into a friend from high school on the trail who I had not seen in 13 years. We eventually made it back to town in the early evening, concluding our trip to the Torre Valley and capping the year 2024.
The SE ridge was a true test of everything I have learned in climbing and having succeeded feels incredibly satisfying. I have been dreaming about this objective for years and I feel incredibly lucky to have climbed it in a single day with such a dialed partner. This climb is undoubtably one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had in the mountains, and I hope this write-up can inspire others to pursue their own dreams or this very climb. This route, especially when completed in two days, is certainly a reasonable objective for many climbers as none of the pitches are too challenging on their own. I anticipate this line becoming more popular in the future and I would urge those heading down to Patagonia to give this thing a try.
Thank you, Danny, for being an awesome friend and enabling this mission to happen as a result of your willingness to porter for us. Thank you, Ty, for always bringing good vibes to a trip and documenting our climb. Thank you, Patagonia, for supporting me and this trip and thank you Colin for the partnership and friendship.
