Location

Huandoy Norte, North Face (VI, WI4 M5/5.9, 1000m)
Cordillera Blanca, June 2009

For some reason, the four peaks making up the rarely climbed ‘Huandoys’ seemed to entice me. I had seen them numerous times during the few weeks I’d been climbing in the Blanca, and for one reason or another the folks I’d run into seemed to merely talk about them as objects of admiration – mountain novelties of some sort. After looking endlessly for almost non-existent beta, I talked to my partner Jimmy, and we decided the North Face of Huandoy Norte looked like a spectacular route. Huandoy Norte, which is the third largest in the Cordillera Blanca at 6395m, hadn’t seen an attempt since an avalanche killed a Chilean team in ’03, attempting the easier NE ridge, so we were psyched to give it a go. With the Huandoys grouped relatively close, our plan was to send the face and link-up Huandoy Oeste (6356m) and Huandoy Sur (6160m), eventually down-climbing the long South Ridge of Huandoy Sur to the opposite valley. It was a big goal, and we weren’t sure what to expect attempting to climb a steep face and enchain three 20,000 ft+ peaks in a under a week. Despite the unknowns, our only concern seemed to be going light considering we’d be carrying close to a week’s worth of food up the steep North Face.

We began the approach from the Paron Valley carrying only the essentials and a small rack consisting of three screws, some snow pickets, a few medium sized cams, and a handful of stoppers. The approach required a lot of bush-whacking up steep slopes to reach the moraine, but we were soon staring up the face.

“Wow, that’s big mate”, Jimmy said to me in his best Aussie.
“Looks wild mate, I’m psyched!” I replied.

After some sketchy scrambling, we found ourselves at the foot of the glacier. It was massive, loud, and more cracked than we imagined. Throughout the day we jumped from platform to platform like characters in a Mario game (except our lives were on the line) and for a brief moment I even wondered if the labyrinth-like path we’d followed would melt in the sun while we climbed. It seemed unlikely we’d come back that way, considering our plan, but the thought of down-climbing those vertical seracs seemed daunting to say the least. It was a long day and upon arriving below the bergshrund we dug a spot for the tent, made coca tea, and smoked tobacco. As the sun set, I couldn’t help but admire El Efinge in the distance, silhouetted in a midst of deep orange hues. Just a day prior we had traveled into the Paron with some climbers attempting some new routing on the big wall. Looking out, I wished them good fortune on the days to come and imagined they were probably doing the same.

“Big day…”, Jimmy groaned, as he nudged me awake.
“Be damned if it wasn’t, lets give’r”, I responded, still chin deep in my bag.

It was 1am, the moon was bright, and we quickly fired up some oats before racking up. Looking for a way over the massive bergshrund proved challenging, but we eventually found something. It turned out to be more like a slackline than a solid crossing, and Jimmy gave me a sketchy hip belay as I went toe to heal over the delicate snow bridge. I’m pretty sure I saw the end of the world when I looked beneath me (the crevasse was as wide as a highway at some points), but I forged on – saying “beauty in fear” over and over in my head.

The climb started on some moderate 65 degree snow, which soon led to steep fluting consisting of 70-80 degree ice. Jimmy and I felt confident and the ice was solid, so we simul-climbed up the flutes towards the headwall. As we neared the rock band, though, Jimmy was roasted and a storm had moved in causing some major rock and ice fall, as well as poor visibility. We decided to look for a bivy spot and take on the headwall after refueling. Searching hard, we eventually dug a ledge and hunkered in for a motionless night close to 20,000 ft, hoping the spot would hold on the unstable terrain.

We awoke to sunrise and played the ol’ missing axe game (our bivy surface was like quicksand and swallowed our axes a few feet). After digging them out we began our traverse over some steep ice, hoping to gain a good line to the summit. We eventually found some rock that wasn’t too overhanging and gave it a go. The rock consisted of many loose blocks but protection was decent and I felt somewhat confident with every pull. After a solid pitch, the rock ran out and we found ourselves on more steep ice. At this point, we realized we had climbed too far right during the storm and still had a considerable amount of traversing on steep terrain to gain the summit. After a few rope length traverses, the weather turned foul like the afternoon before. Belaying Jimmy half asleep, I sunk deep into my hood and began to drift from exhaustion under the heavy snow.

“Ahh, my calves, my calves mate!” Jimmy yelled.
It was hard to see him, but I soon realized he’d run it out quite a bit and was starting to cramp.
“Place that screw, place that goddamn screw!” I yelled back.
The rope tensed and I saw Jimmy lay back, giving his calves a well earned rest.
“Fucking close…”

There was no doubt we were starting to suffer. The bulk of the climb, while rather uneventful, had been quite steep, and the climbing had become increasingly technical and strenuous as we gained altitude. Despite the suffering, there was no turning back in the bad weather; we were too close not to commit.

I took my block, leading some steep rock, which proved very touchy with gloves and crampons. Once again, though, the rock seemed to disappear too soon, and I found myself running it out on some thin ice. The exposure and shitty protection left me a little uneasy but, like always, the feeling was soon forgotten to the overwhelming sense of the alpine. Jimmy followed, and quickly took his block, leading a tough section that looked like it would gain the cornice. The rock was covered in rime and Jimmy took a big whipper trying to overcome a cruxy bulge. After finding his bearings, he sent it, running it out a scary fifteen feet before finding a solid cam placement. The ridge to the cornice was hard to gain because of unconsolidated and overhanging snow, but we eventually charged through after digging deep and making some desperate moves. A final pitch of delicate mixed climbing gained the cornice, but without a visible line to the summit we decided to bivy hoping for better morning skies.

We awoke to a room with a view and quickly tackled the cornice. Jimmy was generous enough to let me take on the chest deep snow, and we gained the summit just before another storm rolled in. As Jimmy followed my steps the clouds swept over the summit taking away our epic panorama in a flash. We quickly down-climbed to the plateau, but it looked as if our plans for the traverse had been dampened. It had taken an extra day to summit due to bad weather and there was a copious amount of snow on the plateau linking the Huandoys. Determined, though, we set up the tent praying for a weather window.

It proved hopeless, though, and we enjoyed a two day suffer-fest near 21,000 ft instead. The storm never faltered, bringing heavy, wet snow and the coldest nights I’ve ever endured. We made an attempt on Huandoy Oeste, but bailed halfway up due to the slab avalanche potential. Running low on food and motivation, we decided to rap down the North Face and bail on the big enchainment. Each rap proved time consuming due to the huge amount of snow the storms had left on the face. It was the same story every pitch; looking for ice, finding lemons. After twenty raps and far too much v-threading, the light began to fade and the weather had worsened. We tried to find the bridge over the bergshrund but couldn’t see anything. The width of the bergshrund made it impossible to rap over and as it began to snow harder, we heard slides below us and decided to seek shelter until we could find the bridge. We found some seracs above the bergshrund and enjoyed a scary bivy over a large crevasse. It was painful getting so close to the end and being shut down, but sometimes the alpine is like that. You put it all out there but in the end the mountains are un-relentless. Out of food at this point, we spent the night drinking tea and sleeping intermittently between the sound of rock fall and snow pouring into the crevasse below us. It was truly a venture into the arena of suffering. Luckily, though, we awoke to sunshine and quickly found the way down.

Hours later, off the face, we found ourselves weaving through the last bit of boulders near the road. “We’re back to it”, I said to Jimmy, and he sighed with genuine relief. The valley was wet, quiet, and there had been no sign of a combio to hitch a ride with. We faced a 25km walk out of the valley, it had been a day since we last ate, and as it began to storm again we simply threw up our hoods and began walking. We weren’t suffering anymore though. With the climb fresh on our minds, each step brought us closer to a state of peaceful meditation.

-Erik Rieger