The rise
It was 6 am and we met to get dressed in the special clothing and protection with which we were going to climb the Villarrica Volcano. Gloves, helmets, knee pads and snow shoes were part of the clothing, in addition to what we would carry in the backpacks.
Joaquín (guide) had told us that the ascent would be somewhat difficult due to the fallen snow. He indicated that our reward for our effort would be to go down on a sleigh, so he invited us to enjoy the adventure.
My scant 10 summits had only been a preparation for this new challenge. I arrived at the beginning of the mountain and it seemed impossible to me. A few months earlier, I had been diagnosed with a lower back injury. Despite that, I wanted to try the climb.
I began to follow my 19 adventure companions including my husband, who were walking in single file and at a slow but steady pace.
The first hour was hard, ascending a hill or a mountain of dirt where you find stones, bushes and bushes has its difficulty. But when you do it on snow, that difficulty multiplies.
One step and another added up and after about two hours of walking we had our first rest. At that height and a little less than halfway along the route, the landscape around us was impressive. The city and the lake surrounded by orderly forests like green blankets impacted my senses. They say that the mountain is magical and that things happen to you when you go up and when you go down. It is interesting to observe what happens to you when there is no external noise and you appear talking to yourself. The ascent is in some way also a journey to the inner world…
As we climbed, my steps became slower and the pain in my injury was noticeable as well as the fatigue. At that moment I remembered what Joaquín had told us.
I had to harangue myself several times to continue. My walking slowed down and my fellow adventurers seemed to speed up as we approached the summit. Already 20 minutes after arriving, I could see about 10 meters away the footprints in the single file left by the penultimate walker in the line. The last one was me.
During the last hour of climbing I stopped, trying to gather some more energy to “attack the summit.” I turned to see the path I had traveled until I reached a point where it was no longer possible to distinguish details. The feeling of immensity was tremendous and the pure, fresh and cold air filled my lungs while the sun gave me light and warmth. What a full feeling! An emotion of achievement, pure happiness and internal euphoria flooded me, the goal appeared in my sight and just a few steps away.
After a few steps, the summit of the volcano was in front of my eyes.Majestic, imposing, powerful.
I could not believe it. So much beauty in one place. I hugged my husband and my mountain guides with strength and emotion. I then walked towards the crater with several mixed emotions. I had achieved it against all odds and in a year in which any achievement seemed impossible to me.
I could hardly have known that that feeling would not last long, since the descent was going to be another story.
The descent
After the euphoria of arriving at the finish line, Joaquín gathered all of us amateur walkers in a circle. He asked us to take out the additional items and clothing that we had loaded in the backpack and to get dressed for the sleigh ride.
I heard the sleigh thing again and several absurd questions appeared in my head: A sleigh for everyone? How had they gotten so many sleds to the summit? Had they done it with a helicopter? Or maybe they had a sled warehouse at the top of the volcano… How would they keep that warehouse safe in so much snow? Could I choose the color of my sled? Would I go down alone or would there be sleds to go down as a couple?
After a few minutes and already dressed to descend, the guide tells us to take out of the front pocket the last item of the backpack, the most important of all: “The diaper.”
I burst into laughter that then turned into a fit of laughter when he pointed out that that kind of diaper – which we had to fit between our legs just like a diaper is placed on a newborn – was the sled that would take us back!
When I sat on the “diaper” that Joaquín also called “culipatín”, we were informed that it would slide through the snow. This would pick up speed and by the way, (for my peace of mind) it would have a manual mechanism that would allow us to brake at will.
So after learning about my new method of transportation and looking at my extremities to see if the “culipatín” had been properly installed, the next question was whether I would go down alone or with someone.
At this point, aesthetics had taken a backseat and the goal was to survive. So I decided that I would have to ensure my descent by going down while holding on to someone who would give me some security.
I was torn between my husband Andrés, (who had been boasting to me for months about his 200 summits) and Joaquín the guide. Of course in moments of extreme terror one decides for his life. So I wished my husband luck and went straight to my second alternative.
When my fear levels were already under control, I sat down in the snow, hugged the guide firmly from the back and then I heard him shout at the top of his lungs: “Finally the best part!”
He lunges forward at full speed, with me hanging on behind him, and I feel my stomach rise toward my throat in a fraction of a second.
“You didn’t want adventure Karen! Here you have! “They call me crazy Joaquín!” he shouts.
I felt the speed on my face, I panicked and began to scream at him desperately: “You’re going too fast, you’re going too fast!” Now that I think about it, I’m sure he understood: “Faster!!!” Seeing that he did not flinch, with his hand I hit him quickly on the arms and shoulders. At this point, composure and personal distance had been completely erased.
My improvised blows, rather than informing him of my state of anguish, gave him the wrong signal that I wanted more. It seemed that for Joaquín, my blows and screams were the message you give to horses when you ride them and want to accelerate.
After long minutes descending and failed attempts to get my mountain guide to slow down, we recognized the side of the hill and I heard him say: Karen!! We arrived at the base!
I laughed and then shouted: finally!!!!!
It had been a little more than 6 hours of walking and an hour and a half or maybe a little more of culipatín.
In silence I tried to assimilate the day I had lived and even more so, the contrast in emotions experienced. Not only the amazement at the majesty of the summit of the volcano, but also the laughter and terror of the descent at the hands of Joaquín, the guide.
Photos of my adventures and conferences here.