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(Right):
Having been going in
complete darkness except for what feeble light I can get from my
headlamp, I was stunned by the sun's rise ("like
golden-haired Phoebus rising", as they like to write in the
old days); it was almost too much for the old retinas. The
vibrant orange hue of the rocks was a pleasant diversion from the
blinding whiteness of the glacier ahead of me.
(Right and Below): After an hour or so of slow progress, I
decided to take the steeper angled, but more direct, approach. At
this point I started feeling very tired. Worse yet, there was
this nagging voice inside reminding me that I should've stayed in
the hut...what am I trying to prove...and so on ad nauseam.
Just what I needed. But I digress...
Orizaba is an eroded volcano and from what I can see (and perceive with my half-powered cerebral cortex), the crater looked extra-terrestrial. At this point I realized that there won't be the highly anticipated panoramic views of Golfo de Mexico at the top because clouds have closed in. To my vast annoyance, I realized that the actual summit, hidden from my approach angle all along, was actually 600 or so feet higher from the lower rim. Another internal argument ensued: "What's the matter, Mr. Intrepid Explorer, can't manage another measly 600 feet?" "Well, THEY should have told me so I could have been mentally better prepared." "I wonder what the folks back in the huts are doing?" "Hunan Sesame Shrimp sure would hit the spot right now." "Shut up and keep climbing..."
(Left): At this
point (9AM and 18,000 ft.)
I was fighting sleepiness and funny thoughts big time. As is
usual when fatigue and oxygen- deprivation have taken hold of
one's body, I found summiting anti-climactic. I remember that the
summit was marked by an iron structure (cross?) and thinking that
I should take a picture of myself to commemorate the occasion,
but I was just too tired and too sleepy to care. I sat down and
leaned against the structure but kept dozing off. Wearily, I
turned back and started my descent. I have to hightail it back
down as the Jeep taking me back to Tlachichuca would be leaving
at 4PM. I thought about the group of 3 climbers from Alaska who
went up the day before. One of them summitted, another turned
around, the third guy also turned around but went down the wrong
way. After a few anxious hours waiting, we finally spotted him
coming down. I wondered if I would have the energy to find my way
if I were to take a wrong turn...After what seemed like an
eternity, I made it back to the hut a little after 4PM. The rest
of the guys were waiting for me with a hot mug of tea (which I
eagerly drank). I wished them luck on their attempt the next day,
threw my gear on the back of the vehicle, and then jumped in.
Staring back at the summit as the Jeep huffed and puffed its way
down the mountain, I started recounting, with a good measure of
satisfaction, this long, exhausting day that began just after
midnight...
