(Left): El Pico de Orizaba (Aztec name Citlaltepetl) is a big
volcano located about 120 miles east of Mexico city, in Veracruz,
60 miles from the Gulf of Mexico. At about 18,800 ft., it is the
third highest in North America, after Denali (Alaska Range) and
Mt. Logan (St. Elias Mountains in Canada). The view here is from
Tlachichuca, the traditional starting point for those climbing
Orizaba from Mexico City.
(Right): El
Pico de Orizaba, as seen from
the rough, unpaved roads leading to the spartan huts at 14,000
ft. from where most climbers would start their ascent. One passes
little villages located as high as 12,000 ft. on the way to the
huts.
The faces and features of inhabitants in this area reveal their Aztec ancestry, a striking contrast to the mixed blooded, lighter-skinned "mestizos" of Mexico's bigger ciudades.
(Left): At
1:30 AM, I left the
comforting presence of other climbers sound asleep in the hut to
try my luck climbing solo (to my dismay Brian, with whom the
night before I had agreed to climb the mountain, came down with
altitude sickness and can't go). He and I were the only ones
going to attempt the summit today. Getting up wasn't easy.
Although I was zipped in by 6PM the night before, I didn't get
much sleep and spent the night tossing and turning. What
motivates people to crawl out of their sleeping bags at 1 AM into
the cold, dark and scary yonder? (I don't know, but I do remember
an argument raging inside my head as I reluctantly zipped up my
parka and laced my boots: should I stay or should I go?--I must
have come up with a dozen reasons for deciding either way...)
After 1,800 or so feet of climbing, one reaches the tongue of the Jalapa glacier (left, as seen at dawn).This usually marks the beginning of the climb's ice/snow section. On the way down, careless and exhausted from fatigue and the altitude, I slipped on a similar surface about 200 feet higher from this spot. I slipped and spun helplessly, inadvertently letting go of my ice axe. Fortunately, after 15 feet, I collided, knee first, on a rock (ouch!), arresting what would have been an express trip down.
(Left): I got to these frozen waterfalls at 16,500 feet just as the sun came up at 6:30
AM, lifting my spirits considerably. I now realize that, in all
likelihood, I have Orizaba all to myself today. Old Man and
the Sea? Moby Dick? At this point, I didn't feel as if I'm
fighting the mountain. Orizaba all of a sudden looked friendly
and inviting despite my heart beating at 160 beats per minute and
my lungs trying to suck in what oxygen it can find....(continued
next page)
More El Pico de Orizaba Photos...
