Iztaccihuatl

Lengthy palpation of the sleeping woman

Mountain: Tocllaraju

Altitude: 17,159 ft | 5,286 m

Location: Puebla, Mexico 19.1783° N, 98.6427° W

“Unexpected” is probably the word to describe mountains in Mexico. The country is famous for its drinks, food, dancing, partying, culture, and anything but mountains. Nevertheless, 3 hours by car or public transport, straight from Mexico City, will get you to the base of a five thousand-meter mountain, Iztaccihuatl.

It’s 6pm. Not far, in Mexico City, my friends are getting dressed up for dinner, while I snack on a cold sandwich and tuck myself into the sleeping bag on an aluminum bunk bed. The plan is to leave at midnight in order to arrive to the summit of Iztaccihuatl by 9am. But it is still so light outside. I am rotating in my sleeping back. The bright light from a projector, gleaming through the window of the concrete bunkhouse is preventing me from sleeping. So I am just laying there, staring in the ceiling and going in my head through the full packing list of items in my backpack (headlamp — check, crampons check, ice axe- check, …).

The alarm goes off at midnight sharp and I am almost jumping out of my sleeping bag to rush for the summit. We boil the water, pack our luggage and step into the night. The first 3 hours I have spend in the darkness consumed by my thoughts and distracted by the beams of the headlamp. As my mind is drifting into meditation, the sunrise slowly creeps in and the next time I raise my head, we are high enough to see almost a 5500 meter active volcano Popocatépetl.

According to the legend, Iztaccihuatl was the princes who feel in love with the warrior Popocatépetl. Father king being opposed to the choice, sent Popocatépetl to the war and after some time told his daughter that Popocatépetl had died in the battle. Iztaccihuatl could not stand the loss of her love and died brokenhearted. When the warrior returned home with the victory, and found his beloved was no longer alive, he fell on his knees and started crying. The Gods took pity and turned the lovers into mountains. So here we have it: 2 mountains facing each other — one in the shape of the sleeping woman and the other of grief-strickenprince, still erupting with anger. And here am I, somewhere in the vicinity of the feet of the princess.

They say that the hardest part of climbing Ixta is to reach the knees and after it it’s just the matter of distance. After one frozen snickers and a couple of hours of heavy clambering, I have optimistically assumed that the rest of the climb would be a walk in the park (well, in a glaciated, cold, high-altitude park). If you see Ixta from the side, you see 4 pronounced overlapping cones, and the distance between them seems so easy. We first go down of the first cone and increase our tempo. But then when we hit the bottom of the gorge connecting two cones, it’s time to climb up again. First two cones/gorges were relatively easy. But by the third cone I have started loosing the confidence that we would ever make it to the summit. It’s time to put on crampons (usually a good sign of proximity to the summit). We cross the ridge where volcanic evaporations smelled like rotten eggs. We climb another hill and there is still no summit in view. My guide promises another 15 minutes to the summit. I take another breath and passively follow him to another hill. Suddenly he stops and says “we are here. The summit. It’s here”. There is no dramatic overhangs, ranges, views. It’s just the top of the hill. We take couple of pictures, sit for 5 minutes in silence and start on going down.

But in mountain climbing there is never “we reached the summit, we are done”. It’s always only half way. The fast ascend to high altitude without overwhelms my body. It’s still a 1.5 mile hike back the “knees” so I plan on being well above 16,000 feet for at least 4 hours. Going through my memories I just remember sitting on a glacier, squeezing frozen chocolate bar with not a single sole (besides my guide) around and thinking how far away I am from everyone. After 10 minutes I force my aching body to get up and start descending.

By the time we hit the car, my body gave up on me. My knees were crying, my feet were complaining, my head was pumping from altitude and uncomfortable weight of the helmet — and all the voices of my body parts were simultaneously shouting in my head. Only when I crawled into a comfortable hotel in Mexico City I could appreciate the beautiful huge body of princess Iztaccihuatl. I guess, mountains are like a rich chocolate cake, you enjoy the taste while eating, but the complete fullness comes only a couple of hours after you are done with it.