vallunaraju

sheer nakedness on ridges

Mountain: Vallujanaraju

Altitude: 18,655ft | 5,686 m

Location: Cordillera Blanca, Peru 9.4222° S, 77.4564° W 

The narrow path is gently curving upwards the slope around the crevasse. It’s early morning but we can not see the sun yet, since we are climbing in the shade of mt.Vallujanaraju. I move rhythmically, with slight deliberation in anticipation of the summit. As soon as I get to the top of the slope, I come face to face with spectacular views of edgy walls of mt.Ranrapalka — the view is so grand, like sitting front row of the opening night of the opera. But if I look down, terrain smoothly bends down and then nothing. While I can not see beyond the drop to grasp the full height of my position, my mind panics. We are on the ridge and I feel almost naked in spire of of my 4 top and 2 bottom layers, bulky shoes and heavy backpack with rope, ice tools and two bottles of water.

I turn to my guide, Alfredo, and declare : “And this is Alfredo when I turn back”. Without stopping and just shortening the rope between us, he responds: “Being scared is normal, giving into your fears is not ok. If u will not overcome your fears you would never be able to do daring things like starting a company or telling someone u love them”. His remark occupies my mind and while my mind tries to form an opinion about his statement, my feet follow him along the ridgeline. Along the left side the ice gently curves over the ground either trying to form handrails or hide dramatic terrain drops that lead directly into screaming crevasses. On the right it’s just a small roll down into abyss, which inventive mind can fill up with images of intimidating cliffs.

There is something to be said about ridges. To viewers in the valleys they are spectacular: sometimes cutting the skies with razor thin blades, sometimes showing off their crests like luffing sails of the royal regatta and sometimes decorating the nearby mountains like ruffles on those old-fashioned victorian dresses. But on them, self-preservation instinct hammers your brain with the frequency of a morse code translator. On them you are fully exposed, naked, fully open to peril, and yet free. You realize the smallness of yourself and yet the dexterity of your body. They are honest — their linear feature signals the danger and yet they highlight and expose the nearby mountain ranges without obtrusions.

At the end of the ridge was a tiny summit. We take pictures but I am in a hurry to descend. On the way down I breath loudly making “Om” sounds that any yoga instructor would be proud of. In my opinion descending the ridge is even harder then climbing up it, since now you are constantly facing the drops that your mind was imagining on the way up. And as you stare at the drops, you can not enjoy the victory of the summit yet — you have “be on the edge” — attentively listening to crunching of snow. It is fashionable to say that perilous experiences shape our character. Maybe because after “dangers” are gone” we get of unusual double feeling of being victorious and vulnerable at the same time. Maybe.

In the end, sharp ridge of Vallujanaraju made me very vulnerable but gave me what I usually come to the mountains for — evaluation of what it means to be alive.