Frostbite up Huayna Potosi - well, not quite...

For those that like their mountains lofty, there is a popular one not far from La Paz that you can have a crack at. The prize, if successful, is standing on the summit at a grand total of 6,088m above sea level – that’s getting on for 20,000 ft! Just imagine the views…

The Huayna Potosi trip not only offers the chance to climb such a big beast, but also promises that you don’t have to be a serious climber to do it. The only recommendation (we heard) was that you should get acclimatised to the altitude as much as possible before you attempt it. We signed up, having spent quite some time close to 4,000m.

The next thing to decide is whether to take a two day trip or a three day. The three day includes a day practicing ice-climbing and we were told that it is mainly to get you used to the altitude. You don’t actually put your new-found skill with an ice-pick into practice on the hike. A two-day trip it was. We’re on a budget you know.

Still, the two day-er was to set us back the handsome sum of 1,400 Bolivianos (USD $210). However, once paid, the company was very generous with lending us items of clothing and kit that was not officially included on the tour. Don’t have long-johns? No problem, here’s a pair. Haven’t got a headlamp? Just buy some batteries and we’ll do the rest. It is a good policy. You can’t rely on amateurs not to forget some crucial piece of equipment necessary for an icy cold mountain.

One of the things we were expected to bring was our seventy-odd litre backpacks. The first part of the journey was to walk from Base Camp at 4,700m to Rock Camp at 5,130m carrying all the equipment we’d need; boots, jacket, trousers, harness, crampons, ice-pick etc. My backpack didn’t weigh as much as it usually does, but even so, it was heavy enough given the task ahead.

We made it to Rock Camp in two hours and I felt pretty good. We’d not be carrying backpacks for the next climb, so I felt perhaps the harder part might be done with. Oh, how foolish those thoughts were.

The next stage of proceedings was to eat, then go to bed at sundown, which was about 6.30pm. It isn’t easy to sleep at such an early hour. It isn’t easy to sleep when you know at midnight you’ll be getting up to climb a mountain. (That’s right, midnight!) And it certainly isn’t easy when you’re sharing a room packed with twenty others all sleeping on mattresses, lined up next to each other on the floor. As I tried my hardest to fool myself into actually being tired, the first bout of snoring sounded from across the room. I’m pretty sure it was one of the French guys. I resigned myself to getting none of the precious sleep I might need and spent the next five hours or so staring at the inside of my eyelids.

At midnight we all got up, had some breakfast and squeezed into our boots. I made sure I had another cup of coca tea, as it is supposed to help the difficulties of altitude.

In total there must have been fifty climbers starting out at 1am. Macario, our guide, led Sophie and me to the foot of the glacier, attached our crampons and harnesses and off we went. We were a team of three and the rope between us was a safety measure in case one of us should fall off the mountain.

It was hard work straight from the off. Under the bright stars, of which I’ve never seen so many, we dug our spikes into the snow and snaked up the mountain. Both in front and behind I could see the headlamps of the other groups and the dark outline of the mountain against the sky.

This was to be a marathon not a sprint. Most guides will always say that a slow and steady pace will win in the end, and in my slight coca daze, I was ready for just that. I knew it would be tough, but at the same time knew that I just needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Then, in what I believe altered the destiny of our hike, Macario suggested that I should join one of the other groups and leave him and Sophie. He had doubts that Sophie would make the summit. Yes, she had been struggling and her stomach wasn’t keen on the early hour, but whose was? I refused. I’ve watched too many disaster movies to know that you never split up!

We continued on and every so often Macario would make some comment about turning back, or that we had at least another three-quarters of the journey left. This wasn’t the tonic we needed. Everybody must have doubts about reaching the top, but your guide is supposed dispel those doubts and fill you with a ‘can-do’ mentality - aside from safety, that’s what he’s there for. I maintained that we were keeping pace with one of the last groups on the mountain, so we couldn’t be doing too badly.

Then came the sheer ice wall part of the hike. Yep, those ice picks would be needed. We scrambled and hauled ourselves up, digging our spikes in and throwing down the pick to get a good hold of the slope. It was pretty scary stuff. This was, after all, the first time I’d used an ice-pick (apart from cocktail making) and let's not forget this was in the dark.

At 5am, while taking a breather, Macario again raised the question of turning back. By this time our hands and feet were numb with cold and Sophie had not much will left, despite my positive words. We had a choice. Carry on up or turn back and attempt to climb down in the dark. We decided to turn back. 6,088m is a large number, but it's just that, a number.

However, going down the mountain in the dark was no easy task. Much of the walking was manageable, but along came the steep ice wall, and I had to go first. Macario dug a metal spike into the snow and attached our ropes to it. I lowered myself down but all I could see beneath me was a few feet of ice on the slope and then darkness. I had no floor to aim for. I was supposed to be lowering myself onto a small ledge on the side of the mountain, but where was it? It was the most frightening experience of my life. Then I lost purchase on the ice and fell. The rope snapped taut, pulled down Sophie, who was a few feet above, but thankfully it held. I scrambled around for some grip, looked down and saw that I was heading in the direction of a deep crevice. Macario then told me I should be heading left a bit and sure enough, the ledge came into view. I have experienced a kind of paralysis with heights in the past, but such was the intense stress of the situation I kept moving.

That was the only technical part of the climb, but still it would be better to have some technical know-how to deal with it. We continued down and by 7am we were back at Rock Camp, the sun just starting to come up. I don't think I've ever felt as exhausted!

It was gruelling and at times pretty terrifying, but at the same time it was a wonderful experience. Although not the motivator we needed, Macario stopped us from falling off the side of a mountain and I thanked him for it.

For now, I have no desire to see another mountain, let alone climb one, but still I am pleased that we tried it. After all, 5,800m isn’t a bad effort!