Gear - Hands

Hands are the extremities of the body, meaning the higher you go and the colder it gets, the less blood gets pumped to these areas. Not only can frozen hands become very painful, but if they don't recover, they can become damaged and require amputation. More immediately, if you cannot work your hands, you cannot work the belay devices, the ascender, and the ropes. This is a major obstacle in getting down safely. 

• Marmot Expedition Mitts - My old major mittens are of the highest quality. The absolute best things to have on the hands when it's cold, but these mitts make working the ascender and carabineers challenging. 
• Outdoor Research Alti II Mittens - A substitute for the above, these are of equal quality and fit tighter, meaning that it is easier to work the ropes and tackle. I think they are too small for me and I will likely leave them. 
• Black Diamond Guide Gloves - Made for serious cold, these have the advantage of 5 digits; however, up really high, they might not be enough for safe use. Gloves are colder than mitts, so these might not be used with any regularity. 
• Outdoor Research Highcamp 3-Finger Gloves - The benefits of a mitt with added dexterity, allowing more warmth than a glove but a little more maneuverability. 
• Outdoor Research Stormtracker Sensor Gloves - For warmer days or for a mid-layer, these are light, fit tight, and add some protection from sun, wind, and cold. 
• Black Diamond Midweight Softshell - like the above, these can stand alone or be used under a mitt. 
• Lightweight gloves - useful for a base layer, these add minimal warmth but also keep the skin from being exposed when the outer layers need to come off (for opening packs, taking pictures, etc.).

Not Pictured: Packages of Hand Warmers 

Gear - Feet

Protecting the feet is paramount as you need them to walk and walking is what gets you up and down the mountain. 

• Approach: Mountain Wearhouse Extreme - These are all-conditions boots that are fine in town and can go up to Advanced Base Camp. They will be warm enough for the lower mountain and keep out some of the scree and water encountered along the way which can create blisters. 
• Double w/ Overboot: La Sportiva Olympus Mons - The king of mountaineering boots. An inner boot is tight to the foot, stabilizing the ankle and keeping the heat in. Then there is the outer boot which is firm to support crampons, add protection from the cold, the rock, and snow, and has a large overboot to protect from snow getting in as well as self-kicks from the crampons ruining pants. 
• Lounging: Flip Flops - easy on/off around camp when putting on the big boots is just too much effort. 
• Tent: Sierra Designs Down Booties - Pure luxury, these come on at the end of the day, good for keeping the piggies toasty. 
• Socks: lots: Smartwool Mountaineering Max, Everyday Diamond, etc. “There is one item of GI gear that can be the difference between a live grunt and a dead grunt: socks, cushioned soled OD green. Try and keep your feet dry while we're out humping. I want you to remember to change your socks whenever we stop. The Mekong will eat a grunt's feet right off his legs. There are two standing orders in this platoon. One, take good care of your feet, and two, try not to do anything stupid, like getting yourself killed.”

All good advice, Lieutenant Dan. 

Not pictured: Hiking gaiters to keep the little rocks out of my shoes. 

Gear - Head

 The body cannot survive without the head. So take care of it. 

• Jublo Glacier Glasses (x2) - Super sunglasses that block light from the bottom and sides. Another pair for back up in case one breaks or gets lost. If sun gets in the eyes it can burn the retinas and cause a condition called snow blindness, which can lead to a loss of vision. If this happens, a climber may not be able to get down under their own power). 
• Smith Goggles - To wear on summit night when the darkness is most, but to protect the eyes and face from wind and snow blasts. 
• Buffs (x2) - These keep sun off the next, wind and snow off the lower face, and can keep dust and germs out of the lungs. 
• Bucket hat - Keeps heat in and sun off the noggin and back of the neck, ears, nose
• Warm beanie - Keep that heat in. 
• Balaclava (one of 3 to choose from) - Wraps over the head and next, around the face, protecting it from the cold. 
• Hot Chillys Chil-block Half Mask - Like a balaclava only more minimal, and also helps keep cold air from going in the lungs. 
• Headlamps: Petzl Tikina 2 & Decathlon - one for tents and lower down, a fresh one for up high. 
• Helmet: Edelrid - for dangerous sections to keep the skull from being smacked by falling snow, ice, gear, or people. 

Not pictured: Oxygen mask 

Gear - Legs

The legs, like the torso, benefit from layers, but since it doesn't include protecting major organs, the purpose is a bit different. Also, a harness needs to fit over the pants so comfort and utility are important. 

• Base Layer - 3 pairs of technical base wear (Marmot, Decathlon) - Like the base layers on the torso, these are worn first. I have three pairs so that after multiple days of climbing on the mountain, I can swap them out and avoid stewing in my own filth for too long. 
• Fleece Layer (REI) - These pants go on next and add a lot of warmth. They are used in the cold up until the down layer is needed. 
• Mountain Hardwear Puff Pants - A luxury for the high camps. After a climb, I change into these in the tent. They are like a sleeping bag for your legs, soft and pillowy. 
• Rab Kangri Gore-Tex hardshell - The wind and waterproof layer that protects from the elements. These are worn on all climbs leading up to Everest and on Everest up until I need to switch to the down suit. 
• Trekking:  Arc'teryx pants - Used for the time before/after the climb and at base camp when the temps are good. 
• Mountain Hardware Tights (Not pictured) - A layer that adds compression and warmth. 

Not Pictured: Regular old boxer briefs for approach and lounging during laundry days

Gear - Upper Body

Keeping the core warm is crucial to survival on the mountain. High-quality layers are key to maintaining heat and balancing breathability and weight. 

• Base layer - Decathlon top. Worn under all other layers. It sits close to the skin to pull sweat off and dry quickly. 
• Black Diamond Apenglow Hoodie - a high-quality shirt that can act as a base layer as well, but this one has a hood to add to warmth preservation and prevent drafts from slipping down the neck. 
• Patagonia base layers (yellow and brown) - can be worn as base layers and are also fit for regular camp wear. 
• Lightweight Fleece (REI) - This layer adds some warmth but not a lot, so is good for wearing under shells. 
• Mountain Hardwear Fleece - a heavier fleece that adds warmth and cuts the wind; can be used as a jacket for hiking/walking around as well as under shells. 
• Cotopaxi Fuego down jacket - The down adds warmth and is lightweight. Can be a stand-alone coat or part of a layered system. 
• Arc'teryx Beta SL jacket - an outer shell that cuts wind and rain. Waterproof so helpful in the snow. This is the jacket worn on most of the climb (and all training climbs) before I have to switch out for the down suit. 

Not pictured: technical running shirts for lounging and approach to the mountain, North Face Windstopper jacket for causal wearing. 

Aconcagua

 This post is going to be a lot more factual and contain less description and pizzaz than normal. The detailed description is being put towards the book efforts!

Aconcagua. 

At 6,961m (22,838 ft), she is the tallest mountain in the Americas and the tallest in the world outside of the Himalayas. She is one of the 7 Summits (and 2nd tallest of those as well). This is not a technically difficult mountain but the altitude and size of it do make it challenging in its own ways. 

I joined a company called Adventures Patagonicas for this one on an accelerated plan of 12 days (compared to 17-21 for other operators). My team was 2 guides and 6 people. After the obligatory gear check and meeting, we had dinner out at an Argentinian grill and ate more meat than any human should consume in a single sitting. The next day they drove us out into the mountains, past vineyards, to the park entrance (3000m) where we would begin our trek. It was about 7km from the road to the first camp which took close to three hours, moving very slowly. Mules carried our gear so we were only hauling light loads. The first camp was well equipped with WiFi, beds in the tent, and catered meals. It was not a rough start to the mountain.

Much of the first two days of the hike look like this. 

Day 3 of the trip took us from Confluencia (3400m) to Plaza de Mulas (base camp at 4400m). However, in between is about 18km of trekking, fortunately, not steep. The route mostly follows the river up the valley and can be considered flat for a significant portion of the hike. At the end, the trail kicks up and most of the elevation gain happens in the final 90 minutes. Again, mules took the gear, so this was little more than a long walk. To allow people to acclimate, we moved at a very slow pace and stopped often.

The summit with an ominous cloud eveloping it.

Base camp sits on a plateau with a wonderful view of the mountain. Again, this was a well-equipped place with WiFi and a huge mess tent where we had our meals brought in by the hard-working catering staff. It was optional to rent a domed tent ($135/night) that had a bed in it, but I slept in a regular tent alone. We then "carried" to Camp 1/Canada (4900m). I say "carried" because I took up some climbing gear and shared team food, but everyone else hiked up with little packs as they were using porters. All of their weight and team food was taken camp to camp by porters. Needing the practice of carrying weight at altitude, I saved the money and carried my own gear. After a brief stay at the very windy camp, we dropped back down to base camp for the night. 

Camp 1

Day 5 started the "climb" and we went again from base camp to Camp 1, this time staying up higher, and I shared a tent with a teammate. Luxury was minimized here as we ate from our self-packed bowls, there was no Wi-Fi or power, and our toilet was a backpacker tent when you had to crap in a plastic bag. After one night, we head up the loose scree that is most of the mountain. This time I carried everything in one push, and it was my heaviest load at 57 lbs. It made for a challenging few hours but was completed without incident.  

Camp 2/Nido (5350m) was better equipped again. We had a mess tent and Wi-Fi, but the wind was punishing. Little sleep followed, and the next day was a rest day where there was little else to do besides eat, poop, and sit in the tent hiding from the wind. 

On day 8 we headed up to high camp/Berlin (5800m), and although the trail up was much better (not as loose and energy draining) and the wind lessened, there was no Wi-Fi as promised. While we all can afford to unplug, it was Christmas Eve and our summit bid was Christmas Day, and it would have been nice to check in with the family on the holiday, but it was not to be. Again, we had a mess tent and a decent toilet (a real toilet seat and a bucket which you put sawdust in after) within a tent to shelter your backside from the wind. 

Camp 3 after an Xmas Eve sprinkling of snow.

We awoke at 3am and were off by 5am in the darkness and cold, on our way up the mountain. The trail was as stable as it had been yet and the first couple of hours went by fine, with the rising sun causing the removal of layers. We moved slowly, slower than other teams, and once we hit about 6500m, two of my teammates opted to turn around. Counting the two that left the trip early previously, it was now just me and one other climber to carry on with a guide. We stopped at 6550m and soon after put on crampons. While there was no snow for the entire climb, on the final slopes a snow patch lined the side of the trail and walking on it proved easier than on the frustrating loose rocks. We pushed upward for several hours and 9 hours after leaving high camp, we arrived on the summit. It was flat and we had excellent views.

Panorama from the summit

Two thumbs and climbed it? This Guy!

The cross at the summit. 

 

25 minutes later and we headed down, although tired which made the trip much more difficult. We stopped to take off the crampons and 10 feet before that point I tripped and feel, smacking my leg on a rock. The descent was as frustrating as the ascent with loose rock and scree causing poor footing and draining energy. It took us 3 hours to get back to camp and we were tired, but we spent the night at Berlin. The next day (day 10) we packed up and descended to base camp, none too soon as the mountain got smashed with clouds and snow. Exhausted, the remaining members of my team took a helicopter out. I pitched a tent and the next day packed up the mules and hiked from base camp to the road, a journey of 6 hours or so on exhausted legs. Another day was killed in Mendoza eating and getting a haircut, and then I began the two-day journey back to Poland, happy to have done the peak but tired from the travel.

The peak from base camp after the snow came. 

This was not an overly fun mountain to climb. Climb is a hard word as it is basically a hike, but one that goes to almost 7000m. I feel the weather was generous as we summited in a clear window, but prior to that the wind was howling, and after we got down, snow covered the peak. Porters, beds, catered meals, and helicopter rides all make this much more accessible (and comfortable) than other peaks if you are willing to pay the price, but I felt like an outsider for wanting to do it like other mountains. Also, I trained hard for this peak en route to Everest, putting in 2-3 hours a day and sleeping in my Hypoico tent to pre-acclimate. I cant say others do this. While it is an "easy" mountain compared to some, it takes fitness and acclimatization to scale it in a matter of days, and people need to prepare accordingly. Group trips are always hard as it seems they cater to the slowest, least prepared people, which can be frustrating if you are on the other end of the spectrum. 

Marathon du Medoc

If you have ever been sitting around, eating and/or drinking, and talking about running, the thought goes through your head that you'd rather do the former than the latter. It works both ways, as when you are running, you'd rather be eating/drinking. Well, isn't it nice that there is a place where you can do both? Fly to lovely Bordeaux in France and take a stroll through wine country where you can - literally - drink your way to the finish line.

Kirsten and I got on the registration right away, and quickly after the 8,000 person cap was reached. We flew to Bordeaux and headed to the expo, which set the stage for what was to come. Rather than most booths being for supplements, gear, and other sales, nearly every vendor was for another race in the region, and it turned out they all had these maddening food festivals paired with alcohol. And to ensure you were not confused about what you were getting into, each booth had wine and food for the sampling. If that wasn't enough, there was a beer garden and a wine tent to keep you busy while waiting for the return bus. People partook in the festivities as music oscillated from hard-core metal to Bob Marley. There were people in costumes, drinking games, and other shenanigans that made it feel like Mardi Gras meets the Hong Kong 7s. 

Race morning was no different. A mile walk to our bus and we were transported out to the start, a ride of about an hour, just like Boston. From there we meandered through the throngs of people, 99% of them dressed in what looked like a terrible Halloween parade. This year's theme was "Games" so most costumes (not all) revolved around this loose notion of a game. We had sports, cards, and everything in between, including super heroes and unrecognizable attire. The hour before the gun was met with music and an aerial show over the corrals, with sword fighting on ziplines to acrobats tumbling from silk cloths. It was easy to be boxed out when people wearing boats brushed by. We even saw a team of alpinists, complete with German lederhosen and tall socks, all connected with a rope. You are only as strong as your weakest runner..

The costumes cost more than they should and were not runner-friendly.

The gun went off and I have never started so slow. The narrow road left no room to maneuver, and all possible exit routes were stifled by bozos linked together by some form of cardboard. While this never was meant to be a fast race, running slower than is comfortable makes it all the more difficult, and this discomfort was exacerbated by our non-breathable polyester boxing robes, shorts, and gloves. As is typical, the crowd thins, and soon we were moving along the countryside roads, free to settle into our pace, if you could call it that, as we knew the stops would come frequently in the future. 

We didn't have to wait long, and at the 2nd kilometer, we stuffed our faces with pastries. Having skipped breakfast, I was starving, although for the next hour, I would regret binging on croissants so early in a race. Just a kilometer later, we entered our first wine estate and the reason for running this event. Full tables of clear, plastic dixie cup-sized vessels awaited while a band of brass rooted intensely. Red wine is not my cup of tea, but when in Bordeaux...

Rolling on, we had another couple of wine stops among the gorgeous chateaus of the region. Fueled by wine or that fire that never ceases to smolder deep inside, Kirsten started upping the ante, and our pace dropped. Significantly undertrained for the distance, I was a bit skeptical of our pace (about 7:36/mi or 4:43/k, we clipped off miles efficiently, that is, until one of the 23 wine stops on the run. Early on, these were significantly spread out, but from halfway, they came frequently, sometimes as close as 400m apart. From the gun we said we would partake in every single station and we did. Being at the front of the race, we were the only ones doing so, as most other participants around us were focused on running for time. We absolutely were not, so when we spotted a table, we made a beeline for it, and usually the cheers were enormous. At some stations, I think we were the first runners to partake in the wine. We'd banter with the volunteers (at one table it was a girl of about 12 years old and her two younger siblings, the youngest about 3 years old; there wasn't an adult anywhere near), and graciously thank them for the service. Some stations had plastic cups but others had full stem glassware! With each helping of wine, we'd float down the road, the anesthetic coursing through our legs, heads a bit more foggy than before. 

We were making a great impression on the locals. Sweating early on (and not taking in fluids other than fermented grape juice due to capacity and bloating issues), we had to ditch the uniforms. We tossed the robes and shorts in a recycle bin, but the foam gloves (which we had been using to mock punch small children along the way (which parents found endearing but the kids were startled by)) we gave to a girl and her sister standing outside their small house. Their squeals of delight echoed as we charged on, and looking back we could see them high-fiving other runners with the large, blue gloves. 

Where we were not making a great impression was with the other runners. Each time we pulled into a stop for wine, they soldiered on, and then Kirsten and I would come charging past on the road, running far faster than them, but clearly not trying as hard. We'd pull ahead, hit the next wine stop, and chase people down again. As wine does, it loosened our tounges and we were telling stories and chatting most of the way. This, understandably, is obnoxious to the runner putting in their full effort, and to that I say, Find a different race! When 95% of the field is dressed like it's Halloween and they serve wine more than water, perhaps it's not the best environment to hit your Boston Qualifier...

If this weren't chaotic enough, the real fun came in the last 5 kilometers. On a long road leading back to town, we were treated to the delicacies of the region in food form. There is a reason that they do not serve heavy food early on in a marathon. Somewhere after 25k we happened about a winery that was serving not only wine, which we took (have to try every one), but also beer! That was a welcome change from all of the reds we had been consuming, and since red wine makes my mouth feel like I am eating a cotton ball, the beer was like sparkling water. Also at this particular stop was a french fry station, and where better to sample a fry than France? We probably could have eaten 10 servings of the fries, but with ample running left to do, we had to show some restraint. But as we got closer to the finish, more opportunities presented themselves. At 36km, we ate cured pork and took some fun pictures with a pig mannequin. When I tried to position its arm around me, it dislocated, and I sheepishly pushed it aside, hoping no one would notice. 

Accidentally pulled the arm out of the pig's socket. Sorry.

Sauntering on to 38k, we pulled up for oysters, pre-shucked, and doused them in lemon juice before shooting them down. While raw oysters may not be everyone's cup of tea (Kirsten took a pass), they did have white wine at this stop, so we enjoyed the crisp taste before bolting down the road, just one more kilometer until another food stop. This one was steak. I cannot say I have ever thought of steak as the best in-race food, but it was tasty and we weren't going to pass it up. This stop, of course, had red wine, because we weren't about to have a faux pas in France by pairing red meat with anything but red wine.

Oysters and white wine and feeling fine!

At this point, it was getting exponentially more difficult to run down the road at any kind of pace, but as a reward, we only had a short jaunt to the next table, which was cheeses, and thankfully, white wine. Protein needs aside, in a marathon, dehydrated from being a wine sponge, and with temps increasing, cheese is not going to rank highly on the list of sought-after nourishment. By the grace of the running gods, we only had one more table left, and this one fit the bill.

With less than a kilometer to go, we grabbed our final treat of the day (not wine): ice cream. Well, in American terms, this was really more like a fruit popsicle, but it worked well. As it dripped in the sun, we finished the final straightaway, crossing in a none-too-impressive 3:52. However, given the number of times we stopped for minutes at a time to feast on anything but ideal running food, plus the 20+ swigs of wine, we can count this as a fairly decent effort. Our finisher's tent provided an abundance of meats, cheese, wine, beer, and other snacks, and we sat in chairs in the sun, relishing in our journey. As full as you can ever possibly be after 42K, we left the tent to the street which was bustling with activity from food/drink stands to a full stage with music. Having just changed our clothes, the clouds crashed in and a downpour began. Sprinting (as best we could) we hid under table umbrellas with some locals, squished together awkwardly, and awaited better weather. When it stopped we enjoyed a few beers with the runners and spectators while watching television broadcasts on the big screen of aid stations on the course before starting the long walk back to the buses. With about an hour to kill, we sat and watched many people coming back from the race in various states of fatigue and inebriation, many of them still trapped in their costumes. It was a heavy-eyed ride back to the city for an evening out before a much-needed crash. 

It may sound ridiculous, even painful, but Marathon du Medoc easily makes the list of must-do races for the marathon runner. This is due in whole to the absolute absurdity from beginning to (long after the) end and for no other reason. Tack on a decent, undulating course through a beautiful landscape, enthusiastic volunteers, and quality organization if you must, but we all know why you are really out there. It's the only race where the party is bigger on the course than after the finish!