January 24, 25, 2010
Intrigue and curiosity drags our eyes up to a hidden waterfall that feeds the laguna. The cracks from the right-hand beach lead straight to the mouth of the cascada. And then what? Where does the rock go, and from where does the water come? That’s what we’re about to find out...tomorrow evening.
For the night, we sleep by the laguna. This is not a habit we want to make because the lake feeds the water supply down at the refugio and we don’t want human waste to contaminate the water for all those below depending on the water quality below. To avoid doing so, we hike up a talus field every morning for 10 or 15 minutes or so. We put at least 100 meters between us and the steady stream below, leaving our presents in between boulders, exposed to the sun and its bacteria killing level of heat. Toilet paper, if used, is burned. I laugh to say this, but if you forget toilet paper, rocks and moss abound in this rain forest’s talus field.
This matter is serious, though. I have shared conversations with invested Cochamó climbers and conservationists Daniel Seeliger and J.B. Haab about how and where best to dispose of this stuff that so easily spreads sickness if it touches the water supply above the refugio. Daniel noted that every year he tests the water for pathogens and harmful microorganisms, the likes of which can cause things such as Giardiasis (giardia) and more importantly Legionnaire’s, Hepatitis A, B, and C. What solutions are there?
Keep in mind that we are in a rainforest. That is, we are surrounded by areas that have streams running through them, if not rivers and lagunas. It’s hard to find a safe place that will not leak into others. That said, one option is cat holes, a more individual and temporary measure. But we plan on staying for a few months. And each year could be the same. We had tried the mini straddle trench latrine and cat hole techniques at “The Bivy Boulder”. The combination was not ideal, as evidenced by Vishal Patel’s misstep. In excess of four people, the situation soon called for something else. A closer examination of the area prompted us to start talking about carrying out waste. But, perhaps the best option is a burn-out latrine. Either way, next time I visit Cochamó and plan on visiting this upper valley, I should bring Daniel and Silvina some filters for their faucets. Spending time developing routes and trails in a wonderful, new place like Cochamó, you realize that not only are you exposed, but the place is exposed as well.
We need to figure out a better bathroom solution. And camping spot. There’s something magical about camping in this upper valley, beneath all of these beautifully gigantic walls. Something worth preserving.
Day 1: After a day of hauling gear to our base camp, Tate and I go up and climb the first few pitches, equipping anchors and inspecting options, relaxedly: we don’t expect to get too far tonight! And, we want to get a good night’s rest for working on the route tomorrow!
Day 2: Felipe Lucaras, a Chilean friend who has worked for Refugio Cochamó part of this season, has joined us and wants in – of course! – on this awesome project. Felipe is supposed to be the local here in Chile. Instead, he finds himself curiously surrounded by people wielding English or the Argentine accent. Nothing is different for him now, as Tate, Felipe, and I start up anew! Tate snaps photos of the serene surroundings as Felipe and I start the evolution from philosopher to activist.
After the first few pitches, where Tate and I had gone the day before, the route turns into a class IV scramble up and in between the two major block walls of granite that compose Cerro Laguna. Right beside us is the cascada, roaring through the passageway. A chill sinks into our bones as we enter the room of shadows. I am the lucky one on the reconnaissance mission, scavenging for a way up and out. Everywhere I look and climb I find dead ends, but I’m loving the hunt. We can’t go up on the right wall; the cracks peter out higher up, are crumbly, closed, laughing at us, or e, all of the above.
I turn around to head back to my friends, but hesitate. I look ahead and see the tower between the two side walls at the end of the passageway with a ledge higher up. If we could only hop across the waterfall onto the side of this tower without falling, and manage to climb our way up onto the tower’s ledge some 10 meters above, we could potentially walk across its ledge into the chimney between the tower and the other sidewall…You must be able to! I call for slack and wander back in the recesses between the two walls, towards the door that is the ‘tower’ between them. The fall of water being dropped and channeled out and towards the laguna makes shouting necessary. It’s somehow soothing. Exciting.
I look up into the chimney on my side of the two walls. It’s all wet. It’s where the water falls. I look left. The side of the ledge’s tower has a morse-code of a crack. Sparse holds. I think it goes!!! I think I can lean across the void, the abyss, the waterfall beneath me and grab on. And let go of my feet, hopping onto it. The sense of disbelief and adventure takes away my fear. I can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Pumped, I manage to slap the slopey top of the ledge and mantle my whale body on top! It’s a perfect ledge. I fashion an anchor on the other side and sit down. Snap a photo, and let out my rebel yell, a shout from Thor to my friends below! They’re going to love this climb!
They make it up and we are all laughing and smiling together on the ledge. Looking back down, we can see just where we came from, the laguna and the valley as well. I give Tate the reigns to lead and he takes off up a slightly chossy, flakey chimney with options for stemming or face climbing. We make a short pitch of it and put in a bolt to rappel. The rope toss works out perfectly: it lands on the ledge below. I need and strongly desire to return soon to Cochamó to finish not only the project Riding the Whale, but now this remarkably interesting climb as well, which we are currently dubbing Evolución. It requires mere meters more to reach a route you will read about later called Tatonka.
There’s something very relaxing about climbing above a lake. Conversely, there’s something very unnerving about hopping over and climbing over a waterfall! I already miss switching between español and english and hearing Felipe tell me to just speak to Tate in English. I can't wait to get back and finish that extraordinary climb, hopefully with as much linguistic juggling as before! Looking at the pictures of these wonderful people and this awesome project and the also unfinished Riding the Whale project, it's no wonder that I soon became happily engulfed in chasing first ascents in Cochamó, where I believe rainbows should end.
Intrigue and curiosity drags our eyes up to a hidden waterfall that feeds the laguna. The cracks from the right-hand beach lead straight to the mouth of the cascada. And then what? Where does the rock go, and from where does the water come? That’s what we’re about to find out...tomorrow evening.
For the night, we sleep by the laguna. This is not a habit we want to make because the lake feeds the water supply down at the refugio and we don’t want human waste to contaminate the water for all those below depending on the water quality below. To avoid doing so, we hike up a talus field every morning for 10 or 15 minutes or so. We put at least 100 meters between us and the steady stream below, leaving our presents in between boulders, exposed to the sun and its bacteria killing level of heat. Toilet paper, if used, is burned. I laugh to say this, but if you forget toilet paper, rocks and moss abound in this rain forest’s talus field.
This matter is serious, though. I have shared conversations with invested Cochamó climbers and conservationists Daniel Seeliger and J.B. Haab about how and where best to dispose of this stuff that so easily spreads sickness if it touches the water supply above the refugio. Daniel noted that every year he tests the water for pathogens and harmful microorganisms, the likes of which can cause things such as Giardiasis (giardia) and more importantly Legionnaire’s, Hepatitis A, B, and C. What solutions are there?
Keep in mind that we are in a rainforest. That is, we are surrounded by areas that have streams running through them, if not rivers and lagunas. It’s hard to find a safe place that will not leak into others. That said, one option is cat holes, a more individual and temporary measure. But we plan on staying for a few months. And each year could be the same. We had tried the mini straddle trench latrine and cat hole techniques at “The Bivy Boulder”. The combination was not ideal, as evidenced by Vishal Patel’s misstep. In excess of four people, the situation soon called for something else. A closer examination of the area prompted us to start talking about carrying out waste. But, perhaps the best option is a burn-out latrine. Either way, next time I visit Cochamó and plan on visiting this upper valley, I should bring Daniel and Silvina some filters for their faucets. Spending time developing routes and trails in a wonderful, new place like Cochamó, you realize that not only are you exposed, but the place is exposed as well.
We need to figure out a better bathroom solution. And camping spot. There’s something magical about camping in this upper valley, beneath all of these beautifully gigantic walls. Something worth preserving.
Day 1: After a day of hauling gear to our base camp, Tate and I go up and climb the first few pitches, equipping anchors and inspecting options, relaxedly: we don’t expect to get too far tonight! And, we want to get a good night’s rest for working on the route tomorrow!
Day 2: Felipe Lucaras, a Chilean friend who has worked for Refugio Cochamó part of this season, has joined us and wants in – of course! – on this awesome project. Felipe is supposed to be the local here in Chile. Instead, he finds himself curiously surrounded by people wielding English or the Argentine accent. Nothing is different for him now, as Tate, Felipe, and I start up anew! Tate snaps photos of the serene surroundings as Felipe and I start the evolution from philosopher to activist.
After the first few pitches, where Tate and I had gone the day before, the route turns into a class IV scramble up and in between the two major block walls of granite that compose Cerro Laguna. Right beside us is the cascada, roaring through the passageway. A chill sinks into our bones as we enter the room of shadows. I am the lucky one on the reconnaissance mission, scavenging for a way up and out. Everywhere I look and climb I find dead ends, but I’m loving the hunt. We can’t go up on the right wall; the cracks peter out higher up, are crumbly, closed, laughing at us, or e, all of the above.
I turn around to head back to my friends, but hesitate. I look ahead and see the tower between the two side walls at the end of the passageway with a ledge higher up. If we could only hop across the waterfall onto the side of this tower without falling, and manage to climb our way up onto the tower’s ledge some 10 meters above, we could potentially walk across its ledge into the chimney between the tower and the other sidewall…You must be able to! I call for slack and wander back in the recesses between the two walls, towards the door that is the ‘tower’ between them. The fall of water being dropped and channeled out and towards the laguna makes shouting necessary. It’s somehow soothing. Exciting.
I look up into the chimney on my side of the two walls. It’s all wet. It’s where the water falls. I look left. The side of the ledge’s tower has a morse-code of a crack. Sparse holds. I think it goes!!! I think I can lean across the void, the abyss, the waterfall beneath me and grab on. And let go of my feet, hopping onto it. The sense of disbelief and adventure takes away my fear. I can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Pumped, I manage to slap the slopey top of the ledge and mantle my whale body on top! It’s a perfect ledge. I fashion an anchor on the other side and sit down. Snap a photo, and let out my rebel yell, a shout from Thor to my friends below! They’re going to love this climb!
They make it up and we are all laughing and smiling together on the ledge. Looking back down, we can see just where we came from, the laguna and the valley as well. I give Tate the reigns to lead and he takes off up a slightly chossy, flakey chimney with options for stemming or face climbing. We make a short pitch of it and put in a bolt to rappel. The rope toss works out perfectly: it lands on the ledge below. I need and strongly desire to return soon to Cochamó to finish not only the project Riding the Whale, but now this remarkably interesting climb as well, which we are currently dubbing Evolución. It requires mere meters more to reach a route you will read about later called Tatonka.
There’s something very relaxing about climbing above a lake. Conversely, there’s something very unnerving about hopping over and climbing over a waterfall! I already miss switching between español and english and hearing Felipe tell me to just speak to Tate in English. I can't wait to get back and finish that extraordinary climb, hopefully with as much linguistic juggling as before! Looking at the pictures of these wonderful people and this awesome project and the also unfinished Riding the Whale project, it's no wonder that I soon became happily engulfed in chasing first ascents in Cochamó, where I believe rainbows should end.
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