Little more than a day after our departure from Iliniza, we found ourselves at the end of the jeep trail on the northern slope of Chimborazo. Though the weather was less than perfect, it was incomparably better than the Iliniza variety. We could see far enough to study possible ascent routes. Evidently, there was only one fairly safe line, free from the dangers of falling ice and avalanches, the northern ridge. Its lower part was sharp and pronounced and did not appear too difficult. Higher up we expected technical difficulties where the ridge ended under a several-hundred-feet-high ice barrier, which goes all the way around the north side of the mountain. It was evident that we would need several camps above our 14,000-foot roadhead, which was still a couple of miles away from the proper base of the mountain.

For two days we carried loads to establish an advanced base camp at 15,300 feet and a cache at 16,500 feet. Our advanced base was a lovely place at the foot of a giant moraine. Water trickled from the rocks and the last struggling outposts of vegetation surrounded us.

On August 8, all of us moved to a higher camp, slightly above 17,000 feet. That afternoon George Barnes and Bill Ross set out to explore the great ice barrier. Meanwhile, the rest of us brought more supplies to Camp I, a small platform between the edge of the glacier and a steep frozen slope with none of the friendliness of our last camp. George and Bill brought good news in the evening. They had found a route through the icefall and reached a point from which comparatively easy slopes led to the summit. From there on, the rest was mainly a matter of determination.

The next day, carrying loads of 50 to 60 pounds, we all began to feel the altitude but were in high spirits because of the second straight day of fine weather. Around noon we reached the icefall. The first few rope-lengths were just as steep as they had looked from below. This cliff was composed of the strangest material. It was not ice, nor one of the 23 sorts of snow known to science. It must have been that sweet stuff: meringue, made from sugar and egg whites. Oh, Lord! How tiring it was to climb a 60° meringue-slope with a heavy pack at 18,000 feet. Close to exhaustion, we reached a great crevasse just above the icefall. That was to be Camp II. We descended to the bottom of the crevasse and after testing the bottom, set up both our two-man tents. It seemed ideal— level, roomy and well protected from the wind. A little later we had to change our opinion. Had we, by mistake, set up camp in a supersonic wind tunnel?

The following morning intense cold and an immaculate sky promised more gorgeous weather. This was to be the summit day! Shortly after seven o’clock we left camp, dressed in all our clothing. There were a few big crevasses and some minor problems of route finding but the rest was toil and monotony through more of the meringue. The first man broke trail but did not leave a packed trail behind him.

At 1:30 we dragged ourselves up the last slope of Chimborazo’s north peak. Ecuadorian climbers had told us that this summit was previously unclimbed. True or not, it hardly deserved to be called a peak; north shoulder would be a more appropriate name.

After the fog had lifted, in which we had spent some fifteen minutes, we noticed another, higher peak to the south. For a moment we were confused. Was that the main peak over there? Or had we not even reached the north summit? Whatever it was, we would climb it. After another hour of toil, we reached the top of a vast, almost level plateau, half the size of a football field. There was no higher peak. Hurrah!—we had scaled the highest mountain in the world, higher than Mount Everest —if you measure from the center of the earth!

The trip back to Camp II was uneventful. During the night a terrible storm came up, robbing us of our sleep. The next morning everything was covered with fresh snow and rime. Visibility was poor and the wind was still blowing fiercely. We broke camp and descended immediately. Taking with us only the more valuable things from our lower camps we arrived at the car at five P.M. What do you think, comrades, about driving tonight to the city of Ambato, there to enjoy the hospitality of the Hotel Florida?

Chimborazo History

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