Patagonia, Part 10: Cerro Solo

Derek and I on the summit of Cerro Solo. In the background Fitz Roy indeed looks like an erupting volcano

Photos

Strava

Monday:

Once again, Rolo had checked the weather for us. He assured us that we could rest on Sunday (yes, we were quite tired after our effort on the Mojón Rojo) and try this peak on Monday, but we’d “have to go early.” He didn’t specify how early though. Franz, the guide we’d met said that he wanted to be up on the glacier at 5 a.m. and would leave town at 11 p.m. Before Rolo checked the weather he thought we could leave town at 4 or 5 a.m. After his latest weather check, he just said to go early. I decided we’d get up at 3:30 a.m. and start moving at 4 a.m.

That morning I was slow getting up, but Derek was even slower. He had been fighting a cold and I wondered if he had changed his mind about the climbing. As the time got closer and closer to 4 a.m. I wondered if I should wake him or let him rest. Then, a few minutes before 4, he emerged. He wasn’t super motivated, but we’d head out and see how the day went. After some drink and breakfast, we left the apartment at 4:20 a.m.

Derek on the approach to Cerro Solo. you can just see the very summit of Cerro Torre here.

Our packs were much heavier this time. We carried a basic crevasse-rescue kit of an ascender and a Grigri each. We had harnesses and our only lead rope: a 60-meter, 9.7mm line, heavy and bulky when a 50-foot section of rope would have sufficed. I even contemplated cutting the rope down just for this, but we might need the rope for other climbs before our trip was over. We also carried our boots, crampons, one axe each, and our mountain bibs, in addition to our usual two pairs of gloves, hat, food and just one 20-ounce bottle of water. While we carried a collapsible 1-liter bottle of water, we’d never use it. We’d do the entire adventure just using that one bottle for both of us.

Cerro Solo in the early morning. Our route gets on the snow at the lowest (continuous) point.

We hiked the 9-kilometer trail to Laguna de Torre for just the second time, doing the first hour by headlamp. At the Tyrolean across the Rio Fitz Roy, we put on our harnesses, clipped in, and pulled ourselves across. On the other side, we stripped them off and packed them up, as we wouldn’t be needing them for hours.

We found the climbers’ trail on the other side and followed it up a small ridge and into a dense beech forest. At a small waterfall we drank our 20 ounces and refilled our bottle. That water would take us to the summit and back down four thousand feet. We were thirsty when we got down, but not that thirsty. This seems to be a ridiculously small amount of water to ascend nearly 8000 vertical feet and descend half that, over ten hours. We both seem to need less water down here. I don’t know why, but it made for a lighter pack.

Derek crossing the Tyrolean traverse at Laguna Torre

The “good” trail ended at a big ravine. Looking up this gash was a bit intimidating, as the sides of it were steep, loose dirt, packed with boulders ready to tumble. We followed a path steeply upwards on the left side until it disappeared. We then headed up the stream directly, on boulders, until we found a reasonable way to get up the slope on the right side to a ridge. Once up on that ridge we picked up a faint climber’s path. On the way down we’d follow this lower and make an even more dangerous descent back to the stream in the ravine.

Filling up on water before heading up the ravine

On the ridge we followed the faint path and even fresh footprints. Cairns were few and not seen at all until we were right next to them. Derek spotted climbers high on the ridge above us. We followed the faint path when we could detect it and otherwise just followed our noses up the steep, loose slope. It wasn’t a talus slope, as there was enough loose ground between the rocks to hike on, but the higher we got the more it became scrambling and even some real climbing sections before we traversed around the final steep wall and suddenly we were at the glacier.

The steep, nasty ravine. We climbed out of it on the sketchy slope on the right - yikes!

The glacier on Cerro Solo is impressive, even from El Chaltén. You clearly see huge ice walls, seracs, and crevasses. Hence, the gear we brought. Up close, the view is even more intimidating. Yet, when we arrived here we spotted a team of two and a team of three, all ascending without a rope. Then we saw a soloist high on the glacier, descending rapidly, with just poles. Based on these observations we decided to leave all the gear we brought here at the base of the glacier. This was definitely not the safest decision, but we hoped, by following the others’ track, that we’d be safe from falling into any crevasses.

Steep, loose terrain. We climb to the skyline above us.

We took our time gearing up. We pulled on our extra clothes and our bibs and changed into our mountain boots (G5s). I had my harness on before we decided to leave the gear and then stripped it off. We ate here and drank half our bottle. We had about 1800 feet left to climb and figured we’d be up and down in just 2 or 3 hours. With all the gear we were leaving behind, we didn’t have hardly anything in our packs, so we consolidated into one pack.

Derek led the way, clear to the summit, and we were off. The other teams were out of sight now. I’d watched their progress and gauged that we’d be faster. I wasn’t wrong. Derek set a quick pace and kept it up continuously. The going was quite steep at times, but the existing steps were good and our axe sticks felt secure as well. We carried one pole each and this was more a hindrance than a help, as the ground was mostly too steep for it to be of much use. Two axes, especially when climbing without a rope, would have been the right choice.

Starting up the glacier -- two thousand feet to go.

We climbed steeply directly towards the imposing rock wall that barred direct access to the summit and then made a long traverse to the left, crossing several crevasses. We could look down into these and you could fall into them, but you likely wouldn’t go very far, as they were mostly filled with snow. Still, we didn’t want to fall into them.

As we crested the bulge on the left and could see past the rock wall, we spotted the other climbers. They seemed to be a group of five now and, in fact they were — all from Seattle. We closed on them rapidly, as they were on the steep ground (55 degrees or so) next to the rock wall. We crossed another bergschrund below them, and the slope got markedly steeper.

On the summit!

 We caught them as they were traversing hard to the left, having reached an even steeper section that was pretty much all ice. It was possible to climb it with one tool, but that would have been way too dangerous for us while unroped. Even with two tools, it would have been very engaging for us, not really ice climbers. Hence, we waited in line, to complete the traverse to the left. We could have probably traversed right underneath them, but being directly below them didn’t seem very safe. I didn’t suggest it. All the climbers were very nice, but the three in the back, right in front of us, didn’t seem that comfortable. I think it was a mistake to have these climbers unroped on such terrain. I saw one of the women kick her foot into a flat step of snow multiple times before she was comfortable with the placement. They didn’t climb badly, just very tentatively. The leader was beyond the steep ice and moving upwards, slowly. The woman below him was moving even slower with a large gap above and below her, but their speed seemed to be restricted by some concern for their companions and not wanting to get too far ahead of them.

Once we got to the point where we could head upwards, I urged Derek to take his own path up to the left of this group. He did so and with the pent-up energy of having to wait so long on the traverse, he ascended at a very quick cadence, with no pause at all. I followed right behind him in his small steps. The climbing here was excellent. We swung our single tool, getting solid sticks with one swing and kicked our feet into the slope, getting solid purchase. Our left hand gripped our pole, but the pole itself wasn’t used at all. It was much too steep to be of use. We just placed our fist against the slope for balance, as we moved up the axe.

Looking down on Laguna Torre from the descent.

In no time we had passed everyone. When I got even with the leader he called over, “What kind of camera is that?” I have an Insta360 camera mounted on top of my helmet, so, yeah, I looked super cool and not like a dork, which you might expect if you knew me at all. Our speed increased as the angle eased and the other team fell out of sight. We could now walk more upright and use our pole. The summit was further than I expected and we had to climb up another rise to the very summit, where some rocks emerged out of the icy cocoon that encompasses nearly all of the upper 2000 feet of this mountain.

Now how about this for a shocker: It was super windy on the summit. Who’d have guessed that in Patagonia? We took some quick photos with Fitz Roy in the background. The summit of Fitz Roy had a plume of clouds being whipped up and right so that it really appeared like an erupting volcano. Cerro Torre was mostly obscured. Like a slasher in a horror film, it resides out of sight most of the time only to suddenly appear and strike you with such fear and terror as you imagine being on it. I shuddered at the thought.

The forest along the lake

We pulled out some food and the last of our water. While eating lunch, the leader, Jeff, of the Seattle grouped arrived. The first thing he says is, “Would you like me to take a shot of you two?” What a nice guy. After doing so, he asked, “Are you here to climb Cerro Torre?” Not even a little bit, I thought, before saying, “No way. We had hoped to climb Fitz Roy, but I took one look at it and wet my pants. Instead we did the Guillaumet and are pretty excited to get up anything.” It turns that he had had climbed the Franco-Argentine route on Fitz Roy last year and he was here this time (for two months) to hopefully climb Cerro Torre via the Ragni route. Damn. I tried to show proper deference to this hardman. His wife/partner Egrite (?) arrived and she was just as nice and clearly also very competent. They were quite respectful of our ascent of the Amy route (easiest in the range). Jeff is even said, “You guys are really moving. It’s inspiring.” Inspiring? For a guy who’s climbed Fitz Roy? Just shows how humble and nice this guy was. Then he asked, “Are you the father-son team?” I said “Yes, but how did you know?” I mean, I look like Derek’s older brother, right? Probably more like his grandfather. Jeff said, “I heard about you guys.” Confused, I asked, “From who?” Maybe he knew Rolo or Franz, but, no, he heard about it from Martin and Kristof, the two climbers we met after bailing off the Brenner route. Jeff said, “It’s a small town.” I’m sure we’d have met more climbers if we had hung out at El Fresco, the climbing bar, but the one time we went there it was very crowded and I didn’t hear any English, so we didn’t stay. We’ve kept mainly to ourselves.

Egrite asked where we were from and after we said Boulder, Colorado, she says, “Oh, I love Boulder. I could see moving there. I was there for work once and my co-worker was a climber, so before work we climbed the Bastille Crack and after work we did the Flatiron Trifecta.” Then she asked, “Do you know Satan’s Minions? They blew by us while we were scrambling.” Derek patted me on the shoulder and said, “We do know them. This is Satan.” So, that’s cool.

Loose, steep climbing on the descent.

We made the top 6h45m after leaving the apartment. We spent about 30 minutes on top. After taking a few photos for them, Derek and I descended. We followed faint, old tracks and went further down the lower-angled summit ridge below dropping down the steep face, thinking it might be an easier way down. We turned to face in and front-pointed down the slope toward the bergschrund. Halfway down we regretted our decision. We were now descending new ground where we didn’t know the condition of the multiple bergschrund and crevasses. We briefly considered re-ascending to follow our previous tracks, but decided to continue down.

I crossed the first bergschrund without issue. It was the same one that cut all the way across the face. It was mostly filled with snow here as well. Once below it, we decided to traverse the entire face back to our tracks. Unfortunately, either I didn’t stay level or the bergshrund didn’t. I fell into it a bit at one point and had to climb below it again and then back above it before we intersected the track. Once on the track, we stayed face-in down the steepest part. On the lower-angled terrain we faced out, but now we were plunging into knee depth with every step. What a change in only a couple of hours - we were mostly walking on top for the whole ascent. Reversing back to our gear stash was tiring and a bit frustrating, but it wasn’t very stressful. Our gloves were completely soaked by the time we got there. But we always carry two pairs of gloves.

Derek reversing the Tyrolean

Once here, Derek wasn’t feeling that great. As I said before, he had been fighting a cold, and hadn’t felt that strong all day. No wonder I stayed a bit closer to him on this climb than on Mojón Rojo. His throat was very sore and it was painful for him to speak, so we didn’t talk much on the way down. Derek led and did a great job reversing the complicated, steep, loose rock of the upper walls. Once below that, we found some nice scree surfing and descended quickly and continuously, only pausing on the very steep, loose, and dangerous slope back to the creek in the ravine. I dislodged a big boulder here and its fall was impressive. I knew Derek was out of the fall zone to the side and wasn’t as careful as I am when above him. He watched it go and gave me a thumbs up (not wanting to speak because of his throat) and I interpreted that as “That was a cool trundle. Glad it didn’t come my way.”

At the creek, Derek filled our water bottle. We followed the trail back to the little waterfall and here we downed our water bottle and then refilled it. The going was smooth back to the Tyrolean, which went easily once again. Sheri had been planning to meet us here, but she wasn’t around. We were ahead of schedule. Derek had told Sheri to leave the apartment at 1 p.m. and that would put her here at 3 p.m. at the earliest. But we had also been carrying the SPOT and if she was watching it, she might have left early. Indeed, she did see us top out around 11 a.m. Since there are two routes to the Tyrolean, Derek and I split up here, with each of us taking one of the routes. We’d regroup 15 minutes lower where the routes came back together. I got to this junction first, having taken the more direct path, and was just sitting down to wait for Derek when I heard Sheri call out. She was uphill, a bit off trail, in the lee of a boulder with her shell on, hood up. She’d left the apartment at 11:15 a.m. and had waited quite awhile at the Tyrolean. She got cold and descended down here to wait for us. I wouldn’t have seen her, so it was a good thing she spotted me. Derek arrived just a minute later and we took an extended break, catching each other up on our day.

The hike out seemed a lot longer than the hike in. It ended up being a 12.5-hour day for Derek and I. Our loads were quite a bit heavier on this day than for the Mojón Rojo and we were both feeling it. We were back at the apartment before 5 p.m. and rested and showered before going out to a very fancy dinner at The Grill. The steak there was absolutely amazing, as was everything, except the comfort of our booth. My butt craved more cushion and a less upright posture. We ordered too much and Sheri and I brought leftovers home. Derek didn’t have any trouble polishing off his 16-ounce steak.

Our celebratory meal