A Long Day on Mururata (18,950 feet/5,775 meters)

Friday evening, August 15th, Greg, Leon and I piled into Brian’s car headed for a leisurely summit of the seldom climbed mountain next to Illimani (on the right in this picture) called Mururata (on the left in this picture). A somewhat unappealing mountain visually, Mururata has a Kid n Play inspired flat top and resides about 2 hours from La Paz. It represented a good spot for a climb as I banged up my knee kayaking the week before, Greg was returning from a summit the prior night and Brian lined up a snowboard which could be used in the descent.

The trip began with the usual two hour late departure and some sketchy general directions on where we were headed. With the sun setting, we found ourselves in the right general area but on the wrong roads. After an hour and a half of checking all available options, crossing river beds, and switching into four wheel drive – we found ourselves at the head of the trail for the climb.

After an excellent dinner and a stunning moon rise, we headed into our tents for a few hours of sleep. With a sudden yell from Brian, we were up and ready to go by 4:30am. Having arrived at camp after dark, we relied on a nearby trail marker to begin our ascent.

Following what we hoped as the route up a rocky slope, it quickly became clear that there was not one clear trail to follow. Soon, we found ourselves separated with Brian and Greg following a right hand path and Leon and I headed left. After a fairly typical ascent, I was perched on a rocky ledge with no glacier in sight.

It was clear we had not chosen the correct path. Moments later, I heard a 30 second rock slide behind me and yelled out to make sure Leon was alright. With no response, I yelled out for him a few more times. Blocked by the rock, he didn’t hear me but did appear about five minutes later, just as I was debating whether to head down and look for him.

Following the rocky ledge toward the far off glacier, we encountered a slight challenge – an abrupt peak. After a quick debate about whether to down climb and go around or to attempt to summit, Leon and I headed up. Thankful for the recent rock climbing experience, I was comfortable ascending the exposed rock face despite the steep drop available below. Luckily, this summit was connected to the rest of the ridge and Brian and Greg were now in our line of sight.

Soon we all congregated at the next decision point. Situated on the top of the ridge a bit closer to the glacier, we found ourselves at an impass. The ridge we were on descending straight down several hundred meters with no route to the next ridge. With no other options, we were forced to look for an alternate path.

After another brief debate, we decided to head left. This was due in part to a bit of advice received prior to departure - a vague reference to antennaes and going to the left of them. Later, we would discover that we probably should have been going to the right but alas your hapless mountaineers were mistaken.

Heading left entailed descending as far as we had ascended, although now the sun was up and it was getting warm. Dropping into the next valley, we headed up a scree rock wall which was visually disconcerting. An enormous climb with no path, we each choose similar but slightly divergent roots. Severely behind schedule, we began conserving food, water and energy to the best of our ability.

After four hours of slow movement, occasions of brief sliding, some rock climbing, a false summit (about 200 meters short of the top) and even some crawling, Greg and I found ourselves within sight of the glacier. From our perch we watched as Leon climbed a crumbling chimney wondering what the hell he was thinking and where Brian had gone. After collecting our energy, I followed Greg up a snow chimney to the glacier. A simple stair case climb of less than 20 meters and we were finally on the glacier.

After a quick traverse, the four of us met on an exposed rock seven hours after leaving for the glacier. This was by far the most tiring/difficult approach to a glacier I have ever experienced. And with my usual tact, I greeted my friends by saying, “holy shit - that was fucking horrible.”

Brian informed us of the time (noon), Leon decided he was best heading down as he was only equipped with tennis shoes, and we proceeded to debate whether to pursue the summit at this late hour and how to meet up with Leon that evening. Enter bad decision number 2.

Rather than descend the scree to our campsite, we decided to meet up in the next valley – a river bed valley. Leon would drive as close to the glacier as possible and we would trek out of the valley to the awaiting headlights. With this plan set, Brian, Greg and I headed across the glacier for the summit and Leon headed down.

After our seven hour ascent, energy, food and water were low. And we made unusually slow time across the fairly flat glacial surface of Mururata, made all the worse by the constantly visible summit seemingly just within grasp.

After more than four hours traversing the glacier a howling wind, blowing snow and sever cold were testing our will to continue. Brian found a great launching point and decided he was ready for his snowboarding session. Greg and I pointlessly decided to press on for the final push to the summit.

Traversing a mix of hard packed snow and foot deep powder, Greg and I made slow time the last few hundred meters toward the summit. About 100 meters short, I pulled back on the line linking our steps. Greg turned to see the face of reason or defeat depending on your perspective. And I quickly launched into a speech I had been contemplating for about an hour.

“FUCK THIS FUCKING MOUNTAIN. I don’t give a shit about this stupid peak (it is not visually impressive)… look at it. It’s fucking lame. Let’s get the fuck off this mountain right now. This is absurd. We wouldn’t even be here unless Brian wanted to snowboard down it. This is fucking ridiculous.”

We then conducted a ten minute testosterone laden argument that ended with Greg succumbing to reason and we quickly (or as quickly as we could) turned around and began the long trudge back to the edge of the glacier. Strangely, we were not met with a feeling of defeat but more of relief at having finally given up on this stupid mountain and realizing that we were on our way home.

Following the winding path of Brian’s snowboard track, we followed a direct descent toward the river valley where we expected Leon would await us. Traversing the glacier as the sun slowly crept toward its inevitable meeting with the horizon we were bathed in a beautiful setting of crystallized snow crevasses, an endless sea blue sky and subtly changing shades of light.

Ending our descent in a crevasse filled section of the glacier, Greg and I had to maintain our patience and carefully traverse what we viewed as the final section of danger in our trip. Despite one unusual sound of ice popping below my feet, we found ourselves on solid ground just as the sun waved goodbye.

Thankful to be in the river bed valley, we began our hike toward the awaiting car uncertain of where it might be. Following the riverbed for an hour or so we stayed to the left based on my false sighting of awaiting headlights. After about 45 minutes of hiking we found our path cut off by a ravine. And we began looking for a way to descend in the dark.

After a first attempt to descend which ended at a cliff face, we heard the first familiar voice of the night – a voice coming from somewhere to the right. So we headed back up to the top of the ledge and to the right in the direction of the voice. After crossing a portion of the creek leading to a waterfall and after one disconcerting slip, we found ourselves very close to the awaiting voice. Sure that it was Leon and the safety of the car, we wondered where Brian might be.

After a few vocal exchanges and an argument about a loaned headlamp, we learned the voice was Brian and not Leon. “It’s Brian you idiots!” Brian led us down to where he waited in the ravine and informed us of some good and bad news. The good: Leon was fairly close by and they had communicated briefly. The bad: there was another cliff that Brian didn’t know how to descend and Leon had left in the car.

Equipped with two headlamps and some rope the 3 of us went to inspect the next obstacle. Sitting perched on the top of a cliff only one thing was clear – this ravine was much deeper than the last. But much like the last it was difficult to know much more because of the darkness.

Our first debate was whether to look for a way down in another valley, wait for Leon to come back or wait for the moon to come up in 2.5 hours. After a brief discussion we decided to check for a way down again where there had been something similar to a rock slide. During this debate, Leon reappeared and we communicated by light signals so he would know where we were. Reassured by his response we were more confident about the decision to descend.

Unable to see the bottom, we decided to have one person repel down the rock slide secured by rope to see what we were dealing with. Brian being the most experienced of the three took the lead and headed down. Finding the end of the rope and not the bottom he assured us that it was a fairly easy decent and there was a good ledge to do a second belay from.

Pulling the rope back up with the 2nd head lamp for my descent the rope became entangled. And our descent was now delayed. Using a crussix system, I descended the rope to where it was entangled and began to ascend back to where Greg was belaying. Again the rope became stuck behind me and I descended and ascended again. Meanwhile, the temperature was dropping quickly and we were all getting irritable. The most obvious of which was coming from below as Brian awaited the next person descending with no idea what was taking so long.

Following a final scream from an agitated B-Real, I headed down with all the gear and a very painful right knee (pain increasing with each step since beginning the descent). With an unwieldy snowboard on my back, a back pack in my right hand and the rope in my left, I stumbled down the rock slope until I heard Brian’s voice again asking what took so long. After getting off belay, Brian and I had a healthy, scratchy voiced argument (from dehydration) and Greg made his way down to us.

During his wait, Brian had made contact with some friends in La Paz and learned that the stress level at home and for awaiting Leon had reached extreme levels. Leon was suggesting contacting a rescue team as he didn’t think we would be able to descend the cliff he was parked below. Luckily, Brian spoke with Sean, Meagan and Cecilia and relayed to Leon that we would be able to get down and to wait for us where he was.

Now with a better idea of the rock slope we were dealing with, I headed down first on belay to find out if we were approaching the bottom (snowboard on my back). Finding the end of the rope again and no bottom – I stationed myself on a nearby ledge and waited for Greg and Brian. After their descent and with more light, we discovered the slope was leveling off and we could climb down from our perch.

Gladly passing the snowboard back pack to Greg, I took the regular pack and the three of us headed down. Descending a fairly simple rock bed for another hour we found ourselves in speaking distance of Leon and with a huge sense of relief at a journey almost complete. Descending the final few hundred meters it seemed at times like we would never arrive. Finally, at 11:30pm we found ourselves face to face with Leon, the Landcruiser, 6 bottles of water and a lot of food.

After a happy reunion, a quick recap, and glance at the enormous cliff we had just descended the moon appeared overhead and we headed home. Roughly 18 hours after departing from camp we were on the road back to La Paz sharing a feeling of accomplishment, physical exhaustion and comraderie that makes this unusual hobby of climbing mountains such an amazing experience.