In July 2012, MEC Envoy Sarah Hart suffered a minor mid-life crisis, quit her cushy full-time desk job, and has been on one very long climbing trip ever since. She’s managed to keep her calendar full of adventures, including a trip to the Waddington Range in July, the Sierras in November, Patagonia for the winter, Indian Creek in April, and the Rockies in May.
Some of the best granite spires in the world cast shadows on the little Argentine town of El Chalten. Climbers gather here every austral summer from all parts of the globe to test themselves against the mountains and the elements. My boyfriend, Colin, has spent the better part of each winter for the last eight years in Patagonia, Argentina. It’s his second home, and for good reason. Naturally, the chance to climb on these spires was top priority on my dirtbag itinerary.
I arrived in Patagonia on January 5. Colin had already been in Patagonia for two months and had procured an apartment above El Gringito, the local grocery store. The apartment was small, though, and with enough gear between us to furnish a medium-sized gear shop in Vancouver, we had to be resourceful. In fact, we even talked about hanging the spare bed from the rafters to make more room for our stuff.
The weather was predictably bad in the mountains following my arrival, so we kept ourselves busy bouldering, sport climbing, and socializing. In true Argentine style, hanging out in town is an incredibly social affair. Many cups of matte are consumed, and “asados,” Argentine-style barbecues, are attended. One is never bored in town while waiting out bad weather.
After a week of leisure, the weather cleared. When this happens, El Chalten rouses from its lazy summer lounging and becomes a town full of crazed and frantic climbers, each hurrying to prepare themselves for the mountains, packing gear, buying food, gathering beta, and forming plans.
Fitz Roy: The ultimate prize
For Colin and I, the exceptionally long good weather window meant it was time for Fitz Roy. At 3405m, it’s the tallest mountain in the range – not tall by Himalayan standards, but what it lacks in height, it makes up for in steepness and technical difficulty. Colin had been to the summit of Fitz Roy many times, but for me, it was the ultimate prize.
We began climbing in the early hours of January 12. On the afternoon of January 14, we shared a kiss on the summit, and then quickly gathered ourselves for the 16-hour descent to the glacier below. Back down, safely on the glacier, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. I had the privilege of standing on the summit of one of the most spectacular mountains I know, and sharing it with Colin. On top of all that, my ascent marked the first female ascent of the route Mate, Porro y Todo lo Demás, 5.11 1250m. Summiting Fitz Roy was a very special moment in my life.
New route on Mojon Rojo
After a few weeks spent studying Spanish in northern Patagonia, I returned home to El Chalten on February 9. I settled back in to our apartment as storms swirled around the mountains. The unclimbed west face of Mojon Rojo would be our next mission. Mojon Rojo sits at the southern edge of the Fitz Roy massif, and in fact, Mojon Rojo in Spanish means the “red boundary,” a fitting name for this little mountain. From its east side, Mojon Rojo is a tiny fourth class scramble to the summit, but from its west side, 700m of fifth class climbing is offered up.
On February 20, our window of good weather arrived and we huffed our load of climbing gear back into the mountains. The next morning, we woke at the most ungodly of hours – 3:00am – from our bivouac on the Torre Glacier, and began hiking to the base of the mountain. The rest is a blur of red rock, splitter cracks, and woots of joy. Que bueno!, a new route, El Zorro (5.10 A1 700m), Colin Haley, Sarah Hart.
Last climbing window
Town was beginning to grow quiet after returning from our adventure on Mojon Rojo. The tourist season was coming to a close, and climbers were returning to jobs, houses, and lovers. After seeing many friends off, we were granted what would be my last climbing window in the mountains.
A few false starts and a plan change or two later, and we were rousing early yet again, this time to climb El Mocho via the East Buttress, 5.10 C1 350m. Mocho was my little prize – I led us up the mountain, minus a short section where we ended up in a chimney system full of exfoliating rock and hard to protect climbing. All in all, it was a great day out, and getting to peer out over the east faces of the Torres from the summit of El Mocho was particularly memorable.
After a rest day at our bivouac on the Torre Glacier, the alarm went off at 2:00am – I was getting pretty sick of pre-dawn alarms by this point – to climb Aguja Bifida via the Northeast Buttress, 5.10 C1 700m. The skies were clear, so we headed out and began the trudge up the Torre Glacier by headlamp.
We made it to the base of the mountain before light and climbed into the dawn enjoying some fun crack pitches, but slowly we realized we were off route. By the time we were back on route, the wind had been taken out of our sails, and it became a decision between continuing to the summit and spending the remainder of the night descending the mountain, or going down and admitting defeat. We admitted defeat.
Patagonia’s Presence
In between all my climbing in Patagonia, I committed to learning Spanish. Many months earlier when I finally made the decision to quit my job, I decided that at the very least I should keep my brain engaged by learning a new language. So, just a few days after summiting Fitz Roy, I flew to the northern Patagonian town of Bariloche for three weeks of classes.
Those three weeks were a blur. I had anywhere from 20–30 hours of Spanish classes each week. When not in class, I did my best to immerse myself in the local climbing community. After all that immersion, you’re probably wondering just how proficient I am in this new language of mine. Well, let me assure you, I can only speak in the present tense, so don’t ask me about anything I have done or plan to do.
But that kind of seems fitting for this time in my life. This was a year of big changes, risks, and goals. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from this extended climbing trip and my time in Patagonia, it’s that you live life to the fullest when you live it in the present.