As Cotacachi dominates the view to the North, Imbabura makes its presence known in the East. At first glance, once notices a broad flat top with a maximum altitude of 4630 meters. But, really I guess you don’t notice that at first, because 80% of the time the summit is covered in clouds. Because of this, no antenna bristle the peak, and on a clear day it is impressive. Early into our stay at the farm, Holly, Kaila, another volunteer Jeremiah, and I decided to give it a go. On our first go, we left the farm in the afternoon with plans to spend the night at a well known hikers haven (Casa Aida) in La Esperanza before setting out early for summit and get back to the farm before night. Holly and her wonderful stomach fauna decided they weren’t up for the trip, so her night was punctuated by stomach pain and frequent trips to the bathroom. Needless to say, that bid was unsuccessful and we turned back for the farm before it even started. Fast forward a couple of months, Holly and I decide that it must be done again. We waited for what seemed like a good weekend to do it, (after a spell of rain it usually stayed clear for a couple of days), packed up and headed out again. This time, however, we decided to camp up around 4000 meters and try for the summit in the morning, getting a head start on anyone setting out from La Esperanza. This trip also coincided with the full moon, and a Friday the 13th. Needless to say, we got what was coming. Shortly after getting of the bus at La Esperanza and hiring a truck to take us to the trail head, I get a little thirsty and reach for my water. Not there. I look and also notice the alcohol we brought to cook with has also been misplaced. Hilarious! So before we even hit the trail, we know that I have half as much water as I planned for and we won’t be eating or drinking anything hot. Now worries. We have enough water between the two of us, I had hydrated like a mad man before we left anyways (which you should always do to cut down on carried water weight) and we had some snacks we could eat cold and make it out alive. It was only one night. Well, after starting up the trail, my pack much lighter, we moved like gazelles, still gitty at the idea of getting up the volcano that beat us so badly previously. With high spirits, we marched along the ever so common Ecuadorian path (no switchbacks, just straight up) with great views of Ibarra and the rest of the province below, but no summit.

Right about as our legs were starting to really scream, the wind picked up and we realized it had gotten very cold. You don’t notice the cold so much as you are hiking, but upon arriving to our camp at 4301 meters we became aware that yes, it was indeed cold and very windy. But lo! As we set our packs down, the clouds  that had previously obscured the summit cleared and we were treated to a few minutes of high altitude bliss. The valleys opened up and we could see everything. Behind us, Cayambe, another one of Ecuador’s Ultra volcanoes, made an appearance and held our gaze.

Not too long after sunset, which was probably only 45 minutes after arriving to camp, the clouds set back in. We had had grand schemes of taking long exposure pictures from camp of the full moon on Friday the 13th showering the valleys below in pleasing moon light, but coverage was so heavy we didn’t even see the moon. We couldn’t even see where it would have been had there been no clouds. Needless to say, it was a dark night. We also happened to camp on a ridiculously exposed ridge, so the wind was just a rippin’. At some point in the night, I thought about how my tent was made out the same stuff they use to make racing sails and how appropriate it would be to have it get ripped to shreds by high mountain winds, but fortunately that didn’t happen. It was also very cold and having our caloric intake snubbed didn’t help at all either. Not to mention it rained at some point in the night. Needless to say, we were happy to “wake up” around 5:30AM to try to catch the sunrise. This was also largely obscured by clouds, but we did get some windows of partial views, etc etc.

Without breakfast, we broke down camp, left our bags, and decided to give the summit a go even though it was totally socked in. We needed something to keep us going. With not much more than a little water, a bar of chocolate, and our jackets, we made our moves up. It was a bit of a mix of everything but overall I’d call it a scramble. This was made no better by the constant high velocity winds, no warming sun, and empty stomachs. We found a sheltered area to sit down and eat some chocolate, only to find out that we had brought cooking chocolate instead of our usual delicious god nectar. At that point, we felt totally beat and pulled the plug. We gave it an honest go. We had about everything go wrong that could have. The weather was terrible, everything was wet, we were hungry and thristy, sore from the ridiculous approach, but we were happy with the defeat. While looking at our record of attempted vs successful climbs, you would clearly notice poor performance and low marks in the success category. We made plenty of mistakes, had incredibly bad luck with the weather (SINCE PERU!!! flips table) but I think we are constantly looking forward to the next one. If anything, it has made us appreciate the small things; a couple minutes of a window to a view in an otherwise featureless sky; a dry section of a trail; a warm sleeping bag. And maybe one day we will have that perfect hike that we have been trying to recreate since we were in the southern tip of the continent. I think then all of the rough spots will smooth out and all will be good.

I hate to regurgitate quotes, but in light of these follies, one from Dune keeps popping up in my head:

“Any road followed precisely to its end leads precisely nowhere.
Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it’s a mountain.
From the top of the mountain, you cannot see the mountain.”

I can say that Holly and I have tested these mountains. They are certainly mountains indeed, and like so many things in life, the human doesn’t dictate how the hike goes; the mountain does.