Llessons llearned
I must preface that I was not seeking to do a volcano tour. I just wanted to ski, and, for my schedule, this was all that was available. This tour has a lot more elevation gain, at a higher altitude than I’ve ever done. What caught my eye, besides the dates, was that I would not need to carry a 40 liter pack with sleeping bag, change of clothes, and layers for every conceivable circumstance. (See last year’s hut to hut trip report).
Today, I learned much about touring and about myself. Our objective is Quetrupillán, because the weather and visibility at Volcan Villarrica is forecasted to be poor; hard to believe when waking to this view of Villarrica.
Getting to Quetrupillán, we drive along a dirt road which, at elevation, is abundantly covered with fresh snow.
After parking along side the road, in an opening in the trees, we skin up the road to the trailhead, from which we can see our objective,
Our alpine route, reached by a grueling route below tree line, some of which included bamboo clusters, is traced here. I think our approach at the summit is further right.
The blue marks show two things. The first is where I stopped and had my lunch. The second is about how far I made it.
Upon returning to the trailhead, the sky had cleared and our accomplishment is on full display.
The reward is a delicious, well-deserved mixed barbecue accompanied by a good find, a Carménére that has a barnyard nose, something wholly unexpected from a varietal for so long has been thought to be a Merlot.
So, what did I llearn today? First, I learned that Quetrupillán is pronounced Quetrupijan. A double LL sounds like a ‘j’. I had thought until now that the ‘j’ sound simply didn’t exist in Spanish, Jose being ‘hōzay’. The second thing I learned is that my injured left glutes are not fully recovered in strength and endurance. The third is that I need to nourish and hydrate myself more.
Going back to the photo showing our alpine route and the two blue marks, as I mentioned before, the first mark is where I had my lunch. Others had finished or almost finished their lunch! They had been munching along the way up. Me, I had two or three bites from an energy bar up to tree line. When we exited the trees, we encountered another group, seated and enjoying lunch under the sun. I was thinking, what a great place to have lunch; I was famished. But, our group pushed on, so after another bite from an energy bar and a sip of water, I followed. That was at about 600 meter (1800 ft. est.) elevation gain. 100 meter later, my left glutes started feeling fatigued. I can go on, but there was definitely a difference in power, between left and right. The feeling of hunger was more pressing. 100 meter more, I asked to stop for lunch. “You haven’t had your sandwich?” Huh? Everyone else had had theirs? When did that happen? Anyway, I consume my lunch, rather than “have lunch”, take another swig of water, then we move on. Progressively, my left glutes get weaker and I stop to discuss it with the others. I decided, rather than descending, which would have entailed everyone descending, to go on, but at my own pace, knowing that I will lag. We will always be in sight of each other, except as each one above goes over a small roll at the top. As we continue up, it gets to the point where I’m doing the skinning version of limping. Each left-legged step was a struggle. Yet, from lessons learned in PT, I very consciously held my form, lest I use my QL and strain my back. I’ve fallen way behind. I am no longer thinking of summiting. I’m wondering how I’m going to pressure my left outside ski when skiing down. One by one, the other three summit. They transition quickly. The quickest of them appears and hails me, to tell me to transition, which I hurriedly do. I’m about 30 meters short of the summit, yet relieved and, at the same time, apprehensive.
As I transition, the others ski past me, each pausing to check on how I’m doing. “Fine” is the answer. Any other description wasn’t going to change anything. By the time I complete my transition, overhead clouds have returned and it’s whiteout conditions. My best hope is to ski near their tracks. Yet, I still want some untracked powder, so I ski next to their tracks. First turn, or was it second, complete vertigo and I collapse. Next turn, same thing. Finally, I get right in amongst their tracks, and I focus my eyes on where they are below, giving me a point of reference. Much better. No vertigo. But, my left glutes are toast. I’m skiing down like a novice. When I reach the group, we discuss it. We’ll take it slow. Two head off. One stays with me, at which point, I realize my boots are still in walk mode. Oh that explains it the other says, then heads off. I’m not convinced. Sure enough, ski mode doesn’t help at all. What to do? After having joined the others and apprising them of the situation, I tell them I’ll traverse my way down. “How are you going to do that?” I demonstrate to them, and to myself, a proficient kick turn. Ok, we have a plan! So, that’s what I do, traverse, kick turn, and repeat. As we descend, we get to shallower slopes and I even make a few gratifying turns.
At tree line, what lies before me is another daunting task. It’s not steep, but nimbleness through trees and shrubs is required, a level quite beyond me. Side slipping is what’s on order. Side slip, shuffle right or left of a tree or shrub… and repeat. Oh, and did I mention the bamboo, some of whose stalks are bent over, tops planted in deep snow, creating bear traps? Side slipping is fine by me. Soon, everyone is side slipping. And soon enough, we are all bootpacking. Eventually, we make it to open field and we can ski and pole the rest of the way. I would have said we can skate, but “we” cannot. For me, that last view of the mountain, photo above, stimulated a sense of gratification and accomplishment, not for ascending, for getting back down.
I tell our guide that I’m taking the next day off. I’m getting a massage and going to a hot spring. He says that’s a good idea. A bit later, I discover that tomorrow is a planned day off, at a hot spring. Why didn’t he say so in the first place? The joke’s on me.
I wrote that I learned about both nutrition and hydration. So, what about hydration? On the drive back to Pucon, the topic of adding electrolytes came up. So, I asked, how much water did everyone consume? The answer was about 2 liters. Me? 500 ml, and I hadn’t finished it before getting as far up as I got! I finished it when I got back to tree line, where I also fully consumed my 400 ml of tea ( yes, still notes of chocolate). I felt a greater need for hydration from the descent than the ascent. Our guide and everyone else tells me this is wholly inappropriate. I learn that I should be consuming about 350 ml every hour and a quarter. That is good information for a guy that, when cooking, measures fluids by eyeing its meniscus in a graduated measuring cup. It is somewhat disconcerting to this chef that 350 ml is not exactly 1/3 of a liter, nor, on an hourly basis is the 280 ml one-fourth of a liter. But, it is, neverthelessmost helpful that I can measure 350 ml in a Nalgene bottle that has 50 ml graduations, eyeing the meniscus.
Let’s see. Did I learn anything else? Yes. When one knows something is physically wrong, then if possible, retreat or don’t go on. When things go wrong, don’t rush; make sure your boots are in ski-mode, or whatever else. Don’t let group dynamics interfere with prudent decision making. I looked forward to the rest-day and the hot springs.
Dinner was at La Maga in Pucon. Ask for and share their BBQ mix, the one with chicken.
http://www.lamagapucon.cl/en/
One more thing. The forecast was correct. Here’s the view up Quetrupillán from where I consumed lunch,
We can see the summit. Here is the view of Volcan Villarrica, whose flanks I have marked in red.
That’s for sure bad visibility.
. Skins and clothes are hung to dry and I’m in a comfortable bed. The thermos has been thoroughly washed with steaming water; the stains on the threads have been scrubbed off. Should be a great day tomorrow.
