Thanks to my dear friends from Grayl, I am heading to Ecuador in an attempt to climb a few volcanoes/mountains. Extended thanks to my friend and brother from a different blood, Chris Lininger, founder and director of Epic Expeditions. I couldn’t start these writings without mentioning these humans—the reason this journey was possible to undertake.
January 8th
Travel life in airports and planes always reminds me how small the world can feel in these modern days. I am from the small island of Madeira, and I always think that my great-great-great-grandparents, farming and sheepherding in the mountains, would have thought that going to Ecuador to try to climb a few mountains is simply madness, maybe even a sin eligible to be exorcised by the local priest. Obsession about my island past aside, the fact is that in 2025 we can travel like never before.
The spirit is fine after a warm and festive Christmas at home. Maybe a good way to start off the year is to try to do some decent epic shit. Many breakfasts and presses await. Hope the team is strong and healthy for the mission, and the gods can help a little bit.
Side note to the non-believers: if you don’t trust in the existence of gods, put yourself in a position where you depend on weather and non-avalanche situations to survive, and you might start to see them—or, at least, to feel them. I feel them every day. Maybe I am crazy. If it is so, let me be. Maybe that is why I am writing these lines and heading to these mountains.
January 8th, 2025
Iberia 11-hour flight from Madrid to Quito, Ecuador
January 13th
Almost a week in these Andean lands. A few hikes to impressive landscapes to acclimatize, and all has been delightful. Ecuador is beautiful, its people charming. In Latin America, we are always surrounded by music and art in the streets and urban areas.
In the mountains, we are surrounded by a magical feeling. The team is a great group of humans from diverse origins and nationalities. I’ve not been inspired to write with all the beauty of this country and what you have to absorb, but I had to give note of what’s been the trip so far.
The first climb to Cayambe mountain is near. Hope the weather gods can be with us.
Quito
January 13th, 2025
January 17th
That was the first volcano attempt. Cayambe proved to be shy and moody.
Focusing on the topic of success—success in mountains, especially big mountains, is relative. We normally focus on the summits, the photos and videos at the top, and the smiles.
All the rest, though, occurs with extreme importance. The positive anxiety before starting, the struggle to sleep in bunk beds with a selection of special snorers around and peculiar nose sounds, the weather evolutions and its unpredictability, the superstitious thoughts, and on and on. That is also part of the ritual of trying to climb.
Of course, the headaches—symptom number one at altitude, they say.
Well, we couldn’t reach the summit due to the weather. The reasonable decision to turn around happened at 5,300m altitude after around five hours walking up in a snowstorm and in the wind.
We all got wet very fast with the storm and the Ecuadorian humidity spraying all over the place.
The turn around seemed to be accepted by everyone as the best call—or, better saying, the call. Decisions in mountains are always complex. We only have the moment, the present time. Afterwards, trillions of opinions and debates can happen, but that’s very possibly not helpful.
Besides, with the sun rising upon us, the darkness kept showing itself solid. “Puede ver nada expediciones” was the expression we brought up. Possibly translated as “Can’t see shit expeditions!”
Truly, the visibility was close to zero, and summiting mountains to see nothing is probably not the vibe. Crap is crap. I, personally, if asked, climb mountains—whatever size they are—to see other mountains, not because I want to show off or pretend badasseries I do not possess.
It was not the day, and getting back to the refuge brought the certainty that, with two volcanoes still to climb, maybe the gods would give us a hand.
The previous night, we got a glimpse of the mountain from the lower refuge, but Cayambe always showed himself a shy creature and not very welcoming.
Positive points: another chance to acclimatize a bit more and spend time at altitude. Our guides were sober and conscious in the decision, and the spirit in the team kept high, respectful, and determined for revenge.
The place we are now is simply perfect for our needs to resurrect for the next climb. Cotopaxi is the next highness. We probably will need gas masks. It is an active volcano, and its park—or better saying, its surroundings—was restricted until recently. Got to put the Grayl bag up there. Got a good feeling about this one.
First volcano gods tested us. Next one, maybe they will deliver glory.
For now the choices are: natural juices, pork, chicken or trout. Not bad…
January 17th, 2025
January 20th
An orange sunset marks the end of another day here in magical Ecuador. A silhouette of two rocky mountains resembles a dance between clouds and peaks.
What a day that feels more than a week. In the pocket, we have Cotopaxi volcano.
I could be a writer that keeps the suspense till the end, but why not be practical? We summited Cotopaxi this morning at 5:30 am.
2 days ago, when all started, in reference to the conquest of this mountain, the feeling and vibes were substantially different from the previous attempt on Cayambe.
Once we got in the Cotopaxi Natural Park, the flat lands around brought me some Mongolian perfume. A peace and quiet that you don’t describe in poetry or scientific essays. Got that feeling in the Mongolian steppes several times. Entering Cotopaxi territory brought me that breeze.
The refuge, painted in red, and with a hummingbird flying close to us was another ingredient of an interesting and inspiring scenario. As we checked in, no views of the mountain. Clouds are some sort of a dress or mask in the mountains of Ecuador. They, for sure, are shy, making them even more appealing.
What is unknown, what is shy, and so on, sometimes it is more exciting to “conquer”. The day was calm, no wind, and a good temperature. The first impressions were a bit defeated by the clouds. Again! The clouds were stopping us from an observation in the distance. Personally, I do like to observe the mountains, climbable or not, attemptable or not, in the distance.
See them from afar and admire their beauty. Most of the time, admiration and not possession can be enough. We grabbed a few teas and prepared for the next day.
At sunset time, the quietness in the refuge and its surroundings “collapsed”. Everyone pulled out their phones and cameras.
Cotopaxi was visible out of sudden. Could describe it as love at first sight. The moment I saw that bloody active volcano, a great feeling erupted inside of me. I admired him in the binoculars and could see some sections of the route. Cotopaxi looked close enough, doable, climbable. Huggable even. Scary and imposing, but at the same time welcoming. It felt just there.
Was obvious that everyone had a good feeling. The mountain was literally saying: “Here I am, humans!” There were smiles and excitement. In my heart, I was confident. Even after spotting the high refuge in the binoculars and realizing the apparent crazy location, I never lost confidence, some sort of natural feeling you don’t control. It was time to relax, prepare, and manage the anxiety.
The night was like those written in history, and Cotopaxi didn’t disappear from sight. Clear skies, stars, and that bloody volcano. All aligned.
I still got out with Chris for night photographic attempts of the volcano. There was no moonlight disturbing the visibility of the stars.
This can be great to observe what´s up there in the universe but, on the other hand, can also be more challenging for the desire of having a good shot at night. A bit of light is important. The long exposure attempts resulted in magic with the last sunset light fading in the distance. It was a cold night, and I was wearing shorts.
My record in shorts is 5400m in Bolivia in a snowstorm. Nothing important, but it is true. After feeling the mountain in the dark of the last night before battle, we went to sleep.
After another breakfast and enough coffees, it was time to pack, organize all the gear we carry when traveling, and leave the lower refuge. We met the guides around lunchtime and departed for the higher refuge.
We had to walk up for around an hour to the refuge, and it was steep and tough up carrying all the gear for the mission.
A taste of being a porter is humbling. It is important to never forget that mountaineering, in many mountains, is only possible due to the bravery of the local people and communities, who might laugh respectfully about Western attempts on being a mountain guy. Anyway, we made it to the refuge after a welcoming micro-snowstorm at the beginning.
Briefings about the plan and many “Okay guys” by our leader Gustavo, soft dinner, and the time was coming. Trying to sleep at 6pm to wake up at 10.30pm for the summit push it is interesting. An alternative big night out for a night club or roof top can be a good mental trick. Sleep in the evening to “party” during the night. Some can sleep, others can snore, some can read, others can listen to psychotic podcasts. At least the body can lay down and rest for a few hours to be ready. The sound of harnesses, helmets, heavy boots, head torches attacking you around 10 pm marks the moment you should move your ass.
Coffees, anxiety, last toilette missions, and it is game time. I looked several times to the sky before heading up. Not a single cloud, no wind. The confirmation of the good feeling about that mountain I had the day before.
We started at midnight. Could write many things, many feelings, but many of the ingredients of a climb are unwritable, unphotographable. Felt like destiny. A smooth climb, exhausting for sure, but feeling like something written in the books of the gods. All was in its right place.
The traverse was respectful but serene. Even if we had the gas masks ready for the sulfur and the possible “smoke” coming from this active gate to the interior of the planet, it was simply part of it. Some took the masks. I personally forgot about it. I felt part of that alive mountain. For a few moments in my life, I had the privilege of being part of something bigger, alive, and colossal.
The smell of the sulfur was part of it. The perfume of that mountain.
5.30am we were on the summit. Cotopaxi was one of those moments we live for. That luck does not come always. Perfection it is normally impossible but Cotopaxi was that. Perfection.
The sunrise just revealed what glory can be. The crater with a cloud of steam and the green of the flat lands disappearing in the terrestrial horizon. Other volcanos in the distance. A scene that fuels the soul for an immeasurable time. 5900m altitude, Cotopaxi volcano in Ecuador. A masterpiece of the gods I was lucky to see with my own eyes.
January 20th, 2025
After Cotopaxi.
After a majestic piece of art from nature, the feeling among our team was easy to detect. The next volcano to attempt was His Majesty, Mr. Chimborazo, the highest mountain in Ecuador. Felt like a bonus summit attempt after the peculiar and perfect beauty of Cotopaxi. Chimborazo is another impressive volcano, no doubt. Some climbed it, some turned around, others stayed at the high camp.
Well, it doesn’t matter at all. Everyone was happy and with the feeling of accomplishment.
Three summits in seven days is ambitious. Success in mountains can be subjective. Everyone alive, everyone with a smile, no injuries—that is normally eligible to be considered success. In the memory: the contagious lands of Ecuador.
The Andes, the condor mountains. A tale that was written by a small group of sapiens in our own respectful bubble. Laughs—many laughs—and that impression that it won’t be the last chance. That is also success.
The people and the little fragments of the heart we leave and receive from each other. Ecuador volcanoes were the stage where we had a chance to dance. The stage we attacked as a team, as one, sharing a mystical touch delivered by the divine.
Until the next time.
João Paulo Freitas
Ecuador
January 2025
