By Andreas Fransson
After an adventure in Ecuador we moved south toward Peru, via some surfing outside of Trujillo, to the mountain town of Huaraz. The low season held its grip on the town, so it was really quiet. No one really climbs in the high mountains at this time of the year, and we were met with surprise when we told people we were going for the highest mountain in the range, Huascarán, to go skiing.
Arriving at the foot of the mountain in the sleepy village of Mucho, we read in the guestbook that the last climbers to set foot on the mountain had been there in August, two months before us.
A totally untouched mountain was awaiting us as we ascended its western flank. The only evidence of previous visitors that we found after setting foot on the glacier were a few pieces of candy paper here and there.
What followed was a week’s adventure on Peru’s highest mountain with—endless games of shithead in the dark; some wonderful corn skiing; tiredness taken to a new personal level; altitude sickness; frustrated hours of waiting; extraordinary sunsets seen; feelings of being small compared to something so big; and lonely walks solo in the dark.