nuestro unico problema es que nos falta chicha

Saturday, August 18, 2007

No Mas Muertes; Douglas/Agua Prieta; Arizona, USA/Sonora, Mexico

This will be the first of a series of three entries that will effectively catch everyone up on what I've been doing for the past month--namely, from my arrival in El Paso, TX to my return home to Omaha, NE for study . Sorry to have been delinquent during the interim, but life can be busy. Without further adieu.

Emily and I spent a week volunteering with No More Deaths along the US-Mexican border. No More Deaths was founded in response to the humanitarian disaster that occurs year-round in the Sonoran desert--hundreds of migrants die yearly. They run several operations in the area, ranging from a camp in the Sonoran desert that makes water drops and gives medical assistance to migrants to humanitarian aid shelters in in Nogales and Agua Prieta, Mexico for deported migrants, recently apprehended by the border patrol while crossing to the US. We worked in one of these shelters in Agua Prieta (across the border from Douglas, Arizona).


looking across customs into Mexico


the border immediately east of Douglas


border patrol vehicles were everywhere

We have no pictures to share of the many friends we made, but we spent hours staffing this small center--at times, all night. Groups of migrants would be deported after they were caught crossing, some of them on their third or fourth attempt. We would beckon to them as they passed and offer our services--free food, water, medical service. Many would come eagerly, but others would be ushered past by their coyotes who would often taxi them back out to the desert immediately for another attempt, further compounding issues of dehydration, exhaustion, and general physical malady.


passing the time during the late night

We found that the largest groups of deportees would arrive in two shifts, around 1230am and later, around 2 or 3. These were the some of the saddest moments. We talked with men, women and children who had been displaced from their farms in poor rural regions in southern Mexico, oftentimes by US or Canadian agribusiness, and were subsequently forced to risk their lives just to put food on their plates and that of their families. We stayed open all night to give a place to stay to a group of 5 women who had been deported at 230 in the morning after crossing the desert with but a little water and office shoes. We patched dozens of blisters, gave out hundreds of burritos and bottled waters, offered pudding to children who were so severely dehydrated after more than 3 days in the desert that they had lost the drive to eat or drink, and tried our best to offer companionship to these people in their hardship. Often, I just tried to apologize for the hatred and ignorance of those who vote and form US policy, which forces countries to abandon economic borders while maintaining a human ones--essentially stealing the fundamental necessities from so many and then demanding that they simply starve, all while we united statesians sit in the lap of luxury conveniently spinning webs of hate and fear that help us sleep at night by justified our condemnation of these beautiful, loving people to death. This reality was presented on an individual basis, several hundred times everyday.


looking west along the border

You can, and should, do whatever you can to help this organization. Visit their website at nomoredeaths.org. Solve the root of the problem by working to change a broken, murderous, immigration policy (not to mention or disastrous free-trade agreements, NAFTA, CAFTA, and more). Get involved!

And please, next election remember that voting against a president who is ambivalent about abortion policy does nothing to change abortion policy as this remains in the domain of the supreme court, but voting for a racist kills thousands every year--on the border and around the world--if you want to cancel your complacency as regards these violent exploitations, vote and end your support of these atrocities.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Clear Fluid Diet, El Paso, TX, USA



With nothing better to do, I found the SummitPost for Huayna Potosi. Someone had put up a picture looking down the final headwall in daylight, so now I can convey the feeling at 6000+ meters much better. Climbing pictures are fun.

Saturday, August 4, 2007

La Paz, Bolivia

I thought I´d share a few photos I´ve taken in La Paz. At more than 11800 ft, it is the highest capital in the world. The city itself rests inside a valley that opens up to the looming 21125 feet Mt. Illimani. I´ve been more or less just taking things easy here for the past few days, and will continue to do so--climbing Huayna Potosi wiped out my energy and I am now just feeling normal again. I have visited several interesting museums and had a good time just meeting people. Yesterday I went to the ancient ruins of Tiwanaku, and will put a post up here about that soon. Until then, here are some pictures of the city.


looking across the valley, all the streets just go up and up...


looking down the valley towards downtown, Illimani towers over the highest skyscrapers in the world.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Summiting Huayna Potosi, 6088m, 19975ft, Cordillera Real, La Paz, Bolivia

Two days ago, I set out at 9am with my mountaineering guide Roberto to attempt the nearby peak Huayna Potosi--a 6088m mountain which sits squarely in the Cordillera Real, home to many other giant peaks.


taken during our approach

We arrived at foot of the mountain around 1030am or so, and hoofed up all our equipment--cheesy yellow plastic boots, harness, ice axe, crampons, ropes, and the other usual stuff for camping and bitter cold. Other groups used sherpas to haul their gear up to the start of the glacier, but for some reason we didn´t--though later (after I took off my 60lb pack) it made me happy to feel like I wasn´t taking shortcuts through this thing. Anyway, the hike took about 2-3 hours up through a boulderfield until we ended up a refugee potosi--a wooden shack at 5200m (17060ft) that is frequented by climbers waiting to acclimatize a bit while the time ticks away until 1am when the summit attempt begins.

The rest of the day essentially consisted of this anxious waiting around, seeing how the altitude affected us, and watching other climbers have to turn around (text-book examples of Cheney-Stokes respirations). I took several photos during this time, which would turn out to be the majority of what I captured as the upcoming cold at 20000ft around 4am would prove too much for my desires to remove my overmits to navigate the camera.


a shot up the mountain from where we stayed, this was of course a false peak--about 1/6 of the way up from there


looking east towards amazonia and its cloudbank, past a few shorter mountains in the Cordillera Real


trying to relax and sleep inside the shack

The rest of the night I tried to eat aguacate and cheese sandwiches and drink mate de coca while my body rejected my attempts to sleep time and time again. I managed about an hour in total due to the altitude and a snowstorm that was happening outside--making me appreciate the refuge a little bit more. My guide Roberto (called el piano by the other guides, for why I never got a straight answer), told me it was 100 and time to suit up to go. Putting on all the gear, we stepped out into a frigid night, a fresh blanket off snow over everything, and a nearly full moon that light everything so brightly I would only turn on my lamp for knots and technical sections. Really a serene and beautiful night.


a blurry hand-held shot of Roberto advancing up the first section of glacier--shows how bright it was

So the work began, kicking on crampon in front of the next for several hours straight. It was hard work when we started, and only got more difficult as we progressed upward into thinner air. However, compared to other groups we made great time--Roberto and I quickly passed beyond all the other climbers and the entire morning was spent cutting a fresh path through the snow with nobody in sight. It was one of the more spiritual experiences I´ve ever had, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other in a steady rhythm while seeing all sorts of amazing glacial formations lit by this ethereal moonlight.


el piano


self-portrait

Normally, there is only one truly technical section of the climb aside from glacier travel--about 30 meters to step up to another glacier at about 50 degrees. Roberto thought I was doing fine, so he walked us over to an ice face, "mejorar escalar." We took a picture in front of it in the day on the way back down. Anyway, it was a blast--if a bit difficult at altitude.


in front of the first technical section

Apparently this was a test/warmup, because later Roberto told me we would be leaving the normal route. The normal ascent crosses in front of the final summit face to a ridge that one is able to follow to the peak at a steady 20 degrees. Instead, we would go straight up the face itself--climbing what he told me was 60+ degrees for the final 210+ meters (it was a bit more than 3 sections of 70m rope when we repelled back down) to reach the 6088 meter summit. So we set off, and this was durissimo--all I could do was concentrate on getting good throws of my axe, setting my toes into firm ice that wouldn´t fall out, and pressure breathing to keep my lungs as open as possible. Compounding this the most bitter wind I´ve ever felt whiping across the face of our climb--causing me to lose feeling in my toes about halfway up (damn rental plastics)... Pretty scary, but by that point there was no question about continuing to the end.

After too long of this (I really have no idea exactly how long as my mind was a little hazy at this point though Roberto told me it usually takes 40 minutes to an hour) we pulled ourselves onto the summit--later we would find out we were the first ones of the day up there. The view was amazing, as everything was lit by the moon--lake titicaca, the lights of la paz, other peaks in the cordillera real, forming clouds over the amazon basin--incredible. Unfortunately all my shots are blurry--I had lost feeling in my right foot and my right hand was coming in and out, making a stable platform a bit difficult. I went to drink from my MSR bladder, but the water had frozen! It was too cold to stay there much longer than 10 minutes, so we decided to go back down and take a longer break once the sun had presented itself.


the peak of Huayna Potosi with a hint of sun starting to crawl out


on the peak, you can see the lights of La Paz in the background


watching sunrise over amazonia

We rapelled back down the same face, and took a break at the bottom.


trying to rest and stay warm and breath


we ran into another group of climbers, and they took this picture of us


glacier formation


another

All that remained was the long walk back out, a few beers between the two of us, and a well-deserved shower.