A writer from Ribeirão Preto needs to do an Aconcagua undertaking in Argentina, the most noteworthy mountain in America, with 6,960 meters. Find in this select article the subtleties of this accomplishment acquired at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday, January 12, 2002
It was 3 AM on a Tuesday, an exceptionally brilliant January 8, yet without moonlight. The temperature arrived at the short 5 degrees Celsius mark. I emerged from the tent completely prepared, wearing five layers of dress, the last one a coat and carnage tex pants, a manufactured film that traps heat, permits sweat, and shields from the breeze. Furthermore, he wore twofold boots, thick woolen gloves, a brow light, two implement, a radio communicator, and a little stapled assault rucksack (a sort of guided horseshoe toward put on the boots), water bars and sugars and energy gels.
It was at an elevation of 4,300 meters at the Plaza de Mulas headquarters. Objective: the culmination of Aconcagua, in excess of 2,600 meters above ocean level, at the stature of 6,960 meters above ocean level, the most noteworthy point in the Western Hemisphere or the entirety of America. He had the eagerness, boldness, readiness, and backing of loved ones. I fired the climb up the mountain, and in under three hours, I arrived at the high level camp of Nido de Cóndores at a height of 5,300 meters. There, the primary huge issue. Abrupt frigid breezes froze his fingers before he could eliminate the violence tex gloves from his knapsack. This had been the coldest of all the Aconcagua endeavors I had taken an interest in.
Outrageous back rubs, scouring the hands, reestablished blood flow to this furthest point of the body. At simply over 1:30 toward the beginning of the day, I passed the camp in the upper piece of Berlin, at 5,800 meters above ocean level, effectively visible to everyone. Now, the breeze deteriorated, and there was snow from a new snowstorm. The movement was moderate and exorbitant, contingent upon the components of the Cordillera. With around 8 hours of movement, I passed the last shelter, called Independência, and made a beeline for the past and most anguishing course: the Travessia and the Canaleta.
The primary, I defeated it under the lash of the tenacious breeze. Then, at that point, the feared 300-meter Canaleta incline. Nearly creeping, I arrived at the 6,700-meter mark. Depleted, exhausted, with migraines and my brains previously influenced by absence of oxygen, I actually had the prescience to cut short the assault. Maybe, with the remainder of the energy, I had left, I could arrive at the culmination of Aconcagua. Yet, he most likely wouldn’t be here today to recount the remainder of the story. I imparted, by means of radio, to the base, my retirement. Following 11 hours of exertion, my performance endeavor to overcome the mountain from Plaza de Mulas finished there, and, at that point, a unimaginable dissatisfaction expanded. Climbing Aconcagua will have my retribution sometime later.