Climbing Volcun Villarica

I woke at 6am with a jolt and immediately dressed, in bed, in clothes I’d prepared the night before. I rushed downstairs and cooked some scrambled eggs quickly. The guides turned up at Chileano 6.30, so actually 6.45.

They gave us mountaineering boots, a backpack filled with all sorts of crazy things, a helmet and windproof layer. The gear was pretty old, most things didn’t do up/velcro/zip anymore. We hopped into the van and drove to the volcano. It looks close but it took 40 minutes. They played reggaton on the way there. We had three guides, all Chilean men, but they could speak an impressive amount of languages between them. In the group was me, Thomaz, Sandra, the French receptionist Anna, a Finnish woman called Hannah, another Brazilian guy the guides literally referred to as ‘Brasil’.

We started the walk in the ski field before it opened. The mountain was so pink and beautiful, but by the time we stopped the light had changed to sunlight and it was cloudy. It was tiring work walking through snow, because your legs sunk at every step but on uneven levels.

At the 2 hour mark we had overtaken every team in front of us. I had actually liked the slower and steady pace when we were behind a group but it was better to travel fast because it was a really cold day. I had taken off my puffer in a warm sunny bowl where it looked amazing to ski.

But we rounded the ridge and were instantly hit with an icy gale. My fingers and toes went numb but there was nowhere to stop; we were walking on sheet ice or knobbly ice fingers, our crampons clinging to the surface. It was now very steep too and between every ice sheet there was soft, deep fluffy snow that you sunk into up to your knees with no warning. We were all using our icepicks as walking sticks now.

At the top of the glacier we rounded to the left, mercifully out of the wind. It was the steepest pitch yet, and almost all sheet ice. My feet stuck off the slope, just my crampons holding me. We had a quick lesson on what to do if you fell, slam your icepick into the face and hope it holds you. It was pretty obvious if you lost your pick you would fall/slide out of control for at least 100 metres. The guides stood two per person beneath us and yelled at people to pay attention when they wobbled. Thomaz almost slipped, dropping his icepick, and the other Brazilian guy decided hed had enough, and just stood to the side refusing to move.

We reached the false summit, another icy ridge that wasn’t so steep. Then finally we were at the top! I took a big breath in and immediately started coughing uncontrollably, the air was thick with sulphur. Not great when you already have a cold. We had gas masks in our bags, I kept mine on the whole time. The water in my drink bottle had frozen into ice cubes and I ate a frozen muesli bar. The view of the lakes was incredible but it was so cold I hardly wanted to take photos. We looked into the crator – I made Rodrigo hold me while I did, you could see a red river of lava at the bottom!

Going down was even worse than up. We had to walk down the windy side of the mountain, which was snow so thick I would sink up to my thigh, then try and take a step forward with the other leg. The slope would’ve been absolutely incredible to ski but it was a nightmare to walk down. Finally we reached the flatter part of the mountain, the sheltered ridge we’d had lunch in. We used the plastic slides in our bag and protective bum-padding. I was looking forward to this, but it was much harder than it looked! My first attempt was okay, but the second chute I flew off a ridge and rolled several times desperately trying to stop myself with the icepick, landing on my face. I eventually worked out how to use the icepick brake, but it took a lot of arm strength.

The sliding was very fast and we were back in the ski field zone within an hour. Walking back I was so tired that I lost vision out of my left eye, my nose had scabbed from running with the icy wind on it and I was slipping all over the place. We all jumped in the van and the guides danced to reggaton in the front.

Back at the hostel it felt so good taking off all the gear – waterproof pants, garters, shoes, jackets, helmets and gloves. We all had a beer in the bar with the guides. Now we didn’t have to spend everyo moment staring at our feet we could talk, they were hilarious guys! They said we were the best group they’ve had all winter because we were all fit and no one got left behind. My Spanish could almost keep up with the conversation. I cooked carbonara for dinner around 8pm and was in bed by 9.30.