Ever since our failed attempt to summit Nevado Solimana last November, my climbing buddies and I have been talking about trying again. We’ve set a couple of tentative dates, but they haven’t worked out for one reason or another. Since I live near the mountain, my friends in Lima had asked me to keep an eye on it and send them photos of the climbing route. This week I finally had time to go up the mountain to see what the route was like and take some photos.
On Monday I made plans for a three-day backpacking trip, leaving Tuesday morning. I had invited my friend Max to come with me, but at the last minute he had to pull out due to work. I wanted to start walking from Cotahuasi, which is at 8,800 feet; that would make a gain of about 8,000 feet in elevation. However, when I realized that the weekly bus from Sánchez to Lima would leave Cotahuasi on Tuesday morning at about 8:30, I decided to take that to Visca Grande. Visca Grande is a junction where the old pedestrian and animal trail crosses the current gravel road between Cotahuasi and Chuquibamba, and it is the normal starting point for those traveling by bus to go up Solimana. This would also save me an estimated eight or nine hours of hiking time and 6,526 feet of elevation gain. For a cost of five soles ($1.60), it seemed worth it.
The bus finally left Cotahuasi at 9:00 am and luckily it was not crowded with passengers from Lima so I was able to get a seat. At 10:45 I was saying goodbye to the bus while standing on a sand flat at 15,328 feet (4,672 m). A few minutes later, a little higher up, looking southeast I could see two of the peaks of Nevado Coropuna, and looking south, the northern peak of Solimana. The recommended route to Solimana is to follow a trail west to the Soro River and then follow the river to its source, which is the Solimana Glacier. I had walked from the junction of the trail and the river to the highway last November when my car broke down and I remember that it took a couple of hours. I saw no point in going so far west, when Solimana was south of me. I had done some exploring a few days earlier on my trip to Cotahuasi, and it looked like a cross-country hike directly to Solimana seemed possible.
All of the high plain here is volcanic sand with scattered rocks and boulders, with some very resistant vegetation. It is not flat, there are many ravines and hills, and occasionally canyons that can be quite deep. However, since my previous reconnaissance, I did not see any problems that would prevent a cross-country route. The sand is quite thick and firm and very easy to walk on, unlike the normal soft sand on the beach. I started in a slightly southwest direction, knowing there was a low mountain between me and Solimana that I wanted to go around on the far west. The wind was a bit fresh, but with a brisk pace and overall smooth elevation gain in the hot sun, it made for perfect conditions for the hike.
At about 1:30, he was just above a shallow bowl where he was delighted to see five vicuñas grazing. They were very shy and although I tried to avoid them, I couldn’t get close to them to take a good photo. I got a great view of Solimana, through a saddle on the ridge of the mountain that was going around. The vicuñas actually took me up the right end of the ridge and headed towards the eastern end of Solimana. At the top of the ridge, I could glimpse the road to Cotahuasi and the distant mountains on the other side of the canyon, and also Nevado Firura, my next climbing target. Ahead of me was the semicircle of the Solimana peaks, with the glacier nestled in the bowl. There was a high ridge between us, but finally after 3 hours and 45 minutes, I was finally on a trail. It was just a faint trail of an animal, but it was easy to see and it was heading around the hill, so I decided to follow it.
At 3:05, I could see the Soro River junction ahead of me, and the junction with the highway (near the normal trail) to the west of me, so I was very happy with my cross-country route. I’m sure it must have saved me a couple of hours and it was an easy hike. After going down and crossing the narrow river, I started to climb the ridge on the right side of the river towards the glacier. At this point I realized that I was going to have to go all the way to the glacier to get the photos of the route I wanted, which made a new plan hatch in my mind. I remembered reading that one of Solimana’s three peaks had no reported summits. I was thinking that it was the peak on the right, which is the lowest of the three. The middle peak is the true summit, which is separated from the north peak by a sharp but relatively short ridge. The normal route climbs up to the ridge between the two peaks.
The peak on the right, the west summit, seemed to be mostly snow free on the north side where I was standing, so I decided to see if it was climbable. I hadn’t planned on climbing the mountain, so of course I didn’t have my ice ax, crampons, or even my thick gloves. I could see two possible routes, the northern route without snow and another from the east, starting above the glacier. It was partially hidden by a minor peak, but what I could see was covered in snow. It wasn’t as steep as the northern route though, so I decided I should at least check it out in the morning and see how it looked. But the important thing now was to set up camp before dark. It was now 5:30 and the sun was already behind a ridge, and at 17,711 feet, it was rapidly cooling. The sun made a beautiful glow high up on the east ridge, leading up to the north summit, which of course gave me ideas for a future ridge route attempt.
However, a more immediate concern was a fact that I had realized earlier in the afternoon, that I had forgotten to bring my trekking poles. It wasn’t much of a walk without them, but they double as my tent poles too! Of course, there wasn’t a stick or branch in sight after I got off the bus at over 15,000 feet. I had been considering using my tent as a bivy sack, but knew the inside would be covered in frost in the morning, so it wasn’t an attractive option. All he had were rocks of all sizes and types, including flat stackable ones and large boulders. I decided that a rock was the best option and soon found a suitable one at the end of a narrow flat sandy area. I set up the tent, it was low and crooked, but it worked.
Not wanting to have frozen hands in the morning, I slept until the sun began to melt the frost on my tent, and then after breakfast I had a non-alpine start at 8:00am. It was a beautiful morning and it was heating up quickly, especially with the start of the climb in earnest. Another small problem was that I had not brought my sunglasses, since I never wear them when I go hiking, and I did not plan to be in the snow. Fortunately, there was a rocky ridge to the right of the glacier, with only a few patches of snow. However, it was difficult to take in the beautiful views to my left, as I climbed above the glacier. After getting the route photos for my friends, I checked the snow-covered route from the east to the summit from the west. In fact, it was all snow, and it wasn’t too steep, but with the penitentes (sharp brittle snow spikes) and no sunglasses, it was out of the question.
I went back down to the more direct northerly route, which was a steep scree ramp, and searched for the best way up. It seemed that the safest route was to skirt the left rocky edge of the duct, which seemed to go all the way to the base of the peak. While looking at the route, I stayed for a while and had a snack, at 18,610 feet. At 10:34 I started up the scree, trying to find the biggest, most solid rocks to use as foot and handholds. It wasn’t too hard going up, but I wasn’t sure going down the same way. However, in the middle of the ramp there were no rocks and it looked like it would be easy to slide down.
Just before reaching the narrowest part of the ramp, I was tempted to leave the scree and climb a 10 foot rock face. However, I couldn’t see what was above, so I decided to cross and continue through the duct. When I got above that, I was glad I didn’t go up the rocks, as one slips on them and it would have been like sliding down a ski jump, with a very rough landing. Now he could see the true peak to the west, which had been hiding behind a lower peak when he looked down. I was disappointed to see that it had quite a bit of snow in the crevices and on the rocks. Even without the snow, I’m sure it would have been more difficult to rock climb than I would have been able to do alone, and especially without any climbing equipment. After taking in the views over the ridge to the south, I dropped my pack and walked as far as I felt comfortable. My GPS showed 19,267 feet and I was probably about two hundred feet below the summit.
The views were great though, I got a good look at the north peak and the actual summit which is 19,990ft. It was very clear that trying to reach the summit by following the sharp ridge from where I was standing was not an option, at least for me. Also, rock climbing to the summit on the south side seemed much more difficult than from below on the glacier. Which leaves the standard route up a ravine, which doesn’t have much snow, making it more difficult to climb.
By 12:30 I was sliding down the rock slide, past the spire, upright like a guard, which turned out to be a very quick and easy way down. An hour and 15 minutes later I was back at my camp, ready to pack up and head home. I reluctantly got more milky water from the Soro River when I crossed it. There were a couple of nice flat spots to camp on the way back to Visca Grande, but I knew there would be no water for a few hours. At 4:30 I was looking down at the bowl where I had seen the vicuñas the day before, which was also where I had planned to camp. However, it was still too early to stop, so I continued, following a similar cross-country route to the day before.
I saw the vicunas again, but from further away than before. Around 6:00 pm I found a couple of flat spots that would have been good camping spots, but they lacked the rock I needed to pitch my tent without the front poles. It was close enough to Visca Grande that I decided to continue there, since there was also a rock shelter there like the ones llama herders use. I got there just before dark, only to find that for some reason it was full of large rocks. However, there was a rock along the trail that was suitable to use, so I pitched my tent and had a good night’s sleep, decidedly warmer at “only” 15,328 feet.
I probably could have made it back to Cotahuasi on a passing truck, but I wanted to hike back the old trail and see if it was suitable for mountain biking. Look for that story in the next report.
