The Swabian Andean Expedition, 1961

Richard Hechtel

Translated by H. Adams Carter

The Cordillera Blanca has been declared by many the most beautiful mountain chain in the world. Its relatively easy accessibility makes it particularly attractive as a goal for an expedition. Although today its main summits have all been climbed, there remain sufficient rewarding objectives for generations of climbers. César Morales Arnao, one of the people best acquainted with the Cordillera Blanca, enumerates in the Revista Peruana de Andinismo of 1957 half a hundred unclimbed mountains with heights above 5000 meters. Beside easy snow summits soar peaks of indescribable boldness, worthy of the attention of the best mountaineers in the world.

Having set our sights on the Cordillera Blanca, the members of the Swabian Andean Expedition 1961 met in Lima during the final days of May. Three of us, Kurt Bogner, Erhard Erdmann and Günther Kämpfe, had come from Germany while the other three of us, Donald Liska, Christian Schiel and I, arrived from the United States. All came by air except for Bogner, who had brought almost a ton of heavy expedition equipment by boat. Some of us were bound together by years of friendship and countless climbs together; others saw each other for the first time in Lima. All in all there was no one who had known all of the expedition members before.

With the help of friends living in Lima we succeeded in sluicing all the equipment through the customs in a day and a half,—in Peru generally a very lengthy and wearisome procedure which has taken some expeditions as much as three weeks. Meanwhile another part of our group had bought the still needed food and hired a truck. Therefore we were ready to leave by May 31. Günther Kämpfe and Kurt Bogner had declared themselves prepared to accompany the baggage and left on the same day with the truck for Huaraz. The rest of us followed the next morning by taxi. If there was anything on the expedition to fill us with terror it was this drive through and across the Cordillera Negra. What moved the driver, an insolent looking fellow, to his maniacal driving never became clear to us. In any case he was not drunk. When we finally reached Huaraz toward six in the evening, similar feelings gripped us to those felt by Columbus when he first sighted land after crossing the ocean. We knew at any rate that the expedition’s greatest dangers now lay behind us.

The next days were filled with sorting equipment and recruiting porters. That the porters we had hired ahead of time had in the meantime left with another expedition turned out to be no disadvantage. There were plenty of young men who all wanted to work for us. An English speaking inhabitant of Huaraz, Señor Manuel Ramírez, helped us to pick them out. We finally hired four porters, Apolinario Chauca, Miguel Flores, Justiniano Huaman and Augusto Jamanca, all from Huaraz or vicinity. In the following days, these four proved true and faithful. They were tireless when carrying heavy loads, even in difficult terrain, as well as bold, skillful and always cheerful; in short we could not have hoped for or even imagined better porters.

An Attempt on Ocshapalca

Our first goal in the Cordillera Blanca was the yet unclimbed Ocshapalca (19,295 feet), which had indeed already caught the eye of several expeditions but because of its obvious difficulties had never been seriously attempted. From study of maps and photographs, as well as from conversations with César Morales Arnao, it became clear to us that our only chance would probably be to try to climb the north ridge. But we also wanted to see the southern slopes of the mountain and therefore decided on a reconnaissance into the Quebrada Llaca. During this we intended to hasten our acclimatization and get to know the porters better. After having forced our way to a height of about 15,000 feet, on the second day we turned back toward Huaraz with the knowledge that the Quebrada Llaca was completely unsuitable as a starting point for the ascent of Ocshapalca. The 2000-foot, insanely steep south face of the mountain showed itself no less forbidding than the two knife-sharp ridges which flanked it. We wanted all the more to get to know the other side of the mountain as quickly as possible. Since we had reckoned on a siege-time of about two weeks, the preparations this time lasted somewhat longer.

After two days things were finally ready to leave Huaraz in two taxis and a truck, which was laden with equipment, food and porters. By evening we had reached, over a steep, winding track (to call it a road would be too flattering), the 11,000-foot Hacienda Collon, where we were guests for the night. Here we learned for the first time the meaning of the magic word ”su casa” ("your house”). The situation became difficult when there were potatoes for supper—one of the two hundred different Peruvian varieties—which had been prepared with some spice too hot for our palates. To have refused the host’s food would have been a deadly insult; you know how sensitive people are in such things. A large paper bag which circulated under the table and into which all the potatoes finally disappeared rescued us from the dilemma. Luckily the lighting was poor enough to allow the maneuver. But I do hope that the bag finally found its way into one of our rucksacks.

The next morning all the baggage was loaded onto muleback. Doubtless the beasts which were provided for us were very experienced. In any case they had a whole bundle of tricks in store. Several animals had to be loaded three or four times, and the carambas and carajos of the arrieros were not to be counted. The last straw was mule rebellion carried out in all proper form, including flight and bucking the packs off. After all the beasts had at last been caught and the chief ringleader replaced by two donkeys, towards nine o’clock we were able to set out for the Quebrada Ishinca. Our next goal was a hut which lies at 16,000 feet far back in the Quebrada Yanaraju, a tributary valley to the Ishinca. We arrived during the course of the afternoon in loose order of battle, depending on the degree of fatigue of each person. Arrieros and pack animals had hardly dropped their loads when they began the descent. Our dwelling, which we christened "Hotel Ishinca” was of Spartan simplicity; there was no danger of being spoiled by luxury. It consisted of nothing more than stone walls pierced by window openings, a dilapidated roof and a fire place without wood.

The next day we climbed to a 17,000-foot crest, which had previously blocked our view of Ocshapalca. Up there we found our expectations fully and completely confirmed. The only practical ascent of Ocshapalca led obviously over the north ridge, which looked not easy but also not impossible. Only the highest portion was problematical. After this reconnaissance, that same day we bagged our first Andean summit; Point 5160 (16,929 feet), an easy rock peak on the end of the ridge which extends north from Ranrapalca. Since obvious technical difficulties and high altitude were combined on Ocshapalca, we decided that it was too early for an all-out attack. We wanted first to become better acclimatized and for this reason established camp in the next few days at 17,700 feet at the northeastern foot of Ranrapalca. From there on June 12 the whole expedition, including the porters, who joined us at their own request, climbed a splendid 18,143-foot ice peak on the ridge between Ranrapalca and Palcaraju. We discovered to our delight that no one suffered unduly from the altitude. Because of this experience we decided to begin the attack on Ocshapalca without further delay.

In the next two days we established Camp I at 16,850 feet at the foot of the north ridge. Although the porters had rendered such marvelous service, we did not think that we could be responsible for them in the increasingly difficult terrain above Camp I. On the very next day, June 15, Kämpfe, Liska and Schiel forced a route to the spectacular shoulder at 18,700 feet. On all difficult sections they fixed manila rope, of which we had brought some 2000 feet from Lima. At the same time Erdmann and I climbed with heavy loads from Camp I to Camp II, which we placed in a narrow notch on the ridge at 17,700 feet. Schiel and Bogner, who had been the last to come from "Hotel Ishinca”, descended in the evening to Camp I. They preferred to sleep more comfortably and get up earlier the next morning. The prospect of reaching the summit the next day seemed very favorable that evening.

While it was still pitchblack the next morning, the clinking of ice axes and the sound of voices rose from the chimney which fell to the depths beside our tents. Immediately thereafter we glimpsed the electric headlamps of Bogner and Schiel, who gave a heroic example to the sleepy-heads at Camp II. Without stopping they climbed through in the direction of the summit. Although we had prepared our breakfast drink the night before and put it into a thermos bottle, it was an hour before we were ready to move. If someone asked what we did during this time, we should have to answer truthfully. We had to fight against our own weak wills ("It’s so cozy in our sleeping bags and outside who knows how cold it is?”). We had to combat the natural perversity of inanimate objects; there were frozen boots, frozen crampons, frozen ropes. Shortly before six we turned the tide of battle and began the ascent.

It was not too hard to follow our comrades for we had their tracks and in all ticklish spots fixed ropes. Except for one short pitch the whole ascent was on more or less steep ice. When we reached the shoulder three hours later, Bogner and Schiel were at work on a blunt, hideously steep ice and snow pillar. They had already ascended more than half of it and were no more than a rope length from the summit ridge. They were separated from the top itself by about three rope lengths and we saw no reason why before long they should not stand on the highest pinnacle. What did bother us was their snail’s pace. We were soon to discover the type of difficulty they were running into. Erdmann and Kämpfe followed as second rope up this Jacob’s ladder. After a long wait, around eleven o’clock it was the turn of the third rope, Liska and me. The conditions which had been poor for the first rope had become worse under the intensive rays of the sun. The building material for this gorgeous looking pillar was porous snow-ice riddled with countless holes and hollows in which neither hand nor footholds had any positive solidarity. The belaying possibilities were more than questionable, both for our jammed-in ice axes and for our meter-long aluminum pickets. Unfortunately too, on this particular midday there was not a breath of wind, which might have kept the snow from softening. By one o’clock the snow and ice conditions had become so bad that further advance could hardly justify the risk. Bogner, as leader of the first rope, had reached a small but definite notch right under the summit, about five meters below it, and had retreated with the greatest difficulty to the last belay point. Kämpfe and I tried the same pitch without getting to Bogner’s high point. A light mist had floated in, making it hard to tell how far we all really were from the summit, but it probably was less than a rope length and twenty meters below. Every one felt instinctively the frightful seriousness and danger of the situation we were in. Without a word we turned. On the back side of the pillar we found, after a long search, a place where the ice was solid enough for a rappel picket. Sliding down two 120-meter ropes tied together we quickly and safely reached the shoulder. But as we suspected, we could not pull the rappel ropes down. As last man, Bogner quickly gave up the idea of rappelling and climbed the second half free, an amazing accomplishment. That same night Bogner, Erdmann and Schiel descended to Camp I, while Kämpfe, Liska and I spent another night at Camp II in a raging gale.

Little remains to be told of our attempt on Ocshapalca. The evacuation of the camps and the transport downhill went completely smoothly unless you count difficulties with the pack train. When we reached Huaraz on June 19, we did not really know whether we should consider our undertaking a success or failure. A careful scanning of photographs shows that the tiny notch reached by Bogner is only five meters (16½ feet) below the summit. I wonder if under the circumstances Ocshapalca will not count among ascended peaks.

Nevado Ulta

After our return from Ocshapalca, we had as our next goals the still unclimbed Nevado Ulta, which had been tried by several expeditions, as well as Chopicalqui. Both peaks were to be approached from the same Base Camp in the Quebrada Ulta. For a while we had also had the secret wish to climb, as our last ascent, Huascarán, Peru’s highest mountain. It soon became clear that this would have to remain a wish, for we simply did not have time.

After two days of leisure we had recovered enough to make preparations with fresh vigor. Astonishingly it only took us a day and a half although we had more gear than the first time. We had hired a truck again to carry the whole expedition the twenty miles to Carhuás. Our chances of reaching it with this vehicle were not altogether favorable. Indeed the truck had no foot brake, as we were soon to find out, and it could be successfully shifted down into a lower gear only in exceptional cases. However, the altitude drop to Carhuás was not too great and for extreme emergencies there was the handbrake. As a matter of fact we did reach Carhuás on the evening of June 23 well jounced, bounced and covered with dust but sound in soul and body. Augusto, our porter, had made excellent preparations and contracted for fifteen mules which were to be available to us in the morning.

When morning arrived and in place of the fifteen promised mules only seven donkeys with their respective arrieros appeared, we were not even particularly surprised. By then we were better acquainted with Peru. To find more pack animals in a short time was impossible. There was nothing else to do but divide the expedition for a while. Bogner, who spoke some Spanish, and Augusto should hunt pack animals while Kämpfe and Miguel guarded the equipment left in Carhuás. The rest would climb with the available pack train carrying a part of the gear to Base Camp in the Quebrada Ulta. After a march of sixteen miles this group reached at seven o’clock a well-suited place for Base Camp and erected its tents at 12,800 feet.

The next day, June 25, Schiel and I made a reconnaissance on the Nevado Ulta to find a suitable spot for the first high camp. We returned with the news that a usable site lay on a little moraine at a height of 15,400 feet right under the northwest face of the Nevado Ulta. Since our present camp was not particularly favorable as a departure point, a new Base Camp was set up a bit up-valley and 650 feet higher. After another day of waiting our long yearned for friends appeared at the head of a column of twenty donkeys. Now nothing further stood in the way of an attack on the Nevado Ulta.

The next morning the pack loads for Camp I were put together in feverish haste. Despite all efforts it was one p.m. before Erdmann, Liska, Schiel and I could begin the ascent with the four porters. Towards five, just before reaching the camp site, the porters began the descent in order not to arrive below too much after dark. There was just time enough for the "sahibs” to set up their tents before night fall.

There was no uncertainty about the route higher. The only possible line of ascent led up a wildly shattered hanging glacier to a broad col north of the summit where another camp could be erected. In order to establish and supply this camp, it was necessary to make the whole 2300-foot-high ice fall possible for the porters and to fix ropes on all the difficult spots, a task which cost three full days. Kämpfe and Bogner were the first to reach the col and to see the Nevado Ulta above it. The news they brought back that evening to Camp I was devastating. As they saw it, it was impossible to reach the summit from this side. If this was true, we had failed on the Nevado Ulta as had all our predecessors. However, before admitting defeat Erdmann, Liska and I wanted to see the horrendous slope with our own eyes. Our impression from the col the next day was not at all different. Luckily one of us had a whim to take a closer look at the "impossible” northeast face of the peak. Seen from its foot, the wall was really much less steep and even gave a chance of an ascent up its eastern portion. After traversing several hundred yards below the bergschrund we three made our way to a massive snow rib whose crown I managed to reach toward one in the afternoon by very difficult ice climbing. The prospect from here was not hopeless. The route which nature had picked for us led up the rib which swung upwards for hundreds of meters with ever increasing steepness until at last it disappeared below perpendicular cliffs and great ice overhangs under the summit. How and whether we could surmount this last bulwark could be decided only by a determined attempt. Further advance on that same day was out of the question because of the late hour. Therefore we returned to Camp I to surprise our companions with the news that we had found a route, which possibly could lead to success. No long council of war was needed to decide to continue the attack on the peak.

On the next day, July 3, Liska, Schiel and Augusto again climbed to the col in order to establish Camp II, which consisted of a small tent and a snow cave for four people. More loads were lugged there the next day by Bogner, Kämpfe, Schiel, Miguel and me, which because of the glowing heat that reigned on the icefall, demanded our greatest strength of character.

The next advance from Camp II took place on July 5. Bogner, Kämpfe, and Schiel reached the end of the snow rib at about 18,700 feet and returned leaving fixed ropes on the upper part. Our hopes that we should reach the summit on the next push had grown—provided that the weather held.

We were reminded on the very next day of the fact that even in the Andes there is bad weather; an attempt by Kämpfe, Liska and me ended after a short time in thick mist. The try the day after was nipped in the bud; it snowed and stormed almost all day and the snow cave proved to be of inestimable worth.

It cleared towards evening and our hopes rested on the next day. All six climbers were assembled in Camp II and we had to decide who would attempt the summit. Erdmann and Schiel declared themselves ready to stay in support at Camp II. The other four should try the peak on two separate ropes. The next morning Bogner was cooking by three o’clock and at four the first rope, Bogner and Kämpfe, left the ice cave. Liska and I followed an hour later. The tracks of the previous attempts were buried under new snow but the fixed ropes permitted such rapid and safe progress that at about ten both ropes had reached the end of the snow rib. From there on, the difficulties increased substantially. The average angle of the ice approached the vertical, a steepness unknown in mountains of the temperate zone, such as the Alps. A short ice chimney and an ice overhang which was surmounted by means of pitons and stirrups led to a small ice cave behind a curtain of outsized icicles. We really thought we were in a cul-de-sac until Kämpfe discovered a diagonal shaft which, after a rope length, led to daylight again. Shortly thereafter we reached the ridge; the way to the summit was open. Then came the great exciting moment; Kämpfe had reached the highest point and held pennants of Germany, the U. S. A. and Peru against the sky. A moment later both ropes stood united on the narrow point, which was just big enough for four people. It was four p.m. and the joy of our victory was mingled with worries about the descent. We had to rappel until we reached the final part of the rib. High up, our snow- pickets were the only usable anchor points and I don’t know how we could have descended without them. Night fell while we were still in the midst of technical difficulties. At first we had the light of our head lamps but they became weaker and weaker and finally only the light of the stars showed us the way to camp. It was midnight as we crept into our ice cave and were heartily greeted by our comrades who had been anxiously awaiting us.

Erdmann and Schiel had hoped to be able to repeat the ascent of the Nevado Ulta the next day, but fate ruled otherwise. Liska’s time had run out since he had to return to his profession in the U. S. A. and Kämpfe was sick the next morning. He had so bad a night that it was imperative for him to descend to a lower altitude as fast as possible. Schiel took it on himself to accompany Kämpfe and Liska through the icefall to Camp I.

After evacuating Camp II, Bogner, Erdmann and Schiel climbed a magnificent virgin ice peak of 18,373 feet on the ridge between the Nevado Ulta and Hualcán. Let Christian Schiel describe the climb himself:

Nevado Chugllaraju

Understandably Erhard Erdmann and I were eager to make a first ascent too after circumstances had prevented our climb of Nevado Ulta planned for July 9. Kurt Bogner joined us on our attempt on the challenging unclimbed ice peak west of Ulta. We left Camp I at 4:15 a.m. on July 12 and reached the chaotic glacier on the left side where avalanches from the faces of Ulta had filled in a good many of the crevasses. At 7:10 we stood at the base of a 400-foot ice face up which we climbed to the summit ridge. Kurt took the lead, Erhard went second and I as third was privileged to take some photos. Another "privilege” of mine was to be exposed to a bombardment of high speed ice missiles chopped loose by Kurt’s ice axe some 200 feet above. Fortunately I was wearing a plastic helmet which considerably reduced the impact of each hit.

We hacked our way up an extremely steep ice gully formed by a recent ice avalanche to a cave below the cornice of the summit ridge. It took some acrobatics to pull ourselves through a notch in the cornice up to the knife edge of the ridge. To avoid the cornice we went several feet down the opposite face. In a lofty passage with the right foot inside a crevasse and the left foot down against the steep face we advanced the next 50 feet. Then the ridge widened, and over slopes of varying steepness we scrambled to the base of the summit pinnacle.

At one p.m. the attack on the 100-foot ice pinnacle was launched. Erhard took the lead. The ice was rotten and fragile with plenty of hollows beneath the crusty surface. Ice pitons would not hold. However, in two spots Erhard was able to drive 3-foot aluminum pickets which supplied good belays. By a delicate traverse to the left he avoided an ice overhang and finally reached the summit. As the summit was too small for three, Kurt had to rappel before I came up. We had made the first ascent of "Chugllaraju”. The altimeter indicated 18,340 feet. It had been a rewarding climb. (The climbers gave the peak this name. It means "Snow-covered Indian hut” in Quechua.—Editor.)

The ice had been softened excessively by the intense tropical sun and we had trouble finding safe anchor points for our rappels. Ice screws were no longer safe. We used up our few remaining aluminum pitons and because they were scarce, we had to make unusually long rappels down the last face. After 15 hours of climbing we stumbled back to Camp I, tired but happy.

C. S.

Chopicalqui

With an altitude of 20,998 feet, Chopicalqui is one of the highest mountains of the Cordillera Blanca, for only the two peaks of Huascarán exceed it in height. Until 1961 this beautifully shaped, bold peak had only been climbed twice. (First ascent by P. Borchers, E. Hein, H. Hörlin and E. Schneider on August 3, 1932. Second ascent by F. Ayres, G. Bell, A. Cresswell, R. Irvin, G. Matthews, J. Oberlin, D. Michael and L. Ortenburger on July 11, 1954.—Editor.) Both ascents had been made from the Quebrada Llanganuco. In 1960 a North American expedition under H. Kendall had tried to make a partially new route from the Quebrada Ulta. This attempt was nearly successful but failed only on the final 100-meter summit pyramid, which was in very bad condition.

On July 13 our whole expedition was assembled at Base Camp in the Quebrada Ulta. Kämpfe was again with us, for his mysterious disease had disappeared as soon as he reached Huaraz. We planned to conquer Chop- icalqui with a minimum of time and supplies as we had little of either left. Astonishingly and contrary to usual experience, we succeeded in keeping exactly on schedule, a possibility in which even the greatest optimists would hardly have believed.

The route we planned to follow was similar to that of the 1960 expedition. When on July 15, Kämpfe, Bogner and Schiel and two porters erected two tents on a rock island at 17,000 feet, they found the remains of an old camp. On July 16 the route on the western ridge was reconnoitered by the same group and ropes were fixed at the difficult spots. Erdmann and I, who had until then remained in Base Camp in order to conserve supplies in the high camps, occupied Camp I on July 17 according to plan. At the same time Bogner, Kämpfe and Schiel with the porters Justiniano and Apolinario ascended the west ridge again and established Camp II in an ice cave at 18,700 feet. Bogner returned that evening with the porters to Camp I. It is understandable if the porters thanked their Creator for the solid ground under their feet that night. The next day when Bogner, Erdmann and I climbed with heavy packs up to Camp II, we were amazed at the courage of the porters in view of the steepness and difficulty of the route. The ice cave was empty when we arrived for Kämpfe and Schiel had headed towards the summit. Late in the afternoon from high on the west ridge we saw a rope of two descending, doubtless our friends. Had they made it? We had to wait an hour for an answer. At three o’clock they had stood on the summit although they had not left Camp II until eight o’clock. Kämpfe was apparently in top form, for he had broken trail the whole way. On the summit a small snowstorm had surprised them and Schiel had frozen his fingertips in a few minutes while he was arranging a rappel with bare hands.

It now was our turn. It was bitterly cold the next morning as we left the ice cave at six o’clock. Freezing miserably but otherwise in good shape, we followed the half drifted-in tracks. Slowly one summit after another sank below the horizon. We were looking forward to the moment when we should stand on top and look down on all the mountains except for Huascarán. But it turned out differently. Just below the summit the mist floated in and we stepped on the summit with visibility limited to a few meters. We waited an hour—in vain. The gods of the Andes must have been angry with us for the clouds disappeared only after we had descended a piece. It was already three o’clock when we reached Camp II.

Bogner descended late that afternoon with Kämpfe and Schiel while Erdmann and I spent a second frigid night in the ice cave. Towards evening it began to snow and in a short time eight inches of snow lay at the entrance. We began to worry about the descent, for the route to Camp I was not only difficult but also would have avalanche danger with new snow. Luckily not much more snow fell during the night.

A magnificent morning dawned and an incomparable view of untold ice-armored mountain giants unfolded before our eyes. It was hard to take our departure from all this beauty. We were aware of the uniqueness of this hour; it would never again come back in our lifetime. At ten o’clock we began to burrow through the new snow and towards noon reached Camp I without incident and subsequently Base Camp by late afternoon.

It was now time for the writer to take leave of his friends and start the journey home. The climbing program of the Swabian Andes Expedition 1961 was finished. Those members of the expedition who still had time wanted to see more of Peru and decided to travel to the South of the country.

Our return to everyday life fell hard on us all. Too often our thoughts involuntarily wandered back to the wonderland of Peru, where time seems to stand still, back to the enchantingly beautiful peaks. Their image, engraved in our hearts, will long remain.

Summary of Statistics

Area: Cordillera Blanca, Peru.

Ascents:

Point 5160 M, 16,929 feet, 2.3 miles north of Nevado Ranrapalca, June 9, 1961 (Bogner, Hechtel, Kämpfe, Liska, Schiel)—probably first ascent.

Point 5530 M, 18,143 feet, 1.6 miles northeast of Nevado Ranrapalca, June 12, 1961 (Bogner, Erdmann, Hechtel, Kämpfe, Liska, Schiel, M. Flores, J. Huaman, A. Jamanca)—probably second ascent, first by southwest ridge.

Nevado Ocshapalca, 19,295 feet, June 16, 1961 (Bogner, Erdmann, Hechtel, Kämpfe, Liska, Schiel)—first ascent to a point less than 20 feet below the summit.

Nevado Ulta, 19,275 feet, July 8, 1961 (Bogner, Hechtel, Kämpfe, Liska)—first ascent.

Unnamed peak, 5590 meters or 18,340 feet according to altimeter, .7 mile southwest of Nevado Ulta, proposed name "Chugllaraju”, July 12, 1961 (Bogner, Erdman, Schiel)—first ascent.

Nevado Chopicalqui, 20,998 feet, July 18, 1961 (Kämpfe, Schiel); July 19 (Bogner, Erdmann, Hechtel)—third ascent, first complete ascent from the south (Quebrada Ulta).

Personnel: Dr. Richard Hechtel (leader), Kurt Bogner, Erhard Erdmann, Günther Kämpfe, Christian Schiel (Germans), Donald Liska (American).