In November, I began my 19th expedition to Patagonia but my first to the Northern Icefield. Joining me were Lukas Hinterberger and Nicolas Hojac. We spent three weeks at a base camp in the forest below the Nef Glacier. On our second week, November 22, we climbed Cerro Largo (2,799m) by the northeast ridge: similar to a demanding ski tour, but with a short passage of ice at the very end.

In the days following, we traveled to the northeast side of Cerro Cachet (2,632m) and set up advanced base camp on the Nef Glacier. On December 3, we left camp after a raging storm, sinking into wet snow and navigating crevasses. Cachet now looked considerably larger and more impressive than we’d realized while looking through binoculars. There’s one thing you basically never have on the mountain in Patagonia: time. In our case, it was a mere day. The weather forecast predicts wind speeds of 100 km/h for the following morning.

After about four hours of approach from camp, we reached a steep headwall rising into the blue Patagonian sky. I led the first 80m, which went quickly, even though it was just a thin sheet of ice on rock slabs. Nico surpassed a 60m ice ramp with water running under it. We followed his leads, the ragged Nef Glacier below us. Eventually, Lukas took over. Crampons crunching on rock, he made his way forward, centimeter by centimeter in a tight chimney. After a while, we finally heard the liberating “off belay.” It was the hardest pitch on our route.

After another 120m of easy climbing, we stood on the summit ridge and untied to move swiftly across rime ice and snow to the main peak. Our route is an Homenaje a los Amigos Perdidos (“Homage to Lost Friends,” M7+). [The route is left (east) of Gaucho Muy Complicado, climbed just 10 days earlier; see that report for more photos of the peak.]

We began our descent at 7 p.m., rappelling an efficient, direct line. Falling rime caused a few critical moments, but we remained unscathed, reaching our advanced base camp shortly after midnight. Back at our jungle base camp, which lay protected in a small forest, we spent the next days recovering from the strains of the summit and enjoying our last “liquid chicken”—the last beer.

– Stephan Siegrist, Switzerland