Puncak Trikora - Summit Day

Day 13 - 1st December (Summit Day) I lay in my sleeping bag and looked at my watch – 04:00, then 04:30 and I still couldn't force myself outside. Despite my earplugs, I could hear the porters preparing breakfast but it was 05:50 before I forced myself out of my cocoon to face today's challenge. I had asked that the porters boil some water the night before because I wanted 3 fresh litres to take onto the mountain, but they hadn't done this. We wasted some time boiling fresh water in the morning, which was annoying on several levels, but the clear skies and pink-tinged clouds quickly banished my negativity. My appetite had returned and I ate a huge portion of rice and noodles. Somehow, whether the Diamox was taking effect (I'm sure it was because I felt pins and needles in my hands and forearms, one of the side-effects) or not, I felt immeasurably stronger. Perhaps it was just that I had resolved myself to giving it everything today.

We set off late (06:40), but I had my headtorch and enough warm stuff to see out a night on the mountain if necessary. Instead of following the path southwest in the next valley as we had yesterday, today we forked off the path directly towards the mountain. Bootprints in the mud convinced me that we were now on the right path, which boosted my confidence further. We were trekking towards the scrubby forest again and soon we were ascending steeply through mud and tree roots. At the top of this short climb (4,100m (04 15.224 S, 138 40.115 E)) there was a firepit where porters had obviously been keeping themselves warm on earlier climbs. This was followed by another short forest section and then we came to the first buttresses on the mountain itself. From a distance this looked suicidal - from up close it just looked plain stupid. I was faced with a steep 50m – 60m grass-covered, near-vertical slope. It was a really uncomfortable experience and required me to grab handfuls of wet grass to ascend, which was not an enjoyable experience after yesterday's debacle. I prayed it wouldn't rain today, otherwise the descent would be a nightmare.

I slowly followed the guide and porter up and gladly reached the top of the climb and safe ground (Approx. 4,200m (04 15.310 S, 138 40.157 E)). From the top of this slope, the views northwards back past the cave and towards Lake Habbema were sensational. It was possible to see from this height where historic ice flows had carved and shaped the earth. From the top of the grassy slope, the path meandered left to the foot of a buttress into a small valley that ran south from Trikora. It was one of several parallel valleys but this most Easterly valley allowed the only easy access to Trikora's upper reaches. The path led up through some rocky ground and then as the ground became more boggy we passed a boulder, topped the propeller shaft from an AMA aircraft that had crashed several years ago on the mountain, killing the missionary pilot and a local woman. This was the end of the small valley and now we turned right (West) along a larger valley that ran parallel to Trikora's summit ridge, which was now high up to our left.

The valley climbed and narrowed in the distance and as we ascended it became more rocky. We walked for about 40 minutes and my confidence increased with every step. I still wasn't sure how I would gain the summit ridge but the sun had stayed behind some light cloud and I was feeling strong and knew that we had made good progress. We reached a point where two large boulders stood guard at the foot of a steep scree slope top our left that led to a steep chimney, and up to the ridge itself. We made our way up the scree slope and started to ascend the chimney for about 25m. It was a bit dicey but at least I had my boots to provide grip on the rock. The guide and porter went up barefoot. (04 15.704 S, 138 39.907E, altitude 4,467m.) Again, I kept my fingers crossed that the rain would stay off because I didn't want to descend that chimney tired and wet.

As we gained the summit ridge and the guide and porter stopped for the inevitable rest, I checked my watch. We had made it this far in only 2 hours from the cave and I had a feeling that I was going to make the first of my 3 summits. Wameak and Junus would go no further. The sharp limestone would have been too much even for their feet. Wameak started complaining of a headache and I agreed that he should descend immediately with Junus. He told me he would descend the chimney and walk down the valley we had just come up to a small cave, where he would rest and see if his headache improved. I didn't want to take any chances with the altitude so had no choice but to send him down. It left me somewhat exposed up on the ridge, but I felt there wasn't much they could have done for me up on the ridge. Had I fallen and broken a bone, it would have been very difficult for them to extract me and they would probably just have made their way to the nearest missionary station to alert the authorities, In any event, I had my satphone and could have given my co-ordinates immediately to Iain Mackay in the UK who would have contacted my insurance company and Helimission to arrange extraction by helicopter.

I estimated that I could move rapidly along the summit ridge and expected to reach the summit in about one hour. I still wasn't sure which of the two rocky summits was higher, but based on my discussion with the Indonesian climber the previous day (he had told me to stay just off and behind the ridge to make it easier), I felt like there must be a route that would allow me to reach both summits and take GPS readings to determine which was higher. Just to the West was another summit that looked relatively straightforward to climb but I dismissed this as it looked significantly lower than the rocky summits in the distance to the East, which would occasionally float behind the clouds that were slowly building.

As I made my way carefully along it, the summit ridge itself was initially broad, grassy and rocky After 15 minutes, the ridge then started to narrow and for the next 20 minutes involved lots of rock-hopping with some scrambly moves, then started to become quite exposed. The exposure then increased and the ridge started to become very narrow and required some difficult down-climbing over quite exposed terrain to pass obstacles. Being up on the knife-edge ridge alone in the clouds was exhilerating but the sense of vertigo could not be ignored. I took time to route-find and started to question my sanity. There were some cairns on the ridge that did help with navigation round obstacles, but typically I only spotted them after I had already decided which route to try round obstacles. The terrain reminded me of the Cuillin Ridge on Skye, with dark exposed rock and huge drop-offs to either side. Although the very sharp limestone gave good holds , it was tough on my fingers and hands.

As the distance to the first rocky spire decreased and I began to see just how exposed it was, from about 250m distance, I began to have major doubts about whether I could or should continue. I took 5 minutes to sit down and remind myself that I had faced other more difficult challenges in the past and overcome them. And I kept telling myself that things normally looked better once they were right in front of you. The mental aspect of climbing mountains or undertaking expeditions is the toughest thing for me to manage. I know from my own experiences that it's incredibly easy to talk yourself out of trying something difficult or beyond your normal comfort zone and I've had to fight against those feelings of self-doubt for most of my life. I feel lucky to now know that I can push myself further than my own thought patterns try to convince me of, but I still have to go through that mental process and to remind myself each time that I have to try. I wish other people could understand that their main limiting factor is fear of failure. For me, it's so much more liberating to try something and fail than to always wonder what I could have achieved if my fears hadn't held me back.

As I got closer to the base of the rocky spire over more and more and more difficult ground, I estimated that the spire was probably about 30m high. I was now well beyond my comfort zone and the exposure on that spire was horrific. When I got to the foot of the spire I decided to carefully think through my options – I came to the conclusion that, although I may be able to get up (horrifically exposed as it was), it would have been absolutely hellish to get back down and any slip would have been immediately fatal as I would have fallen hundreds of feet. For me, the risk of attempting to climb it solo was too high. The spire was connected to the next peak on the far side by another horrendously exposed ridge. I was already tired from the concentration required to get to this point. If I had a climbing partner and some technical equipment I would definitely have tried to summit; as it was, I decided that I had reached my limit. I was quietly satisfied with my efforts. After a terrible day the day before, I had found my confidence and fitness, and although I had missed out on the summit, I felt like it was the right decision in the circumstances. I took a GPS reading at my high point (04 15.778 S, 138 40.511 E, altitude 4,638m), took a few photos and then started to descend.

Scientists have know that the ice cap on Trikora disappeared sometime between 1939 and 1962. That gives some indication of just how infrequently this mountain was climbed during this period. Snow does fall on the mountain but the warming of the Earth's troposphere ensures that this snow cover is only transient.

As I started to descend, it began to rain lightly. I tried to move as quickly as possible because I was aware that the two difficult downclimbs (one on rock at the chimney and the other down the steep grassy slope) would be much more challenging in the wet. I had a bit of trouble following the route around obstacles again on my way back along the ridge, and was conscious of where I was placing my feet due to the long drop-off behind the ridge itself. Soon enough, I was past the difficult ground and back to stepping from rock to rock and could get into an easy rythym. After about 1 hour, I had made it back to the broader, grassy ridge and was heading towards the lower peak that lay West of the chimney. At the foot of this peak, I spotted a small cairn that marked the start of the chimney and I started to make my way carefully down.

On the first short section that was less steep, I made my way down facing out, feet first and half-slid, half-climbed down the slope. It then became steeper and I had to down-climb, facing into the rock. Although there was a scree slope beneath that ran out to the small valley below, I was still careful because any fall here would not be fatal but any broken bone would be a massive issue in this remote location. About 5 metres from the bottom of the chimney, I had to move over to the left-hand side to find the easier ground. As I was reaching to move my left hand up and across to a good handhold, the rock that I was holding wuth my right hand broke free and I felt myself falling backwards. Instantly, I grasped at another rock with my right hand and as I did so, I also managed to grab onto something with the outstrecthed left hand and managed to hold myself against the fall. Not good. I carefully picked my way down the last few moves to the scree slopes and, using my trekking poles as supports, I made my way quickly down into the small valley that I had earlier walked up.

As I made my way down the valley, I looked for the cave that Wameak had said he would wait at, but couldn't identify it. I shouted but there was no response. I walked down the valley for about 30 minutes, looking for anything that would jog my memory. I felt certain that the propeller shaft would be visible form this valley but there were som many small ravines off to my left and they all looked the same. I explored a couple of them to try to identify a path but they all ended in steep drops to to the North. I was becoming tired and frustrated again that the guide and porter had left me alone on the mountain. Finally, I explored the second-to-last ravine, then realised that it was the wrong one. I climbed up a small ridge and looked down into the last valley, expecting to be disappoined, when I caught sight of the propeller shaft sitting on a rock. Excellent! I knew how to get down.

I followed the path down the initially grassy and boggy ground, then into a rocky path that lay close to the mountain wall. It ended abruptly at a grassy ledge and as I looked down into the forest 50 m below I saw Wameak next to the firepit and Junus collecting firewood. I shouted and gesticulated to him – I was now at the top of the steepp grassy climb and was not impressed that they had gone down this and had not waited for me. I wasn't exactly sure where the route started and I frantically tried to ask Wameak whether I needed to move left or right to start the downclimb. His reposne was that I was at the right starting point and I should just come down. With my blood boiling, I removed my rucksack and lacunhed it over the edge, aiming at a small ledge 20 feet below. I didn't want the extra weight to potentially drag me off or the bulk to put me off-balance. Of course, my rucksack then cartwheeled well beyond the ledge and stuck in a bush halfway down the slope. I really didn't care – I knew we could retrieve the rucksack later and I was more interested in getting down safely.

I inched forward to the edge of the slope and peered over, trying to identify any safe footholds. It was a horrible experinece – again, I had to gran handfuls of grass to gently lower myself over the edge and hope that they would take my weight. I immediately realised that I was a few metres too far to the right and couldn't believe my guide had left me in this position. I inched carefully over to the spot I had climbed up earlier and then vary caustiously made my way slowly down, garbbing handfuls of grass with each move. When I finally reached the bottom , I hurried through the forest and up to the small hill where Wameak was warming himself at the fire. Although he probably understood very little of what I screamed at him, he was left in no doubt that I wasn't happy with him and hopefully he learned a few good Scottish swearwords as a bonus.

I was pretty subdued for the rest of the walk down the mountain – the clouds had closed in and it had started to rain steadily so I was quite cold and just wanted to get down to the cave to get a hot brew and some food. We made quick progress down the mountain and turned the corner into Camp at about 1.45 p.m. It had taken me 7 hours or so to get up and down – it was hard to compare with the Indonesian's ascent the previous day because I don't know how far along the summit ridge he climbed, but I felt we had set a good pace. The plan now was to leave early next morning to make our way back to Lake Habbema – I asked Wameak what time we should expect to arrive at Habbema and he said 3 pm, so I texted the agent on my satphone to request pickup for that time. When we tried to figure out timings I was sure he was overestimating how long it would take us but I didn't want to underestimate so followed his advice (when will I ever learn?).

During the afternoon we ate noodles, rice and cabbage and drank tea and Wameak recounted the story of a 20-year old Indonesian climber (with no Surat Jalan) who had been climbing Trikora using technical equipment. One of his clibing nuts (used to wedge into cracks in the rock, thus protecting the climber form a fall) had failed and he had fallen badly. His Lani guide had made his way to the nearest mission station to report the accident, leaving the climber lying badly injured on the mountian. The Army dispatched a helicopter to the site and he was later flown to hospital in Jakarta. No doubt he would also have been heavily punished for not having the correct papers to be there!