Written by Alex Moss
The morning Sam and I were flying out of Salt Lake, Sebastian and Kenya gave us a call. They had just had a conversation that made our uncertain plans seem certainly not possible. Sam and I were immediately throwing different gear into our six bags that had been sitting perfectly packed for two days. Sam and I had spent three months meticulously collecting our gear, debating what exactly we needed, weighing carabiners, and cutting tags out of clothing. We got to the airport in a tizzy and were headed off to Santiago with 500 pounds of gear and no plan!
In the Santiago airport, we heard from Kenya and Sebastian again that we needed to make a decision about our logistics that day to be able to tell outfitters what we were doing. We made a quick decision before making our way across town to get on an overnight bus.
Sam, Kenya, Sebastian, and I had been planning to climb a rarely visited wall in northern Patagonia. Most of the plan was set, but we were waiting for a final confirmation from the landowners. We hung onto hope that we could get last-minute permission—maybe to a fault. The result was us throwing together a month-long trip the week before heading out. Luckily, we had a handful of objectives to choose from that would use a similar kit and take a similar time. We knew we wanted to put up a remote first ascent climb in big wall fashion. Keeping with the theme of in-the-moment decision-making, we crafted a plan that would give us as many options as possible and leave us uncertain of what we were doing until it was happening.
Sam and I have been good friends for years and were the impetus of our adventure. Kenya and Sebastian were near strangers to me, and I was uncertain of how we’d mesh. Upon coming together, we were immediately a team, with everyone seeking to pitch in and help. I quickly learned that they were caring, hard-working, and eager. Together, we raced into the uncertainty before us.
After a week of packing together in a small abode, we showed up at a landing strip and met Johannes, a helicopter pilot with a tweed hat and fun socks that immediately quieted our anxiety. Sam and Sebastian flew in and visited three cliffs that we had found on maps, but had no pictures of and no real information on. Each of these cliffs ended up being ill-suited for our team size and gear, so they landed near our backup backup objective—El Monstruo. This mountain is much more well-known and visited than any of our other ideas, but still offers unclimbed lines on a remote 1000-meter cliff.
Kenya and I flew second, discovering what our plan for the next month would be only as we landed. We found the valley we landed in to be hot, full of sharp plants, infested with biting flies, and seemingly lacking in any flat ground. After yelling about the flies and lamenting the lack of an obvious campsite, Sam and I immediately took a nap on the riverbank. Having a little more initiative and resilience, Kenya and Sebastian started shuttling our things to a cave on the hillside.
This cave was our saving grace, providing a cool, dry place to retreat to for the next month. From here, we explored this unique valley—about a mile wide—searching for a climbing objective that most inspired us. By day three, we had decided upon an intimidating line up El Monstruo and shakily began climbing.
If we had actually had a plan, we would have approached this objective much differently. We would've had different gear, more information, and likely wouldn't have helicoptered in. But that wasn't how this adventure was playing out. Instead, we had a kit to be successful in many scenarios but light enough not to be a total burden, and tried to be open to whatever came.
- Alex Moss
