Clawing for the Stars
A Solo Climber in the Highest Andes
by
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Why climb mountains? Well, why any inspiration? Why
did the early explorers sail the vastness of the oceans?
Why did we explore the moon? Is it not in touching the unknown
that we find our true selves?
--From the author’s personal climbing journal
PROLOGUE -- THE JOURNEY BEGINS
“Grandpa, please write a book about your climbs in the Andes. I would like to read about your adventures.”
I never intended to write a book about what was, for twenty-one years, my obsession, my magnificent obsession, of climbing, often alone, some of the highest peaks in the Great Andes. I would not have done so if it were not for you, Alex. In fact, I might be sitting here today with nothing but memories. Yet, I accepted your request and answered it by writing my stories just to you so that you may know what happened out there. I hope you will thrill to them just as I did as I lived them.
I began my climbing career with the rock climbing courses at the Yosemite Mountaineering School when I was 40. But rock climbing is too strenuous. It’s a young man’s activity. I then traveled to the Grand Tetons and climbed the major peaks there with the Exum Mountain Guides. But these forays were not enough for me. I desired more. I wanted a complete immersion in another culture, the chance to exist in a barren land, and the danger of being many miles from any other human being.
Then, in a moment of pure serendipity, a casual glance at pictures in a climbing article about the Andes drew me in until a burning intensity to climb amongst those mountains captured my imagination. Strange that one brief instant might set me on the way to pursuing Andean high places for the rest of my life, a career of thirty climbs, three with guiding companies, eight with clients and companions, and nineteen alone.
Why climb mountains? Well, why any inspiration? Why did the early explorers sail the vastness of the oceans? Why did we explore the moon? Is it not in touching the unknown that we find our true selves?
And what a wonderful time my climbing career was! I imagine it, I relive it, I wake at night remembering it, years after it all came about. I journeyed to the Andes to climb the mountains and some of them wound up climbing me -- frostbite on Aconcagua, Argentina (22,834 feet) and loss of a toe; loss of will on Tres Cruces Central, Chile (21,743 feet); snow blindness on both Illimani, Bolivia (21,201 feet) and Llullaillaco, Chile (22,109 feet), and a resulting lifelong sensitivity to light. But these moments of darkness were more than balanced by the wonderful memories -- reaching the summit of Aconcagua; viewing the Inca huts on the summit of Llullaillaco; listening to the musical notes played by my “symphony rock” high on the western slopes of Pissis, Argentina (22,293 feet).
In the beginning, I realized I needed to learn the mysteries of altitude climbing from experts. So, my first climbs were with guides from the American Alpine Institute (AAI) in Bellingham, Washington. I began with several mountains in Ecuador, culminating with the highest peak in the country, Chimborazo (20,564 feet), in 1988. I was 44 at the time. The next year, I went to Bolivia with the same company and climbed Illimani. Then, I journeyed to Argentina to climb the highest peak in the Andes, Aconcagua, once more with AAI. After that climb, I felt I had the skills to try things on my own.
Was altitude climbing alone, solo, an addiction? Yes, and in an outsized way. I lived out my dreams, never the same sort most have, but ones of a peculiar bent and uncommon, of climbing alone amongst the high Andes. I loved it, every stunning second of it; I craved it, reveled in it, and required it to get through the day, the week, the month -- and I still want it today, at 69. Although on several of my climbs I guided others for a fee or accompanied friends to the peaks, I always preferred to climb by myself. And my definition of “solo” was strict: no one else on the mountain but me.
What does age have to do with it? As it turns out, a good deal, in my case. My career began when I was in my mid-forties, when most altitude climbers have ended theirs. My last climb was a solo attempt on Tres Cruces Central, at the age of 65 in November, 2009. I found that with age comes patience, the patience not to try to reach the next camp too fast. High altitude punishes with sickness and even death those who seek to ascend in that fashion. So, the slow and determined way was usually the best for me. This manner of climbing served me well during my many years amongst the high peaks. The ultimate proof of it? I’m still standing and still here to tell my story.
This is the first time I’ve written a book, Alex, and you were my inspiration to do so. I have seen it through because I believe it is my duty to make a truthful accounting of what occurred and have tried, as best I can, to portray the human aspect, and convey the emotional and physical context in which everything took place. This is not a climbing guidebook but a collection of short stories, true narratives that relate events from my most memorable adventures, those of my solo climbs and those with other climbers. They are studies of character and personality unique to me as they played out in exotic, faraway places that just so happened to be in the mountains.
Why did altitude climbing mean so much to me? I can’t give an answer in a sentence or a paragraph because I must confess a vacant ignorance of it all. Sometimes I ask myself if there was any substance to what I sought. I cannot put into words what I cannot sense, but I can sense what I cannot put into words. Words fail me, but my feelings still burn with a fevered intensity. Perhaps the answer lies in the stories themselves, hidden and nestled deep within them.
So, Alex, read these stories, taken from my journals as I lived the climbs. Perhaps you and others will realize that, in the end, each of us is alone in our confrontation with the unknowable and the unknown, but we may approach fuller understanding should we choose to confront life on our own terms, whether it is amongst the highest mountains of our sacred planet or the great challenges of our daily lives.
Well, are you ready to go climbing? Before reading the following chapters, I would ask you to glance at Appendix A, The High Altitude Handbook. This is the pamphlet I required my clients to read before we journeyed to a peak. It addresses many questions those new to climbing at altitude have and will prepare you in the same manner.
I hope you enjoy reading “your” book.
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Book Details
About the Book
When most altitude climbers reach their mid-forties, they slow down—but for Bob Villarreal, these years marked the beginning of his climbing career rather than the end. At forty, he took a rock-climbing class, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. In a moment of pure and life-changing serendipity, an article about climbing the Andes lit a new fire within him, and an obsession was born.
At that point, Bob retired from business and took up mountain climbing. He lost his heart to the staggering, raw, and wild beauty of the High Andes, returning there time and time again to challenge himself, almost always on his own. In defiance of the basic rules of wilderness exploration, Bob traveled solo, well aware that calamity was only one loose rock away and that his survival was never guaranteed.
One might wonder why anyone – especially someone in middle age -- would climb alone in the Andes even once, let alone nineteen times (out of thirty total climbs). It’s a question that Villarreal himself can’t adequately answer. Was he in search of adventure, danger, or deeper meaning in his life—and did he ever find his elusive purpose on the mountain?
This memoir recalls his perilous adventures on famous Andean peaks as well as mountains in the remotest parts of the Andes along the lengthy border between Chile and Argentina.
About the Author
Bob Villarreal acquired a passion for climbing at high altitude later in life and ended with thirty forays into the Highest Andes. He lives in Livermore, California, with his wife of forty years and sees his children and three grandchildren several times a week. Visit him online at bobvillarreal.com.