Did you know that Costa Rica, the peaceful democratic country with plentiful protected lands and rainforests with beaches on both oceans, has mountains higher than 10,000 feet?  I had no idea.  In fact, the highest tops out at 3819 meters, or 12,529 feet.  Well, if I was going to be in Costa Rica for three weeks, a trip to Chirripo was a must do.  Jorge, who had already hiked it ten years ago, and I drove through the central mountains, past Cerro de la Muerte, the mountain of DEATH (so named ’cause folks went up there and froze), down into the San Geraldo valley where we drove up dirt roads to the small village of San Geraldo de Rivas, a tiny little place where the Chirripo river comes crashing through.  There are only a few restaurants, hotels, and houses here, but it is a legit town even with a rural school.  We arrived at our rustic hotel with a very comfortable eating and relaxing area, and spartan accommodations.  The first thing we did was head down to the hot springs for a relaxing dip.

Chirripo is a carefully guarded national park.  No camping is allowed in the park.  Instead, you must sleep at the hut, which typically must be reserved months in advance.  Since we were visiting in the “winter”, aka the “rainy season”, there was no problem in reserving space.

The next morning called for a 5:00 AM departure in the hotel owner’s SUV up the road about 2km to the trailhead.  By 5:30, we, along with the only other two people staying at the hotel that night, a couple of young American college students, Matt and Kate, started hiking.  I was surprised by the elevation of this mountain, and, thankfully, I had done a tiny bit of homework a few days before and learned that the elevation gain from the trailhead to the hut is substantial – nearly 6,000 feet.  Beyond to the summit is just over 7,000 feet.  Well, this would be quite a stiff first hike of the year.

Much like the Cascades, the trail starts low in the forest and is humid.  Many parts of the trail are muddy, but are easily managed.  We had all started out together, but I decided to eventually pull ahead an hike at my own speed, which also afforded me the opportunity to try out the new video camera.  I waited for the group every two kilometers or so.  The total distance to the hut is approximately 14 km.  It’s another 5 km to the summit, and more to the lakes and beyond.  There’s a “hut”, which is huge and unused, at the halfway mark with potable water piped down from high above.  I waited here again and when we were all together, we headed up again.  This next section is the most consistently steep, finally reaching a high pass at 3200 feet where you begin descending again, just so you can go up a final steep section one more time!  I enjoyed waiting for the group at this nice vista into a large burn area that resembled Icicle Creek Valley in Leavenworth, Washington.  About thirty minutes later, we were all together.  This time, I hung in the back and slowly made my way to the hut.

We arrived quite late, almost 3pm, and checked in.  This hut wins out as the nicest hut in Central and South America that I’ve been to.  It’s clean and has nice facilities.  There’s even satellite internet, which just blew me away.  The rooms have two bunks each and we ended up rooming with our student friends.  Of course, Jorge snored, and the American guy, Matt, also snored.  There should be a victim’s group for people affected by snoring (Kris, do you know of any?  Haha).  Many people decided to get up at 2:45 – 3:00AM so that they could arrive at the summit by sunrise.  Eh, heck with that.  We preferred to sleep in until 5:00 and start then so that we could enjoy the views the entire way.

We set off in chilly weather, but soon enough the sun hit us square in the face.  In my opinion, the terrain becomes really interesting beyond the hut.  What makes Chirripo special is that it sits on a very high plateau covered in stunted green vegetation and lakes.  The “peaks” around are not much more than hills or bumps along this vast plain.  But, the regularity of the greenery and the quantity of lakes that dot the landscape make it different from other places I’ve been.  I was hiking much faster than Jorge and told him that I’d wait for him at the flat grassy spot known as the “Sabana de los Conejos” (Savannah of the Rabbits).  However, when I arrived, I noticed the big bulky clouds making their way up the valley.  I scribbled the news, “Vamos que vienen los nubes” in the mud and started up.  I made my way up the trail and when I arrived at one of the two passes that you visit en-route, I began passing all the people who had left for the summit.  By the time I arrived on the little knob, there were only three people left.  We chatted briefly and they headed down.  I had the next hour or so to myself on the summit.  It was really nice relaxing and watching the clouds wisp all around.  The top is a great view point, looking down on lakes all around and other smaller summits.  The summit was clear for about thirty minutes and then was cloudy off and on from then on.

I asked the time when Jorge arrived and he told me, “9:30″.  “That can’t be!”, I thought.  The only clock I had was on my iPod, which I always keep handy.  Sure enough, even though I had no reason to doubt him, it was only 9:30 in the morning.  I thought it was at least 1:00 PM.  Talking to Matt and Kate later, they also experienced the same sort of time warping.  The rangers did speak of Chirripo as a magnet of energy that attracted aliens…  With this much time, I decided that I’d keep going and visit the numerous lakes below.  Jorge said that he’d had enough and was heading back.  As is his nature, he warned me numerous times to stay on the trail because it’s easy to get lost in the clouds.

The trail became much smaller once I turned off the main trail and headed for yet another pass which would drop me into a remote bowl where around seven significant lakes were situated.  Parts of the trail were hard to make out.  I had ideas of visiting some other lakes that I’d seen from the summit, but that would most likely mean going off trail.  It wasn’t the fear of becoming lost that dissuaded me, but, on this section of the trail, the brush was more constrictive and the most common plant up here, a bush that grew to a sphere of about five feet, featured sharp foliage.  I was feeling kind of lazy anyway and didn’t feel like being pricked for about two miles, so I just hung around these lakes.

One of the areas was a flat bog with brilliant green grass.  Someone had used rocks to create some sort of alien signal in the middle of the bog.  There was also a “Ama a Dios” rock message – “Love God!”.  I went to the two largest lakes which were connected by a lazy stream.  Here, I found a large flat rock in the middle.  I made y way here and then lay down on my back and took a nap.  This was just awesome…until the rain woke me up.  It wasn’t much, but it least made me realize that I should get up and start  moving, slowly at least.  “Hmm, should I go visit another summit”, I thought.  I decided that I would leave this basin and see what the weather did.  It’s really impossible to tell.  Since it was early afternoon now, the clouds had taken over.  You could still see fine, but periodically everything would be socked in, and would clear moments later.  The rain got a little harder and I decided to continue on to the hut.  Good choice.  By the time I got to the Sabana de los Conejos, it opened up.  Many of the cliffs around me now had cascades appearing all over them.  Three kilometers later, I arrived back at the hut very wet.

I switched into my long underwear and dry socks, but I never seemed to really warm up until I went to bed.  We had scheduled to stay up here two nights, which was a good choice, since the driving rain continued into the late afternoon.  Jorge had made it back in time before the rain had started.  Matt and Kate had decided to visit the Crestones, a small granite rock formation high on the slopes opposite the hut, and had gotten drenched as well.  We put on as few of our slimy wet items from the day before as we could get away with, packed up, and headed down.

I marched fast down the mountain passing several porters (who charge $30 to carry 14 KG of items up to the hut).  It was barely 6:00 and they had obviously left early (2:00 AM) and were moving fast.  Man, that would be a tough job.  Much further below, I began encountering others on their way up the mountain.  It seemed to be a much bigger group going up than coming down.  I hiked the extra 2 KM down to the hotel and arrived around 10:15.  I heard some scurrying somewhere in the back and the patrona came out and greeted me.  “Is the kitchen open?”  “Yes, of course!”  So, I ordered the typical Costa Rican breakfast and savored it, waiting for the others.

Around two in the morning, the roosters began their singing routine right outside the window.  I got up and closed the window and fell back asleep, still sleeping well even though I was periodically woken up by them.  I had a leisurely morning since Jorge had arranged for me to meet a friend of his, Ines, in downtown San Jose around 11:30am.  At breakfast, I suddenly remembered how sweet and tasty the fruit in Costa Rica is, which started with manga (with an “a”, not an “o”, which is a larger variet of mango), papaya, watermelon, pineapple, and miniature bananas, all of which pack extra flavor down here in this tropical climate.  That was followed by scrambled eggs, toast, and tea.  Later in the morning, I toured all around the house, which I realized was larger than I thought; there were other family member’s houses all connected together loosely.  We also went into the back where I met the various chickens and roosters who enjoy making so much noise in the middle of the night.  There were also a couple of “terneros”, I think that’s the right word, which was basically described as a small bull.  In the back, just beyond the gate, is a small river, which is quite low right now because we’re just entering winter (more accurately called “the rainy season”).  Later, we toured through other parts of the property which even included a small furniture factory, a soon-to-be-completed new storefront, and several small gardens.  As always, I was impressed by all the large flowers and even learned the names of some of them, although now I can only recall a handful.

I left for downtown on the bus around 10:50 and had a conversation the entire way with a man who was also waiting at the bus stop with me.  At the final stop, in the middle of downtown San Jose, I waited for Ines, a freind of Jorge’s who had kindly offered to show me around the town in the afternoon.  While waiting, I bought some water from a Chinese woman who owned a small store nearby.  She didn’t seem so impressed that I was attempting to speak Chinese to her, maybe because all of a sudden, speaking Chinese became very difficult and I could barely muster the words to ask for the price of water.  Switching language skills, especially as a beginner, is tough.  About five minutes later, Ines showed up and we were off.

Ines was an excellent guide and tourist companion.  I won’t go into all the details of the various places we went, but at one point she asked if I preferred museums or natural scenery.  Of course, I replied natural scenery.  Even though I do prefer that, I also rationalize that I can enjoy the museums some years from now when I’m really old.  I enjoyed seeing the local markets, which did remind me a lot of China but with more touristy items and more approachable salespeople.  There were numerous “street food” eateries within the market which tempted me for lunch, but Ines wouldn’t hear of it since Jorge had relayed the information that I had asked for an antacid to calm a bit of heartburn the night before.  This is typical Jorge, managing the details to perfection.

After lunch, we went to Ines’s neighboorhood, Coronado, on one of the slopes of the hills surrounding San Jose.  Like all the other neighborhoods, really more like their own towns, the center consisted of a church and a small park facing opposite.  Except, this was the only church in Costa Rica that was in the Gothic style.  Inside, we met her mother, who was kneeling reading in one of the pews.

To take advantage of my request (really my expression of preference) of preferring the “naturaleza” to “los museos”, we drove up higher into the mountains to a place called “Cascajal de Coronodo”.  It was like driving into another world, tranquil and enveloped in misty clouds.  Apparently, this area is quite often covered in wispy clouds, the kind you find often in the Cascades, especially after rain.  The air was cool and invigorating. I enjoyed walking around immensely; this was my favorite part of the day.  Afterwards, we arrived at Ines’s house to meet her mother and Jorge, who had just gotten off work.  We enjoyed some coffee with “gallo de papa”, semi-spicy and tasty potatoes wrapped in a corn tortilla.

Jorge and I returned back to his house in Aserri, another small “suburb” of San Jose complete, of course, with a church and a small park.  Here, we decided to try some of the local Chinese food.  Yes, to my surprise, there are quite a number of Chinese run establishments here.  I quite often see the familiar characters when driving through the town.  Apparently, Costa Rica has made an effort in the past two years to develop relations with China.  I need to read more about this.  Anyway, these Chinese were quite taken aback when I greeted them with “Nimen hao”.  The whole family came out from the back and we chatted briefly.  Again, switching languages was difficult and it felt like I had forgotten half of what I had learned.  But, I was able to carry on a simple conversation.  Back at home, we enjoyed the Chinese food which nothing like the food in China, of course…especially with the french fries.

I awoke to the sounds of folks stirring and chattering. I soon gave up trying to ignore it, rolled over and opened my eyes. The folks who had been sleeping in the van fifteen to twenty feet from me were up and had a portable table set up and were eating breakfast. Michael and Carlos were sitting up. It was about 7am. Michael ran up to the lift and discovered that we had been sleeping under the very lift that we needed for our climb, the “Grand Pilaster” on the Pala di San Martino. We ate, packed, then waited in line for a few minutes for the lift to open. Then we were off…

At the top of the high lift is a huge and high rocky plateau. On this plateau is the Rosetta Hut, our bit of comfortable civilization after completing the climb. To get to the beginning of the route, we crossed part of the plateau and then began descending down about a thousand feet to a traverse to the talus and small meadows beneath the towering buttress. This climb is rated grade IV, a European measurement which translates, I believe, to something around 5.4 to 5.5. That’s a very easy grade, and I supposed none of the climbing got harder than that, maybe a move in a corner to get to a traverse could have been called 5.6. Still, the climb is quite serious. It’s sustained 5.4 and 5.5 and dead vertical for very long stretches. It’s hugely exposed. It’s committing. It’s 20-pitches.

(above) Behold this wonder of nature! Our route roughly follows the steep and shadowed right hand skyline. Photo by: Michael Stanton

Beneath the route, we gawked and admired; it promised to be a great climb, and it delivered. We followed paths up through the talus to the base of a small snowfield at the base of the route. Here, we put on our harnesses and helmets. We moved left and crossed the snow at the most narrow spot for easy access to the face. Then we scrambled steeply up fifth class terrain to the base of the long chimney, which would occupy us for the first half of the climb.

Most of the chimney was in shade and we were all hoping that the sun would come out and warm us. We couldn’t complain, however; the air was much warmer here than on the Fuenffingerspitzen. We climbed quickly, spurred on by fears of other climbers joining us and jamming up the route. However, this wasn’t remotely a problem. Though there were others on the tram intent on climbing in the mountains near the Pala, almost all were outfitted for via ferratas. We saw several other climbers passing below us on the trail. None of them joined us on the route. I believe we were the only ones that day.

We climbed smoothly and efficiently. None of the climbing was very challenging, but it was invigorating. The views opened up, became grander and grander as we steeply continued up the wide chimney. At times we enjoyed stunning hand traverses. Other times, steep walls for stemming. And only once do I recall a little bit of slimy wetness emerging from the chimney.

(above) Me somewhere on the lower part of the chimney pitches. Note the plethora of holds! This is what the Dolomites are famous for. Well, that and the hgih vertical walls. Don’t worry, that’s coming. Photo by: Michael Stanton.

The sun beams marked the end of the long chimney. The final move was a delicate escape from a corner, an open-book, really, on to a knobby face. Carlos and I climbed in tandem to meet Michael in the warm sun. We were working hard to remain moving the whole time. With three people, this becomes easier actually. For example, it takes one person to belay the leader. That leaves the third person free to take care of various tasks: putting on sunscreen, eating, or filming (we did plenty of this, look for a movie in the future).

(above) Looking down on Carlos climbing up the chimney, which is, not surprisingly, off to the left. Photo by: Michael Stanton

A short traverse to the left set us up to finish the climb on the spectacular face. High, long, and exposed, this half of the climb was unquestionably the highlight. The steepness almost never relented and was sometimes completely vertical. I didn’t like the idea of leading these; I kept expecting to run out of holds. That never happened; the climbing, assuming you stay on route, is always moderate. There is almost always a bomber hold. Like the Fuenffingerspitzen, protection is sparse and Michael ran it out quite a bit.

(above) 1) A shot of Carlos showing the steepness of the route. 2) Michael and Carlos are having fun.

Maybe a pitch or two into the steep upper section, the clouds began swirling again. The views were spectacular: outrageous exposure down to the low snowfields and talus, and even further below – the outskirts of the town of San Martino. The clouds began to thicken disturbingly, however. We continued to climb fast for fear of foul weather moving in. This would not be a good place to repeat the hail and sleet storm that we experienced on our last via ferrata. Within a few minutes, I felt moisture. I prayed that it wouldn’t get harder. Then the sleet started. I felt that I was almost willing the sleet and rain to stop. Then, miraculously, it did! There was no more precipitation that bothered us this day, we only had the wet clouds being ripped below us by the lower towers. We climbed on.

(above) A wide view from our exposed face. See the town in the distance?

There were around five pitches of grade IV climbing on the upper face. These were all rated that way because they were dead vertical. Pitch after pitch, we finally finished the last grade IV pitch and only had two easy pitches of grades II and III in front of us. We breezed up those and emerged on the top in a fog.

“Is this the summit?”
“I think I see a higher shape in the distance.”

The clouds cleared and we could see that we needed to scramble further. We went on past another tower, then climbed the final summit slope to the long and flat summit. On top is a red bivouak shelter with four bunks and blankets. Michael was the first to check it out: “Oh, you’re going to like this, Theron.”

(above) 1) As the Godbeams illuminate the way, Carlos emerges on the summit. The sloped peak in the distance is the mountain that the lift is on. It’s down the slope on the right a ways. 2) A view of our route from the distance.

I made my proposal to Michael: “Let’s sleep on the summit.” The suggestion was met with a look of trepidation. So, I followed up with, “We can enjoy an awesome sunset amidst these clouds, and do the descent in the morning.” That convinced Micheal, but we also needed to make sure Carlos was OK with it.

Carlos was more nervous about it than Michael. Both were worried that because we were light on food, that if it were raining or storming in the morning, we’d probably be in trouble. But, I lobbied hard: “It’s been clear every morning. That’s the pattern – clear morning, afternoon storms.” But, it was not enough. We opted to make the descent.

(above) Fantastical views during our descent

While the descent was not nearly as involved as the descent off Fuenffingerspitzen, it was still fairly involved and required lots of careful downclimbing. There were a few rappels as well. The clouds made it quite enjoyable – a weird and fantastic backdrop for us. I was a little worried that the clouds would open up on the descent. If it was to rain, it would be now, not in the morning. But, we had no weather problems. We made it to easy ground just as the sun was going down. Now, all we had to do was traverse the plateau to the hut – if we could find it. I remembered the general direction since I was able to recall the mountain that the lift was on, and the hut wasn’t far from the lift. So we marched in a general direction. Eventually, the sun had completely set, but we were aided by a bright half moon, we never even needed headlamps.

We pulled into the hut around 10:30 or 10:45. As Michael and I were taking off the ropes and harnesses (we kept it all on for the hike to the hut…we didn’t even unrope!), we noticed the staff turning off the lights. I bounded inside to announce our presence. “May we have some soup…or tart?”, asked Michael. They welcomed us, and fed us, but it was obvious that they wanted to be done with their duties. Every expression of gratitude to one particular girl only resulted in a smirky laugh. Quite funny, actually. But, we savored the food and drink and enjoyed the relaxation. It was especially good after such a fantastic climb, which, I announced, makes it into my top five. We later crashed in our bunks and slept deeply.

(above) Savoring the sweet soup.

• Michael’s trip report can be read here.
• Here’s a pitch-by-pitch description of the route.