Jon's breathing is unearthly and mechanical. A long exhale, then 20 seconds of dead silence, then three sharp gasps. The cycle repeats. I couldn't imitate it if I tried -- I can't hold my breath for more than a few seconds here at 16,500 feet.
His labored sleep is called Cheyne-Stokes syndrome. It is one of the symptoms of acute mountain sickness, a crippling collection of physical problems, including irregular breathing, nausea, and mental confusion, caused by high altitude. I've paid Jon (not his real name) -- a credentialed mountain guide from Oregon -- to take me to the top of Chimborazo, Ecuador's highest peak.
We rise at midnight. Ecuador's mountains are near the equator and must be climbed in darkness before the sun's warmth unleashes deadly rockslides and avalanches. Jon is irritable and groggy as we scramble up the icy approach, the only access to the snowy ridge that will take us to the summit at 20,700 feet. Suddenly, he veers right across the slippery face of the glacier. We traverse across the steep slope for more than an hour. I stumble and dislodge a rock the size of a pumpkin. It takes a giant hop -- then disappears. Seconds later I hear it thudding a thousand feet below. We stop under a serac, a towering wall of glacial ice, exhausted and cold.
It's 3 A.M., it's pitch-black, and we're lost.
An expedition to Ecuador's volcanoes seemed like a perfect combination of adventure and culture -- a sporting vacation. Many mountain travel companies advertise trips for fit middle-agers like me: five days of climbing and ten days of exclusive haciendas and sightseeing. I imagined holding court on a hotel terrace between climbs, regaling open-mouthed tourists with tales of high mountain heroics. You don't need to be an expert mountaineer to climb here, but you do need to know how to use an ice axe and crampons. Guide companies do the rest: They keep you safe on the mountain, organize things, and show you the sights.
At least that's the idea. Tonight the only sights I see are the dazzling stars. (The constellations in the Southern Hemisphere appear upside down -- the Big Dipper's ladle won't hold a drop here.) And I don't feel particularly safe or organized. We crouch under the serac until daylight and then dejectedly make our way down the mountain, knowing that we can't climb during daytime temperatures. I look back over my shoulder and see that we were fully 90 degrees off course, headed straight for a dangerous field of crevasses.
The next day Jon recuperates at a lower altitude while I summit Chimborazo with an experienced Ecuadorian guide. As we pass Jon's icy turn from the night before, I realize how wrong -- and precarious -- things had been. We had traversed the vertiginous southwestern face of the mountain on a route with no way out but back the way we had come.
Later, Jon tells me he had never been above 14,000 feet before. His altitude sickness was the likely cause of his poor judgment. Though an experienced mountaineer, he was unfamiliar with Ecuador's volcanoes, massive peaks that require precise route finding.
The take-home lesson: Adventure travel can be epic fun but can also turn dangerous quickly. Looking back, I wish I had researched the trip more carefully. Before signing on with any company, in any country, make sure you get answers to these questions:
Finally, buy trip insurance. Something unexpected, like sickness or bad weather, could end your vacation prematurely. With this information in hand, you're well on your way to a safe and memorable mountain experience.