The Ferris Files

In December, when I was looking about for a point man to manage my blog in my absence, I turned to my brother-in-law Steve because he’s good with bits and bytes and generous with his time. Little did I know what a good choice I’d made.

If you enjoyed the maps of Aconcagua that gave context to the posts, thank Steve – he created them unasked. He organized posts on the site to make them easy to navigate. Every day he took the short, aborted satellite-phone calls I left on voicemail and stitched them together into one smooth audio delivery. On the weekend of January 20, prior to our summit attempt, Steve spent a fair bit of a vacation
weekend in Tahoe perched in front of a computer with a dribbling Internet connection, making sure the communications went through. This is the kind of guy you want on your side.

Steve, it wouldn’t have happened withoutcha. Hats off to you.

The last few days I have been unpacking my bags and found these items of interest:

Pre-Trip To-Do Lists, Urgent (3)

Undone Items (17)

Socks Which, When Turned Inside Out, Explode in a Mushroom Cloud of Volcanic Dust (1 pair)

Items That Smell of Volcanic Dust (47)

Items that Smell of Spilled Sports-Drink Dust (5)

Extra Dust

Water bottles, Dirty (2)

Pee Bottle, Uh, Dirty (1)

Thermos, Encrusted with Soup Mix (1)

Mule Shoe, Spotted with Rust and Discovered on Trail (1)

Rock from Summit, Gifted by Marshall (1)

Wool Mitten, Mate Abandoned Somewhere on Summit Route (1)Sunscreen Bottle, Exploded in Backpack (1)

Sunscreen-Covered Satellite Phone (1)

Regrets (1)

We are back in Mendoza, where everything is familiar and alien at the same time. There is a constant sound outside, but it´s not a freezing wind — it´s the rumbling of downtown Mendoza traffic. When we want to go outside, we just go, without planning which hat, jacket or pair of gloves we will wear to avoid turning numb. When we want to go to bed, we just slide in between the sheets, instead of inflating a mattress and unpacking a sleeping bag. I am not offending myself by how I smell. I could get used to this!

I am at the internet cafe, where for the last few hours I have hungrily been reading everyone´s comments on The Ferris Files. Thank you so much for your well-wishes! All this time I haven´t known for sure whether anyone was hearing what I was speaking into that satellite phone, or what anyone had to say in response. I am delighted that the posts got to you. Your thoughts propelled me upward, in ways big and small.

We are all generally well (though these typing fingers are still swollen from altitude). I have shaven and can see my face again. Terri´s cough, which she acquired during the last push to the summit, is there, but subsiding.

Last night we sat in a bistro (they had chairs and glassware and everything!) and joyously feasted on steak, salad, lasangna, wine, beer, and pretty much anything we could lay our hands on. Our table seemed an island of liveliness amid diners dully living their preprogrammed lives. It wasa reminder of how alive we were while we were on the mountain — cold, dirty and often miserable, yes, but vitally aware of our existence.

In a few hours we will visit a winery in the nearby countryside. Tonight we might catch a lesson at a tango club. You know, all that Argentina stuff that we were too remote to enjoy until now. !Ole!