Life is a series of stories, so you might as well make them good ones. We’re only three days, but pretty sure this will be a good one. 

Fueled by last night’s asada feast and our bellies full of Malbec, and well rested after a night slept tentless under a show of stars unrivaled by any planetarium or AI manipulation, we set out this morning for 11 miles of the high desert’s finest. 

Led by the galloping gait of our fine Irishman, an unreasonably large number of doctors, the poet who engineered yesterday’s post, a reformed lawyer and our hockey-stick-wielding air force officer, we owned the trail like the parking lot scene in Reservoir Dogs. 

The Vacas valley treated us to long views of the mountains to come, galloping burrows, a lone guanaco and the Rio Vacas flowing with enough force to make us eager to walk upon the snow that must be powering it. 

That same river forced us into our first sketchy scramble and our first bit of exposure. Good to get the juices flowing.  

After finally rolling into our campsite - with another posh welcoming spread - Dominic choreographed a photoshoot in front of our first view of the great mountain we hope to summit. 

All in all, today we showed that although we are dirty,  and sweaty, and stinky … this group is STRONG and worthy of this mountain. 

We are not, however, without weakness. In the last few days our greatest fears have temporarily shifted from “how are we going to handle the extreme altitude?” to irrational anxiety about the elusive scorpions, the phlebotomist black flies and whether we lost our toothbrushes. 

Until tomorrow … onward!

Postscript: Best snack of the day - yellow bell pepper stuffed with leftover carne asada. 

Climber Chris Lind