Cerro Chirripo

I started thinking about climbing Cerro Chirripo years ago. I had visited Costa Rica several times with my wife, who was born there, and in February 2016 I vowed that the next visit I would finally do it. The challenges to climbing Chirripo are more than physical or even mental, there are some logistical issues as well. The trailhead is about 4 hours from the nearest international airport in San Jose, and then there’s the permit process. The climb is generally done in two days, and there is only one option for overnight, and that’s in the Crestones Lodge. There’s only capacity for 54, and it fills up fast, so permits need to be acquired sometimes 6 months in advance for busy seasons. Climbers are not allowed to cook meals, so it’s either cold food hauled up, or pay in advance to eat the food provided at the lodge. Not having to carry food or cook is convenient, but this must be paid in advance, and it’s done by direct deposit into the park’s account, and must be done no later than 10 days after making the reservation. These logistical issues seemed insurmountable from the U.S., but when we decided to move to Costa Rica, suddenly they were less of a barrier. Then it became all about training and motivation.

Chirripo is the tallest mountain in Costa Rica at 3,820 m (12,530 ft), and the fifth tallest in Central America. It is part of the Talamanca range that crosses the border into Panama. This range is unique in Central America because it is a fold-thrust belt, not a volcanic range. It is supposed to be possible to see both the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea from the summit, on a clear day. It is also the only place in Costa Rica where freezing temperatures are possible on any given day.

The trail starts in the lovely town of San Gerardo de Rivas, at a lowly 1,520 m (4,987 ft). My family had decided that they would prefer to hang out at the beach while I climbed than stay at home, so we rented a house in the town of Uvita, about an hour and a half from the trailhead. This meant I was going to have to get up early and drive to the trailhead if I wanted an early start, which I did. I got signed in and received my meal tickets and entrance permit the day before hiking, woke up at 5 AM and drove to the trail. It was 7:30 by the time I was on my way, and I was feeling excited and nervous for the 14 km and 2,100 m of elevation I had to climb to make it to base camp.

The trail started off with a steep hill, and never really let up. I kept up a good pace once I got warmed up, and, thanks to months of training on our mountain in the Central Valley of Costa Rica, the KM markers started getting checked off. Each KM marker had a name that described that section of trail, making it fun and interesting to see what was coming next. Some early examples were “El Termometro” or The Thermometer, Old Man’s Beard, and “Llano Bonito” or Nice Plain. The Thermometer was the first KM, and I assume was named that because that’s when one got warm, or because it was the hottest part of the trail. Old Man’s Beard was a section of trail that had Spanish moss growing on many of the trees limbs, and Nice Plain was a gloriously level stretch of trail after nearly 6 km of non-stop climbing.

The first major landmark was the halfway point, in the middle of the Nice Plain, where there was a little rest house. This was a lovely spot where I was able to fill my already empty water bladder, and empty my already full other bladder. There was also coffee, tea, snacks and basic first aid for sale. Mist had started to fall from the low clouds that had been present from the start, but thankfully only really continued for a KM or so.

The clouds were persistent, and since the forest on this part of the trail was very similar to the one found on my mountain at home, I felt like there wasn’t much to see on this stretch. Little did I know at the time that there were beautiful valleys and mountains hidden by the clouds. One special thing early in the hike that brought a smile to my face and made each step up seem a little easier was a beautiful bird call like I’d never heard before. It sounded like a flute played by an expert in an opera house in Vienna. It was a perfect, crystal clear song that could be heard for large stretches of the trail. I have tried in vain to find out what kind of bird it was, but I will always remember how it made me feel so happy to hear it while I walked.

The climbing resumed in earnest shortly after leaving the rest house. The forest started to change from jungle to cloud forest with more large ferns and slightly less dense foliage in general, and then finally became much thinner around KM 10. This section had had multiple wild fires and was starting to feel like paramo, or high mountain prairie. It was also at this point in the hike where, unbelievably, I started to descend. This was, of course, bitter sweet, since the previous 4 KM were exclusively uphill, but I knew I was going to be climbing whatever elevation I lost again later. I encountered a couple descending at some point, and they had warned me that the last KM before base camp was brutal, so each step I took down, I was cursing under my breath, asking “why can’t the trail just follow this elevation contour?” In the end, my cursing and questioning didn’t change the path, so I just kept walking, and dreading the last KM. When I got to KM 13 and read the name of the last stretch, I knew I was in for it: “Los Arrepentidos.” The Repentants. It was around this point that I started to wonder why I do this to myself. My pace dropped dramatically, and my rest breaks came with much higher frequency. Mercifully, the hill was finite, and I did top it out to get my first glimpse of the Crestones base camp, my home for the next two nights and source of my next meal.

As I walked down the small hill to the lodge, I started to realize that I was drenched in sweat from the climb, and that the temperature was approaching 5 C, and I was incredibly hungry. I was starting to feel very cold when I arrived at the base camp, so I put on some warm clothes, got checked in, and got my lunch. It was an awesome Casado con pescado, a typical Costa Rican dish of rice, beans, salad, picadillo, and fried tilapia, with hot chocolate. Not only was it warm, but the plate was heaping. I ate down the food with gusto, then went to my room to change into dry clothes. I was still very cold at this point, even layered with warm dry clothes.

The rooms were very simple, 2 bunk beds, and assigned roommates. Each bed had a pillow and a sleeping bag that would be perfect for a hot summer night in Texas, but was not enough for the high mountains. Thankfully I brought a down bag that was rated well below freezing. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon in the dining area, chatting with people I had met on the trail and trying to get warm.

Dinner was another large plate of typical Costa Rican fare, lots of protein and starch to get me ready for the following day. Many people wake at 3 AM to ascend the final 5 km and ~300 meters to the summit of Chirripo to watch the sunrise, but, given how tired and cold I was, and how much cloud cover there had been all day and into the evening, I decided to sleep, then eat, then hike. I was finally warm, too warm in fact, in my awesome sleeping bag, and feeling motivated when I woke up at 5:30 for breakfast. I was sad to see that the clouds were still sitting low in the valley and visibility was next to nothing, but I got ready and headed out.

There is something magical about hiking by one’s self. Especially exploring new and beautiful places. This was no exception. Being above the jungle, with only low brushy (and unique) vegetation, and in a thick fog was truly special. This part of the trail was very pleasant as well, most of the elevation gain occurs on the last 2 km of the hike, so the first 3 km were not very steep. The trail gradually ascends the valley and passes by numerous waterfalls, lakes, and large rocks, all of which were shrouded in clouds on the way up.

Occasional breaks in the clouds provided brief glances of the mountain on the approach to the final scramble up the mountain. This was the first time I had seen the peak itself. It is a beautiful pyramid-shaped summit with steep sides all around. The final push up a peak always provides me with extra

energy and a boost of speed, and this was no exception. I started getting impatient behind others as I tried to make my way around on the narrow trail. Finally, I looked up and saw a rock staircase, not knowing that this was the final stretch, I stopped to take a picture, then headed up. After 19 km and 2,500 m of climbing, and months of planning and years of dreaming, at last I was on top of Costa Rica.

I would like to say I was the ‘highest person in Costa Rica’ for a moment in time, but it would be more accurate to say I was ‘one of the highest 25 or so people in Costa Rica’. This didn’t detract from the experience. The clouds were still very thick, although there were occasional signs they were blowing away, and the wind was strong and cold. I stayed only for about 10 minutes on top of Central America due to the cold. Shortly after starting my descent, I made it out of the wind and stopped for a snack, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the fog was getting less dense, and I could see the moraine lakes on the north side of the mountain. Glacial valleys and moraine lakes are quite rare in Costa Rica, so I was happy to have a chance to see these.

The clouds continued to rise, and I could enjoy much more panoramic views of the valley I had climbed through on my way to the summit. Large cliff walls, many lakes, streams and waterfalls were some of the natural treasures I could witness while down-climbing and feeling very fulfilled. Many people only stay one night at the Crestones base lodge, and would hike up Chirripo then back to base camp and out of the park in the same day. But I had booked two nights so that I could explore more of the trails in the area. One trail was to the Crestones. I knew that I wanted to hike up to the Crestones, but I didn’t know it would require summiting another high peak. When I got back to the junction where I had to decide to explore more or head back to base camp there was a sign pointing the directions of the different trails. There wasn’t a sign for Crestones, so I didn’t know which way to go.

Thankfully there was a man from the large group that was taking a rest on a bench nearby. He told me his guide had said the path to the Crestones leads over another mountain that is almost as high as Chirripo, but the trail to the top is much shorter, so much steeper. He also said it was very beautiful. I was torn between wanting to rest and wanting to explore. Also, I was nearly out of water. When I mentioned that last point, the man pointed to a small mountain stream and said it was potable, virgin stream water. I decided I should fill my water and head up the other mountain.

This was a good idea.

Once I set my mind to going uphill again, it was much easier, and the terrain was stunning. The trail did go directly up the side of the mountain, but it went between large rock walls and cliffs, making dramatic vistas. The clouds were nice to watch too. They were blowing quickly and getting lighter and lighter. Once I made the top of the ridge, I had a completely new view towards Panama, and down towards the Pacific. I followed the trail to Cerro Terbi (3,760 m), which amounted to a high point on the ridge, and down a little way to the spectacular Crestones. These are a collection of large rocks and cliffs situated near the top of the ridge. They looked large and beautiful from the valley floor, but from their base, they were huge.

I began my descent towards the basecamp and lunch after skirting around the base of one large cliff and taking lots of pictures. The clouds continued to lift and blow away, allowing for more and greater views of the surrounding mountains.

Upon returning to base, I was ready for lunch. The valley was now completely sunny, the only clouds had settled into the valley far below the basecamp. I was very content with the fact that I had summited two mountains and hiked by the Crestones, so I thought I would sit in the sun somewhere and read my book for the rest of the day. I walked outside to look for a nice place to read and saw a sign saying there was a lake 3.3 km up the trail. This was the same first 3 km of the Chirripo trail, so I knew it wasn’t too steep, and since I didn’t get to see the lake the first time through due to clouds, I thought that might make a great place to sit and read.

Soon after setting off with a full water bladder and my book, I started thinking. I knew there was another trail leading to the summit of the second tallest peak, named Cerro Ventisqueros (3,812 m) and that I was going to walk right by it. Then I assessed my situation; full water bladder, full belly, legs rested from lunch break. I decided to go for it, and try to make it 3 peaks in one day. I began climbing the trail leading up to Ventisqueros and was rewarded by amazing views of the Crestones and Cerro Terbi. Soon I was ascending the side of an open ridge, looking around for the peak, and when I spotted the tallest peak around I naturally assumed this was my 3rd peak. However, the trail was heading to the left, away from the peak which was on the right. I saw the actual peak once I made the top of the ridge, and was not disappointed.

There was a long, sharp ridge leading over a few high spots up to a tall beautiful peak. This was the most technical and exposed section of the 3 peaks, though it was still never more than a simple 3rd class scramble for a few short sections. This was also the best view I got of Chirripo, other than standing on it, due to the clouds and the way that it hides behind other ridges and mountains. The moraine lake and neighboring peaks were clearly visible, and all with clear skies.

It was extremely windy however, which, I found out later, is how the mountain got its name. ‘Ventisqueros’ roughly translates to ‘windy’. The summit of Ventisqueros allowed another new vista previously hidden to me to the north. I could see Volcan Irazu in the central valley, close to my home, as well as the northern extension of the Talamanca range. I could watch the thick clouds in the valley to the south and west try to come up towards the high mountains, but get pushed up and back by the constant howling wind coming from the east and north.

I began my descent having satisfied my lust to summit peaks for the day, and decided I would still hike up to the lake to try to find a place to enjoy the rest of the sun and read my book. I could spy a lake, which I wrongly assumed to be the one I was aiming for, as I hiked down, and was relieved to see it wasn’t too far. I had put in about 10 miles and 5,000 ft of elevation gain on the day already, so the lake really was going to be my last push. It turned out to be way too windy to read, so I headed back to camp and another highly-anticipated meal. Dinner was pasta with tomato sauce and chicken, and I enjoyed the company of two women from Colorado who had just landed in Costa Rica the previous day. I retired to bed after the pleasant conversation, and slept, dreading the 7,000 ft of elevation I was going to have to shed the next day.

I began the final leg of my journey after a night of good sleep and breakfast at 7:00 AM. I was looking forward to getting back to my family and the beach, and figured it would take me nearly as long descending as it did climbing, so I figured I’d be getting down from the mountain by noon, then I’d eat lunch in the town of San Gerardo, and drive the hour and a half to the beach house. It turned out that I could hike a lot faster on the way down than I had expected. Before long I started to aim for an 11 o’clock arrival at the trailhead. Hiking down is usually quite a lot more painful than going up for me, but all my training had really paid off. I made it all the way out in 4 hours only stopping to take pictures. It was another beautiful, sunny day, though earlier I had started to worry that storms were forming. I really didn’t want to deal with getting all my rain gear on, and started to get a little grumpy. I then realized that I had two choices; be grumpy about rain, or accept what was. This gave me some perspective, and made it clear there was only one choice. Once I accepted that I might get wet or have to stop to put on rain gear, I looked back to see that the clouds were receding again, and the skies stayed blue for me the rest of the hike.

As I climbed in my car, I thought about how grateful I was to have had the experience I did; bitter cold, exhaustion, and cloudy skies, mixed with the joy of accomplishment, satisfaction of being outside and finally having blue skies, and witnessing copious amounts of natural beauty. The whole adventure was a reminder that the destination is not the only reward of a journey.