The end of February in Chile marks the final days of the summer season, and for a mountaineer like me, it feels like a rush to squeeze in one more high-altitude mountain. And lucky for me, I’d already found a mountain guide agency to help plan and execute this end-of-summer expedition. Our destination, Volcán San José, would take us to one of the highest points in the iconic San José del Maipo region of the Andes, southeast of Santiago.
With all of my expedition gear at the ready, I packed up the night before and went to bed early. Our little expedition group of four met up in central Santiago at 5:30 am, and began the two-hour drive out to the starting point from there. Heavy double boots, extreme cold-weather clothes, and dehydrated meals filled my giant expedition backpack. I felt physically prepared, but mentally, I was a bit concerned about what late-season surprises might happen on this formidable mountain.
The Last Outpost in the Andes
Driving out of Santiago, we made one last pit stop at a gas station and bought hot coffee for the rest of the drive. With five of us crammed into a modestly-sized truck, it was a bit uncomfortable, especially with the sometimes sharp curves of the road. Going farther south, we passed through the town of San José del Maipo, a place I’d previously been to for weekend cabin trips and camping. But this journey took us farther out than I’d ever been in this region, making it feel like we were truly leaving civilization behind.
The sun had come up some time before we finally pulled into the outpost where we’d leave the truck. It was a broad, dusty area, with wooden ranch-style buildings in the background. A couple of goats and chickens were wandering around behind a fence in front our parked truck. When we all hopped out, a group of several dogs came to greet us, inspecting the truck enthusiastically. I spotted a few mules tied to posts, which I assumed were waiting for us. Since this mountain climb was expedition-style, the mules would carry some of our gear up to a certain altitude, saving us some energy on the physically demanding climb.
Meeting the Mule Team
Our first task of the expedition was to hand off our prepared expedition bags to the muleteers (known as arrieros in Chile). We only kept our day packs with snacks, water, electrolytes, sunscreen, and layers for rain or colder weather. I made sure my day pack was well-prepped, and handed off my heavier backpack to the two muleteers. There were only five of us (three clients and two guides), so our belongings and gear were divided among three mules.
It’s not necessary to use mules for this climb. The entire mountain only takes three nights, so it’s not a particularly long trip. However, they were recommended by the mountain expedition agency. And I learned that these mules belong to a family living at the outpost we parked at. Our lead muleteer was the son of the owner of the ranch, a long-trusted arriero hired by mountaineers for decades. After handing our bags for the muleteers to pack up, we huddled for a briefing about the day to come, shouldered our packs, and started off.
Hiking Into the Volcanic Valley
Our approach began across a dusty stretch of brown earth, and then through an enormous rock basin. As the sun rose higher along with the temperature, we stopped to shed a layer and apply more sunscreen. Trekking deeper into the volcanic valley, we started seeing greenery, thanks to the river that trickled calmly through the valley’s center. We criss-crossed over the river a few times, always able to jump over it or hop across boulders to avoid wetting our boots.
Our first major stop was a mountain refuge that’d sheltered mountaineers for years. It was a rocky hut with a sturdy metal roof and barred windows to protect the glass from rockfall. We wouldn’t be staying the night here, but upon walking inside, I saw that it was well-equipped with a wooden table, counterspace along one side, and a room with multiple bunk beds in the back. It was conveniently situated right by the river, making access to drinking water accessible.
The setting was enchanting: green grass flourished on both sides of the river, wildflowers dotted the valley floor. Mountains rose up on either side of the valley, offering a breathtaking backdrop to this mountain hut. Across the river, I saw a Chilean flag fluttering in the slight breeze. We only stayed ten minutes to rest in the refuge, but it was enough time for me to peruse the mountaineering logbook that’s signed by climbers passing through here. I read stories of success and failure; many climbers attempt San José or other nearby mountains, and not every attempt results in reaching the summit.
While it was pleasant to rest in the refuge, we had to continue our climb. The next stretch would take us even higher in altitude. As we headed up through the valley, we spotted a small herd of goats grazing and hopping over the large boulders that were scattered everywhere. They made navigating these rocky parts look effortless compared to our clunky steps over the uneven path. With only a couple hundred more meters in elevation to go, we continued hiking up and up toward our first campsite of the expedition.
The Hardest Part Awaits
Approach days on many mountains are typically the easiest in terms of elevation gain and terrain, and I felt like the Volcán San José approach was no different. We had a relatively relaxed start, pleasant weather, and tranquil places to rest and snack along the way up to our first camp. But the Andes mountains, especially outside the height of the summer season, are known to bring unpredictable weather. None of us yet knew how dramatically the mountain would change over the next few days. (Continued in Part 2.)
