Copiapo, desert town

Whew. After a night out dancing and getting conscientiously drunk on pisco sour, and after renting Olivier's equipment in a suburb of Santiago in a house full of cats from a friendly moustached man, we flew in Copiapo. Desert, all around, as barren as can be. We met our guide Fernando at the airport, a friendly, tan goateed 33 year old Chilean, who left us at a coloured hotel, not without promising to pick us up for some pisco.

Fernando told us that he had been on three previous expeditions on Ojos this year, and that all have failed because of the weather. He also explained to us that the drier air of the Atacama, the loose scree to climb to the summit and the last technical bit made the mountain more difficult than Aconcagua.

To my delight, Fernando announced over a cholesterol-laden meal a slightly modified climbing program. First, we will acclimatize on Nevado de San Francisco; then perfect our condition on cerro El Muerto; and finally attack the main course: Ojos del Salado. This is an ambitious but logical acclimation plan, at least on paper!

Onwards to the barren Atacama!