Continent – South America
Climb Duration: 20 days
Elevation: 22,383 ft. (6,961m)
With the support of allies, TranSending scheduled my Aconcagua climb in late January as the summer climbing season in the Andes was pushing towards its end. Standing nearly 23,000’ above sea level, Aconcagua is the highest mountain in S. America, the Western and Southern hemispheres, and the highest mountain outside of Asia. With success on Aconcagua, I would have four of the Seven Summits completed in less than a year. But more than simply crossing the halfway point in the summits completed, this test would prove whether my body was outfitted to handle the rigors of extreme altitude. Before dreaming of Aconcagua’s summit, the highest I’d climbed was 3,500’ lower than her soaring summit.
Socially, S. America presented unique challenges and opportunities. Argentina is a leader in civil rights advancements for the LGBTQ+ community, possessing national protections and strict hate crime laws covering both sexual orientation and gender identity. But, the LGBTQ+ community still faces challenges in a country whose population is nearly 80% Roman Catholic, and violence rates against the Community are still high. When my summit bid was over, I had family in Buenos Aires who had long supported my journey who promised to celebrate or commiserate with me before I headed home. I’d also had another year of growth since I started – another year of getting comfortable in my body, learning the constraints of my safety, physically transitioning, and becoming more confident in myself.
On a more personal front, I’d recently grown on a more daunting metaphoric mountain in my life as I waded into a new relationship. Years of denying my right to exist left me believing that I’d be unlovable by others if I came out and transitioned, while also unlovable by my own self if I didn’t. As evidence, the first person to desert me was my former spouse. I came out anyways. In transitioning I’d chosen to love and respect myself, and then to shine that love from the highest mountains. I internalized the belief in transitioning I’d be unlovable by others. Contrarily, I’d spent the recent time smitten and excited by the prospect of new love. I didn’t want to leave her for 21 days. Now departing for the Andes fewer than two months into the relationship, I felt the tearing pull of my heart unprepared to leave her, and my soul’s chosen journey to climb.
Traveling was becoming comfortable for me again. My mind became more focused on my safety as a solo female traveler, and less preoccupied on aspects of being a transgender traveler. It took four days of independent travel, but by the time the climb began I felt safely integrated on an international climbing team.
The first several days on the trip we worked our way to basecamp where we lived in a seasonal village at Aconcagua’s base. The camp had two bars, hot showers, a kitchen, massage services, and a working economy. We acclimatized here at 14,000’ and grew familiar with the stories and lives of the mountaineers we’d endure this summit with. We shared stories of families, partners, careers, hobbies, and pursuits beyond the mountain, and everything imaginable due to living so intimately. I never felt the need to share the backstory of my journey with others. I was only another climber. I came to see if I had the strength to climb this mountain, and my gender identity didn’t matter. I was another climber aspiring to see the mountain’s summit – and outwardly facing all of the challenges any woman faced here.
There were several challenges I expected on Aconcagua, and mountains always provide for surprises. Aconcagua has a 40% success rate, a statistic I attributed to her altitude. But, it was her severe winds that turned many climbers away during our stay. Days passed, and we left basecamp, and then advanced to the three camps that lie above. We watched the weather intently, but each day brought winds sustaining around 70mph. The forecast was no less daunting. After burning our three contingency days at High Camp Two due to devastating winds, we no longer had a margin of error. Our summit window was reduced to a twelve-hour period, but our odds looked good as all 14 climbers in our expedition pushed to the final high camp at 20,000’. We were set for summit day.
After a short nap under the wind’s constant assault, the full team set out with four guides, nearly two hours late. Then, we started losing climbers. We lost people to exhaustion, then to equipment failures. Next we lost a few that wouldn’t go on without their partners. By the time the team reached the final push, 1,000’ of stair-steep scrambling known as “El Canale”, only five of us remained. I had fought to be one of them.
Those final 1,000’ demanded everything. I’d step, pause, breathe, and then step again. This laborious pace repeated for three hours.
As the dusk sky glowed orange, and the sun melted into the visible Pacific Ocean, I stepped towards Aconcagua’s summit, still thrashed by her frigid winds. I pulled my pink and blue banner from my pack, and unfurled it showing a glimpse of evidence of my quest. Exhausted, I kneeled alone with my banner at 22,841’ while a photo was taken. For that moment, I knew a trans person stood proudly atop the western and southern hemispheres.
I stopped over to celebrate with my family over asada and Malbec in Buenos Aires. I spent the next days contemplating my journey, personal growth, and the accomplishments that made this expedition unique. I thought about the new friends, my ability to integrate on a climbing team as myself, and then the summit itself. But, most satisfying was the knowledge that at home I had someone who missed me, and whom I missed dearly – a young relationship optimistically waiting to grow.
