Castor 4 225. Where women are "not supposed to go alone".

I was never material for a “good girl”. People who know me well enough, say I “supposed to be born a boy”, but that’s just the world we live in with all its prejudice and assignation of who and what is supposed and not supposed to be and do. Anyways, whenever someone told me: “You can’t do it!”, all my brain answered immediately was: ”Hold my beer!”. And so it was with hiking Castor, where “I’m not supposed to go alone.”.

Climbing the highest mountain

Love for the mountains wasn’t something brought up in me by my family or friends. On the contrary, for a very long time I didn’t have anyone, who’d show me the beauty of high altitudes and the pain that comes in a package of getting there.

I’ll bore you with the details another time, let's just say: “It happened against all odds.”. I got in this love-hate relationship many years ago and it only gets “worse” year after year. Hate happens only when I’m significantly tired and want to die on the way. Everything else is full of love, thickly covered with sweat, pain and even blood at times.?

4 years ago I suddenly decided to go to my first high summit - Teide, so I did. I knew all the important stuff about oxygen, basic climbing, orienting, etc. I also knew, it’s almost impossible to make me give up, throw up or faint, so I just did this 3 717 m high volcano.?

That seeded as a kinky need of getting on top of the highest mountain in the region or country I visit. I wanted to go to Monterosa (highest peak of Italy), but there was some disturbing info about hidden cracks in the glacier, so I decided to slow down, give myself a chance to climb more mountains in the future and chose Castor. Not easy, but accessible.?

Day 1: hike to Rifugio Mezzalama 3 009

Of course I went solo. I started my hike from Saint Jacques des Allemand at 1 620 m and took a nice but steep route to Rifugio Mezzalama, where I booked a HB a couple of weeks earlier (those close to the peaks refuges can be unavailable at the last minute).?

9 km with 1 400m of ascent wasn’t easy but doable. Especially, considering some extra weight from necessary equipment, food, warm(er) clothes and sleeping bag. I took strictly necessary stuff, risking even to get a chill closer to the top, but weight was the decisive factor, as always.

Rifugio Mezzalama is placed at 3 009 m asl, so decreased level of oxygen was guaranteed, but still only by approx. 30%, and not 50% like it is supposed to be on top. I got there after climbing the so-called Sky Walk and set my alarm to 5 a.m.?

Day 2: to the Castor summit.

Instead of doing it in a sane way, meaning going to the top and then staying in the refuge before the full descent, I simply didn’t like sleeping with 30 other farting and snoring people in the same room and decided to go all the way down from the Castor summit the next day.

I knew, I’ll get to the please-someone-kill-me state, but I also knew how long and how far I am able to carry my barely functioning body in this half-hibernation on foot or on a bike, so I made the decision absolutely voluntarily.?

I waited for all the groups to leave in the morning before starting my journey. I definitely prefer to suffer alone, otherwise my companion would suffer double and may not survive it.?

At 6:15 I took my first steps watching peaks getting lighted with the first sun rays. The weather was perfect: clear blue sky, no strong wind, air warm enough not to shake when leaving the hut. The only need I had was to actually wake up, which in conditions of low oxygen wasn’t that easy to achieve.?

Once I got to the last refuge - Guide Val d’Ayas, I also reached the sun line, which cheered me up tremendously. I saw the summit and this sight always gives me extra strength and motivation.?

When my eyes actually see the goal and can measure the shrinking distance, so my brain gets the instant reward for keeping me from screaming: “Fuck it, I’m going back.” and turning around.

As a bonus, I started noticing other groups, which assured me, I’m not the slowest one - win again.?

Glacier was firm and nicely frozen, crampons stuck like glue to its untouched surface and did as well on the beaten path even at the craziest inclination. Honestly, if I caught enough oxygen to actually think of the steepness of my path, I’d probably felt… cautious. Fortunately, the part of my brain that is responsible for the risk assessment powered down after I asked the local guide about the glacier conditions, which were great, so even the background sounds of continuous small avalanches going down didn’t bother me in the slightest.?

Hikers, who went to Castor for the sunrise, started to come down. Most were surprised but friendly. Seeing a woman doing any “heavy lifting” solo is like going to a zoo for free, so I’m used to it. On top of that I was the only solo hiker on the path - outrageous.?

I wouldn’t mention it, but even there, even on this high altitude at the low-access route I met a misogynist. Dude was coming down and HAD TO mansplain what I SHOULDN’T do, like going alone to the mountains. I passive-aggressively thanked him for his unasked advice and went on.

Last few steps with an ice hammer and here I was, standing on the Castor saddle, wowing with excitement and satisfaction. At the same time I saw the last meters to the summit and felt my self-preservation instinct waking up. Two-feet (like two feet put side by side, to like 60 cm) narrow path in the snow surrounded with… air, wind and steep slopes going all the way down on both sides - that was the view that made me wonder… for like a second.

“I went all the way up here and I’ll chicken a 100 m before the top?! No way, Jose!”. A couple of guys went first and if I see guys doing it, there’s no way I’m giving up, so I went. I could use my poles only by sticking them in front of me, every inch on both sides meant falling. Steady breath, no sudden moves, looking only to the front, taking small steps.?

And here I was, I passed the tiny-tiny footpath and stood at 4 226 m at the Castor summit, looking at all the lower peaks around and continuance of the ridge path waiting for me to proceed.?

This moment when I feel like I’m on the top of the world, these couple of minutes, because that’s how long you spend there, are absolutely worth hours of hardship, liters of sweat, and head spins on the way up. That’s the true way to feel exceptional. You can’t buy this. Sure, you can get there by chopper, but money you’ll spend on it won’t buy this very feeling of victory. Victory over your own weaknesses, triumph over one of the hardest natural obstacles in the world, conquest over your body and mind and a whole new level of you that comes with it. Those things cannot be bought with money and that makes them truly special and endlessly rewarding.

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