An almost (???) true account of our adventures in Argentina - by Martin:

"Do not hesitate Martin, you MUST succeed - Cast the cursed cup into the wind..." The old man left the restaurant as quickly as he had appeared, leaving us speechless on the stairs - how did he know our names? What cursed cup? And why was the world on the edge of destruction if we did not succeed? We slowly walked outside, found a table in the shade and ordered a 'cafe con leche'.

We were in the main street of Mendoza in the western part of Argentina and had just been face to face with a wizard-like man giving us some kind of quest, which we did not fully understand. Our first reaction was denial - drug addicts, alcoholics, and super religious people keep telling other people stuff like that, however this man was different. The fact that he knew our names kept us wondering. After a couple of minutes we started to relax and agreed that this man must have spoken the truth, after all he was old and thereby wise. A wise man once told me that you are unwise until you turn 30, at which point you become wise and everything you say is the truth...

So what should we do? The man had talked about a mountain he called Aconcagua and a cup that should be cast into the wind. We were somewhat confused since we did not know what cup he was talking about, however, we did know Aconcagua.

We needed a crew...

Luckily two of our friends were in the area; Mads - the crazy carpenter - a young but brave kid, best known for his big red beard, bad smell and an incredible long upper body, and his girlfriend, the legendary heavy metal loving, Kung Fu specialist Camilla. Two hours later the four of us were sitting in the same restaurant slamming cafe con leche and discussing our approach to solving the mystery. Mads and Camilla had just planed to attend the annual 'Beauty and the Beast'-look-a-like contest in Australia, so at first they were not very interested in joining in - but that soon changed...

All the coffee and the conversation about the mysterious man had made us unaware of world around us.  When we were about to leave, Mads and Camilla couldn't find their bag with tickets and passports. It was stolen! It was like destiny wanted them to stay. However, I could have sworn that I saw the old man from earlier disappearing in the crowd with a similar bag in his arm. Destiny or not, they stayed and became part of the team.

The most obvious approach to the mountain was to take a bus the 200 km to the base and hike in from the south; however, that was exactly what the enemy would expect, so we chose a more clever solution. We would use horses attacking the mountain from the east. We gathered out stuff and saddled up for the journey. On the first day we had to pass a smaller mountain range on our way. The steep uphill trail was tough on the horses, so we settled for the night half way up, released the horses and had a wonderful BBQ under the stars. The next morning the sky had darkened and the wind strengthened. We continued up the mountain, but the weather kept getting worse. Large condors were circling 20 meters above us; watching, waiting... It started raining... We turned around.

We agreed to face our enemies and take the bus instead, but first we needed a fifth man to join the group, a man of 'the wild', raised in one of the most rural places on earth; Jutland! Few people can imagine the horrors this man has gone through during his 29 years of constant adventures, with balls the size of watermelons and the look of a cave troll, he is every woman's dream. He goes by the name Meatbone.

We met Meatbone a couple of days later in Mendoza and immediately hereafter started preparing for our quest. We bought food and gas to stay 16 days on the mountain, and brought equipment to withstand the freezing temperatures and harsh winds which the mountain is known for. We hired a mule to carry 60 kg to the base camp (Plaza de Mulas) in 4300 meters, leaving us with approximately 20 kg in each backpack. From the bus stop in Penitentes we slowly started our ascend using 4 days to reach Plaza de Mulas. A slow ascent is essential to avoid the always luring altitude mountain sickness (AMS - one of our enemies). There was medical service present in the various camps measuring the physical health of the climbers, assuring that only the suited will pass. We slept a couple of days in Plaza de Mulas to acclimatize, while we were carrying loads of food and gear further up the mountain during the day. After 6 days on the mountain we moved on; first to Camp Canada (4900 m) and the next day to Camp Nido De Condores (5400 m). We spent a day here for the final acclimatization, primarily staying inside the tent wondering how to interpret the old mans last words. The nights were quite cold at this altitude (-20 C), but the weather was beautiful; clear sky and only moderate winds. We also felt the altitude; Mads' beard stopped growing but only on his chins, Meatbone felt a slight headache, and Camille restricted her daily Kung Fu sessions to only 2 hours. However, we were ready to carry out the wishes of the old man and if possible go for the summit at 6962 meters.

The next day we moved to the last camp before the summit; Camp Berlin at 5933 meters. As we approached the camp the wind grew stronger and the sky turned black. We put up our tents, fastened them as tightly as we could and went inside in the sleeping bags. The wind speed and turbulence increased even more, threatening to rip the tents apart. At the summit clouds were passing at a speed of more than 200 km/h.

We were laying alone high in the Andes mountains with the wind howling so we barely could hear each other speaking, praying that the wind would not blow us of the mountain. Suddenly we heard a scream of horror through the night - we were not alone...

I left the tent and hurried towards the sound. 200 meters from our tents behind a shoulder I found the remainings of a small tent. The wind had ripped it apart, and the tent was laying flat on the ground. I approached the tent to help the poor guy inside, but it was already too late, he had abandoned the tent and walked into the night!

I looked up and saw the silhouette of a small hut in the distance. As I came closer I saw two legs sticking out through the door opening. Inside I found the rest of the body, belonging to a young man who had tried to climb the mountain alone. It was easy to see the fear in his eyes now his tent was gone. He was lucky there was a small hut where he could spend the rest of the night. Mads who had heard the scream as well showed up and together we helped the poor guy get his stuff inside. We were just about to leave when he grabbed Mads. "It is the pink plastic cup which is cursed". We both stopped. "What...?" He continued, almost screaming to get the words through the wind: "An old man in Mendoza told me - he forgot to tell you, so I agreed to bring the information to you... The cup should belong to a man called Meatbone!"

We almost ran back to the tents and found the cup in the front. Then we hurried to the edge of a small cliff and cast the cup into the wind - it was immediately carried away...

We stood in silence for a moment, I don't know what exactly we had expected, but something else than nothing - the sky was unchanged and the storm kept its pace. After a while the cold started creeping through our down jackets and we went back into the tents.

The evening and the night will not be remembered as the coziest in history. It was my 30th birthday; Meatbone had brought a birthday hat and some Haribo and Laerke a candle, however there was not much partying in the tents. The candle couldn't burn in the thin air, we had a bit of headache and our appetite was gone due to the altitude. We ate the Haribo and went to sleep, or at least we tried to. The wind made it almost impossible to fall asleep.

The next morning the headache was gone, however the wind was not. The tent had not been able to resist the forces from the wind during the night; a pole was broken, all zippers were torn apart and two of the fastenings were ripped. We had fulfilled the wishes of the old man and it was madness to continue toward the summit, or even to stay, so we agreed to descent to Plaza de Mulas and wait for better weather*.The weather forecast did not provide much hope; maybe the weather would improve in 5 days, however we had already been on the mountain for 10 days and 5 more days eating powder soup and crappy pasta was not very tempting. We made the crucial decision to walk out.

It takes 1,5 day to get from Plaza de Mulas to the road, a walk out where many thoughts are running through the head. Why didn't we summit? Should we have waited 5 days after all? Did we cast the pink cup in the right directions? And what happened to the young man in the small hut?

As we approached the road, the thought of a large Argentinean steak with French fries started to take over and our mood slowly changed for the better. When we finally got out (after 12 days on the mountain) the dream of good food, real coffee and sodas came true at a fabulous restaurant in Penitientes.

[Besides the old man, the words from the young climber in Camp Berlin and the reduction in Camilla's Kung Fu sessions, the account is true - remember I am 30 now... ]

* Later we met a French guy who had gone for the summit that morning. He didn't succeed, instead he got severe frostbites on hands, cheek and nose.