Carstensz Pyramid - My Number 7

For photos, click here.

I recently returned home from climbing my 7th of the Seven Summits - Carstensz Pyramid. This was supposed to be a straightforward rock climb. It ended up being one of the most grueling adventures of my life and I will never ever do it again.

It was also a pretty darn cool experience and one I will never ever forget. Papua is about as primitive as it gets.

First, a little background: New Guinea is the second largest island in the world after Greenland. It is divided into two parts for political reasons. The separate and free state of Papua New Guinea takes the whole eastern part of the island. The western part belongs to Indonesia and is called Papua (Irian Jaya or Western New Guinea below). Below is a map of Indonesia.


Carstensz Pyramid (Puncak Jaya) is the highest mountain, not only of the New Guinea Island, but also of Oceana. It lies in the Snow Mountains of the Indonesian province, Papua.

When Dick Bass became the first to climb the Seven Summits in 1985, he climbed Kosciuszko (7310'/2228m), the highest mountain in Australia. But many view Australia as part of the larger continent of Oceana, or Australasia, which includes Indonesia and the higher-than-Kosciuszko mountain of Carstensz Pyramid (16,023'/4884m). So now, many Seven Summit climbers top them both.

There are two ways to reach Carstensz base camp - via helicopter or via foot. The helicopter option has been "iffy" in recent years, in that sometimes it just doesn't show up. But there's a mob boss named Frankie who apparently has an exclusive contract to hire helicopters, which he did for a group with Mountain Trip the week before we arrived. We met him in Nabire as they were flying out. And NO he isn't REALLY a mob boss.

We chose to hoof it. Now that I am home with a numb foot, sore knee, and body full of scrapes and bruises, I can honestly report that I had no idea what I was getting into. The one-day rock climb to the summit of Carstensz was fun. The 6-day trek to base camp and 4-day trek out was epic.

The "trek" option appealed to me because I am just as interested in experiencing the landscape and culture as I am in climbing the mountain. This part of the world fascinates me and I was curious to see it. But I admit after having done the trek, which winds up and down over difficult terrain through the jungle, I completely understand climbers who opt for the helicopter. In fact, if Frankie offered to fly us to and from the mountain at no extra cost, this might have been a tough decision for some of us. I am pretty sure all of us would have preferred to be flown OUT of the mountain.

There are roads to a gold mine (Freeport) close to the mountain. However, they are private and using the roads is strictly prohibited. We heard stories of climbers being captured and taken custody at the mine for a number of days.

There are also several "operator" options. The tough logistics of this climb require that you use a local operator. I decided to join a group directly with a local Indonesian company, rather than through a western guided expedition that hires a local operator, because the cost, while still high, is substantially cheaper ($9,000 compared with $18,500).

And whenever anything went wrong, I reminded myself that you get what you pay for.

Our expedition included six climbers - Bruce (from Utah and on Everest with me in 2009), George (Virginia), Brett (England), Ricky (Scotland), John (China), and me.
The original plan was to fly to Timika on the southern part of Papua (see lower red circle in map above). From Timika, we would fly to Ilaga, where we would begin our trek to base camp. However, shortly before our scheduled departure, an upcoming election in Ilaga caused fighting and killing, resulting in our changing our route to Sugapa.

To reach the mountain via the Sugapa route, we met in Bali, from where we took a series of flights overnight to Nabire on the western side of Papua (see left red circle on map).

It was in a restaurant in Nabire that we ran into a group of about twelve German climbers with Kari Kobler's expedition who had just returned from the trek. As we walked into the restaurant, we felt the eyes of the entire group of men looking at us, as if to say, "You are going to get crushed."

To my surprise, Gregor, my buddy from Vinson (see post below), was with this group! It was great running into him. He immediately said that the trek was harder than the climb. Then he told me, but really sort of asked me, "You're tough. Aren't you?"

I looked at the guys around me and thought, "Physically? Not really. Mentally? I must be."

From Nabire, we took a 50 minute flight to Sugapa. We were planning on leaving Nabire at 7:00 am but we were told that "someone" was preventing our flight from leaving until we paid more money. This was the first of many similar encounters and one reason why this mountain carries a hefty price tag.

We took off around 10 am and I don't know what, if anything, was decided or paid. In Sugapa, we met Denny, a popular Carstensz guide who was not our guide but there to help us get started. He and our trekking guide, Steve, spent the day selecting porters from Sugapa.

It seemed everyone in town - men, wives, women, kids, grandparents and uncles - showed up for the porter selection. This was the day I discovered that these people enjoy having their photos taken. What a nice change of pace from almost the entire rest of the world. When I raised my lens, people would jump in front of it and ask that I take their picture.


Our trek to base camp began with a motor cycle ride. So in other words, this was the first day of my being scared to death. My motorcycle driver was wearing a full helmet and he didn't have one for his passenger. For about two seconds, I considered asking him if I could wear his.

I saw the guys hold on to the teeny tiny bars on their seats. I have a little experience riding on the back of a motorcycle and what I learned, other than to always wear a helmet, is that you have to wrap your arms tightly around the driver and connect your hands. So that's what I did whenever I felt him step on the gas a little too much. And I occasionally reminded myself that my driver did need to breathe.

Apparently some people in Sugapa were disappointed at not making the "porter cut," so in retaliation, they staged what we frustratingly referred to as a roadblock, otherwise known as extortion.

A group of people would stand in our way, machetes in hand, and tell us we could not pass until we pay 100 rupiah, or a little over $100. Negotiations ensued with a gallery of spectators standing alongside who occasionally joined in the yelling and screaming, which is what it seemed like to us, since we had no idea what anyone was saying.

I have to admit it was pretty entertaining when all of a sudden a woman from the side would start yelling at the men doing the negotiating. Then she'd walk up to them and let them have it.


We passed the time taking photos while negotiations continued. Eventually our trekking guide, Steve, would hand over some money and we would be on our way. I never knew what Steve actually paid and I never asked (it was included in our $9,000 trip price). Due to nine or twelve roadblocks, it took all day for us to complete the three hour trek to Suanggama.

There are over 300 tribes in Papua. Most of the people we saw are from the Dani Tribe. Despite the fact that Danis were not discovered until 1938, they have become one of the best known tribes in New Guinea.

I thought about the early explorers in Nepal and their encounters with the indigenous people there. How did the Sherpas initially react to the strange westerners in their elaborate clothing? With the thousands of trekkers and climbers visiting the Himalaya every year, things are much different in Nepal today than they were then.

Below is a photo of Ricky with some of the porters in Suanggama.

Some of us slept inside our lead porter's (picture at top) hut in Suanggama and others stayed in tents to escape the cockroaches, rats scurrying along the walls (we think - we only saw the pellets and let our imaginations take over), and puppies living beneath the floor boards where we laid down our mats and sleeping bags.

From Suanggama, we began our trek through the rainforest. It was on the first day that I realized I would be the slowest of our group. As I tried to meet (or not be too far behind) the pace of the guys, I ended up pushing a little too hard. That, combined with not drinking enough fluids in the intense heat and humidity, just about did me in. I was dripping with sweat and when I stopped, I felt my heart continue to beat rapidly for longer than usual.

This was my wake-up call to stop, drink some water, wait for my heart rate to settle down, and then continue the trek on my own terms. I knew I could not and should not try to walk as fast as the guys, so my best bet was to move at my own pace and take care of myself so that I could reach camp in a decent mood after all the tents are up. Nobody likes a cranky trekker.

I also had other issues. My hands had deep cuts in them from not wearing gloves with my trekking poles and the back of my knee ached. For the rest of the trip, I had gross looking cuts on my hands, plastered with mud, and every day I limped around camp after the trek and in the morning before the trek. Once I started walking, the pain would eventually go away. I may have looked like a mess but I knew I would be able to make it.


So that was pretty much how the rest of the trek went. We would hit the trail around 8:30 am. If the guys reached camp at 1 pm, I would come stumbling in at 3 pm. The first two days were hot, wet and muddy, and the trail was sometimes difficult to follow as we made our way across slippery logs and rocks and climbed over muddy trees and branches. After that, the heat and humidity subsided a bit while we gained altitude. The terrain was up and down and up and down. Sometimes a simple step would turn into a foot stuck in the mud up to your knees, which is why we wore rain boots.

The problem with reaching camp last was I had more opportunity to get stuck walking in the pouring rain. More importantly, on sunny afternoons, I had less time to wash the mud off my clothes and dry them in the sun. Admittedly, I failed to take good care of my muddy clothes, regardless of how late I arrived at camp. As we continued, my bag grew heavier as I stuffed it with muddy and wet clothes. Not a recommended strategy.

I also got lost a few times and getting lost alone in the Papuan rainforest is not what I would call fun or adventurous. NOW, at home in my office sitting at my computer... it was adventurous. THEN... it was scary.

I just re-read some of the above and I sound pretty pathetic. So I will add that the guys did assure me that they also experienced challenges on this trek. Some of them got painful blisters on their feet and weird bug bites, both of which I managed to avoid.

Throughout the trek we wondered aloud how many days it would take to get to base camp. Our trekking guide had done the Ilaga trek three times but never this Sugapa trek. He told us one thing and another guide, named Brury, from another expedition told us something else. Over time, we trusted what Brury told us - it takes (and it took) six days to reach base camp from Sugapa.


Many of the porters who carried our gear brought along their wives and children. I was told each porter was paid about $100 per day. Their feet had never seen the soles of shoes in their lives. I watched in awe as they effortlessly moved along the trail carrying our bags, as well as their own. I brought some extra food and clothing, as well as a couple of cameras, so I knew my bag was a little heavier than the 17 kilos maximum. After one day of guilt I started giving my extra food to my porter, something I would regret by the time we reached base camp when it was clear I needed the food more than he did.


Each day the porters would cram beneath a huge tarp, build a fire and smoke cigarettes. Not surprisingly, there are no fire code regulations in Papua. One day I stood outside the entrance and coughed uncontrollably from all the smoke.

At camp 2 we made the mistake of setting up our tents next to the porter tarp. That night we listened to them talk until midnight. Then it was just two women who talked until 3 am. I think they were at opposite ends of the shelter because it was pretty high volume and ear plugs were not enough.

I had read that the porters often stage a strike just before moving to base camp. Thankfully our porters did not strike.

Every day I gave my porter some food, partly because I had too much, but also because I wanted to make him happy. One day he kept pointing to my hands and then his hands and then to my hands again. So I gave him a pair of gloves, which seemed to be what he wanted. I later learned I shouldn't give the porters gloves because wearing gloves will weaken their hands and make it harder for them once the gloves have been trashed and burned.

Another day my porter watched me put on sunscreen and gestured that he would like some as well. By then I had pretty much figured things out.


On day 6 of our trek, we reached base camp at about 14,000 feet. Base camp sits next to a beautiful aqua colored pond. There we met our climbing guide, Hatta. He had been at camp for several weeks, guiding other groups up Carstensz. The plan was for us to leave for the summit at 1:30 am. So we prepared our gear, ate dinner, and did our best to sleep (I did not sleep) before leaving camp for the mountain.

When we were all up, ready to go, we noticed our trekking guide, Steve, and our cook, Joko, also suited up for the climb. We were all a little surprised, as Steve moved slowly during the trek. We suspected that he had been sick and didn't want to tell us.

Hatta started walking to the mountain and I knew I would be lagging behind once again. This worried me because as in the trek, I would be alone unless I slowed down enough to climb with Steve and Joko. But Brett kindly offered to go with me. When we reached the mountain, we did lose the trail at one point but we were able to finally catch up to the guys when they reached the fixed line and began to climb up the rock.

Being one of the Seven Summits, Carstensz is a popular mountain to climb. So there are ropes fixed on most of the route. We clipped into the rope using an ascender. Often it would get stuck and you would have to bend down and pull it up along the rope. But having a fixed line generally keeps climbers moving and alleviates bottlenecks.

From a rock climbing perspective, it is about a 5.6, maybe 5.7 climb to the top. We wore alpine climbing boots and carried or wore gortex. The only time I felt nervous was along the ridge at the top where there are a couple of tricky moves, requiring you to reach or step across wide gaps of open air to move to the next section of rock. There was little about the rope that we were clipped into that made me feel safe. It looked old and frayed.


There is also an 80 foot gap with a cable extended across it called the Tyrolean Traverse. Brett and I watched as George clipped into the cable, hung upside down, head first, and made his way across the traverse as Hatta pulled the rope. Then I went, followed by Brett. I was surprised at how easy the traverse was, especially because as I pulled myself along the line, Hatta also pulled so hard that I sailed across in seconds.

Soon after that, on the morning of November 2, 2011, we reached the summit and took a series of photos. I started down behind the other guys but Brett stayed on top with Hatta, waiting for Steve and Joko. In retrospect, I should have also stayed with them because I ended up losing the guys. Once Brett decided to descend, he went ahead of Steve, Joko and Hatta and met me at the Tyrolean Traverse, where I had been waiting for almost an hour - no way I was going to cross that by myself.


The descent was an uneventful series of rappels that painfully reminded me that my hands were full of cuts and scrapes.

Once we were back at base camp, Brett said Joko and Steve had a series of banners with them on the summit, including one that he pulled out of his backpack that read, "Congratulations Megan... Brett... Ricky... etc. on Carstensz Pyramid..." I guess we were supposed to take a picture with this banner on the summit! We all thought that was funny and ended up posing behind the banner later at the airport.

With the climb finally done and behind us, it was time to begin the grueling trek out of base camp and back to Sugapa. This we would do in four, not six, days. Although we were descending in altitude, it was still a long tough trek out with two very long days in the middle. We would be walking the equivalent distance of four days in just two days during the trek out. My concern was that I would find myself alone at the end of the day, possibly at night, trying to find the trail using my headlamp. So on those two long days, I made sure somebody went with me.

During the trek in, Joko hiked with Steve and they always reached camp hours behind even me. But I knew that Joko was a pretty fast walker, faster than me anyway. So I asked him if he would walk with me. My thinking was that our trekking guide could walk alone. Seemed reasonable to me.

This ended up being a good plan on day 2 of the trek out, when we walked from camp 4 to camp 2 and lost daylight at around 5:30 pm. Walking in the jungle with a headlamp triples the time it would normally take in daylight. Every step becomes a big question mark. Is that solid ground or loose branches covering a big drop? Am I grabbing onto a rock or a leaf? I was very hesitant. Too hesitant. I'd sustained some uncomfortable injuries throughout the trek, but nothing earth shattering. A sprained ankle or twisted knee could substantially slow anyone down. I was paranoid. But we made it into camp around 7 pm. The guys had been there since 4 pm and mentioned how long their day was - 8 hours. I sat there and thought, "11 hours. Yikes."

The next day didn't go quite so well (as if the previous day did?). Joko and I got off to an early start - 7:30 am. You might expect it to be a faster hike out since we were going downhill most of the time. But it was almost harder to descend in the mud and wet rocks than it was to ascend. It ended up being 2pm by the time we reached camp 1 and we still had to go all the way to Suanggama (our Day 1 trek in).

The "trouble" began at around 4 pm. Joko and I descended onto the river and were searching for the trail when suddenly I noticed Joko disappear into the jungle. As I struggled to catch up to him, walking through terrain thick with branches and long stems with thorns that dug into my clothes, I thought, "This can't be right." I called after him as he continued on. Then Joko vanished.

This was not funny (no joko). I was standing in thick brush with no idea where to go. There wasn't a trail or Joko anywhere to be found. I stood there for twenty, maybe thirty, minutes yelling Joko's name. Why wasn’t he answering me? Was he hurt? I contemplated my next move, which would be to walk back down to the river and search for a trail.

Or cry hysterically.

Then Joko reappeared. I was relieved and happy to see him, but I was also mad and I screamed at him, "Do not leave me alone!" He looked at me with wild eyes, pointing to his head, and yelled something I didn't understand. We made our way back to the river where we searched again for the trail. I was tremendously relieved once we found it and got back on track.


About ten minutes later we ran into Steve. He'd passed us when we went on our little excursion. I was happy to see him and hoped he would walk the rest of the way to Suanggama with us. I asked Steve what Joko was trying to tell me when he pointed at his head. Steve talked to Joko and told me that Joko was having hallucinations.

Oh that's all? Joko went loco? How comforting in the middle of the Papuan rainforest.

Poor Joko felt terrible. He kept apologizing to me, blaming himself for what we now knew would happen - we would once again get stuck walking in the dark. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. If I had walked faster, we would have been at camp earlier. I was thankful to have Joko with me. My reaction was to put the past behind us and move on. Really. We had to move.

Joko nervously quickened his pace and had to frequently wait for me. We lost Steve within the first ten minutes. That was disappointing, as I felt much safer with both Steve and Joko, especially after the "loco" incident. It took us four hours to do what probably would have taken an hour and a half in daylight. We finally reached camp around 9 pm with the help of the guys shining their headlamps for us to follow. I was never so happy to see them. Steve arrived at 1 am.

From Suanggama, it was another night in the porter's hut and trek to Sugapa, including a helmet-free motorcycle ride, which by this time, after all that we'd been through, did not scare me one bit. In fact, I couldn't get on the back of that motorcycle fast enough.

We had all lost weight. The food during the trek severely lacked protein. But we were also burning calories like nobody's business. To this day I still weigh seven pounds less than I did before the trek.

I think it was on day 2 of the trek in when the guys started fantasizing about eating Whoppers. On every mountain climbing trip I have been on, there are multiple discussions about the food we miss most and nine times out of ten, that food is fast and fatty. The first thing we did when we arrived in Bali was go to Burger King. You could have heard a pin drop while we devoured our Whoppers.

After the climb, we reflected back on our trip. Yes, it was grueling and tough but was it really HARDER than Denali or Aconcagua or other mountains (not Everest, that was definitely the toughest for me), especially those that require us to actually CARRY our own gear? We had PORTERS. The altitude was not THAT extreme. This was a remote, primitive, fascinating and beautiful place with all the makings of a true adventure.

Now that it is over and I am safe at home, I couldn't imagine skipping the trek and taking a helicopter to base camp. While scenic and exciting, the helicopter option seems to miss 90% of the experience, good and bad. Despite all my scrapes and bruises, sore knee, swollen feet and ankles, and numb foot (that is still numb today and apparently will take weeks, maybe months, to heal), I am thrilled to have had this amazing experience. The group was fantastic, we were successful, the cost was manageable, and I got to see a little bit of Papua.

What was it about Carstensz that made it so tough but in a different, almost indescribable way?

I think George put it best when he asked, "Of all the mountains you've climbed, which one would you NEVER do again?"

It was unanimous. But it wasn't the mountain. It was the trek. You really REALLY only want to do it once.



This roadblock lasted over an hour and prevented us from leaving Sugapa until the next morning. One of the motorcycle riders turned on some music, which I thought fit the mood. Try to ignore the dirty lens that I forgot to clean.

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