The relentless climb
Our first section required a difficult climb over 450 meters of exposed rock – while the elements battered us relentlessly. Our headlamps were almost useless against the whiteout. Frozen rain formed a crust on my face and ice crystals took over my goggles. I kept my head down to protect my face – my lamp was barely able to illuminate more than a few feet of volcanic ash and ice anyway.
We slowly climbed further. I ended each step with a conscious stretch of the back leg – the so-called “rest step” – to gain a moment of recovery. I had already lost sight of two teams – the lights of the third were still flickering like extinguished sparks several meters away. The howling of the wind was interrupted only by short “beeps” from the radio. Through the noise I heard the muffled voices of the mountain guides discussing locations, dangers and routes. Even in the isolation of this storm, I knew we were connected.
We reached the glacier independently. I slipped into my harness, strapped on my crampons and secured myself with a rope. Once a team had been double-checked for security, they would disappear into the darkness. Within a short time the distance between us grew again until I could no longer see the others. However, my guide and I found our own rhythm and the rope remained tightly stretched between us.
In moments like these – when no one else is visible on the mountain – time slows down. The challenge becomes internal and you begin to question every life decision that has led you to a frozen ridge at 5,800 meters. The radio beeps continued – the reason was me. During our last ascent to the summit of Antisana I had to struggle with persistent bronchitis, which has now returned. My blood oxygen level dropped below 85 percent – but unfortunately my rescue inhaler failed at that level. Two thirds of the way to the summit the cough finally started. I fought until I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I coughed violently, my lungs burning and wheezing. Suddenly my Apple Watch vibrated and tried to make an emergency call. So I turned off the smartwatch, sat up, ate and drank something. As we continued walking, the “signals” continued and increased – until reality finally caught up with me in the form of a severe coughing fit. Ultimately, we turned back and began a descent that was anything but elegant.
The distributed diary
On the same day we all met for dinner and each team member described their journey and experiences. The stories were compared with each other, creating a complete picture of the mountain. The decision to turn back was not only “recorded” in my head, but in the collective memory of the team. This is the core of immutability. In a distributed ledger, once an event is verified and added to the “block” (or daily leg), it cannot be modified or deleted. It becomes part of a permanent, verifiable chain of events that provides a single source of truth for the entire organization.
