They were five. None arrived at the summit. But this broken dream was perhaps for each one of them, a victory over himself...
Many comes to Aconcagua, proud of their preceding experiments, of their physical condition in spite of the advanced age of some and the non recognized lack of training of others. All are convinced to go at the end of the adventure.
They thought of it for many years sometimes. Family meetings or society cocktails during the months which precede, are the occasion for them to evoke this project, the temerity of which win them admiration of those who know at least that Aconcagua is a stone heap of 7000 meters (*), somewhere in the middle of the Cordillera. 
They repeat to the listeners pretending to impassion themselves, what they read in the reviews or the guides. Seeking to reassure their anxious entourage, as much as reassuring themselves, they repeat that this adventure does not present any technical difficulty and that it is only a succession of quiet excursions, each day a little more high. 
When comes the evening, by bedside lamp light, they read again however this article about "the apunamiento", this mountains illness specific to the Andes which can go to the cerebral oedema, fearing in silence to be its future victims. 
A few days before the departure, they are impatient to test the glowing equipment, "Gore Tex" or "Windstopper"marked, which must multiply by ten their force and in which they absorbed a fortune. They pack, unpack hundred times their 80 liters backbag, sitting down above so that all enters in, contemplating it lovingly during hours, seeing themselves already, proud mountain dwellers, on the "Americas roof". 
In Mendoza, 2 days before the departure, the meeting with the guides and their future expedition companion suddenly dulls a part of their superb assurance. Measuring their respective experiencesit come home to them that theirs is perhaps a little slight, that the adventure in which they launched out, is perhaps not absolutely safe. Still worse, it looks risky... 
After a few hours of walk, there does not remain a lot of each one grandeur dreams : the flag planned for the summit day is forgotten at the bottom of the bag. The front wind, dry and cold, raises whirlwind, depositing the tracheitis germs which will not leave them any more, at the bottom of the throat of those who did not understand the importance of the "bandana" before the mouth...(To be continued)(*) 6962 m
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