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Wharton sophomore climbs world’s tallest volcano on a bike

The volcano climb over winter break was just the latest extreme adventure that the finance and history major has accomplished since coming to Penn from his native Spain.

Ryan Torres, a sophomore at Wharton, poses on Penn's Locust Walk with the bike he used to climb Ojos del Salado, a volcano on the Argentina-Chile border that has the distinction of being the highest volcano in the world.
Ryan Torres, a sophomore at Wharton, poses on Penn's Locust Walk with the bike he used to climb Ojos del Salado, a volcano on the Argentina-Chile border that has the distinction of being the highest volcano in the world.Read moreAlejandro A. Alvarez / Staff Photographer

His freshman year, Ryan Torres ran from Philadelphia to New York City, the equivalent of about four marathons.

Then last summer, the University of Pennsylvania sophomore pedaled across the United States on a $300 bike he bought on Craigslist.

And then he swam the butterfly stroke from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco’s main harbor.

But his latest extreme adventure, logged over winter break, topped them all, literally.

Torres rode a bike up the world’s tallest volcano in the Andes Mountains on the Argentina-Chile border. He didn’t quite reach the top of the 22,615-foot Ojos del Salado, he said, but he went up enough to break the world record for highest altitude reached on a bike.

“I felt happy that I had done it but sad that the journey had finished,” Torres, 20, said during an interview on Penn’s campus, where he is a sophomore finance and history major at Wharton. “It wasn’t about the destination but about the journey ... all the uncertainty, all the doubt, all the conditions I faced that I had to push through.”

Pushing himself physically is something Torres has been doing since he was a teenager in Spain, the son of a dentist and a doctor. He competed on the Spanish National Modern Pentathlon team, which is composed of running, shooting, fencing, horse riding, and swimming.

“Working hard for something is important to me, whatever that something is,” he said.

His mother died when he was 11, and he often thinks about her as he strives for a goal, he said.

“Everything I have done ... has been influenced by what she said, the foundation she laid,” he said. “I think, ‘Would my mom be proud of me if I did that?’”

Torres was thrilled to arrive at Penn, where he could virtually stop anyone on Locust Walk and be rewarded with interesting conversation. He joined the Phi Delta Theta fraternity and continues to work out several hours daily to build endurance. At Wharton, he’s getting the know-how to start his own business: He’s interested in candy-making.

But when he finished his exams first semester freshman year, he yearned for another challenge.

“I know I can run a marathon,” he thought. “So I’m not going to run a marathon. I’m pretty sure I could run two. But I’m not sure I could run four.”

He set out for Times Square, about 100 miles from Philadelphia, and knocked out the first 50 in 12 hours, then stopped in Princeton and found that his feet had suffered stress fractures. He couldn’t continue running.

So he walked, swiftly.

“The only reason I won’t make it is if I die,” he thought, “and I have no intention of dying in New Jersey.”

Afterward, he flew home for Christmas break, arriving at the airport in a wheelchair, unable to walk any distance.

His dad, Xavier Torres, 59, a Barcelona dentist, wasn’t thrilled to see that. He’s been shocked and surprised at his son’s adventures, but mostly awed.

“Relentless determination, and an unbridled commitment to accomplish something allows one to go further and reach seemingly unattainable goals,” he said in an email from Spain. “This is what Ryan, throughout the course of these feats and expeditions, has taught me.”

Last summer, he biked from Florida to California, where he had an internship in Silicon Valley. He was touched by the kindness he experienced along the way, including a driver who helped him safely pedal over a bridge at night. “God bless you,” she said to him after he passed.

That summer, he also made the 90-minute, two-mile-plus Alcatraz swim, a popular open-water swim despite the cold water.

Back at Penn last fall, he conceived of the volcano ride after finding a fellow bike enthusiast who was game to join him. There were a lot of questions: Which mountain? What kind of bike? How would he pay for it?

He reached out to Revel Bikes, a high-end designer and manufacturer in Carbondale, Colo., and asked whether the company could lend them the bikes, valued at $7,000 apiece.

“We just kind of immediately said yes,” said Adam Miller, founder and CEO. “That kind of unique adventure really stood out.”

The bikes are made of titanium, which is lighter and more resistant to extreme temperatures. They have 5-inch tires, making it easier to pedal through snow and sand.

GoPro, another sponsor, provided cameras so that Torres could film his journey and record evidence that he had reached his destination.

He also consulted with Anne M. Greenhalgh, deputy director of Wharton’s McNulty Leadership Program. He had taken a required class on leadership with her freshman year and was serving as her teaching assistant this year.

She connected him with Rodrigo Jordan, a Chilean mountaineer who described conditions he would face on Ojos del Salado.

Torres told her he wanted to make the ride for charity, and she recommended World Bicycle Relief, which gives bikes to people in the world’s rural regions so they can get to school and work and access groceries and health care.

“His achievements are remarkable,” Greenhalgh said, “but he’s also just a really great person who is interested in doing something for others and beyond himself.”

After completing finals in December, Torres flew to Chile, where he met biking partner Leo Tenenblat, 47, a Silicon Valley software product executive. They started their journey across the Atacama Desert, the driest nonpolar desert on Earth. After four days, Tenenblat developed medical issues and had to leave.

Tenenblat said he worried about Torres continuing alone but was impressed with his determination and ability.

“He’s just a very driven, physically strong guy, extremely talented, and extremely energetic,” Tenenblat said.

Tenenblat stayed in touch with Torres on a satellite phone, he said, and Torres reached Ojos del Salado’s first camp later that day. Then he took a day to rest and adjust to the altitude.

The next day it got really hard as Torres climbed to the second camp. Winds tossed him off his bike into thick volcanic ash, which felt like flour. The temperature had fallen into the teens. His blood oxygen level sank; his energy and coordination faded. Even breaking off a piece of chocolate was hard, he recalled. His heart was pounding so quickly that he couldn’t sleep.

“At that point, I actually thought I was going to die,” he said.

While others who climb the mountain are assisted by crews, lugging their belongings, Torres carried his, living mostly on powdered soup, ramen noodles, and water. At the camp, he encountered a French expedition that gave him a hot meal and allowed him to charge his battery pack. The next day, he reached the third camp about four miles away. It took him eight or nine hours because of the extreme conditions and having to move the bike up through ash, sand, and icy snow. He spent the night in a mountain hut, there for climbers.

He was at 5,800 meters and needed more than 6,200 to break the record. The next day — the eighth day of his journey on Dec. 21, nine days before his 20th birthday — he made it, stopping at 6,286 meters (20,620 feet), about 50 meters higher than the previous record set in 2014, he said.

Torres said he has raised close to $1,000 for World Bicycle Relief so far. Torres and Revel, the bike company, plan to raffle off the bike he rode to raise more.

Back at Penn, he’s thinking about his next extreme adventure. He doesn’t know what it will be.

“I just know it’s going to happen,” he said.