Pobeda: Elusive and Unrepentant, Part 2
Day 1After breakfast, we took a slow and steady several hours to inspect each other’s gear, count GU packets, and weigh the pros and cons of couscous. After a few hours, in hot sunshine, we shouldered our monster packs and headed up the moraine. Soon, we traversed onto the ice of the Zvezdochka (Starry) Glacier. While beautiful, it was bright, hot, slushy and a maze of seracs and narrow river slots. Icy blue pools fed spectacular waterfalls. As we neared Camp 1, snow bridges became slushier and sketchier and we roped up. Just as we started to wonder where the Dutch tents would be, Bob led over a small rise and whooped out in joy…two beautiful tents were pitched in a broad, safe site just shy of camp one proper. We divvied up tasks and got to work re-anchoring tents and sorting gear. I fetched water from a nearby crevasse pond…we would use every trick in the book to save fuel.Day 2We wanted to get up through the serac band before sunrise, but when our alarm went of at 4 it was snowing and nasty out. We gladly took the extra hour or so of sleep before we brewed up, got dressed and marched up the glacier. Soon we could see an Iranian group working through the difficult sections above, and it was quite obvious why this portion of the route to Dikiy Pass was feared: a narrow and rotten gully was our only access to vertical/overhanging seracs fixed with lines. We romped up the gully as fast as we could, but the heat of the day was already softening things up and making the going tough. At the base of the seracs proper, Bob encountered a tricky overhang which took a few creative ideas and a ton of swearing to overcome. I ended up opting for my hands and knees on a dicey narrow ledge that we’d fixed with an additional ice screw. Just above, I popped through a snow bridge (protected by fixed line of course, but annoying nonetheless). The temperature was absurd. I’d say it felt like the upper 80s to 90s. All this with a monster pack and the inability to swap out 8000m boots for flip flops. After a mid day snack, I took the lead of the rope team as we entered the broad and gentle valley to Dikiy Pass. As we rounded a corner that gave our first views of camp 2 above, I saw a few climbers above moving slowly. Soon we reached two Iranians who were dealing with exhaustion. We didn’t feel much better and continued the last few meters to camp. A lone Russian wearing ski goggles and suffering from extraordinary sunburn plodded down at a snails pace. I stopped to say hi and learned that one climber had died on the summit ridge. No more details were exchanged as he continued to lumber down towards the glacier below. That evening, as we watched from our spectacular site we watched in awe as the entire Russian and Ukrainian contingents descended. They looked like hell. No fewer than twenty men, some collapsing every few meters slowly made their way down the ridge. It was an exodus. Soon, we were quite alone. The mountain felt different.Day 3We awoke to good conditions. The route to camp 3 looked beautiful and exciting, but once we wove out of camp 2 and got onto the lower buttress, things became challenging in hurry. The snow was deep and soft, and the hordes of climbers who had descended the previous day had turned the bootrack into sloppy ruts. The going got rougher when the wind and snow began to pick up. I donned my outerwear and our team regrouped to rope up at a small crevasse. Just a few meters later, things really deteriorated. In horizontal snow, we yelled over the wind for a bit before deciding to chop a platform and make camp. With the three of us working together, we stomped and shoveled a generous site, set up the tent and jumped in.___________________________________________________________________________I felt a punch to my chest and lurched upright in the darkness. Bob was trying to wake me but I was already beyond alert. The roar of the wind started so suddenly, Bob had thought an avalanche was barreling down on us and was bracing for impact. So much for the weather. We spent the next five or so hours til dawn getting hammered by wind and spindrift out of the west so violent that it filled our vestibule with snow and was starting to crush us. Periodically I sat up to punch the consolidating snow to clear some space for sleeping. By the time the morning came, we knew we were pinned down for the day. Bob, always a team player, got out and started shoveling first. Our tent had been buried to the brim on the uphill side and our guy lines were coated in rime ice. We learned that those above us at 6400m had an ordeal in the night but were okay.Day 4Later in the morning, things cleared in a most spectacular fashion. Below, a sea of snowcapped peaks stretched in all directions. The magic of the Central Tien Shan was alive. All of our stuff luckily got dry and we spent the day resting and discussing the weather. What would we do? Later in the afternoon the winds picked up. Soon, we heard shouting voices and exited to see two figures in the whiteout probing for crevasses below. We briefly chatted with the two Russians as they came by, asking about the whereabouts of camp 3 as they slowly postholed higher. Later that evening, we met Juho as he rapidly descended to camp 2, his summit bid over.Day 5After a string of increasingly alarming weather forecasts for the coming days, we decided to pack up and descend to camp 2. At least camp 2 was in a safe (we weren’t so convinced that our spot on the buttress was out of avalanche danger) and comfortable location. After a short descent to camp 2, we again were able to stretch out, dry our clothing and sleeping bags and enjoy the mountain a bit. But the forecast continued to deteriorate. Now, winds were expected to be 90 mph for a couple days, and the pattern after the major wind storm seemed unsettled, with a substantial snowfall forecasted afterwards. Did we have enough food to sit out the weather and still make a summit attempt? Even in the best of circumstances, we’d have no margin for extra days as our reserves of food and fuel would be depleted by a 4-5 day wait. After much deliberation, we settled on returning to base camp in the morning. And that’s when the fun began. I tore into scrambled eggs, sliced cheese, blueberry granola and pasta. No sense lugging extra weight back down the mountain. Plus, in the previous couple days we’d been purposefully starving ourselves to keep as much extra food as possible. In the evening, a huge serac ripped off the summit ridge and produced undoubtedly the largest avalanche I’ve witnessed. Though we were miles away and several thousand feet higher than where it landed, the powder blast steadily marched up valley and swept over us and into the Dikiy Glacier valley. We were now quite alone on the mountain, as only the Russian pair were above us. I rested well knowing our mission was clearer though we still needed to return through some tricky terrain to base camp.Day 6We woke up to another spectacular day. With our systems and teamwork now dialed, we packed up and roped up for the glacier below. The route was spectacular in early morning light and the firm snow made for enjoyable cramponing. Soon we reached the top of the fixed lines as a few climbers ascended on their own summit bids. The glorious weather and the presence of others pushing higher made us openly question our decision. We remarked that while we certainly didn’t want anyone to get into trouble, we almost wanted the weather to get nasty to justify our bailing in such perfect conditions. By noon I reached the comfort of base camp, now more of a deserted tent city. Relaxed and happy, my journey into the unknown was over.AftermathAs predicted, the storm rolled through. Winds first started to roll over the ridge, then things got nasty in base camp. People were holding the dining tent down for dear life. Some tents were blown away in base camp. Reports from the Russian duo, now in a snow hole at 6900 were of 135 kph winds and being pinned down.Pobeda: Route overview and considerations above our high point Camp 3 (5800m)Simple, but somewhat avalanche-prone slopes from Dikiy Pass. There was a huge snow cave there, which could be used to escape extreme weather. But in the Russian/Ukrainian exodus following their assault, this had essentially been turned into a field hospital. We let our minds run wild as there were reports of trash, blood, vomit and discarded dexamethasone needles.Camp 4 (6400m) Looked like fun and moderate climbing up the first rock band and in and out of couloirs to this airy perch. You know you’re getting close when you see the dead guy from last year. While somewhat sheltered, there’s space for just three tents. No snow cave option. Iranians were stuck here for six days. A tent collapsed here during our eventful night at 5600m.Camp 5 (6700 or 6900m)Sounded like there were snow cave options in either of these locations. West Pobeda (6900m) would be the only option for a one-day summit push that skipped the 7100m obelisk camp. Despite the simple climbing above 6400m, they both sounded like death traps. Go up there, get in a snow hole, and pray that the weather lets you get down.Summit Ridge This thing simply gets hammered with insane winds, usually out of the west. Every. Day. During my several week stay here, I observed just two days that would have been good to be up there. Let’s say an average day is 40-50 mile per hour winds (gusts can knock you over!). At 23,000 ft, air temperature in the vicinity of 0 °F. During the bad times the ridge is obscured by a giant cloud and snow plume. Winds were as high as 90 miles per hour (72 is a hurricane). On several occasions, we observed wind driven over a kilometer off the summit into western China.
Return of the Snow Leopard: The Film
Here's the short movie I filmed and edited as it happened. Enjoy!HariReturn of the Snow Leopard from Hari Mix on Vimeo.
Pobeda: Elusive and Unrepentant, Part 1
“It is better to return to Pobeda ten times than to not return once” –Gleb Sokolov
Fifty-nine mountains are higher. Plenty are steeper. But few are harder. Despite it’s relatively moderate climbing, Peak Pobeda routinely turns back—and kills—those who don’t take it seriously.
Following several weeks of acclimatizing and strategizing, Pobeda casually thwarted our strong and competent team over a vertical mile below its summit. Here is the story:Day 0For days, base camp had been abuzz. Prior to potential summit windows, these places become infested with gossip, anxieties, impressive gear spreading, and endless conversations about the weather.Thirty or so Russians and Ukrainians, ascending in what can only be described as a military siege, were nearing the summit. Excitement was in the air, but with the short climbing season nearing its close, the rest of us sized up the others and scrambled to make arrangements. It was a veritable hodge-podge of mostly small teams.My own thinking and organization began to crystalize around a few core concepts: 1) Don’t do anything stupid, 2) I knew that despite my perfect health and strong climbing below 6000m, I had limited acclimatization. I was able to climb from base camp to Khan Tengri’s Camp 3 (5900m) in seven comfortable hours, but I only had one night there and two at 5600m. I needed a slower, more conventional ascent on Pobeda in order to acclimatize on the mountain. No sprinting to a snow cave at 6900m in just a couple days, 3) I needed the security of extra food, fuel, and strong shelter. This was shaping up to be the biggest pack I’d ever lugged…about two weeks of food and fuel. And my clothing system was outrageous—as warm as gear is made.All three factors drew me to joining an American couple living in Canada. Bob, a contractor and former Alaska Range guide, and Katherine, a philosophy professor with a calm, determined mind, had tons of big mountain experience, and I could tell that by partnering with experienced Americans, we had similar philosophies, risk tolerances (hell yes we were roping up on the lower glacier) and strategies for the summit. We got along well personally, which we knew would be vital for the inevitable tentbound storm days. We would try as hard as we could within our safety bounds. Team America was born.
One hitch…we didn’t have the ideal shelter solution. I had a two man single-wall tent and they had a double wall, but essentially a one-man tent. We needed to distribute weight better: one tent, one stove. I set off on a multi-day and impressive, if I dare say so myself, diplomatic mission. Within a day, I brokered a straight up trade with a Dutch trio for our pie in the sky dream tent: a Mountain Hardwear Trango 3.1. Double wall. Strong as hell. And downright palatial. My single wall was perfect for their objective.____________________________________________________________________More writing coming as I get more juice. I am in base camp waiting out the storm. It is bad, even down here. Hopefully heli to Bishkek tomorrow!Hari
Summer 2012 Wrapup and Photos
I made it back to the US without much of a hitch, but almost immediately went right back out into the field. So at last, here are full photo galleries and trip reports from Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. I'll start with photos and narratives from the Gobi and the Altai:Very Best of Mongolia After paleoclimate research in Mongolia, I headed to the Snow Leopard Peaks of the Pamir. First up was Lenin Peak in southern Kyrgyzstan.Complete photos from Kyrgyzstan:Very Best of Kyrgyzstan For narratives of my experience there, see:BishkekInnocence Lost on LeninFrom Lenin, I crossed over Karamyk Pass into Tajikistan.Complete Photos:Very Best of Tajikistan And trip reports:TajikistanMoskvin Glacier and AcclimatizationKorzhenevskaya in a Day SoloPik Kommunizma: Too Heavy
Tajikistan
Innocence Lost on Lenin
Note: The past week has mostly been a hypoxic haze, but I’m eager to write before the violence of this experience gets whitewashed and fades into the ether. I just reread Mark Twlight’s Kiss or Kill before the trip, so my attempt at dark and blunt language and certainly the musical quotes are an ode to his writing.I’m still relatively new to the high altitude game, and even a brief glance at mountaineering literature will reveal that it’s a cruel one. Starting off with expeditions to Nepal and the Tien Shan, I felt obligated to follow the established system to avoid becoming a statistic. This summer, I was ready for autonomy, and to establish my own rules of engagement. In poetic fashion, I was swiftly put in my place by the one true rule of the alpine: the mountain decides.BackstoryI showed up to Lenin more or less emotionless. I was happy to get started this summer, but I was never that excited about Lenin. It’s something of an awful thing to say, but I never really cared that much about what happened here. Overrun with hundreds tourists and climbers aiming for the world’s “easiest 7000m peak,” it’s a somewhat chaotic and commercial scene. I’d managed to snag a spot on Lenin in order to make the dates for my whole summer work…our fieldwork wrapped up in Mongolia a few weeks earlier than I’d originally planned, and the first chopper to Korzhenevskaya and Communism would be a while later. I conveniently decided, “why not climb all three of the Pamir’s seven thousanders?” and this summer’s expedition was born.Round OneBoris and I spent the day flying from Bishkek to Osh, then bouncing in an unbearably hot bus for the eight-ish hour ride to base camp. I was definitely happy to get to Achik Tash, mainly because the cool fresh air felt familiar and signified the start to the summer’s climbs. Base camp is pretty posh, with electricity and hot showers every now and then. The next morning, we saddled enormous packs and hit the trail towards camp 1.My original plans were to spend three or four days shuttling loads and acclimatizing to camp 1, essentially an advanced base camp on the Lenin Glacier. Boris came in with nine days of prior acclimatization near Bishkek, so he was ready to charge up the mountain. “Ok, a little compromise never hurt anyone,” I thought. During my past few big international trips, I’ve been working on a particular style of “Asian apathy” wherein I essentially drop my objectives down a notch and just say screw it when things don’t work out for a few days. This is pretty essential in Nepal and Mongolia, where sticking to an American sense of purpose is useless.The hike up to camp 1 was challenging, perhaps ten miles, up and over the high “Traveller’s Pass”, then skirting steep slopes and moraines along the Lenin Glacier to the 14,500 ft camp. Soon after Traveller’s Pass, we were hit with our first storm of the trip, which would become a regular occurrence. This is early season in the Pamir, which is to say, unpredictable and unforgiving. After battling through freezing rain and snow, the sun came out again, but my back was giving out. Right from the start, I’d bitten off too big a slice of pain cake, and was going to pay the price. Just minutes from the camp, as I shouldered my pack for the last time, the major muscles of my back seized. Upon arriving breathless in camp, I was too exasperated to do much more than lie horizontally and put hot water bottles on my back.Boris, still in the driver’s seat, had booked us a 3:30 AM breakfast before an excessively early carry to camp 2. I’ll take slightly softer snow for a full night’s sleep thank you very much. It felt like the summit bid already! The night before, I knew there was no way my back would give me another hard day’s work. Still, we awoke and dressed, ate the damn breakfast, then went back to sleep after I nixed our plans. Later that morning, we took a gentle walk up a 15,500 ft hill near camp, and I was pleased to feel my back returning to normal. The next morning, we had another predawn breakfast, and started up the glacier shortly before sunrise. A relatively long, nearly two-mile approach to the bottom of the route started things off. Our first trip up the glacier was a bit of a challenge, with relatively big packs, essentially no acclimatization for me, and by the time we reached the upper portions, brutal heat in the so-called “Frying Pan.” In a cruel aspect of mountaineering, these cold places also reflect tremendous amounts of bright sun, sapping your energy and fluids in a heartbeat.Upon reaching the 17,500 ft camp 2, I soon realized that I’d have my work cut out for me to stay healthy this high only 3.5 days into the trip. I tried to hydrate and eat the best I could, but soon, the vaguely familiar light altitude headache crept in. I rested, then made myself a tasty meal of palak paneer and bread. That night, I battled headache and light dizziness before nausea finally got the best of me at five the next morning. “Ok, maybe it is reasonable that we don’t go upstairs today,” Boris said after I’d hardly finished vomiting. No kidding. I wanted out, and I knew that the off switch to altitude hell was just a few hours down the glacier. We discussed, off and on, our plans until nearly two PM. I even climbed up the headwall to about 18,000 ft to get the blood circulating a bit more. At this point, I was getting a little pissed. “You should do what you want to do but I’m going down.” I quickly packed my things and raced down to camp 1 in a little under two hours.I needed to head down to get a few more things for the summit push anyhow, so the next day, I rolled down to base camp, feeling energetic, free and finally unencumbered by plans. No more bending to the will of others. All wounds from here would be self-inflicted.BlitzkriegAfter a glorious night at base camp, I realized I was actually enormously pleased with the first part of the trip. Sure, I’d suffered at camp 2, but my body was following all the rules and I’d managed to gain some pretty nice acclimatization in a short period of time. I still had about a week and a half to put a summit attempt together. In base camp, I met Ismail and Rufat, two strong and experienced climbers from Azerbaijan who were heading up to the summit. We decided to head up together, with me planning on going to at least camp 3 for acclimatization, and perhaps the summit. I was now feeling really strong on the lower mountain, and even up to camp 2, I was beginning to hit my stride. That evening, after dinner, a Russian guide named Slava and I ran down the glacier to help an exhausted Dutch climber lying in the snow. After helping him to camp, I started to feel my own discomfort creep in. I probably overate with Rufat and Ismail, and vomited my meal and fluids that evening. The night was hell. I writhed in discomfort. Insult to injury was that I shared a tent with Frank, the Dutch climber, and people would repeatedly come by to check on him, exhausted but content as could be in his sleeping bag, while I suffered. In the early morning, I vomited more, losing the last of my fluids. I slept in, and by the time I was ready to boil water in the morning, it was already beginning to swelter. I made a small amount of water, and hardly able to eat or drink, I shouldered my relatively heavy pack and headed towards camp three in the heat of the day. By the time I reached the top of the headwall, I was completely dehydrated and exhausted. Heat instantly changed to whiteout, and I dragged ass the last few hours to camp three in a storm.That evening, I had a gel and a few swigs of water for dinner before passing out in an altitude-induced haze. Heavy snows came and went during the evening, and at one point, I remember thanking Slava immensely for un-burying my tent from the increasing load of snow. During a break in the storm, I vomited my pathetic dinner and handful of worthless Russian drugs. No point in self-pity...this was all my own doing.At four, I awoke to clear and calm skies. My flawed logic was that it would ultimately be easier to “knock the bastard off” as Hillary would say, than to regroup and try again later. Acclimatization vs. weather, the classic alpine tradeoff. Lately, I’ve sprung at these opportunities with success, plus, I’ve always been confident in my ability to put in an epic climbing day with inadequate preparation.Summit day started wonderfully. Though dehydrated, I moved at a steady and gentle pace, opting to ease into the difficult day. Half a dozen of us wandered up the broad lower portions of the summit ridge. Sunrise warmed us but I was already becoming concerned about my fluids. I put in my headphones to stay conscious and to somehow remain connected to humanity.“I’m makin’ short term goals when the weather folds”A bank of clouds lapped up against Lenin’s flanks thousands of feet below. Only a few peaks in the Tajik Pamir poked out like islands. The world that we call home was impossibly far below and out of sight. Life above 6000m consists mainly of the swish of nylon and gasping for air. Music faded in and out of my narrow consciousness.“I gotta get away from this day to day runnin’ around, everybody knows this is nowhere”We finally crested the first buttress and got a clear view ahead. A broad rocky ridge led to a steep constriction in the distance. I could tell the summit day would be just as long as advertised. I stopped for a brief break and chat with Ismail and two Polish climbers.“Murder was the case that they gave me. Dear God, I wonder can you save me?”I felt bad for mooching a swig of Ismail’s sports drink at the last stop, but I was already down to little over half a liter and I started the day by vomiting bile. My O2 saturation the night before was in the 50s, well into ICU territory. This was the closest I’d ever cut it physiologically.“Gotta find a new world where the people understand, how to treat one another throughout the land, everybody pack up and go with me”Alongside came a Russian skier. Out ahead, breaking trail we could see Slava gaining distance despite the skis and shovel on his pack. Slava is truly a character. He wore a t-shirt, flip flops and shorts in camp 2, and this winter went 59 days with just water just to see what would happen. I envied his acclimatization.“We don’t never get a piece of the pie, work 50 years, retire then die, stay po.’ Rich folks is the criminal”Black nationalist hip hop pounded, but the music was now as distant as the world below. We approached the Knife, the technical crux of the climb. It started gentle enough, but soon the world dropped away for thousands of feet on both sides. One Polish man was feeling strong, and went ahead leaving Ismail and I to suffer alone up the slope. I kicked and thrashed up the knee to thigh deep snow, bypassing the pathetic and poorly placed fixed rope ostensibly protecting the final pitch. With snow this soft, it wasn’t necessary anyhow.“We’ve been through some things together, with trunks of memories still to come. We found things to do in stormy weather, long may you run”My toes had been freezing since the start, despite a new technique I was sure would be better than last year’s freeze fest on Khan Tengri. I slowly and deliberately removed each inner boot, then ripped off the pathetic chemical warmers and took off my liner sock to make some wiggle room. I rubbed my toes before reversing the process. Any action too fast was quickly disciplined by a fit of panting in the thin air.“Well I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand”By now, Ismail and the Polish duo were long ahead, leaving me to struggle alone. I opted for a shortcut around a rock buttress, for which I was rewarded with unbearably deep snow. It was here that I noticed that my left crampon was detached, but frozen stiff. At least I’m past the crux, I thought. I marched on, my left foot hobbled. And besides, I was nearing the summit or so I thought.“Only fox that I love is a red one, only black man that Fox love is in jail or a dead one”I crested the next buttress in deteriorating weather. The wind picked up and visibility dropped. Snow began to sting the back of my neck. I gained on Ismail and the Polish across a vast white plateau. It was impossible to judge distance and pace in the vast white plain of ever softening snow.“But something is happening here and you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?”The three in front of me ground to a halt. Snow conditions were now desperate and we knew that climbing independently was out of the question. The stronger Pole laid down the law, “Twenty steps, then switch,” he shouted. I stepped as gingerly as I could into the lead, but with each pace I plunged inevitably to my knee or worse. It was a flat out race effort, and even there, I couldn’t manage more than a few steps at a time without doubling over. After our turn breaking trail, we each collapsed to the side of the track, the other three continuing on. This lasted hours.“It’s better to burn out than to fade away, my my hey hey”At last, in a clearing of the storm, I saw a figure standing on a distant point. Slava must be on the summit. With renewed energy, the others picked up the pace leaving me in the dust. I knew my dehydration and exhaustion afforded me no opportunity to increase the pace. Ismail yelled at me a couple times to pick it up, but I was no match for the new tempo. I was past pulling my weight. Reclassified as a straggler.I didn’t even get my hopes up the last few meters below the summit. Only when I saw the cross did I know that my trial was somewhat complete. Too tired for a hero shot, I knelt on the summit, the hardest of my life. I smiled at the dark thought that Lenin must do this to a lot of people, taking vengeance on its title as “easiest 7000er.” Like many other popular and commercial mountains, it makes up for the lack of technical difficulty with a convoluted and impossibly long normal route. I’ll take the “technicality” of Khan any day.“I’m just a Virginia boy, she dug the boys from Kentucky and Tennessee”Twenty-three thousand four hundred and six feet. I took the last sip of my water and put it in my pack. At least I have no need for breaks now. I collected a rock sample for Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation. I hope this works for Dragos. I’ve sampled in 110 degree Utah heat, running with a heavy pack for miles across the desert. In terms of hardest science I’ve ever done, it’s not even close. I plunge stepped down the deep snow back to the plateau. Already I was descending too fast, and had to stop and take breaks just to slow down my breathing. Too soon, we reached the first of several uphill sections on the descent. This ridge must have been designed by an evil genius. The climb simply wouldn’t give up. My left crampon finally completely detatched. Still frozen, I had Ismail strap it to my pack. I would downclimb the Knife with one crampon and no axe.“I’m from where they overthrow democratic leaders, not for the people but for the Wall Street Journal readers”We met Dasha, a ridiculously fit guide who participates in 6-day trail races. She was in good spirits, and I shamelessly asked for water. She had none, so I stuffed some snow in my mouth, just to tease myself with the moisture. The Pole wanted to break, but I pressed on, no need to stop and get more tired. We’d now been on the move for over twelve hours. As we neared the end of the final plateau before descending the buttress to camp, the weather whirled in.“I’ve been down on the endless highway, I passed on the solid line. Now at last I’m home to you, I feel like makin’ up for lost time”I caught up to a Kyrgyz guide and his client. Still nearly at 22,000 feet, our visibility dropped to nothing. I screamed over the wind, “You know how to get down?” My GPS tucked into my pants pocket, he pulled out his, and started walking a line and deliberately plunging through the ever deepening snow. Our tracks from the ascent were long gone. I could feel my nose freezing and pulled my balaclava tight across my face and tightened my hood. Unfortunately, we were moving too fast for the client, and I had no choice but to press on as the guide stopped. I led the Pole into the maelstrom. We reached a cairn marking the top of the buttress and stepped onto the ever-steepening face. We were now only 700m from camp, but the mountain would not let up.Judging slope, stability and scale were simply impossible. The sky blended into the slope. Rocks I thought were hundreds of meters in the distance proved to be just a few steps away. I repeatedly triggered small wind slab avalanches that rolled down into Tajikistan. The Pole screamed over the wind that he was worried about descending past camp. Hell, I was too, but the GPS was all we had. One hundred fifty meters to go. The Pole yelled and gestured to the right. I traversed across a fifty-degree face to an arête, then continued my descent. In the distance below, roundish rocks appeared. I looked for ages but couldn’t tell if they were tents. Finally, just feet from camp, I realized I’d made it. I yelled for Andrei and Graham, the Kyrgyz guide and his client.Camp three was a ghost town. But soon enough, I heard a zipper and Andrei appeared, holding a juice bottle for me. I took a few swigs, shoveled out my buried tent, and dove into my sleeping bag. At least there was no need to cook dinner with my stomach problem. That night, I inevitably vomited more bile and bloody mucus. Without a drop of water, I settled back into my altitude-induced slumber and waited for morning.You’re not done ‘til you’re downI awoke to sunshine and boiled a cup of water and set about packing my things. I knew there was no point in a leisurely morning, I wouldn’t be able to eat anyway. A half hour struggle with my frozen boots left me exasperated and in a familiar panting fit. I ascended Razdelnaya with a heavy pack, reminiscent of my brutal slog up Chapaev after last year’s Khan Tengri climb. The snow was just as soft as ever. An overly cheerful Brit was intent on congratulating me and chatting all about the route. Dude, all I want is water and to get the hell out of here.I plunged down the Razdelnaya headwall and made it back to camp 2 in remarkable time. There, I met a still cheerful Dasha, whose client this time hooked me up with some tea and chocolate. I felt bad about mooching, but I knew I was running on fumes and needed to make it to camp one before will power ran out. I stashed my stove in a tent for Boris and gathered the last of my things including books and rock samples. WHY?!?In the heat of the day, I plunged across the Frying Pan, thankfully for the last time, and met Boris setting off for his summit bid. We had a really nice chat and I continued down towards the glacier. I hopped the crevasses, wary for melting snow bridges this late in the day. At last, I reached the flat portion of the glacier, but the heat was unprecedented. It was by far the warmest day of the season so far. I dunked my hat in glacial meltwater, but could hardly cool off in the stagnant air. After over an hour of walking and resting every few paces across the interminable glacier and moraine, I caught sight of our camp. Just then a wave of nausea crossed me and I dry heaved. So much for a hero’s return. But before long, I marched into camp, dropped my pack and was cheerfully greeted enthusiastically with, “Felicitaciones” and “Que tal?” from my Spanish friends, the ordeal finally behind me.AfterwordUpon return to base camp the next day, I learned I’d lost nearly twenty pounds during my ten day trial on the mountain. In base camp, the staff baked a lovely cake and had a little ceremony for Rufat, Ismail and I, who were the second party to summit this season and the first from our organization. It’s been a little strange to get such praise after the summit. The same happened last year on Khan. Everyone swarms you and wants route information, emails and photos. The increased attention from the Iranians is most intense. Personally, I feel like I’m moving past the materialistic consumption of summits, and I’m experiencing mostly relief after my so-called success on Lenin. I’ve spent the past few days in base camp resting, eating, repairing gear, washing clothes, hanging out with new British, Spanish, Azerbaijani, Iranian and Russian friends, and trying to work on a manuscript for my PhD. The stomach issue cleared up as soon as I descended, and I’m finally feeling fully recovered.It’s extremely beautiful here, sitting in a meadow of alpine wildflowers. Through all of the discomfort of last week, I was always still blown away by the natural beauty, and that aspect of this adventure has been amazing since the trip began in Mongolia. I ended up collecting nine samples from a range of elevations for Dragos Zaharescu at the University of Arizona and Biosphere 2 through Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation. I hope these will contribute to our understanding of microbial life at extreme elevations and their role in shaping the high altitude landscape.I’m planning on going for a run or climb before I leave for Tajikistan on the 26th. We’ll drive to Djirgital, then take Tajikistan’s only helicopter to base camp on the 27th. I have no word yet on Boris’ summit attempt, but he’s due back in base camp later today or tomorrow, so we’ll catch up soon. Just in the past day or two did I get some renewed excitement about my upcoming alpine adventures. I still have some tricks up my sleeve.Stay tuned,Hari
Bishkek
After 24 hours of flights and layovers, I landed/bounced and skidded into Bishkek Manas Airport/massive US Air Force Base. Bishkek is very pretty and reminds me quite a bit of Almaty, Kazakhstan which I visited last summer, but with more trees, less glitz and high fashion, and more laid back. I was happy to have instantly better infrastructure and fresher air than Ulaanbaatar.
The backdrop of the city is the spectacular Ala-Too Range, part of the Tien Shan, which rise higher than the Alps. Kyrgyzstan is ridiculously mountainous, with 94% of the country mountains, 40% of the country is over 10,000 ft and 30% of the entire country is permanant snow or glaciers! The UN forecasts that of the 8200 glaciers currently in Kyrgyzstan, fewer than 150 will remain in 2050.
I've been put up in a self-proclaimed 5-star hotel, which mixes the ridiculously swank with confusing Central Asian reality. My room has a huge living room, full kitchen, two balconies, but lacked soap, hot water, or internet and I got locked in the building.
I spent the day running errands, meeting the nice people at my travel outfitters, and exploring the city. I even carried my first big load of the expedition...all six weeks of food about three miles uphill back to the hotel.
Tomorrow, I have a morning flight to Osh, in southern Kyrgyzstan, followed by the 8-10 hour drive to base camp. I'm looking forward to being in one place for a bit. I haven't stayed in the same place for more than two days in the last month, so my 16 days on Lenin will be perfect. I'm on vacation!