Text Dispatch: Moskvin Glacier, 14300ft
I was stranded in Jergatol for a few extra days due to Tajik dysfunctionality, but today I caught a lift on Tajikistans only chopper to base camp. This is the icy heart of the Pamir, surrounded by giants. The great Fedchenko Glacier, the longest outside the polar regions, lies just over the ridge. Peak Communism towers above. I'll have to go slowly again as I spent too long down low.
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
Himalaya Trip Report Added
My first expedition climb was a trip to Nepal in 2010. The climbing itself ended up being a pretty small portion of the three week trip, but my first trip to Asia was filled with adventure from start to finish. Some highlights from one of the world's magical places are here.
Text Dispatch: Camp 3, 20000ft
Safe in c3 after summit. Probably the hardest day I've had in the mountains. More to come.
Text Dispatch: Camp 3, 20000ft
One of the hardest days I've ever had. A stomach problem has left me drained physically and mentally. It continues to snow heavily. Today I stumbled up here through deep snow and whiteout conditions. Tom has the first chance to summit but I'm not sure if I will have the strength or health. Can't even see the world now. It's just rocks, snow, and this storm. Plants and people must be elsewhere.
Text Dispatch: Lenin Update
I think there was the first summit of the year today. After my rough first trip up the mtn I went to bc to recover and get the last of my summit gear. Boris went to c3 and is now going to bc to rest. I'm back up at c2 and headed up tomorrow. I'm climbing with Ishmael and Rufat, experienced and kind guys from Azerbaijan. With good weather and health we may try for the summit as early as the 19th.
Text Dispatch: Camp 2, 17500ft
Lenin has been hit by hard storms nearly every day this season. Boris and I took advantage of the good forecast and are poised to climb Razdelnaya, Lenin's 20200ish subpeak tomorrow. We had such beautiful views climbing up the Lenin glacier.
Yosemite Speed Published
My first attempt at self expression in the mountains was a four day solo trip to Yosemite squeezed between the end of my college freshman track season and my first geologic mapping trip. Firmly rooted in the dirtbag climber ethic, it was fueled by muffins from leftover meal points and youthful optimism. Although it was filled with miscalcuations, it all worked out in the end. In a three day time period, I ended up going on four hikes/runs, including speed records on Yosemite Falls and Half Dome. The full trip report is here.
Text Dispatch: Camp 1, 14500ft
Everybody wanna climb mountains, don't nobody wanna carry these heavy ass packs! We had a really hard day on the moraines of the Lenin glacier. We have food and tents for us here but above this the climbing begins. I'm dealing with back muscle spasms from my massive load today so we'll play it by ear and luckily I won't have to carry so much the rest of the trip. Hard snowfall on the way up so were happy to rest here.
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!
Mongolia Part 2: To the Altai and Back
Complete pictures here:Very Best of Mongolia 2012On the summer solstice, we pressed on to the west, reaching Naran Daats Bulag, a spring in the western part of the Nemegt Basin. We camped on the small patch of green grass below the spring and next to a beautiful monument to Tengri, the sky god.
The next day, we sampled the stratigraphic sections making up the cliffs around a large dry wash, and the day after traveled west to Tsagan Khushu before hitting the road towards the Altai.
About an hour into the most rugged and remote driving in the trip, Tsele hit a shrub and got a flat. Changing the flat, in this case, involved also changing the inner tube, which required running over the tire with the Russian van to unseat it from the rim. We all took turns hand pumping the tire up to a million psi (don’t ask) in a massive sandstorm. Soon thereafter, Jobe started feeling bad from the heat and a stomach bug.
Our Land Cruiser began deteriorating in a pretty serious way as we drove towards Shinejinst, the first town in several hundred miles. We could hardly make it up even the most trivial of inclines. By the time we reached Bayan-Ombor, things were very grim. The drivers had tried their best at repairing the vehicle in the field, and by repair, I mean busting a hole in the exhaust with our rock hammers, then welding it back together. Derek, who knows a ton about cars, correctly diagnosed the problem as being a clogged fuel filter almost as early as UB, but apparently banging on the muffler was the Mongolian tactic.
The next day, it was decided that Tsele and the Land Cruiser would get towed several days back to Ulaanbaatar, while the rest of us piled in the Russian van and pressed on to the west. All seven of us along with our field gear bounced for a day to Biger.
The next morning, to our elation, Nyamsakhin, our new driver, met us after rushing out from Bayanhongor in a day. With his deep voice, commanding yet laid back presence and general competence, we all joked that he was some type of mob boss in Bayanhongor. It turns out that he’s a bus driver, photography enthusiast and all-around awesome guy. Over the next few days, he would lead us on wild offroad chases of pohoon and tseg, antelope-like creatures who could outrun us at over 60 mph!
The stratigraphy in Biger was amazing. Hundreds of meters of sands, clays and gravels were perfectly laid out up a mountainside. By the time we finished at Biger, we knew the trip was going to be quite successful from a scientific standpoint. Jeremy certainly has enough samples for a PhD.
In Altay, we took our only rest day of the trip. While we’d essentially already planned on taking the day off, the Russian van needed a new rear differential. We took cold showers and played some basketball, which is quite popular in Monoglia. Often, you’ll see handmade wooden hoops outside gers.
A few days later and we were at our westernmost section at Dzereg. Once again, the sections were fantastic, but the only previous research into the western basins was horrendous. We had some running jokes and choice commentary for the previous authors, who among other things, had assigned an Oligocene (23-33 million year) age to sediments in Dariv purely based on their red color. After five minutes of walking around, Derek, who had done his master’s work in the basin, found a huge dinosaur fossil, confirming that the sediments were in fact Jurassic. Fieldwork is definitely complicated and making mistakes is understandable, but it’s best not to be off by over 100 million years. In Dzereg, an outcrop was described as an angular unconformity, or a gap in time, but the composition and orientation of the beds didn’t change at all. Yikes! I'd imagine some more tactful and professional responses will eventually make it into publication over the next few years.
On our last day in Dzereg, we drove into town to see their Nadaam, the most important festival of the year which incorporates horse racing, archery and wrestling. Unfortunately, we just missed the race in town, but the next day as we drove home, we were lucky enough to see a race outside of Dariv. The races last from 15 to 30 km and are ridden by children 6 to 12 years old, often bareback. Unfortunately, when we got back on the main road and pressed on, we couldn’t reconnect with the Russian van. Lacking cell signal or any way to communicate, we searched with binoculars from a hill and waited for an hour for a passing car to say if they’d seen the Russian van. Both this year and last, I’ve had the sense that navigating on the open steppe must be akin to life on the high seas. I’ve never really been too far out to sea, but with the rolling hills in all directions, the lack of easy features to navigate with, and the isolation, it feels close.
Anyhow, we soon reconnected and moved slowly east. After two more days, we started coming into Bayanhongor. A few hours outside of town, we stopped by the ger of Nyamsakhin’s brother and were treated to some food and tea. His nephew had a toy gun, and I opened up a play guerilla war wherein we were shot dozens of times. So much for his innocent look and peace sign...
In Byanhongor, we had a nice dinner and celebrated Naraa’s birthday and said goodbye to Nyamsakhin. The last two days we piled into the Russian van as earlier and pressed on. Back in UB, we cleaned up, feasted and packed our samples for the complicated process of getting them shipped back to the US.
We were able to hang out a bit more with Ogii and we had a nice dinner with the drivers as well. We even had dinner with Ganaa, our student translator from last year, who just came back from a field mapping course. We also squeezed in some souvenir hunting and I revisited the beautiful Gandantegchinlen Monastery. The largest Buddhist monastery in the country, it is also one of the lucky to survive the communist purges.
Mongolia by the numbersHours driven: Approximately 120Hours driven on pavement: 5?Samples collected: Approximately 400 rock and 50 water samplesAmount of time these samples span: 75 million yearsHot showers: OneLiters of fermented camels’ milk consumed by the group: FiveBooks read: Five...The Value of Nothing by Raj Patel, about the shortcomings of the free market and how to restructure democracy. Mixed Emotions by Greg Child. Writings of one of the most prolific mountaineers of the modern era. Early Days in the Range of Light by Dan Arnold, a former Stanford Alpine Club member. A collection of writings on the pioneering alpinists of the Sierra Nevada from John Muir to Norman Clyde. The World As It Is by Chris Hedges. Quickly becoming one of my favorite authors, Hedges reports on the Middle East, American politics and the decay of the American empire. Kiss or Kill by Mark Twight. Writings of one of the most radical climbers of the modern era. His tales of Khan Tengri and the peaks I’m heading to this summer are particularly thrilling.New favorite albums: One...Mumford and Sons' Sigh No More has been the soundtrack to the trip so far
Mongolia Part 1: The Gobi
What a trip it’s been! Ulaanbaatar has all the charm you’d expect of a rapidly developing, ex-communist city. Things are slow, fast and chaotic all at the same time. We knew from last year that we wanted out as fast as possible so as to avoid falling into an uncovered manhole in a jetlagged stupor. After a day of running errands and adjusting to a new pace of life in Ulaanbaatar, we left early for the Gobi. Our group consisted of myself, Jeremy, Derek and Jobe from the US, and Ogii, a Mongolian geology student and translator, Dagi, our cook, and two drivers Naraa and Tsele.
We ditched the pavement after hardly an hour on the potholed pavement. Each day we rotated seating arrangements, and I took the first day in the trusty, if not always somewhat broken, Russian van. Just like getting sea legs, it takes a while to get used to life on the dusty steppe, and the learning curve for riding in the Ruski is steep. We all came away with a few interesting bruises. The next day, we reached Bayn Zag in the afternoon heat, and worked the main part of the Flaming Cliffs, a touristy dinosaur fossil locality.
After Bayn Zag, we settled into a rhythm as a group. We would drive around half a day to our next locality, scout it out if not sample it in the afternoon, then finish work or move on in the morning. We kept the momentum up through all of our Gobi localities, knowing that we still had a long road ahead to western Mongolia. We only took one day off late in the trip to deal with a car problem, and only once did we stay in the same camp two nights in a row.
The Gobi is a beautiful but fairly challenging place. It wasn’t crippling heat but rather constant wind and sand that made our bones weary. We’d wake up to a fresh coat of sand inside our tents each morning, meals would be prepared and eaten behind vehicles or rocks for cover. Still, nothing was spared from the sand. The days on the road were challenging as well. We frequently encountered impassable sections. Navigating by GPS and going days on end without seeing anyone, we had to make sound decisions. Tsele, our Land Cruiser driver, was a nice man, but didn’t know much about his vehicle. We chuckled when he always engaged the rear defrost instead of 4WD when we got in a jam. Sometimes, we were lucky to cover 5km in an hour…at most it was 20 or 30. But the places were as wild as it gets.
After Bayn Zag, we headed west toward Nemegt. Partway through the second day, we crossed the largest sand dunes in Mongolia. The scenery looked straight out of a movie. We did the classic dune running and jumping. Being an idiot, as usual, I think I broke my tailbone on one of them. “Oh great, I thought, bumpy driving will be the missing ingredient to make this a really fun trip.” The rest of the trip, the tailbone was always with me, but I’ve found a few sitting strategies so I’m not in constant pain. Once we crossed the dunes, we were in a different dimension. Now, not a single tourist had reason to be where we were, and I got the sense that many locals didn’t even know why we’d keep pushing west.
Jeremy and I looked at each other knowingly. I think he said it first, “Is this as far out as you’ve ever been?” I immediately said yes, and said I was thinking of asking him the same. He said only the remote northern slopes of Alaska came close. Nemegt was unbelievably beautiful. The badlands looked like the great parks of Utah, except we had it to ourselves. The layout was amazing, and we scrambled up spires and ridges only to find miles more beyond us. I went for an amazing run along those knife edge ridges and then dropped down into a dry wash back to camp. Birds would come along and play. I always took note of the buzzards and eagles, thinking they may look to us as their next meal.
The second day at Nemegt, Jobe and I headed off to complete our sampling of the white unit at the top of the main sections, while Derek, Jeremy and Ogii headed east to look at some new sections. As we were finishing the bottom of our peaklet above a gravelly plateau, I remarked to Jobe, “Hey, this could actually be something.” Closer inspection revealed that I was in fact, looking at a dinosaur. Then, once we adjusted our eyes, bones started appearing everywhere. It was hard to even walk without stepping on them. A few meters to the left, I found a large bone, then down in a wash, two more including a huge vertebrae. I’m not much of a fossil hunter, but I do approach science as a simple observationalist. Moments like these definitely make things pop into focus...”Oh, hey, it really does make sense, and you can go out there and see it.”
Stay tuned for Part 2 in a few days. I leave for the mountains on July 8th, and will reach Lenin Peak base camp after about 60 hours of travel. For the time being, I’m showering, sorting samples with Jeremy, and stuffing my face full of Indian food, “Mexican” food, and khuurshuur, Mongolian fried dumplings to fatten up for the mountain. I've been running hard and I'm ready to go, tailbone be damned.
Text Dispatch: Done in Dzereg
We've finished after weeks on the move. We now have 400ish samples that will be critical to our understanding of the climatic and tectonic history of Asia. Tomorrow we'll begin the 40 day drive back to UB collecting water samples along the way. Looking forward to a shower!