Maybe, just maybe, we will have some luck.

The following day, with the sun shining, we had a relaxing day recce-ing a route through the moraine and looking for a good route up the glacier and beyond. We had picked out the central mountain as the easiest technically to climb. With the weather still good the next morning we packed up the camp and negotiated our way up the moraine onto the glacier. The terrain then became difficult as we painstakingly found our way around huge crevasses and across snow bridges. The weather had now turned overcast and as we were making our way through the final steep section when it began to snow. At 5000 m we pitched our high camp and retreated to the tent out of the deteriorating weather.

Base Camp

Big crevasses

That night I went down with something and felt rubbish the next day. We thought we'd do a recce of the upper section of the glacier and we set out but I was not feeling great so we returned to the tent. It didn't matter as the clouds soon closed in. The following day I felt better but the weather was threatening so we were confined to the tent for yet another day. Our supplies were now running low; we were now stretching three days of food to four in the hope that the weather would improve.

Terrible weather at High Camp

Unfortunately the next day the weather was the worst yet. It was blizzarding outside but we needed to retreat back to base camp so had to brave the weather. As we picked our way back through the crevasses and down the moraine the snow turned to sleet and then rain. We were thoroughly soaked by the time we reached base camp. Sitting in a wet tent with everything around us damp we reflected on the weather. Being September it was late in the season for mountaineering, was it that winter had  already arrived? Yet another wave of incredible frustration came over me. It seemed like we were not having any luck with this mountaineering lark.

The following day the storm had cleared the weather and we set about trying to dry everything. We also needed to rest as the effort of getting up to the high camp and then having to retreat, together with the bug I had picked up, had drained us of energy. 

The weather remained good as we prepared to head back up to high camp again. We reestablished this camp and as the weather was still great the following morning headed out for our summit attempt. The route up the glacier was fairly straight forward and certainly easier regarding crevasses than the lower sections. It lead us towards the col which denoted the border with Pakistan. We tried to climb the rocky ridge on the border but the rock turned out to be a chossy outcrop which required some delicate moves to traversed out of it. This took us onto bullet hard ice, an initial salvation in the form of two solid ice screws which formed a belay so that James could safely climb out of the choss but then meant some teetering across an awkwardly angled slope on our front points before we managed to access easier going terrain on the northern slopes of the mountain. We followed these slopes for what seemed like forever, passed false summit after false summit until the slopes flattened to form a large plateau which was the summit. The GPS read 5730 m which tallied with the Google Earth research I had done. 

On the summit.

We reached the summit at 1238hrs local time and had stunning views over Pakistan and the Hindu Kush to the South, and to the north the Wakhan and the Pamirs of Tajikistan beyond and over the Oxus River. We spent some time savouring the moment of making a first ascent. On our return we took care to avoid the chossy ridge and got back to the high camp 4 pm. A 12 hour day, not a long summit day but long enough for us.

 Descending. Looking towards Pakistan.

With plenty of food still left, and having learnt from running short on our previous excursion, we decided to stay at the high camp to see if we could make an ascent of an adjacent peak. That night, however, James got struck down with 'The Bug', except worse. The following day I knew that, with James ill, we wouldn't be making any more ascents. We retreated to base camp where James proceeded to be very ill. Luckily the weather was good as we waited for the donkey men to return to help us get our gear back down the valley.

The day before we were meant to meet the donkey men was James's birthday and we had planned a lie in before attempting to organise the gear for packing. So it was with great surprise that we woke up to the sound of voices. It was our donkey men. We rolled out of our sleeping bags and shook ourselves awake. James was feeling much better although had noticeably lost weight, he was pleased to be heading down the valley a day early. 

Retracing the steps we had taken 2 weeks earlier, our mountain gradually disappeared from view as the Ravens flew overhead, threatening a repeat poo strike. And as for a name well there was one that came to mind, Koh-e-Zaghcheh, meaning Raven Peak.

The peak climbed - see comments below as to why it wasn't a first ascent

A short walk............

Paperwork in order we retraced our steps back down the Wakhan to the valley Raig Jurm. A valley which would give us access to the high mountains of the Hindu Kush on the Afghan/Pakistan border. Our donkey men were waiting for us as planned at the head of the valley. The two men expertly loaded the donkeys (no chance of the loads falling off in the first 10 m like in Tajikistan). Soon we were heading up the dusty trail. We had walked all of about 100 m when the men insisted on carrying our bags. They wrestled James's rucksack off his back, and mine as well, and carried them for the rest of the day.

When I had initially planned the expedition in the Wakhan I had imagined that any valley we chose to explore would be remote and unvisited. I couldn't have been more wrong. As we hiked into Raig Jurm we could see paths, stone shelters, field boundaries and an irrigation system. Although their was no one living in the valley at that time, it was clearly regularly used for grazing and had been farmed. Our donkey men were certainly familiar with the area and lead us to a good spot for lunch.

Our donkeys ready to go

We opened a can of tuna for lunch and stretched out in the sun. Raven's circled overhead. The huge skies of Central Asia stretched north over the Pamir mountains of Tajikistan delineated by the Oxus River which flowed from the Chinese border to the east, whilst the Hindu Kush and Pakistan lay to the south. And out of all the vastness the Raven got a direct hit on me. A brown stain streaked down my T-shirt, a stain so stubborn that it never did come out in the wash and the T-shirt was retired after the expedition.

After lunch we continued on a little further but conscious of the amount of ascent we were doing, and with James feeling a little under the weather, we found a flat grassy spot to camp.

The following morning we had luckily anticipated that the Afghans would be up at 5 am and although we were virtually packed up by 6 am they were still waiting for us to finish so they could load the donkeys. Then we were off at the same blistering pace as the previous day. Up the valley fresh water gushed from the valley side. This was not like any spring I had ever seen before, it was like a river exploding from the side of the valley; a torrent of white foaming water. Above this we crossed to the other side of the valley and the men pushed the donkeys up a steep moraine to a sheltered spot above the river. They sat down to wait for us and would have gone further if we had wanted but this was a perfect spot for a base camp so we unloaded the donkeys, paid the men and were left in the silence of the Afghan Hindu Kush.

 

Heading up the Raig Jurm into the Hindu Kush.

The Wakhan Corridor

Jumping into the back of the car with Adab and our driver we realised that there was a fifth person in the car. Peering over our shoulders from the boot of the vehicle was a toothless old man. By the time we set off we had also been joined by a soldier. Half an hour out of town we dropped the soldier at a check point and not much further along, the old man in a village. The road resembled a track at best and was non-existent at worst. Crossing the rivers, which were in full spate, was extremely tricky. Our drive would driver up and down the river side trying to select a suitable spot. Adab would get out testing the depth of the water and then we would gun it across from one island of safety to the next. However our luck ran out on the final crossing and we got completely stuck. Adab, James and I waded into the icy, knee-deep water and tried our best to push it out but to no avail. We needed reinforcements. The driver walked to the nearest village and returned with 6 men who, like men the world over, were enjoying the air of a minor crisis and generally feeling needed. With 9 men, 4 shovels and 2 larges poles for leverage, after half an hour of work the car was released from the muddy grips of the river. I took the photos.

Guess who the driver is? and notice that James is watching helpfully!

After we had bailed out the foot wells, and acquired a few more people who needed a lift, we were on our way again as the light was fading. The ever thinking Adab made a quick stop at the little village of Piggush to arrange for donkeys to be taken to the valley head whilst we got the final bit of paperwork stamped in Khandud the following morning.

Locals observing the fun.

The last unclimbed 6000 m peak in the Muzkol

Records of mountaineering exploration in the Muzkol range are limited. The highest peak called Soviet Officers' Peak and a handful of others were climbed by the Russians pre-civil war. Since then there seemed to be little activity until a series of British expeditions from 1996 to 2001, organised by the company EWP. In 2001 a participant was tragically killed whilst climbing Zartosh Peak after which the EWP did not return. It was not until last year that a MEF funded expedition returned and climbed that peak. I did not know any of this when I selected the Muzkol as a mountaineering destination for our expedition. I had started my research by looking on google earth for suitable locations which would tie in with our overall trip. It was only after this, when researching the region to find unclimbed peaks, that I discovered the strong British mountaineering link to the area.

Base camp

Mark takes a shower in the wilderness!

Whilst acclimatising we spent some time reccing the river which we would be required to cross to access the tributary valley which would take us to the base of the mountain we wanted to climb. Visiting the river during different times of the day we soon established that it would only be fordable at first light, even an hour later and it would be too high due to snow melt. This meant a pre-dawn start the next day. With enough food for 6 days James and I braved the freezing water. Mark had come with us to see us off and could hear our yells of agony from the other side of the river, he would be looking after the base camp whilst we were away.

An early start

Marco polo sheep skull and horns

After the river the next obstacle of unknown difficulty was the huge lateral moraine the glacier had created. These huge piles of rocks can be very unstable, however it turned out that there was a passable route between the moraine and valley wall and we made steady progress. All the time the mountain loomed above us imposingly. By mid-afternoon it was possible to cross the moraine onto the ice and continue up the glacier to a high camp near the base of the mountain.

Heading up the moraines with our target summit on the horizon

The glacier towards the first high camp

A recce the following morning showed that the route to the summit from the glacier was exposed to dangerous serac fall and therefore was not viable. We immediately return to the camp to pack up and move it to a site on a tributary glacier which we had spotted on the walk in. Settling into this new high camp it was obvious that the ridge from the col was too technically difficult for are abilities but it would be possible to cross the col and investigate routes from the other side.

High camp #1 with the tributary glacier in the background

Another recce revealed that on the other side of the col a ridge led to the summit. To gain this ridge, however, a glacier needed to be crossed and a steep snow slope overcome. Returning to the high camp we hatched a plan to attempt this the following day. We set the alarm for an alpine start and had an early night.

During the night the wind pummelled the tent and when the alarm went off there was no improvement and we decided to wait to see if it died down a little. By dawn it had improved and we set off up to the col at 5500 m. We negotiated crevasses to gain a steep section which once overcome would lead to the summit ridge. On the more technical ground we started to pitch the climbing. Initially the snow conditions were good and we thought the route would be viable but on the second pitch they deteriorated to a hard crust and it was at this point we decided to turn back. On the descent James slipped and slide quite a way but the snow stake held and rope came tight onto me. He was a little wide eyed by the time he'd righted himself and made it to my stance. This left no doubt in my mind that I had made the right decision to turn back and I had no regrets.

Heading up to the 5500 m col

Me looking up to the summit from the col

We packed up the high camp and made it down the moraines as far as we could before it got dark. Knowing that the river was only fordable before 6 am, the following morning we got up at 2 am to try to reach it in time so we could make it back to Mark at Base Camp. We made the crossing point in the nick of time and sloshed through the river in our boots, not caring if they got soaked. It was a freezing morning and by the time we'd got to Base Camp our trouser legs, which had got wet in the river, were solid ice.

Needing time to recover from our attempt as well as 3 days to extract ourselves from base camp to the road head, left us with only had one spare day to attempt another peak. Together we scrambled up a rocky peak near to our base camp, which we believed was unclimbed, but the quality of the rock proved an impassable barrier close to the summit so we descended disappointed. Looking over the range from this view point revealed the beauty of the valley and many much easier unclimbed peaks presented themselves but we were out of time. With extreme frustration we packed up Base Camp and started the slog back to the road. Leaving the last 6000 m unclimbed peak in the Muzkol unclimbed.

Muzkol Expedition - donkey issues part 2

Within about 2 minutes of setting off the donkey carrying the food, packed in two rice sacks, managed to shed it's load and make a bid for freedom. Recaptured, the load was again balanced precariously on the poor animal and we tried again. Unfortunately for our 'mountaineers on epic adventure' image this was all being filmed by a Basque couple cycling the Pamir Highway.

.

We followed the route we had recced the previous day which used the river valley to access the high pass. The river was lower than the previous day due to it being earlier and therefore snowmelt not having peaked yet. Despite this the donkey-men jumped on the already overloaded animals so they wouldn't get their feet wet. We found some grazing for the donkeys at lunchtime so they could have some lunch as well. The donkey-men ate and then fell asleep by a stream. We sent Mark to wake them up so we could get going again. They had umm-ed and ahh-ed about the next part of the route so we carried the heaviest bags, lightening the donkey's load.

About an hour into our post lunch hike it was obvious that the donkey-men's heart wasn't in it. They lagged behind and dragged their heels and then finally decided to unload the donkeys and head home. This was despite us having an understanding that the trip would take two days. They got annoyed when we only paid them for one day. They were insisting that the donkeys were altitude sick. Now, I'm not entirely sure what an altitude sick donkey looks like, but I would guess they might be at least out of breath. Wayne and Rooney, as we had called them, did not seem to show any symptoms, and instead continued to try and hump each other. Although we had covered much of the distance, we had only made a gentle 400 m of ascent, not a great increase in height to inflict altitude sickness. When asked if the men would help us get the kit over the pass, as they had pursued us to employ them both on the understanding that they would help us carry the bags if needed, but when when asked they quickly made excuses and before we knew it had turned around and headed back down the valley.

We were left with a pile of bags, late in the day, well below a 5100 m pass. Quickly rearranging the kit we packed a bag each and headed on up to the pass. Progress was slow but I made it to the top at 5 pm. Dumping my pack I then returned back down to help poor Mark who, in the last week, had gone from his desk in London via 3 full days travelling to trekking over a 5100 m pass with a full pack in the middle of nowhere. In contrast, after spending 3 weeks on Peak Lenin, I was well acclimatised and as fit as a fiddle. And the amusing thing was that the donkey-men had been commenting on how 'the girl' would be tired (translated by Mark). I gave James some encouragement as I steamed passed on my second trip.

Once we'd all made it to the top we took a breather and admired the view. We could see the mountain we wanted to climb which looked, well, hard. I headed down from the pass, following the river until it turned into a gorge. Concerned that this would prevent us from reaching the bottom of the valley, I dumped my pack and recced a different route. I was relieved to find that the valley was accessible by descending the left-hand slopes. The light was now fading and, on returning to my pack, I made the decision to camp there. I retraced my steps up the valley to find Mark and James, and this time helped James carry his pack as he had sore feet from wet boots. By the time the boys joined me I had the tent up and dinner on the go.

Unfortunately there was no let up the following day, as we needed to go back over the pass to pick up the rest of the kit and return to our intermediary camp. This was another exhausting day. It wasn't until the third day that we managed to get all the kit (in two shuttles) into a suitable base camp. We were then finally established and had a well earned rest day.

Taking a rest in the dry river bed, by the afternoon this is a fast flowing river.

Sans donkeys heading up to the pass

Views from the pass

Mark and James on the pass

In base camp - Mark is finally allowed a break.

Peak Lenin - Acclimatisation

Our tactic for climbing Peak Lenin in expedition style. This required spending many days acclimatising which involved climbing high before returning to Camp 1 (4500 m) to rest before ascending via Camps 2 (5300 m) and 3 (6100 m) and then the summit (7134 m). On my first day with the Russian team we crossed the glacier to the least fractured part, where it steepen, to try to gain an altitude of around 5000 m before returning to Camp 1.  

We caught up with Andy and Bob below the steep section where they seemed to have been taking a rest for a while. Alex, our guide, expertly negotiated the crevasses and at that point I realised that Andy was crawling out of a crevasse he had fallen in. They followed us through the steep section to where the angle eased again.

It was hard-work ploughing through the deep snow and this was with only carrying a day pack. The weather closed in when we were just below 5000 m and we returned to Camp 1 for the night. Late in the afternoon we could see Andy and Bob making painful progress on towards Camp 2. I wondered how I would fair the next day carrying a full pack. It felt like this day had been hard enough.

The following day it soon became apparent that Alexander and Jaroslav weren’t the most efficient in the mornings. Packed and ready to go I stood around stamping my feet to keep warm whilst they did, what, I never found out. After the acclimatisation walk the previous day I had realised that the weight of my rucksack would be absolutely crucial. This meant that anything not critical to survival was not included. Shelter, clothing, food, water and a means of cooking were critical, everything else was not. This meant no change of underwear, no means of washing including tooth brush and toothpaste and toilet roll were all eliminated. As you can image after the 3 days we spent moving up the mountain to acclimatise I felt pretty grubby.

With Alex I made the mistake of telling him that James was my boyfriend rather than my husband. This meant that I was still fair game. Despite my rather grubby state he continued to make passes at me. I began to revel in my grubbiness and leave my pee bottle (too cold to pee outside) lying about the tent but he still persisted. The dehydrated food that I ate also gave me terrible wind but still this didn’t put him off, if nothing else his persistence was admirable although a little irritating. He didn’t really have a lot of choice – I was the only woman on the mountain above Camp 1 at the time (in Camp 1 the camp manager for Tien Travel was a woman). Luckily I had a secondary line of defence – the considerable layers of clothing I wore as soon as we stopped walking. At night I would then be wrapped up in a micro-fleece liner, huge sleeping bag and a bivi bag with the draw cords pulled tight so only my nose was exposed.

Nearer Camp 2 the weather closed in and we were forced to pitch the tent until it clear so we could negotiate the crevasses safely. However we could not stay camped here as it was below an icefall and in an area at risk from avalanches - the site of the 43 deaths in 1990. When moving the tent to the correct site of Camp 2 we passed Andy and Bob camped directly below the icefall. They had spent the day there resting but when our guide pointed out the dangers of that site they followed us to Camp 2.

The next day the weather was good but the snow deep. It lay looking pristine white and beautiful but soon we were cursing it. We spent a day toiling through it to gain 400 more metres, a distance that looked like we could touch it in the morning. Andy and Bob followed. That evening more cognac and lemon, which stung my sunburned lips, this was acclimatisation Russian-style.

The next day we returned to Camp 1. As we retraced our steps we watched Andy and Bob carry on up to Camp 3. Despite the late start the descent was depressingly quick. Wanting to get back for a late lunch, and with my patience wearing a little thin with all the waiting about, as soon as we were able to unrope I set off back to camp at my own pace.

The human skull is a very distinct bone, it cannot be confused with an animal's. Alex turned it over with his walking pole. It was the back of a human skull with 4 or 5 vertebra still attached. Completely shocking to see but not surprising as 10 years ago so many people had died and their bodies had been swept down the glacier and entombed there. Now the glacier was melting and exhuming the harrowing reality of its history. This discovery made for a sobering walk on the final stretch back to Camp 1.

Team tent at Camp 2

The trail from Camp 2 to Camp 3

Moving towards Camp 3 - slowly