An alpine style
attempt on Peak Lenin 7134m
Text and Photos: Athol Jake Preston and Anindya Mukherjee
Summary: In August 2016,
two friends, Athol Jake Preston (Australia) and Anindya Mukherjee (India)
decided to rope up and climb the 7134m high Pik/Peak Lenin[1]
by its north-west ridge (Razdelnaya route) in the Pamir Mountains of Central
Asia in carry-camp and climb style, unsupported by porters or guides. They had
to turn back from their summit camp (6148m) due to a heavy snow storm.
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| Peak Lenin from Base Camp Achik Tash |
“All big mountains are
potentially dangerous; like fast cars they must be treated with respect. Yet if
one uses common sense they can be traversed and enjoyed with impunity. The two
popular ranges ...the Caucasus and the Pamir, are high and subject to violent
storms. Also being marooned in a vast land mass they can be grippingly
cold.”-Hamish Macinnes
“In 1974 the objectives were ambitious-nothing less than an
alpine-style climb up the East Face of Peak Lenin (23400ft/7134m) seemed
satisfactory, with all the seriousness and difficulty of commitment at high
altitude”. –Paul Nunn[2]
“Let the storm rage
louder!”- V.I.Lenin[3]
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| Courtesy: wikipedia |
A Stormy Background
Yes there was a storm on Peak Lenin in 1974 and it was quite
deadly. Elvira Shateava, along with seven other women, climbed the mountain in
the hopes of completing a traverse – up the Lipkin Ridge to the 7134m summit,
and then down the Razdelny. The idea of the expedition was to prove that women
could do this without the help of men. And they did prove their point. On 5th
August, 1974, eight of them did reach the summit. And then came the storm that
engulfed the team near the summit. They radioed Base Camp for approval to sleep
up there. Vitalie Abalakov, the base camp in charge ordered the ladies to start
descending. But they stuck rigidly and bravely to their planned traverse in the
teeth of ferocious weather. Today it seems, perhaps they were a bit too rigid.
Eventually they did start to descend after
their tents were destroyed by the winds and they had no shovels to dig a snow
cave. For 22hrs, while attempting to descend in a horrible storm, one climber
after another perished from exposure, until they had all died. Paul Nunn,
member of the British Pamir Expedition that joined the international meet of mountaineers[4]
on Peak[5]
Lenin; had to leave their base camp along with other climbers in an attempt to
reach and rescue the doomed team of eight women climbers. Paul Nunn later
wrote, “In the late afternoon the final
slopes to the ice cave at 17500ft were swept by a cold but relatively innocuous
Lenin wind. In its depths, still several thousand feet below the plateau, the
report of events above was received. Everyone
was now in retreat, with Americans coming back by the Lipkin, Siberians far on
the descent of that route, and the beleaguered camp 2 on the Razdelny relieved
by John Evans and others from the American party. There was not a lot more to
be done by us-in death it became a domestic tragedy.”
Years later, on the 13th of July 1990, an earthquake
triggered an avalanche that wiped out Camp II on the Razdelnaya route. 43
climbers out of the 45 present there, perished. This accident still stands out
ominously to be the worst accident in mountaineering history[6].
However the recent history of disasters on Peak Lenin did not
quite dampen our spirits and we decided to have a go at the mountain
‘unsupported’, ‘lightweight’ and in ‘alpine style’. Today, there are 16
established routes on Peak Lenin. Nine of them are on the southern side and
seven on its northern slopes. The peak is quite popular with climbers due to
its easy access and some uncomplicated routes. Considering the existing
infrastructure and established BC/ABC locations, there are three most
attractive routes from the North (i.e. the Kyrgyzstan side): Lipkin's rocks
route and NE Ridge; the classic North Face route; the route via Razdelnaya Peak
and the NW Ridge. In August 2016, for us two friends climbing the north-west
ridge (standard route via Razdelnaya top) of Peak Lenin, unsupported and in
alpine-style seemed like a satisfactory enough objective. After all, we both
agree on one philosophy. Climbing is for enjoyment and not for death-dicing
thrills. We however had one more special goal in this trip- meeting people and making
friends.
Approaching the Mountain:
Bishkek (800m) to Base Camp (3600m)
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| Base Camp |
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| Inside the 'United Nations', the dining tent of Ak Sai Travels |
After a short flight from Bishkek to Osh, we boarded our
connection mini-bus. Fresh baked golden wheels of “lepyoshka” flat bread were
bought and the hot, slightly salty tandoor cooked flavours were very welcome.
Leaving Osh, the scenery was that monotonous Central Asian steppe. Apart from
the ubiquitous poplars by the waterways, it was a treeless landscape dotted
only with farm houses and yurts. Luncheon at one such location was a welcome
stop, for stomachs and bladders. Deep-fried “boorsok” mini-breads, yoghurt and
a light salad of tomato and cucumber were had. In the midst of swirling mists
and much chilled temperatures we stopped at a mountain pass of 3,000m or so and
caught fleeting glimpses of the snow-clad giants about us. Hours later our
Latvian companion Oleg announced “Here road ends”, as the bus veered left and
down a rugged bouncy track, under a faded arch of rusting metal which
proclaimed the entrance to Pik Lenin National Park, and over a rumbling bridge.
For the next few hours we jolted, bounced and swayed across the rolling grassed
moraines until an encampment of canary yellow tents blurted out from the
otherwise muted watercolours and leaden sky. It was without a doubt, the
biggest and most well appointed base camp (or camp of any type) that we had
ever seen. Every tent even had electricity! The gigantic marquee that was the
dining/ kitchen tent we dubbed “the U.N.” in view of its multinational
occupants. Beer was on tap, and there was even an espresso machine. It was surreal.
The sudden jump in height from Bishkek (800m) to BC (at 3,600m) gave us mild
taste of AMS. We ate little, but drawing on past experiences, drank much,
stayed upright and rested. A short walk after dinner ended back in front of the
UN with an impromptu game of cricket courtesy of Andy & Pete. These chaps
were a father/ son double act from Britain. As darkness fell, so did a final wicket
and the game ended and with it ended our AMS.
During the whole
expedition, this base camp remained a funny place. There was a peculiarly
artificial prelude and eternally changing flow of “ins” and “outs”. It had a
general sense of “bonhomie” but also an edge of tension and isolation. A
creeping and insidious sense of unreality. The young stern faced ‘Russian/
Kyrgyz’ waitresses scurrying about in stereotypical ‘peasant’ scarves and the
craggy, wild-haired climbers, all unshaved and in the most motley attire, the
vermillion iron-rich scars on the green horse pasture and pinned up samples of
souvenirs. We were as odd as any. Yet, being guideless and self-supporting we
were oddities apart. Somewhat like North Korea at the real UN, we were accepted
in, but seated apart and initially dissuaded from socializing with the other ‘full
fee paying’ folk. Doing our best to accept this incongruity, we took the next
day as a complete rest day. After our waited table breakfast, we ambled up the
valley to reconnoiter our route to Camp 1, and to just develop a sense of
belonging and connection.
Herds of horses, golden
marmots, asters, wild garlic chives, and various other flora and fauna were in
abundance. By the gorge entrance we met 2 young lads lolling in the warm sun
and grass by their ponies. Perhaps hoping to earn some extra cash they offered
us rides. In our best mix of gesticulations, the odd word of Russian, Kyrgyz
and Arabic we conveyed the unfortunate fact that we had with us not a penny.
Not to be put off, they parted Raja from his beloved Ireland Mountaineering
Club buff, in return for “photographik” atop the ponies. Much laughter and
smiles later we were back at the UN.
Base Camp (3600m) to Camp 1 (4400m)
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| Our ramblings around Base Camp were ever rewarding |
25kgs is a fair load to
carry anytime. Going up from 3,600m to 4,400m along dry, treeless tracks in
full sun, it is fair graft. The soft grassy meadows with the myriad cheeky
marmots gave way to a series of steep, loose, muddy zig-zags that were scoured
into the red clay wall. Having crossed the saddle (the pilgrims’ pass), we
descended loose scree slopes to the well worn track that hugged the right hand
wall. Here and there a small slip of fine shale cascaded over the track to the
dirty glacier below. Our earlier vim evaporated with the moisture in the dry
alpine air and strong UV light. At a small river crossing we met Oleg and the
Latvians who rose at our approach and cheerily showed us the best place to jump
across from wobbly rock to wobbly rock. Not as easy as it looked with our tired
legs and bulging packs…but dry we arrived on the other side. “20 minutes, 20
minutes!” assured a thoroughly scurrilous Oleg. 50 minutes later, we saw him
again, and it was a cheeky “10 minutes more”. Eventually, like an oasis we
stumbled into Camp 1. It was 2.30pm. We had walked for 8 hours and were halfway
done for the day. Met by “Vlad” the Camp manager we were whisked into a “mini
UN” dining tent and fed like kings. Oleg was waiting for us with a huge smile
and piping hot tea. Energy flowed back with speed. Satiated, we turned to the
task of returning to BC. As we set off, the weather changed and pellets of
graupel pinged off our jackets. Unburdened and fed we raced back down. We
continued down to BC and by 7.30pm were sat before a table. Perhaps now, our
day return trip had somehow “proven” us. For the unsmiling waitresses and
guides now in fact smiled and greeted us. We ate and went to sleep a little
more tired, but a little less alien.
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| Camp I |
Ready for the summit: to Camp 2 (5200m) and Camp 3 (6148m)
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| A half buried tent in Camp II |
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| From Camp I to Camp II |
On 6th August, we stored our extra kit, cleaned out the C1 tent
and bade our farewells. The snow and rock crunched oddly under our semi-frozen
boots as we strolled off in search of flags and cairns in the 4.30am gloom. A
longer walk than expected again with heavy packs. At bottom of slope, we roped
up for safety and headed up over “the dental filling” (about 10.30am!). It was
a snowy & cloudy day all the time, and as the slope eased off a bit, into a
series of deceptive false crests. Sun broke through a bit and finally as we
trudged into sight of the C2 tents nestled protectively against the rocky
buttress. We crawled into C2 at 3pm and got the tent set-up. Next morning we
were back down at Camp 1 and thus hoped to improve acclimatization.
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| Jake and our cosy tent (courtesy Jason Cordier) |
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| Jake looking down towards the Lenin glacier |
12th August,
we packed everything, and greeted the neighbours. So roped up, we set off up
through the exclusive suburb of upper C2 towards the col above us. Then we swung
left along a flatter section to the bottom of the steep slopes up to C3. We met
Lukas coming down triumphantly from a 22 hour summit return. A new long time
record for Pik Lenin! The final snow slopes up to C3 are steep (45-50 degrees)
and taxingly deep in snow. Clouds and wind really pick up as we near the top.
C3 is literally on the lip of the slope too, and as we popped over and into it,
we were greeted by a half buried gaggle of orange and red and green domes. We found
a slight depression amidst the city where a tent had once been, and set about
excavating a site. We threw up the tent in a satisfactory way and decided to
melt more snow and eat salami and chocolate. A disappointing weather forecast.
3 or 4 days of high wind and snow were on the cards. Nonetheless, we felt strong and positive. We
set the alarm for midnight and hoped for the best.
But of course it’s the storm again
It was 13th
August and the alarm woke us to a tent that was all but collapsing in on us. We
were hallways buried and more snow was falling. Hoar frost covered everything and
the headlamps revealed dancing ice crystals in the dark cold air about us. We
both had headaches and by 6am, it was clear that there would be no summit attempt
that day. Damp, cold and with half our kit buried somewhere under 1-1.5m of new
snow (tent and us included). We did the only sensible thing, and cancelled the
summit attempt. Out in the waning morning light, teams were digging out their
tents like little moles. Flurries of snow were heaved skyward in gentle arcs
that glittered in ephemeral rainbows, and then fell back from whence they came.
All in all, only one team set out for summit from C3 (we heard later that it
was a short lived and unsuccessful foray). By 8am radio call, we learnt the
nasty truth. Similar snowfall and winds were expected for the next 3-4 days.
That was it then. Down we must go.
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| At Camp III, on the morning after the storm. Jake with our team flag "Stop Killing Start Climbing" |
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| State of affairs in Camp III |
Breaking camp is a
laborious and cold business. Yet leaving is not altogether unwelcome. The
clouds cleared momentarily, and we were treated to gorgeous views down the
valley. With still heavy packs we headed down the deep, soft steep slopes
towards C2. The descent was hard. It was steep, the snow up to our thighs or
knees and we were going down without having had a real throw of the dice at the
summit. Mother Nature and the fickle fortunes of mountain weather play no
favourites and do as they will. There were very few others going up, but many
down. Just above the col, we met the Leningrad blokes. They had camped atop the
col overnight, and were just beginning on the steep slopes up. Hard men, and
huge smiles and shrugs as to the weather. After the wind and snow of C3, C2 is
a broiling, simmering, soul-sapping hot mess. We pick up our cached kit in C2
and take 15-20mins rest. We had eaten naught but a little chocolate all day,
and now had packs of about 30kgs each. We walked straight into the “Frypan” and
aimed for the dental-filling. To be fair, the snow condition here was terrible.
Crampons were balling badly at every step. It seemed that the descent was
taking forever, and that the glacier after the slopes endless. Finally we
emerged up the rocky moraine wall to an agency’s camp and the first thing that
the manager said to us was, “Beer? Fanta? Cola?” – No “Hi!” No “Salam-alaikum!”
No “Khandai?”…Just an offer to take our money. Our welcome back to ‘civilization’
was not exactly inspiring or consoling. We were reduced instantly to nothing more
than walking wallets. Such an irony under a mountain named after Lenin, but so
is almost everything in life!
A couple of days later we
were down at base camp and waited for our bus back to Osh. The bus comes late,
we stow bags and fill it. The slow rocking, bumpy ride into the sunset
commences. It was a magnificent sunset too, with streaked rays of orange gold
and burnt clouds, casting the rolling moraine flats and yurt villages in a
cloak of serene warmth. Ghostly villages, blacked out and lifeless, floats by
the dirty window. Chatter faded away to zero inside the mini-bus. It was after
midnight, I suppose, that we disembarked at the hotel in Osh, and wearily hauled
our loads to our rooms. Sleep came fast after a glorious hot shower – the first
in weeks.
As for Peak Lenin, it was about to experience a few days of storm and
snow. Like it was supposed to happen. As for us two, we got what we came for.
Two friends got together to climb a mountain, in good style and on their way
home they had made many friends. Like it was supposed to happen.
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| Raja and Jake in front of their tent in Camp II |
Acknowledgement: We are grateful to Uttarbanga Sambad for their kind grant in this Friendship Expedition of ours. This is where our #StopKillingStartClimbing movement started. :) :) We are also tremendously happy with the Base Camp support provide by Ak Sai Travels. We can certainly recommend their services.
References:
[1] The
peak was discovered in 1871 and originally named Mount Kaufmann after
Konstantin Kaufman, the first Governor-General of Turkestan. In 1928 the
mountain was renamed Lenin Peak after the Russian revolutionary and first
leader of the Soviet Union, Vladimir Lenin. In Tajikistan, the peak was renamed
again in July 2006, and today it is officially called in Tajik Qullai Abuali ibni
Sino (қуллаи Абӯалӣ ибни Сино, Ibn Sina Peak or, alternatively, Avicenna Peak)
after Abu Ali ibn Sina (Avicenna). In Kyrgyzstan, the peak is still officially
called Lenin Chokusu (Ленин Чокусу, Lenin Peak).-Wikipedia
[2]
Storm on Peak Lenin, Paul Nunn, The Mammoth Book of Mountain Disasters, Editor:
Hamish Macinnes
[3]
Before the Storm, V.I.Lenin, Proletary no. 1, August, 1906, Lenin, Collected
Works (1965)
[4] In
the 1970s, organized climbing camps ran in both the Caucasus and the Pamir and
thus climbers from all over the world had the opportunity to climb in the
mountains of the Soviet Union. In 1974, the Federation of Sport and the Soviet
Mountaineering Federation of the USSR had made a huge effort of organisation in
inviting climbers from many nations in a meet in the Achik Tash valley. Under
the great domes of Peak Lenin and her neighbours they built a tented village
for more than 150 foreign climbers and many more from the Soviet Mountaineering
Federation. – Storm on Peak Lenin, Paul Nunn, p-300, The Mammoth Book of
Mountain Disasters
[5]
Peak Lenin, also spelled ‘Pik’, is a border mountain between Tajikistan and
Kyrgyzstan, but ascents from the Tajik side are very uncommon. Easier access
and easier routes are the main practical reasons why a vast majority choose the
Kyrgyz side. The fact that Tajikistan had one of history's most brutal civil
wars some years back and still has a very bad reputation of being a dangerous
place is another factor. Pik Lenin is the third highest peak in the former
Soviet Union -Summitpost