From 0 to 8000m, a journey to the highest peaks, Part I: Memento Mori

This is the story of a 27-day expedition in Kyrgyzstan.

27 days to attempt the summit of one of the highest mountains in the world, Lenin Peak, reaching 7134 m high. Most of what you are about to read was written on the spot, right within the high-altitude camps, in varying states of fatigue. Although revised later, I wanted to keep the raw and sometimes unfiltered style of this journal, for the sake of authenticity. I have been preparing for this expedition for over two years, and this serves as a test to validate if I could one day fulfill my dream: to climb an 8,000 m peak.

From Paris to Bishkek

Arriving at Roissy airport at 9 AM, I’m meeting three of the nine members of the expedition. At 11 AM, the plane takes off, and five hours later, we are in Istanbul, where we meet Serge, our guide, and the other participants. Our group is composed entirely of French people, most of them over fifty and far more experienced than I am.

• Fabrice, a quiet gentle giant, our rock
• Nico, one of the most skilled members. We like to roast each other, a great friendship is about to start
• Matthieu, my namesake, a friendly fellow who owns every piece of equipment to face any kind of situation
• Hélène, the eldest in the group but in better shape than some most friends of my age
• Anne-Claire, in incredible physical condition, often stressed out about her gear checklist
• Michel, the war machine from Toulouse, always running ahead with a smile on his face
• Stéphane, having hundreds of mountain climbs under his belt, someone everyone can count on
• Xavier, the writer.

Everything here is overpriced. A few hours later, we board our flight to Bishkek. After an uncomfortable night flight where we barely slept, we finally arrive in Kyrgyzstan.

Osh

We spend a few hours in Bishkek before boarding a flight to Osh around 6 AM. We are greeted by our driver, who takes us to our hotel. The streets are dirty, and the air is polluted. Even though we clearly are in a poor country, the people seem serene, and we feel safe.

After dropping off our luggage, we go for lunch.

The mood is cheerful, and bonds are beginning to form. Nico is my roommate. We get along well, and I’m able to benefit from his experience.

Three Days at 3600m

The day after, we leave our hotel at 9 AM. After several hours of driving, we are finally reaching the Pamir mountain range, which houses Lenin Peak. We leave the asphalt behind to venture out onto bumpy roads and eventually arrive at base camp.

Nico is once again my tent mate. We take the time to organize our belongings in our yellow tent, which is tall enough for us to stand inside. We have a mattress, light, and electricity. It is a luxury I did not expect.

The main camp consists of dozens of tents like ours, with toilets, showers, and a central building for meals and relaxation. Dogs, cows, and horses roam freely around the camp.

The camp is located at the entrance of a valley, and on clear days, we can see one of the ridges of Lenin Peak. The view is breathtaking, with the white of nearby peaks, turquoise of lakes, green from the meadows, and ochre from the mountains.

We are the only French people there. Most of the climbers and trekkers are coming from nearby regions, Russia or China. The camp leader, a Kyrgyz giant, is quite a character. Dressed in a leather jacket and cowboy hat, he hands out certificates to summiters and wakes us up every morning with the national anthem.

On the last day, we go for a few hours’ walk. Everyone is in good shape and motivated, and Serge stands out as an experienced leader. He had led multiple expeditions to the summit of Lenin and climbed several 8,000 m peaks in Nepal. I struggle to believe his extraordinary adventure stories; they seemed like something out of a movie.

Although eager to prove ourself, we are careful to follow his advice to walk slowly to save up energy. The higher we go, the more difficult it will be to recover.

The altitude is already making itself felt. Walking fast causes shortness of breath. Even falling asleep is becoming harder.

The next day, we cross the valley to a higher altitude. After several hours, we reach the snow-covered peaks. The descent is tough, as we navigated a slope full of loose rocks. It is easier to slide with each step, and we are all tempted to pick up some speed. At that moment, Anne-Claire falls and injures her leg. Serge reminds us to stay close together because, in our excitement, we spread out too much. In such situations, it’s best to stay tight to react quickly if any incidents occur.

Marmots on both sides of the valley alert each other to our presence with whistle-like calls.

In the tent, Nico is coughing a lot, probably due to the drier air at altitude, making it hard to sleep. In the evening, we organize our bags ; one to give to the horse porters and the other to carry ourselves to the advanced base camp the next day.

Our blood thickens in red globule, it’s time to leave base camp to camp 1. No cars can go there, we’ll have to rely on horses strength to carry our gear to the advanced base camp, as vehicles are not able to traverse the steep trails.

Toward Camp 1

The next morning, we throw our gear haphazardly into a truck that had clearly once belonged to the Red Army. We weighed it earlier to give part of the load to the horses.

The ride lasts about thirty minutes along a bumpy road through the grassland. Nico, evidently sick, falls asleep despite the jolts. The truck stops in front of a herd of yaks. We put on our packs and enter the valley, which flirts with 4,000 meters in altitude. A ten-kilometer hike awaits us before we reach Camp 1.

The Mountain Remembers Its Dead

On the side of a moraine, Nico and I, closing the group’s walk, are witnessing rockfalls. We decide to speed up to get past the danger as quickly as possible. We come across the graves of a Russian women’s expedition that attempted the Lenin ascent many years ago. They all died in a blizzard, not far from Camp 1. We pass them in silence.

We are all aware of the risks we are taking

At last, we cross a pass, leading us to the other side of the valley. Horses carrying bags and gear regularly pass us.

At this point, there is no trace of human civilization anymore

Nico, weakened, is walking slower. I don’t mind, as I want to conserve my energy. We reach a small river. Some horse porters offer to help us cross for $5. We decline. I go barefoot; the river isn’t deep, but the water is ice cold. I can’t feel my feet within seconds. Nico prefers to throw his bag across with all his might. After several hours of hiking along the mountainside, we finally arrive at Camp 1, also called the advanced base camp.

Part II coming soon.