From 0 to 8000m — A journey to the highest peaks -Part III: Ascent of Discord
This is the third part of the story of my 27 days expedition in Kyrgyzstan to attempt Lenine Peak summit, reaching 7134 meters of altitude. You can find the second part here.
First Abandons
Fortunately, Matthieu, my tent mate, is there. Arriving earlier and in better condition than me, he gives me something to drink and sets up my mattress. I desperately need to sleep, and a terrible headache is splitting my head in two. My memories of the few hours after arrival are vague. I drink and eat as best as I can. I spend a terrible night and recover as much as I can.
Camp 2, smaller than Camp 1, is situated on a rocky slope facing the summit of Lenin Peak. Crisscrossed with crevasses, it is dangerous to move around. Everything here is difficult to access and uncomfortable.
To find water, we have to go to the spring, only a few dozen meters from the tent, but due to the altitude and terrain, it takes much more time. When the spring freezes, we have to melt snow in a pot. With the absence of toilets, we have to be careful where we take it. Eating becomes laborious. I force myself to consume the freeze-dried food we brought with us.
We encounter Sherpas coming down with a body. Strangely, seeing this stretcher doesn’t affect me. I seem to be disconnected from my emotions, and I must say that given the situation, it doesn’t bother me.
The camp is enveloped in fog. Along the ridge, we occasionally catch sight of the immense wall of the summit ridge standing before us. It reminds me of the gigantism of the ‘wall’ in Game of Thrones.
During our “rest” day, we take the opportunity to climb the first hill towards Camp 3. After a few meters, Stéphane gives up. We also descend not long after due to a lack of rope, as the terrain needed to be secured. While descending, we meet Nico, who had recently arrived with his sherpa.
At night, I hear him coughing and vomiting again. In a satellite communication with his girlfriend, she, clearly fearing for his life, convinces him to turn back and climb down. The next day, he and Stéphane decide to climb down. I feel sorry for them, but it’s the safer choice. I believe that in the mountains, one of the most essential qualities is knowing when to give up.
Above the Clouds
We leave Camp 2 relatively late, around 8 a.m. The girls, Hélène and Anne-Claire, are late. Since we are ready, Matthieu and I begin the first ascent, which is quite steep. More than an hour later, we reach the top of the hill where the advanced Camp 2 is located. I’m glad I didn’t sleep here; it seems much more exposed to the wind. We wait nearby for the rest of the group.
Once the team is assembled, we all walk together toward the second hill before the camp, which feels like a wall due to the steep slope. We take a short break before tackling the climb. This time, I’m better prepared. Since we are not roped together, I have the freedom to stop whenever I want to hydrate and take my gels for a boost. I’m only wearing a light buff on my head to protect myself from the sun, and I’ve swapped my winter merino top for a lighter one.
I’m not fast, but the climb is going much better than towards Camp 2. I chat with Hélène, who seems to be taking her time.
In reality, she was crying under her mask. Serge had some very harsh words about her delay. I comfort her as best I can but make sure not to take sides.
I arrive at the camp almost at the same time as Xavier. Serge, shaking my hand, “He climbs like an idiot, but he’s making it.” I can’t help but smile. I embrace all my companions; we are proud. Because here we are at 6,100 meters, above the clouds!
Tensions
With Matthieu, we take possession of our tent. We are atop a hill, and the winds are growing increasingly violent.
As we organize our belongings, we hear a dispute between Serge and Hélène. The tension escalates, and the words become aggressive. A few minutes later, Serge comes to see us. It’s him or her to continue the expedition. Our tent becomes the crisis center between Anne-Claire, Hélène’s tent mate who is in shock, and Michel, who helps us with his down-to-earth attitude. We agree that it’s better to set this aside and have a calm discussion once we’re back at Camp 1. Here, everyone is on edge; nothing good will come out of it under these conditions. Matthieu talks to Serge, while Anne-Claire and I go to see Hélène. She is crying a lot, and I try to comfort her again with my clumsy words. I affectionately squeeze her arm. “Be careful, kind people like you get taken advantage of,” she tells me — Well, allright then I guess.
We all decide to walk towards Pic Razdelnaya to “chill the fuck down,” as Serge say. Gusts of around 70 km/h freeze me to the bone. Fortunately, the summit is only about a hundred meters away with almost no elevation gain. In front of us stretch the wild mountains of Tajikistan, where no living soul ventures.
We encounter an alpinist again whom we saw during the ascent of the last hill. He is a 75-year-old Frenchmann, crying with joy because this particular peak was his goal. I am impressed and congratulate him.
Serge takes me aside and whispers in my ear:
“You’re surprising me.” — “Ah.” —
“Do you want to know why?” I nod.
“I didn’t see you come this far.”
I can’t help but feel proud. After all, my highest altitude was Mont Blanc at 4,800m, and here I am sleeping at over 6,000m in much better shape.
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Part IV coming soon.
