Day 9: Climb up to camp 1

After breakfast, we were instructed to pile into the back of an old Russian military vehicle, which would take us 4km to the beginning of the hike to camp 1. "From bullet" Roman stated, pointing at a bullet shaped hole in the windscreen of the vehicle. "From Afghanistan" he informed us. I couldn't predict any element of this adventure as Alex looked at me saying, "Amy what is happening?" Every moment felt surreal. The vehicle was old and we almost had to sit on top of each other as we got bashed around on the bumpy dirt track. "It's always great to start a hike feeling this nauseous", Patrick exclaimed as Roman looked baffled by how much we laughed as we were knocked around. After the journey, we clambered out of the vehicle and began the hike. Immediately, the route ascended sharply requiring us to scramble over large boulders that led to a waterfall cascading powerfully into a round plunge pool. Today we would increase our altitude from 3600m to 4400m, so ascent was expected. A memorial of climbers that had died during disasters on Peak Lenin lined the route, with faces of climbers captioned with Russian writing below.

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The route levelled out briefly before the main challenge of the day lay before us, known as traveller's pass. A steep series of scree switchbacks, requiring perseverance and stamina to climb. I was feeling more acclimatised to the altitude, so felt strong on the ascent and remained in control of my breathing. As I reached the top of the pass, the views were mesmerising. Snowy mountains, heavy clouds, chaotic crevasse filled glaciers, raging rivers. Wild, untamed and beautiful. The descent from the pass was steep and required careful foot placement as to not slip and twist an ankle. Sherpas returning from the high camps, loaded with oxygen canisters and ice axes played music from the phones and smiled widely as they ascended the pass with ease. I looked on with admiration before returning my focus to not falling down the steep scree slope.

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The route to camp 1 continued, with gentle uphill climbing followed by relatively flat terrain. The air grew thinner and colder. I pulled out my gloves, my warmer hat and zipped my coat fully up in an attempt to protect against the wild elements. Light snow began to float down from the heavy clouds and a rumbling sound in the distance shook the ground. Ahead of us on the flanks of Lenin, we witnessed a powerful avalanche. I've heard avalanches before, but never seen the force of nature right before my eyes. The snow aggressively rolled down the mountain, obliterating everything in it's path. Raw and destructive. I thought to the climbers on the mountain and hoped everything would be alright. "That was scary" Alex expressed. "Why are you scared?" replied Roman, "Avalanche is there, you are here!" And with that beautiful comment normality was restored and laughter filled the valley.

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After more kilometres over rugged terrain we arrived on the descent to the river. Here Roman spoke in Russian to Sergei and through observation of his hand gestures, we loosely translated that he was considering another route to avoid the river. With the current conditions and the time of day the river would be raging, which presented real danger if the horse I was promised didn't magically appear. The alternative did not look any more appealing, a traverse across a threatening looking glacier. Sergei was frantically shaking his head, definitely the more cautious of the two, as Roman casually shrugged as to say what is the issue. Patrick, having grown up in Alaska and had many experiences on glaciers, gently advised Roman against the idea which everyone was grateful for. "River then" he concluded and began grumpily stomping downhill. We arrived at the river and luckily a horseman was nearby for Roman to whistle to. The horse was huge and was far too high for me to climb onto, so the horseman lifted me up and the jumped back on in front of me. The river gushed down the valley, the strong current weaving between the rocks carving its route. I was grateful to be transported on the horse and other than Patrick and Darren who braced the river, everyone else opted for the horse taxi.

After a final steep ascent, camp 1 came into view. A series of fixed tents arranged in orderly rows lay below the snow filled clouds. There was a dining tent, big enough for all teams but the luxury of heating and western toilets were a distant memory now. Suprisingly there was still a bar, horses transport up the vodka for the Russians to ensure they are only deprived from camp 2 onwards. Here at 4400m, the land was barren. An inhospitable world of sharp rock, icy temperatures and glaciers. A perfect place to spend the night!

Here the serious climbers were more concentrated. Tall, wirey looking men dressed in down jackets with climbing harnesses populated the dining room. Here there were even more Sherpas, joyfully playing cards and laughing. For dinner I ate a stew with potatoes which immediately turned cold when it made contact with the icy plate. I was bundled up in all my layers clutching a mug of tea when Roman announced, "Briefing!" Alex and I, sat up straight giving our full attention, not wanting to miss a single word. "Breakfast 8, leave 9 - hardest day, steep, tough. We go to the summit." And with that informative briefing it was time to scurry around camp to look for a quiet rock toilet, prepare hot water bottles for bed and nestle deep onto my sleeping bag to prepare for the big day ahead.

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