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November 21, 2002

white out

The final ascent up the Tien Shan mountain range was the worst. Thin air muffled any sounds, or maybe it was the sound of my heart drowning out everything else. The altitude at that point made most people in our party nauseous, but thin air made me weak as a child. I could only hike up the steep terrain for five-foot intervals before I had to catch my breath again.

There was nothing at this point. No trees, no bushes, no lichen. Just snow and rock absorbing the few sounds that survived the gauntlet of thin air. Even the color of the sky was a surreal indigo. Our guide Sergei was either unaware that this level of hiking was too challenging for us, or didnít care.

Almost to the top, I spotted a dark spot on a flat area of snow some forty paces below me. There was an opening in what might have been a pond, two snow buntings were gathered around the hole in the ice. I think they were drinking from the open water, the effort of having flown over the mountain range made them thirsty.

Of course stoic Sergei was the first to reach the top, and then Richard the stalwart Brit. John from Alaska was next, also weakened like me. I had hoped to see a stunning vista of mountaintops when I reached the summit, instead I was met with a wall of white clouds. Dixie came next, followed by Jaqueline from The Netherlands. Her knee was troubling her, but luckily the deep snow kept her swelling to a minimum at this point.

We had emerged on the ëdarkí side of the Tien Shan valley. Prevailing weather patterns pushed a constant volley of wet clouds against our side of the peaks, keeping them shrouded in snow year round. When a thick cloud came through, everything became a featureless white. Your sense of balance was the only way to navigate down the slope in the whiteouts.

Finding a depression in the slope, we ascended slowly through the hip-deep snow. Our raingear was inappropriate for these conditions. Sergei had no use for gaiters, so why would anyone else? Nothing seemed to phase the athletic Russian. Further down the slope rocks peeked out from the snow, looking like Mordor in mid-winter. When we finally arrived to spring, the air was breathable again, and my strength returned.

By that point my tentmate Dixie was puking. She knew enough to keep trying to put down soups and water, and eventually most of it stayed down. We all fell to an exhausted sleep, one final day of hiking ahead of us.

Posted by jimbo at November 21, 2002 11:18 AM

Comments

Posted by: kiri at November 22, 2002 10:21 AM