Blog Day 3 The Approach In:

Monday, June 22 began the climb. We were all pretty excited and “champing at the bit” to go. With more than 25 iles of beaten up , barely drivable – we would call them 4 Wheel Drive Roads in the USA, the drive in to the trail head was an adventure in itself. Of course, out ride was a 2WD passenger van, and there were a few times that it looked like we’d be stuck for sure. The road passed thru multiple Nomad villages along the way. These were mostly rock and mud huts with no signs of the 21^st century world, except for the obligatory satellite dish on a few of the nicer houses. Along the way we picked up a smallish 15-16 year old Kurdish boy. He wore nothing but a tee shirt, beaten up jeans, and a pair of rubber sandal-like moccasins. He was wearing a Los Angeles Lakers hat and I kept high fiving him saying “Kobe Bryant.”  I had no idea at the time how important he’d end up being to me about three days later.  

 

The approach in is a long rocky slog that starts at 6500 ft and then climbs to 10,650 feet in about 4 miles to camp 1. Each team member carried one pack with essential personal materials like sleeping bag, clothes, water, hygiene items, camera, etc, while horses lead by Kursish nomads pack the climbing gear and support stuff like mess tent, stoves, etc. The closest thing I can compare to them is the Sherpas that Himalayan climbers employ in Nepal. That approach allows an incredible amount of stuff to be hauled up onto the mountain. 

ONe of the Few Stretches ith a Defined trail.

Kurdish Nomad Camp at 9500 Feet Elevation.

The grade is dang steep with a surprisingly undefined trail .. just a lot of rock scrambles with the occasional crossover of a remnant graded road. There even two broken down bulldozers about half way out to camp 1. Like everything else here in eastern Kurdish turkey, if something breaks there is no money to fix it, and it is abandoned in place. Looks a lot like a NASA field center in that regard!

There are a lot of nomadic Kurdish shepherds here, and as we passed camp, we were obliged to stop and drink “cey” a strong Turkish tea with them. That was sort of a blessing in that we were able to get well hydrated without having to pack that extra water. Every seemed to know our guide Musa Saltik and he was a big hero to all the kids who aspired to grow up and be a mountain guide.  

I’ll say one thing, Musa – like all of the Kurds -- was as tough as nails. He was carrying two packs – his own and one of the team member packs (she was a bit fatigued), smoking a cigarette and he still set a pace that was clearly uncomfortable for me. I faked like I was having a good time. The whole trip for day one took about 4 hours, and got us in to camp I by about 3:00 in the afternoon. The camp was incredibly green and beautiful, but there was not a single tree on the entire flanks of Mt. Ararat. The foliage was mostly just scrub, grass and thistles. There were also a lot of pretty wild flowers. 

Musa Taking a Smoke Break During Trek into Camp I.

Once camp I was set up, it became a miniature city. As far as I could tell here were three climbing groups there; the Polish-American group (what we named out team), a Russian  group, and a mixed German Romanian group. The Russian group also had a couple of American Ex-pats working for a humanitarian 

The Polish Team Taking a Break.

aid group in Iraq on their team. Every one was very cordial, and the camp spirit was quite buoyant, not at all like the camp attitude in Ecuador which was all quite somber. The Russians even packed in a couple of cases of beer, and were pounding them back pretty quickly, with the rest of us looking on in envy.

That night we all sat in the mess tent after dinner, and the local Nomads supporting the climb all started singing Kurdish folks songs and chants. The chants sounded like the well-known Arabic hymns, but with a slightly different edge. I don’t think they were religious songs. Then they asked the climbers to sing a traditional song from their country. When it became my turn I started belting out a really bad version of “Born n the USA.” With the Russians there, my Polish teammates looked a bit nervous until one of the young Kurdish guides clenched his fist in the air and shouted out “the Boosse,” and Obama.. Meaning, of course, the songs composer and singer Bruce Springsteen, and Barak Obama--the American President. Seems both are very well loved in this part of the world. Everyone had a big laugh at that one, and for a fleeting moment I’d never been more proud to be an American. 

Singing Kurdish "Folk Songs".

As soon as the sun set it gets really cold at that altitude, and the thermal wind pics up with cold air rushing down the mountain to the hot valley below. Thus, it was very early to bed and try as hard as you can to find a comfortable spot with no rocks under your sleeping pad. One just hunkers down in your bag and wait till morning hoping a few fleeting hours of sleep come.