Steve travels #18: Freestyle hike part 2
[Very belatedly, I’ve started using an actual email list manager. Let’s hope this works.]
What tomorrow brings is a headache and a congested feeling. Somewhere in the cold and dark I’m surprised to discover symptoms of mild altitude sickness. Aren’t I meant to be acclimatised? I take some diamox (anti-altitude medication) and ibuprofen and hope for the best.
The sun smacks the tent hard at 7am with the jarring shift from “freezing cold, rug up tight” to “get me out of this oven” in minutes. I prop the solar charger outside and am delighted how quickly it charges the phone.
The sky is clear! So which way? Up the slope, or into the valley?
Straight up the slope I can see the top of a big wall of ice, the kind of thing I love. But up the valley, I can see a couple of glaciers and I’m just too curious what is around that corner. And as I’m pondering it, the skies up the mountain get cloudy, while the valley stays clear, which pushes me to a decision.
I try to imagine how far I’ll get in a day and where I’ll camp tonight, and keep reaching the conclusion that probably I’ll end up close to where I am now if I go all the way up the valley. But I don’t really want to, and I hate leaving the tent up all day in the sun, so down it comes.
Part way along the valley, I ditch the pack and go minimal: snacks, water, rain gear, a warm layer. I carefully mark the pack location, and keep traversing along the valley walls, trying to keep elevation.
I weave around a few boulder fields, until I hit one that can’t be avoided. It is gigantic. Both in scope - from the mountain walls all the way down to the river at the bottom, and in scale: these are boulders of epic scale, from car size to small houses, to not-so-small-houses.
The view of three glaciers at the end of the valley draws me on: one wide and high, one steep, and one longer and grander. I keep climbing crests until I find an obvious point to stop and there it is: a magnificent view across the boulders, taking in all the glaciers and the snow caps. It is utterly gorgeous.
It’s quite incredible that this is not a known hiking destination. Compared to the effort required to reach views like this in many places, this is actually really easy. A non-terrifying bus ride of 4 hours from Bishkek. A non-terrifying taxi ride of 30 minutes. And, if you went a more sensible way than me, a very straightforward walk up a hill of 3-4 hours.
Should I tell the world? Should I keep it a secret? It’d be a shame to see this pristine valley destroyed with muddy horse tracks like Ala Kul.
I boggle at the view for a long time. My many attempts at selfies don’t turn out as well as I hope. But it’s just one hell of a place to be, and I’m so happy to be there.
Already I’m getting that familiar “satisfied” feeling from the Ak Suu Traverse hike - do I need more than this? Do I need to climb higher?
I ponder the question as I turn back towards my pack.
Then, a sneeze comes out of nowhere, startling me. It’s me! A cold that had been lingering in the shadows for days suddenly erupts. It’s not good. Walking up hills is starting to feel laborious and there’s a slight head-spinning feeling sometimes.
Pack recovered, I push slowly back out of the valley, but everything feels hard. I get to a point only a hundred metres from where I camped last night and flump on the ground. What to do? It doesn’t make sense to camp higher: I’ll just freeze. Pack drop again?
Eventually I accept that my body isn’t going anywhere tonight, and pitch the tent. Strangely, I’m not hungry, so no dinner. Maybe I can spend my last gas on coffee in the morning!
I’m in bed by 6pm, and try to stay awake until 8 to avoid waking ridulously early. I’m very confused about what my plans tomorrow might be, but don’t feel too troubled.
It comes down to: will I feel strong enough to get up and see this beautiful wall of ice up close?
