Peak Communism, Tajikistan 2016

by Cameron Holloway

On 15th July, Will Kernick (22) and Cameron Holloway (21) boarded the plane for the trip ahead, where we would attempt to become the youngest British team to summit Peak Communism (7495m). After a day in Dushanbe, we headed off the next morning. The journey was an interesting experience, with rocky roads, dodgy Tajik music, faulty brakes, and a door that had to be held shut by the driver's son. But we did finally get to Djirgital, where, after a two day wait, we got the helicopter to base camp (4300m).

photos Cameron Holloway

The next few days were spent acclimatising on nearby Peak Chetiroch (6200m), before preparing for our assault on Peak Communism.

With the alarm set for midnight, it was never going to be the best night's sleep, and this was hardly helped by the sound of two enormous avalanches crashing down our prospective route just two hours before we were due to set off. Luckily it all went smoothly, and after nine hours of slogging we found what we thought was a great camp spot. It actually turned out to be a terrible spot, as it was tiny, very cold, and exposed to huge waves of spindrift. We woke up feeling slightly worse for wear, and Will's day did not improve, with frozen boots, a snapped pole and a crampon-ripped trouser leg. He soon cheered up after some food and water at our next camp (5900m), but high winds meant that the next day would have to be a rest day. We then squeezed in 500m the following day in a short weather window before another fun-filled day in our sleeping bags.

The next day the weather was much better, so we headed up to 6850m, where we established our final camp. We got an early night, hoping to summit the next day. However, our plans were completely thrown out the window by that night's events. At around 20.30 we heard footsteps outside our tent. Curious, I looked out and saw a lone climber, who I beckoned round to the front of our tent. It was an old Iranian man, hypothermic, with no head torch, severely dehydrated, and very confused. We decided we had no choice but to take him into our tent, where we warmed him up and gave him water and food. Unfortunately, Abdi (that was his name) took up most of the space, which led to a cold and sleepless night for us.

At about 4am, he woke up and announced 'I sleep very well!' We had decided we would take him down to base camp, but Abdi had other ideas. He protested strongly, saying, 'I very good. I go to summit.' A very long and tedious argument ensued, lasting three whole hours. In this time, we had decided that he must have cerebral oedema, as nobody in his right mind could want to go up after the sort of near-death experience he had had the previous night.

We therefore gave him a variety of pills, and waited for him to see sense. However, he just became more animated, and started trying to force his way past us. Soon, we realised that we would have to let him go, especially seeing as he clearly wasn't ill, just an idiot. We gave him a litre of water and some chocolate bars, and watched carefully as he left the tent, still not quite believing what we were seeing.

Exhausted from a night without sleep, we were forced to take a rest day. At about 5pm, Abdi returned, but our relief turned to disbelief as he asked to come in our tent again! We told him he could go and find his own tent spot, but did watch carefully to check that he was competent enough to put up his tent.

Finally rid of Abdi, we were free to concentrate on our summit attempt the next day. At 3am, we set out, and for the first half hour it went well, until Will was struck by diarrhoea - hardly the ideal time at almost 7000m, in temperatures below -30 degrees. What followed is probably best left to the imagination, but the end result was that Will got extremely cold, and fearing the possibility of frostbite, we were forced to return to the tent to warm up. We didn't venture out again until 7:30, once the sun had risen, but we still both suffered from pretty cold hands and feet. This time we made it further, about two hours, before the dreaded stomach rumblings struck again at 7050m. He sensibly made the tough decision that he was too weak to carry on, but we both agreed that I should still try to reach the summit. Unfortunately, whereas the day before we had planned to go with two other pairs, today nobody else was attempting the summit, and the tracks from the previous day had been erased by the wind. This left me breaking trail alone for five hours, leading to painstakingly slow progress kicking my way up towards the summit ridge. Eventually, with my pace slowing to snail-like proportions and the clouds coming in, I realised I was fast running out of time to get back before nightfall and that, even if I could reach the summit, I would be left with little strength or light to get down. So at 7250m I turned around and headed down, retracing my footsteps to our tent through a whiteout.

Fortunately, Will felt a lot better in the morning, which was good because I was feeling battered and mentally exhausted after my ten hour battle the day before! Despite the deep snow, it didn't take long to get down to the plateau. We then faced the irritating trudge back up Peak Semyenova and, as the snow came in, we decided to camp at the top of the peak, before descending the next day. We eventually arrived back in camp around 7pm, after ten days on the mountain, just in time for some free dinner from the base camp staff. After a couple of days in base camp, then in the capital Dushanbe, it was time to head home. Not a successful trip in the way we hoped, but certainly an eventful and exciting one. Peak Communism, we'll be back!

Many thanks to AAC(UK) for the grant from your Expedition Fund.

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