DISPATCHES

Otto

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Karakuli is a small pristine glacier lake at the base of Mustagh Ata and offers a stunning view of the side of the mountain. On the lakeshore are tourist yurts to sleep in (yurt hotels) and a small building with a restaurant and offices for the local mountaineering association (Akatu Mountaineering Association). The head of the local mountaineering association is a large Uighur man who never smiles and has an iron grip over the locals renting their animals to foreigners. The association is only responsible for arranging base camp affairs (cook, tents, etc.) and animal transport to/from base camp for foreign expeditions to the few nearby mountains. Animals include camels and donkeys.

There is supposedly a regulation that foreigners are only allowed to rent animals through the head office at Karakuli Lake. This would not be so bad, but less than 20% of the money we pay actually goes to the locals for the use of their animals. Officially, there is no renting animals privately from the locals. And the folks at Karakuli Lake enforce this animal "rule" like tyrant kings by levying huge fines on those rogue locals who are caught privately renting out their animals and creating an incentive program for those who turn in their neighbors. They have control over a large area of many villages all around Mustagh Ata, even small villages that are a two-day walk from the lake and only five to ten families in size. It is this sort of village that we arrived at on the night of the 28th.

Here we are eating a spicy dinner at Karakuli Lake, sitting at a back table discussing plans for the new route and about hiring animals privately. We needed to drive in around the back of Mustagh Ata off-road as far as possible toward the Kuksay Glacier. We did not know where we would end up, so it was not practical to have the Karakuli Lake Mafioso arrange donkeys at some unknown village some 40 kilometers up around the huge glaciers of Mustagh Ata where few have been. Furthermore, it is much more satisfying to hire the animals one needs directly from the locals, to work directly with them.

After dinner, on our way out the door, one of the heads of the mountaineering association chased me down. He asked if we were going around the back side of the mountain. How did he know? They always know. So, I broke out the permit and he showed it to his boss. The boss, standing stern and tall, read the permit and consented to our plan. Consented? We have been clear to go do the East Ridge ascent for months. Just because they did not know about it is not my fault. They gave the permit back and off we go. But before I get into the jeep, the Head told me very clearly that if we want to use camels or donkeys, we must have them arrange it. "Of course," I said.

We drove up the only dirt road that we know exists in the general direction of the Kuksay Glacier. This ended at a Khirghiz village. Our driver was a little hesitant to continue off-road. With a few good words he bravely took off into the unknown. We drove along, with the huge north side of Mustagh Ata towering close by on our left. Then suddenly, a huge glacier river appeared below us, cutting a deep, wide ditch into the hillside. A massive moraine loomed in front.

At this point we thought it wise to head down away from the mountain toward the Torbulung River valley. The Torbulung River flows from the foot of the Kuksay Glacier out toward Karakuli Lake. We hoped we could drive up on the valley floor toward the Kuksay. But the terrain got worse and worse. The driver was getting very nervous. We were past the point of no return. It had become night.

On many occasions we got out of the jeep to see if it was possible to drive the next section on this high-plateau desert. The wind started blowing hard. Down we went. The jeep fish-tailed and tilted just a little to much for comfort on several occasions. We carried the duffel bags over the worst areas as the driver skillfully negotiated down steep sections and around mini-boulders. Finally, we came upon a dirt road. The driver got out, sat down, lit a cigarette and said that his legs were shaking so badly that he could not stand. By now it was midnight. We drove on this newly found dirt road for a little while more until it ended at a small Khirghiz village. We erected our tents and went to bed.

The next morning we found that this small village only had one family and that they were planning on going into the hills with their animals that day to set up a summer yurt. All the rest of the families were already in the hills grazing their animals for the summer months. Our driver was able to speak the local language, a huge asset. The Khirghiz invited us into their stone and mud house for breakfast, which consisted of yogurt and baked bread (nan). This local yogurt is some of the best I have ever eaten.

The rooms in Khirghiz houses are very basic. In the middle is a simple metal stove used for heating water and making nan, heated by camel and donkey dung. Half of the floor is raised about one meter. This raised part is used for sitting, eating and sleeping. On the back wall of this raised section are the family's blankets and quilts. The lower floor is dirt. There is usually also a cupboard with staple foods and cooking supplies somewhere in the room. Their rooms are always dark.

After breakfast the negotiation session started. We needed donkeys to take our gear up to the Kuksay Glacier which was still 17 kilometers away. OK, no problem. Our driver was instrumental in these negotiations, as he helped translate the entire time, which was no less than eight hours. Just when you think you have settled matters, the Khirghiz generally tend to throw in a twist and you have to start all over.

The first couple of hours were taken up by how many donkeys to use. Once that was settled upon the next big hurdle, payment, became the focus for a few hours. We had a lot of nice climbing rope we wished to exchange for their services. The Khirghiz depend on rope for their livelihood to put up their yurts and tie supplies on their animals. But how much was this rope worth? Everyone had an opinion.

We, of course, explained all the great properties of the rope and how long it would last. They seemed more concerned with how much it could be sold for, even if they were not going to sell it. And, the color was quite attractive. Finally we settled on 200 meters of rope in exchange for four donkeys worth of transport to the foot of the glacier. But how much more if the donkeys went up the glacier a few kilometers?

After talking about that for an hour it was decided that the donkeys definitely could not go up the glacier, but the donkey drivers may then help carry our bags up the glacier for four kilometers. But, for how much rope? Money? The cycle started to repeat itself. Throughout, we kept showing them the map and explaining where we wanted to go. It never quite seemed clear enough.

They were also concerned, that without our jeep driver, Old Ma, there would be no way to speak to our members. This worried them, for if we tried to force their donkeys up the glacier and they got hurt that was unacceptable. On this note they almost decided not to take us at all, after six hours of negotiations. Finally, when all was "settled," we waited around for another two hours for one of the locals that would be going with us (three of them would be going with the four donkeys) to walk many kilometers to his yurt to get food and blankets.

Finally, the duffel bags were being tied on the donkeys; with the new rope we gave for payment. One donkey done, and all stops. The questions were raised: "Should we really be renting our animals without going through the mountaineering association at Karakuli Lake?" "I think that couple went to turn us in." "We could be fined 1,000 RMB ($125) per donkey." Reasonable concerns, but if we leave quickly there is no way they will know. And furthermore, how is it that some group of people (Karakuli Lake Mountaineering Association) 50 kilometers away can tell you what you can and cannot do with your own animals on your land?

Regardless, all stopped. We were in danger of having eight hours of talks blown away in the dust. As a last resort I jumped up and started tying the bags on the donkeys myself with the help of the rest of our team. (Of course we did not know how to tie them on correctly. There is a specific and foolproof way.) The Khirghiz thought this was all very amusing and after getting a little laugh they quickly tied on the rest of the bags and we were off.

Thus, on the afternoon of June 29th, Walter K., Anne and Xiao Yang headed up the Torbulung River with three donkeys and three Khirghiz donkey drivers, toward the Kuksay Glacier. I hopped back in the jeep with Old Ma, our driver, who drove me back to the other side of Mustagh Ata to meet up with Lakpa, and Dan, who had now come down from the summit. We packed up the rest of the gear and headed down to meet the other three in a couple of days.

I am writing this account in the jeep, charging the computer from the jeep's battery. At this time I hope the donkey crew has smoothly reached the Kuksay Glacier and are ferrying loads towards our new, East Ridge Basecamp.

— Jon Otto, MountainZone.com Correspondent

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