Back so soon?

Am I back home already? The time is 1am and jetlag still has its firm grip on my sleeping patterns. Normally I would be snoozing by now, but now I prefer to nap around 11am, it's a nice time to sleep for about 4hrs. Not exactly condusive to my working life but who wants to worry about trivialities like that? Not me, not just yet, I still want to enjoy the glow of my holiday and the detachment from my regular life, for a few more days please.

I didn't want to give a chronological travel blog, firstly because I find them them somewhat boring when I've read
Morning: ate breakfast and journaled... blah blah blah. And secondly I probably couldn't remember it that way if I wanted to, I did write in my journal for posterity but I'd rather blog about experiences that I'll remember. And besides you really don't care what I ate for breakfast do you? Mostly cereal if you must know.

But first things first. All of my travel companions and I summited our main objective Mt Khuiten. Approximately 4300m. Summit day was iffy but it was now or never on that morning. We had been virtually tent-bound at high camp the previous day and we had only one day to go for the top. Our summit attempt was 600m over a rolling glacier and eventually postholing up a steep snowslope to the top. The weather was our biggest nemesis clouding visibility. The kudos of course go to our leaders Helen and Tim who forged the trail. Our altimeter showed us our high point as we couldn't see anything. Views at the top would have been great but I think we were all gratefull for the summit at least.

All of us were Canadian Alpine Club of Canada members except for our token American, Milly, who says she feels more Canadian than American and we were happy to have her along. There were 12 of us with ages ranging from 36 to 67. A cast of interesting characters, each of us bringing our previous climbing and travelling experience to the group. Stories were shared, jokes were told. Friendships were forged bumping around in vans, on the mountains, around the dining table and over toasts of vodka drank from plastic cups.

The mountains in the Altai range are beautiful and remote. We had to fly from Ulaan Bataar for 3 hrs to the small town of Olgi and then drive by vehicle on tenuous dirt roads for 2 days. Where we abondoned our rickety soviet vans for foot power, trekking for 15km to our basecamp. No trek would be complete without the obligatory icy river crossing in ones' underwear and Mongolia didn't dissapoint in this regard. You just haven't lived until you thought your feet were going to fall off from icy pain, or the adrenaline rush of knowing how fucking cold it would be if you lost your footing and fell in.

Basecamp was a collection of assorted climbers from all over the world, a couple gers(mongolian round tent houses), camels, horses, camel and horse drivers, a few mangy dogs, cooks, guides, porters and even a dodgy half crazed Romanian climber. In the big scheme of climbing situations we all agreed that the cook is the most valued resource. Our cook, Balorma, was a great gal who served up sumptuous hearty meals. I have plenty to say about Mongolian cuisine but I'll save that for another blog.

Being at the base of these mountains felt like such a priviledge and something that each of us had given up significant time, money and resources to do. I think that anything that is worked for becomes even more rewarding. Relative to other climbing areas there was a very small amount of climbers at the base camp. There were no conga lines to this summit. On our way up to high camp we passed two groups on their way down. At high camp we were the only party there. Except for the crazy Romanian climber who by the grace of climbing angels made it to high camp on his own without falling into a crevass. However I think he had enough close calls to beg almost each of us if he could get on our rope to the summit. Helen our trip leader very wisely told him that he could not join our ropes. First off he smelled really bad and secondly he smelled really bad. Thirdly without any prior knowledge of his experience or his mental health it could have put our rope team in jepardy if at some point he started acting as crazy as he looked. And did I mentioned he smelled bad? However Helen did say he could follow in our footsteps if he so chose to. This didn't guarantee his safety but upped his odds of surviving considerably.

I really, really wanted to summit Khuiten. What a surprise, a climber wanting to summit. However my desire became more acute when our Mongolian guide Shenai shyly asked me if I would deliver prayer flags to the summit on behalf of her family. They are seen in my hand along with the Canadian flag in this blog photo. I got to know Shenai over the time she spent as our guide and caretaker while in the city and in the mountains. A bright and articulate young woman, it was fun and informative getting to know her and to practice my fledging Mongolian. However she was not a climber so she stayed at basecamp with our cook awaiting our return from highcamp. In some ways Mongolia felt like a familial place for me and I felt a deep synchronicity to be apart of someone's family even if only as a courier for a larger request. But a courier for prayers resonates profoundly for me and connects with my own personal shamanic beliefs. I was honoured to be of service for Shenai and her family. We didn't find a summit marker in the the deep snow on the summit but I know that in some reality those prayer flags will always be waving in the wind as they are in the photo.

I'll share more blogs about my experiences in Mongolia but I know that in years to come I'll carry the memory of Khuiten, family and prayer flags among the most cherished.