DISPATCHES

Davis

In Skardu we'll buy more food, talk to more officials, and perhaps by next week we'll jolt off in Land Cruisers with our two tons of gear. At that point, we may be able to allow ourselves thoughts of granite towers, but cautiously, because there may not be any! But today, that's all academic.

Today our meeting with the Ministry of Tourism will decide our future for the next two months. The Minister will interpret the parameters of the permit he gave us for the Kondus, and let us know the likelihood of actually getting in there.

When I agreed to join Jimmy, Brady and Dave on this expedition, I couldn't believe my good luck. Not only would I be spending two months with some of my favorite people, but we would be exploring a region that has been completely closed to all foreigners for decades. No one even has photos of the Kondus. It doesn't get any more exploratory. I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of travelling through Pakistan again, having got my fill of being gaped at and brushed up against on my last trip. I'd left Pakistan swearing that if I ever returned, it would be disguised as a boy. But this trip seemed like a once in a lifetime chance; I couldn't pass it up.

We cautiously began working towards the trip in late winter, trying to lay the foundation without investing too much energy in case we didn't get the permit. No one seemed to have any confidence that the government would suddenly decide to allow us into the Kondus. After all, it is kind of a war zone. Hence the closure. So the four of us kept busy with our crazy climber lives; Dave guiding in Alaska, Brady guiding in Arizona, Jimmy zooming between Wyoming, Washington, and California, and me climbing in California, France and Spain. It seemed like the trip might happen, but we really had no idea. And then, in April, we got the permit to enter the Kondus. Suddenly we were going. Yikes!

Organizing and packing kept us busy enough to prevent too much questioning. Except for the occasional moment last week, sitting amidst piles of gear in Salt Lake after yet another night of three hours of sleep, asking ourselves if we were really going to go through all of this effort with no idea if we'll even get to climb on this trip. So it wasn't until we were all seated in Nazir Sabir's expedition office in Islamabad two days ago, trying to rub the jetlag out of our eyes, that I really understood just how privileged we are to be going into the Kondus.

Mr. Hassan and Mr. Anwar greeted us warmly at the office, glowing with pride. With Nazir Sabir, they had pursued this permit relentlessly since Jimmy had first contacted them, using all of their networking and insider skills to make it happen. With great sincerity, Mr. Hassan said, "We are all very surprised that you received the permit." Mr. Anwar smiled and folded his hands over the mountain of documents on his desk. "Everyone is very surprised." Nazir Sabir, a climber himself who has just summitted Everest and become a national hero, cautioned us that this expedition will be very significant. As the first foreigners and climbers allowed into the Kondus region, our trip will either pave the road or barricade it completely for others. Basically, don't screw up.

Mr. Hassan spread a map of the mountains over his desk to show us our permitted zone of travel. Standing over the map, we all began to get excited about the prospect of finding big granite. We could hit paydirt, climbing-wise, or we could be merely making history by entering a forbidden region. Our excitement was dimmed slightly when Mr. Hassan reminded us again that the Indian army is stationed on all the passes above the Kondus, and the Pakistani army is strongholding below. Oh yeah.

Maybe we should have gotten granite-colored portaledges instead of red and purple ones. As it turns out, having a permit is merely one part of the equation. The Minister of Tourism here in Islamabad has given us his permission to enter the Kondus, but any military official we meet as we move deeper into the mountains can turn us back at any time. We won't really know if we can get into the Kondus until we are there. And of course, we have no idea if we'll find what we want in there either.

At the moment, our heads are filled with the possibilities. Minor details, like the fact that we are still in Islamabad with days of travel before we even see mountains, or that our cook/guide hasn't shown up yet, or that we haven't yet finished buying food, or that we may be sentenced to two hard days on the Karakoram Highway seem unimportant at the moment.

— Steph Davis, MountainZone.com Correspondent

Email this story to a friend