DISPATCHES

Anderson

After remaining healthy for two weeks in the germ centers of Islamabad and Skardu, some type of virus hit the jackpot with me in the Kondus Valley. I went down hard with a fever for three days. I had crazy dreams of 500-foot, overhanging ice climbs in my parents suburban backyard and then meeting Stevie Haston there who said, "Sorry mate, I just soloed all these fine lines."

I climbed out of my foggy visions to hear about the proud line Jimmy, Brady and Steph had scoped on Tahir Tower. We decided to pack up camp and move to the base of the wall, and to get away from the scrutiny of the local villagers whose field we were camping in.

As we finished loading the jeep, Ali, our assistant cook who stayed behind in Skardu, arrived with the permit for the satellite phone. Yahoo! We are now a completed team with all the documentation in hand and we have a killer objective. Unfortunately, we had to say good-bye to our fill-in assistant cook, Mohammed Hussein. Hussein is a friendly, helpful man who speaks pretty good English. However, his memory is a little shot. Zahid told us that Nazir Sabir is a very good friend of Hussein's and nicknamed him Mental Insane. Hussein seemed delighted with his nickname, and we couldn't resist starting to call him by it too. We were all sorry to see him go.

Our new campsite is a casual 10-minute stroll from our proposed line. However convenient, it is not quite angelic. Daytime temperatures hover around 90 degrees and the dry climate precludes vegetation from developing shade trees.

In addition, the road we are camped next to continues east to a natural hot spring and many people pass by daily. Curiosity about our strange Western features, dress and gear means that there are several people milling about camp staring at us. Staring gets old. Steph, being the only woman, is often targeted and particularly offended by the "laser stare." While scouting potential walls up valley two days ago, Steph caused quite a scene by wearing shorts. It seems a Western woman wearing shorts is just too much for Muslim men in the Kondus Valley.

After dinner yesterday, two officers from the Pakistani Special Forces stopped by for tea and cookies. We had met these snappy officers at our lower camp. At first they were gruff and formal, but their curiosity got the better of them and they were soon peppering us with questions. Professing to be climbers, they were very interested in how we planned to climb Tahir Tower.

With cigarette in hand, the younger officer asked, "Why the Kondus Valley? There are many other perhaps bigger walls elsewhere in Pakistan."

Brady and I try to explain about our desire to climb in an area that hasn't seen Westerners in 20 years, as well as climbing virgin peaks and towers.

"But how did you know there would be walls to climb in this area? What information did you have?" he questioned.

Our answer that we didn't really know, seemed particularly puzzling to him. His mustache twitched and he began rhythmically flicking the ashes of the end of his cigarette as if he was adding up all the expense and trouble to get here and potentially finding nothing to climb. Finally, he just looked up with raised eyebrows, as if to say, "Ah, those crazy Americans."

Brady asked the officers, "Does our presence cause problems or more work for you?"

One of the officers said, "Yes," the other said, "No." They then looked at each other and the senior officer replied, "Maybe a little. I think it is okay one time, but we cannot have civilians running around. General Tahir is leaving soon to command a different area and the next General might not want this area open to Westerners despite what the Ministry of Tourism wants."

"I am interested in seeing some of your pitons," the senior officer announced.

Brady and I scurry off to our haulbags and duffles and start to haphazardly exhuming portaledges, ice screws, Camalots, and Stoppers which seem not to impress him in the least. Finally, we find our full array of pitons.

He looks at the metal wedges, then carefully traces the curves with his finger. Satisfied the army is using the latest technology, he exclaims, "Yes, these are just like the ones we use."

Just then a group of 30 men walk by our camp returning from the hot springs. Most wear rayon jogging outfits made popular in America by rap stars in the late 1980s, other were camouflage or a combination of the two. "These men have just completed a special course today," said the senior office, "free climbing, rope ascending and crevasse crossing."

"Oh, these are your men?" I asked.

"Yes they are in training," the senior officer replies.

I gaze at the ragtag group of men smiling and waving at us and think, "Well it's not exactly West Point."

As the officers were getting ready to leave they ask us if we need anything, medicine, eggs, water, etc. We thank them for their offerings.

"I have two small requests of you as you climb this wall," the older officer announced. "If we can get you a paint, you know in a bottle, can you write General Tahir's name on the side of the cliff, up high in big letters, so when the General arrives he can see it. And two, will give you an army flag to fly up there as well."

"In our country, if you spray paint on cliff walls it is a big problem with the government," Brady counters, somewhat taken aback by the idea.

"It is no problem here, it is very common," the younger officer answers.

Brady and I nod quietly. There are times to stand your ground and hold your climbing ethics close to your chest. However, debating the use of chalk or bolts with a land manager in the Camp 4 (Yosemite) parking lot is a little different than being under the scrutiny of two Special Forces officers deep with in the war zone of Pakistan.

— Dave Anderson, MountainZone.com Correspondent

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