Pik Pobeda – Kyrgyzstan Highpoint

Pik Pobeda (24,406ft/7439m) via Abalakov route (VI,5.6,WI2/3,60 deg snow)

Highest Mountain in Kyrgyzstan

Aug 9, 2021

Eric and Andreas

Aug 6 – leave bc climb glacier in snowstorm to 5200m
Aug 7 – climb left side of triangle over massive 50ft cornices, 5.6 mixed rock ice pitch and ice pitch to 5800m passing Russian team on their descent
Aug 8 – climb more huge cornices, rock pitch, ice pitch, dig platform under serac at 6600m
Aug 9 – tough steep trailbreaking in snow then ice climb to summit ridge and true east summit. Descend to 6600m camp in wind and whiteout
Aug 10 – rap and downclimb to 6000m in extreme wind
Aug 11 – rap, downclimb cornices, descend all way to BC by 10pm
Aug 12 – helicopter out, ride to Bishkek

Peak Pobeda is considered the northernmost 7000m peak in the world and the most difficult of the famous snow leopard peaks (the five 7000m peaks of the former soviet union). Pobeda has notoriously bad weather and all routes to the summit are technically difficult and dangerous. Some mountaineers say Pobeda is more difficult than K2. The peak lies on the Kyrgyzstan-China border near the Kazakhstan tri-border point and is affected by the weather of the Taklamakan desert to the south and glaciers to the north.

It is not uncommon for mountaineers to make several attempts over multiple years before being successful on Pobeda. Indeed, some mountaineers joke becoming a snow leopard is 60% for climbing Pobeda and 10% for each of the other four peaks.

The problem is the difficulty of routes and the weather. The normal route on Pobeda requires climbing over technical terrain to 7000m on the west ridge and then following the ridge for a full 6km to the summit, then returning the same way. The technical sections up to the ridge are usually fixed each year. But the 7000m ridge is quite dangerous because it could take all day or multiple days to move along the ridge and back. If the weather deteriorates, which is common, retreat is very difficult. It’s not possible to just go down like on most mountaineering routes – you must continue on the ridge. But it is difficult to acclimate to that altitude, so bivying on the ridge is a risky option.

Over the years many mountaineers have gotten into trouble on that ridge and many have never made it down. Making the route more difficult, the route requires going up and over the western summit before continuing 700m farther to the eastern summit (the highest point based on the 1991 1:50,000 and 1:100,000 Soviet topo maps, and the location the first ascent team led by Abalakov in 1956 climbed to and built the original summit cairn) . In practice most mountaineers stop at the west summit. Apparently there are cairns in many different places on the west summit, since it is broad and teams often build a cairn at the highest point they reach.

An alternative route, and the route of the first ascent, is the Abalakov route. This route follows a steep ridge up the north face directly to the ridgecrest between the west and east summits and allows more direct access to the east summit. This route has two main advantages. Most important is it does not require a long and dangerous ridge traverse because it is so direct. Thus, if the weather turns bad on the summit it is easier and quicker to bail to a lower elevation. Second, it allows more direct access to the eastern summit.

One problem with the Abalakov route is it is more technically difficult than the normal route. There are no fixed ropes and there are many pitches of rock and ice climbing. It is also slightly more prone to avalanche danger, though from what I’ve seen of avalanche crowns on the normal route in the distance I suspect the risk is pretty similar on each route. It also has very dangerous cornices that must be crossed.

Andreas and I were in Kyrgyzstan climbing snow leopard peaks and our top priority for the summer was Pobeda. Pobeda itself is not a great peak to use for acclimation so we started the summer with a three-week climb of Lenin Peak, a relatively easy 7000er. Next we helicoptered to south Inylchek to climb Khan Tengri, another 7000m peak and the highest mountain in Kazakhstan. By climbing two 7000m peaks with low altitude Russian rests in between we hoped to be very well acclimated for an attempt on Pobeda.

South Inylchek base camp is a remote outpost on the moraine between Khan Tengri and Pobeda that can be accessed by a weeklong hike or an hour long helicopter flight in July and August. The camp is  operated by Ak-Sai and provides sturdy tents, meals, a doctor, and even a sauna. We decided to pay for full service basecamp packages because we would likely be spending a lot of time in basecamp waiting for weather windows between mountains.

We arrived in south Inylchek base camp in late July and by August 2 had climbed Khan Tengri and made it back to base camp. By then the first few teams of the season had just started up Pobeda. Interestingly the season for Pobeda tends to be very short. Teams generally don’t start up til early August (having spent July acclimating on other peaks), but then by late August the season ends with the last scheduled helicopter flights out.

We talked to lots of other climbers over a few days at the dinner tent and I came away with the impression that almost everyone there is some sort of elite athlete. There were Piolet D’or winners going for a new route on Topographers Peak, the president of the Moscow Alpine Club who’d already climbed Pobeda twice, K2 guides, a team leader for Summitclimb guiding company, Swiss guys who’d skied Dhalguiri, and I’m sure everyone else had crazy mountaineering resumes too. We spent some time hanging out with an Iranian team planning to climb the normal route on Pobeda, and a Hungarian team working to fix lines up Dicky Pass.

After consulting with Dima Grekov, the basecamp manager and very accomplished mountaineer, we decided to take three rest days after Khan Tengri and then go up Pobeda the next weather window. Over those three days lots of teams started up Pobeda. The Iranian team, Hungarian team, and a big 9-person Ukranian team started up the normal route. Interestingly two three-person teams of Russians  started up the Abalakov route. We were friends with one of the teams since we’d met them on Lenin, which they’d used for acclimation like we had.

Over the next few days we watched the two teams on the Abalakov route through a telephoto lens and saw them get above 6000m on the ridge. All teams are required to check in with Dima every two hours on the radio for status updates. I could listen in on my own radio but unfortunately all other teams generally speak Russian so I couldn’t understand what was going on. But we talked to Dima and he said the teams on the  Abalakov route reported stable snow and they planned to summit on Thursday Aug 5. The teams on the normal route were a bit lower still at 6400m.

This was great news for us. If the snow was stable on the Abalakov then that was the clear choice for route to avoid the long 12km ridge traverse of the normal route. We might even have a broken trail to follow if we went up shortly after the Russians came down. Our meteorologist friend Chris Tomer was sending us daily weather forecasts and it looked like Monday morning would be clear with low wind. That could potentially be perfect timing.

Based on Markus Gschwendt’s report on summitpost for the Abalakov route it takes about 6 days to reach the summit. But we figured we could likely skip some camps and summit on day four if we pushed it a bit. Our last scheduled rest day was Thursday, so if we started up Friday that could put us on the summit Monday in the window. Winds were supposed to get bad Monday afternoon, but because we were doing the Abalakov route we could easily get down quickly and only needed a short window.

On Thursday we heard the Russians had summitted via Abalakov, I think the first summit of the year. This was great news and we started packing. We tried to ask them about route conditions on the radio but I think they were in a rush to get down and didn’t have time to talk. (I later learned some of them had fallen on the descent that day and gotten banged up but were ok). So to be prepared for any conditions I packed my rock rack, ice rack, and 60m rope.

Aug 6

Friday morning we were packed and moving shortly after the morning helicopter at 7:30am. We saw Dima as we headed out and told him our plan. He seemed to think we had a good chance of success and told us we didn’t need to check in til 8am the next day. I think this was because the lower route was very easy and he wasn’t concerned about us there.

Out of camp we followed a decent trail through the moraine marked by cairns and flags. Our packs were pretty heavy since we were carrying our big Olympus mons 8000m boots and hiking in our smaller hiking boots. After a few hours we reached the edge of the glacier ice and stopped for a break. We switched into our Olympus mons boots and glacier gear and our packs got a bit lighter. We hid our small hiking boots under a rock and were soon moving on the glacier.

The route was icy and a bit tricky to follow. Unfortunately the fresh snow from a few days earlier had melted so it was hard to see tracks, and the occasional flags en route had all fallen over. In general we crossed to the west side of the Zvezdochka glacier, then followed it due south. We wove around quite a few crevasses and eventually climbed high enough to reach fresh snow and find some tracks to follow. We soon reached a flowing meltwater stream to top off our nalgenes, and then the intersection where our route diverged from the normal route.

From there we headed towards the northwest corner of the big apron at the bottom of the Abalakov ridge. I could actually barely make out the tracks from the Russians on that corner. That was kind of surprising since it had been a week since they’d gone up, but I guess it hadn’t really snowed much in the past week. I could also make out an old avy crown on the broad north face of the apron, but the route avoided the face and looked safe.

We stuck to the icy melted out section of the Zvezdochka glacier for a while, then jumped a melt stream. From there we postholed a short ways then met up with the Russians tracks. The tracks were badly melted out and in the heat of the afternoon we still sunk through them but they at least provided a little support and helped us navigate. It looked like they must have triggered the top few inches of snow to slide off from there tracks but it was very stable by now.

We marched up steeply with Andreas breaking trail first then me taking over. As predicted by mid afternoon the clouds rolled in and it started snowing. Our progress was a bit slower than hoped for with the soft conditions but finally by 5pm we crested the flat plateau (the “pedestal”) at 5200m that is the traditional camp location. We found a flat spot that looked like it was the sight of the Russians camp and pitched our tent there.

At 6pm I radioed Dima and asked if he knew where the Russians were. I was surprised we hadn’t seen them coming down. But he just said “problem” and wanted us to get off the radio so he could talk to other teams. (I would later learn the Iranian team on the normal route had lost a climber around this time and the Russian team had had an accident and Dima probably wanted to hear updates from them – see article with full details on Iranian climber accidents https://explorersweb.com/2021/08/12/pobeda-peak-fatalities-timeline/.)

We melted snow, cooked up some freeze dried dinners, and went to bed in the snow and whiteout.

Aug 7

The next morning we started up at 8am under sunny skies. From 5200m there are two options – you can

either go up the right or left edge of the giant triangle to gain the narrow Abalakov ridge in the middle. Markus recommends the right side but this is steeper and looks more prone to slide. The Russian tracks went up the left (east) side, which looked narrower and more technical but probably safer from avalanches.

We followed the Russians route, reasoning that they reached the summit so their route must work. As we wound onto the ridge the tracks soon disappeared, covered by the previous night’s snow, and trailbreaking became difficult. We also started to get a bit more intimidated by the route above us. The ridge was covered in massive cornices bigger than I’d ever seen before. Some were at least 50ft tall and must have taken years (decades?) to form.

One section was so steep, though, no cornices covered it and it looked like a rock cliff we’d need to climb. This looked a lot tougher than the right side but we continued, reasoning it must go and be safe if six climbers just made it up a few days earlier. They would certainly have implicitly tested snow and cornice stability by their passage, so following their route was probably one of the safest ways up the mountain.

We took turns breaking trail steeply up the cornices, trying to stay in the faint traces of the old track. It’s a tricky balance – we wanted to be far enough from the left edge to not risk breaking it off, but far enough from the right edge not to slide off the steep slope. We were generally able to find a safe balance and eventually climbed to the base of the rock cliff.

There it looked like two tent platforms dug out on the ridge. Maybe the Russians had had even more challenging trail breaking conditions than we did if they had only made it there after camp 2. We stopped at the platforms to assess the cliff. It was about 30m high, nearly vertical rock, luckily with plenty of cracks for me to get gear in. There was a rotten ancient fixed rope in the middle that likely wouldn’t even hold body weight which I didn’t plan to touch. At the top of the cliff was a small broken cornice and what looked like a thin, unprotectable snow climb about 30m more back onto a deeper snow ridge.

It looked doable, probably around 5.6, and I was encouraged by the gear options, so I decided to give it a go. Now climbing 5.6 rock might be easy at sea level but it’s a lot different up there. I’d be climbing around 18,000ft in crampons and gloves in single digit temperatures, carrying an ice ax in one hand and a week of supplies on my back. And the exposure was about 3000ft. I decided to first lighten my load and give Andreas a few heavy items since he’d be on toprope for the climb. Then I pounded Andreas’s ice axe and picket into the snow to make an anchor and he put me on belay.

I tiptoed out on a small snow finger then reached my left frontpoints out to balance on a narrow ledge. I quickly got in a small cam before looking down at the immense exposure under my legs. From there I delicately worked my way up, balancing frontpoints on thin ledges and hooking other ledges with my ice tool. I got three solid cams in before reaching the ridgecrest and the end of the rock.

There I crossed to the other side and carefully made my way up the thinly snow-covered rock. Luckily there was a patch of ice I could get a screw into, but that was my last gear option. Near the top I made a tricky move over a rock bulge then finally reached lower angle deeper snow. I was at the end of the 60m rope by then so dug down to firm snow and made an anchor with my picket and ice ax.

I belayed Andreas up and we were soon both on flatter ground. The terrain eased considerably above the rock step and Andreas took the lead breaking trail. The cornices soon ended and we spent the next few hours working our way up to 5700m. We eventually reached the top of the triangle where the east and west routes converge, and then the route got difficult again.

A mega cornice blocked the route with a wide vertical ice cliff spanning the width of the ridge. The one weakness was a steep snow ramp led up to the left to meet the wall where the vertical section was only about 10ft tall. We kicked steps 2/3 of the way up the ramp, then I had Andreas pound his ice tools into a solid snow section for an anchor to belay me up higher. I kicked steps up to the wall but then realized the wall was actually dense snow, not ice.

This made things a bit more difficult. I couldn’t get ice screws in and tool and crampon placements would be less secure. I managed to get a solid picket placement halfway up the wall but it was so steep and my pack so big that I kept rotating off whenever I stepped up. Finally I just pulled out 15ft of rope, tied a bite in it, then took my pack off and clipped it to the bite. I then wriggled and kicked my way up the wall without wearing the pack. There was a ton of slack in the rope but that was the only way it would work. Once over the lip I dragged the pack up, then kicked steps a bit higher in the low angle deep snow. I then built an ice ax and picket anchor and started belaying Andreas up.

I looked up then and saw the team of six russians coming down. This was great news for us since it meant a freshly broken trail above us. The first man built an anchor near mine and started belaying the others over. I asked him about the problem Dima mentioned and he just said one person had fallen but there was no problem. Everyone seemed to be doing fine so I guess there was no problem.

They told us there was almost no more rock climbing and the ice climbing sections were short and not too difficult. They hadn’t left any fixed ropes so we’d be on our own climbing everything. I was happy to have come prepared for this. We said hi to Sasha at the end of the rope team. He was a bit surprised there were only two people in our team (we’d started out with five on Lenin when we saw him last). But we told him our other teammates had gotten sick and couldn’t make it.

We soon parted ways as the russians rappelled the ice step. For the next hour we made amazingly quick and easy progress on the freshly broken trail. The ridge was wide and we could stay well away from the cornice edges. By 5pm visibility was dropping as it started to snow and we stopped to make camp at 5900m at a broad flat spot on the ridge. We melted snow, cooked some freeze dried meals, and were asleep by dark.

Aug 8

We hoped we were past the technical crux of the route but knew there was still some rock and ice climbing above us. Our goal for the day was to skip one more camp and make it to the highest camp at 6600m to put us within striking distance of the summit for the monday window. Both Markus and the Russians had camped at 6600m, though we knew there was no level area and we’d have to dig out a platform on the snow slope.

Unfortunately it had snowed and been very windy overnight, and the russians tracks had filled back in. We could see vague hints of where they had been, but we would be breaking our own trail again as usual. Andreas led the way through the deep snow. Progress was slow and we’d wished we had pushed up farther last night, but the weather had been bad and we had found a safe sheltered place to camp, so was hard to second guess that decision. It at least felt like we were earning the summit on our own to be breaking trail nearly 100% of the way.

The ridge soon narrowed and we were in a similar situation of traversing massive cornices. We stayed on the traces of the russians tracks, striking a balance not getting too close to the cornice edge but also keeping distance from the steep snow slopes to the right. We occasionally had to kick steps and use ice axes on steeper sections, but then the ridge broadened and flattened again as we reached a big rock step at 6200m.

Markus recommended to climb directly up the step on the ridge, which would be a pitch of low 5th class climbing. But it looked like the russians had descended the steep snow slope left of the rocks. I decided to do a hybrid, scrambling the edge of the rocks to meet the russians route halfway, then climbing the snow slope. Trail breaking was tough, but I eventually reached the rocks. I scrambled a brief 4th class section to the snow above, then belayed Andreas up on an ice ax anchor.

From there Andreas broke trail up the steep slope, but halfway up had to sub out and let me take over. I think I’ve honed my trail breaking skills over years in the cascades so perhaps know some extra tricks to increase efficiency. In this case I dug out snow first with my hands, then patted the slope down with my knee, then kicked a step in. I made decent progress and was soon belaying Andreas up on a slung horn at the top of the step. The russians must have rappelled off that anchor, and I kept it in mind for our descent. In general the whole way up whenever we belayed a section I would always make a plan where I would build a rappel anchor for the retreat and what gear I would use. This kept me confident we could always retreat the same way we had climbed and we always had enough gear to bail.

I knew there was no rock climbing above this point so clipped my rock rack to the anchor to retrieve on the descent. We broke trail a bit higher and I came across a grizzly sight – a human skeleton laying in the snow. It looked perhaps a decade old. I quickly kicked snow over it so Andreas wouldn’t notice. (I later learned it had been a Kamchatka climber many years ago).

After more trail breaking we soon reached the base of the serac ice climbing section. Unfortunately I’d only brought four ice screws and hoped it would be enough. Markus had said the section was easy in 2018 but it definitely looked like ice climbing this year. I had Andreas pound in an ice ax and picket anchor at some firm snow at the base of the climb and put me on belay. This time I didn’t bother giving him extra weight from my pack though it would have been a good idea in hindsight.

I started kickng steps in the steep snow, then soon got to continuous ice. I got my first screw in there, then climbed up another 20ft for my second. The grade was WI 2/3 ice and it was very brittle since it was glacier ice. I made it up higher and the difficulty dropped as snow started mixing with the ice. I had to run it out a ways on steep snow before getting another screw in, then traversing hard left. By the time I ran out of rope I’d reached continuous snow and dug down to make a solid picket – ice ax anchor.

I belayed Andreas up and the terrain looked much easier above us. Andreas broke trail up varied snice and powder terrain to around 6600m. It was apparent there was no level terrain anywhere, as Markus reported, so we stopped below a big serac to look for camp. I noticed the wind was generally out of the west, but that if we went to the side of the serac we could find some shelter. We ended up digging out a big platform in the leeward side of the serac and pitching our tent there. We went to bed early that evening in anticipation of a big summit push the next morning.

Aug 9

Based on our trailbreaking speed the previous few days we estimated a pace of about 100m elevation gain per hour. The wind was supposed to be lowest (15-20mph) in the morning increasing by late afternoon (30-40mph) and the temperature at the summit starting at -13F rising to around 0F by early afternoon. We decided to leave at 4am to reach the summit around noon to have a compromise of navigating mostly in the light and not too cold summit temperatures and not too strong winds.

We were up at 3am and soon moving under clear starry skies. I would end up leading the way most of the day on the ascent. I picked up a faint trace of the russians tracks going up the left side of the serac but it soon got into steep ice climbing terrain. So I backed down and found a lower angle route on the right side. The route still briefly required climbing with two tools but was short enough we didn’t bother pitching it out.

Above the ice the skies got brighter and we could see a very long but gradual snow slope above us. I broke trail slowly and meticulously, saving my energy in anticipation of many hours of that. I would sometimes sink to my shin and sometimes to my knee and it was quite tiring. There was no trace of the track from the russians.

I eventually hooked right around a serac and kicked steps left to a weakness in the s-shaped rock band at 7000m. There we easily crossed over to the left side and took a break. It had been five hours of challenging trail breaking to then with me in the lead the whole time.

Andreas took over as the slope steepened. We generally hugged the left side of the narrow rock band kicking steps steeply up the snow towards the summit ridge above. It was amazing getting a brief break but after 30 minutes I took over again. As we got higher the slope got steeper and I was comforted that the russians had tested its stability just a few days earlier.

At the steepest section we found traces of the russians tracks and followed those up. That steep section at 7200m was some of the most difficult trailbreaking I’ve ever done in my life. I was basically swimming uphill with no purchase on my feet. It didn’t help that I was totally worn out and there was hardly any oxygen in the air. The only technique I discovered worked was to first shovel the top layer of snow off with my hands. Then I’d extend my right foot out up and right and start packing snow down under a foot placement, sometimes scooting more in from the side. Then I’d gingerly step my right foot down while leaning left on both hands to evenly distribute weight, only gradually putting weight on my right foot. Once I tested it to hold I would repeat the process on the left side.

When I finally crested a small ridge I found a small flag left by the russians and laid down to pant like a dog. It was surprisingly difficult to catch my breath but I eventually relaxed enough to get back up.

From there we could see tracks all the way to the summit ridge and the snow looked firm enough to require minimal trailbreaking. We could even see a small flag planted at the ridge. It looked like we were almost there! Andreas took over the lead and we decided to ditch our second ice tools there to save weight. We continued up toward the ridge, but after an hour I noticed the route was just a thin layer of snow on top of ice, with decent exposure below. The terrain sketched me out and I didn’t feel comfortable proceeding without pitching it out and climbing with two tools.

We regretted leaving our tools but we couldn’t proceed without them. We turned around to see if we could find a way around the ice patch but it appeared to span the whole face. The thought of bailing crossed my mind but there was still plenty of daylight left, so we decided to go get the tools and continue the route. We dropped back down, picked them up, and returned to the edge of the ice.

We’d lost two hours from that error but hoped we could still beat the wind. I put a screw in and clipped Andreas in, then he belayed me as I led up. I got two more screws in as I did a rising traverse, then I reached the end of the ice and hit continuous snow and snice. I belayed Andreas up on a picket ax anchor, then he led an easy section to a boulder and body belayed me up.

Interestingly we saw an old hiking pole stashed at the boulder. Maybe one of the russians forgot it there. Andreas then body belayed me up another rope length as I kicked steps up the steepening slope. Then I belayed him from an ice ax anchor as he crested the summit ridge at the flag. We soon both made the ridge at 4pm and luckily it wasn’t too windy. It was also still sunny and we were poised to tag the summit.

We had topped out in the middle of the long summit ridge, and luckily we had had done our homework to know which part to tag. The east end is the highest point based on the soviet topo maps, and the point Abalakov reached on the first ascent in 1956. Most climbers on the normal route stop at the west end because that’s the first one they hit and it is significantly farther to get to the east

end, with both ends similar elevations.

[The east end is highest according to route diagrams from The Alpinist,  The American Alpine Journal and Mountain.RU  and by Soviet ground surveys. Abalakov climbed to the east summit on his first ascent in 1956, as noted on page 32 of his trip report here: AbalakovReport1956. We had also read that famous mountaineer Dennis Urubko made sure to go out his way to tag the east end of the ridge after his Piolet D’or – winning climb of the dollar rod route on Pobeda in 2011. ]

Andreas led the way staying clear of the cornices on the north side of the ridge. Luckily the snow was firm and travel fast. We were walking directly on the Kyrgyzstan-china border and I noticed the slope looked much gentler on the china side. But I’m sure it got more difficult lower. The ridge eventually got very narrow and rocky, and we passed what looked like a jumbled up old tent on a ledge.

By 4:45pm we crested the summit. It had been a tough morning and I immediately laid down. The skies were sunny, wind low, and views were amazing to china to the south and kygyzstan to the north. We could see basecamp way below on the south inylchek glacier. We quickly snapped a few pictures and videos.

Interestingly, Andreas became the first Dane to summit Pobeda. There had previously been about a half dozen failed attemps by other Danes since 1993 (see https://www.mountains.dk/bjerg/pik-pobeda).

I had planned to send an inreach message and take out my sight level to measure the height difference between east and west summits, but it was just too cold to want to take my hands out of my mittens. We were also much later than hoped for and wanted to get down as soon as possible to beat the incoming wind and darkness.

A brief video from the summit:

So after about 3 minutes we started down. We carefully followed our up tracks back to the place we’d gained the ridge. It was steep enough to warrant rappelling off the ridge but I didn’t really want to leave any gear. I already had plans to leave our pickets lower down for other rappel anchors. So I ended up belaying Andreas as he downclimbed, then he built an anchor and belayed me down. We inch wormed down this way, then simul downclimbed the ice section until we were back to snow.

Light was fading and clouds rolling in and we were happy to have our tracks to follow in the waning visibility. As a backup I had also recorded a GPS track on my watch in case our tracks got blown over. We quickly simul downclimbed the snow, reaching the rock band at sunset. By then we were engulfed in clouds and stuck in a whiteout. Unfortunately the wind had filled in our tracks below there with snow and navigation became difficult.

I was able to follow our rough route, verifying on my watch every few minutes that we were still on track. By the time we reached the ice section just above camp we finally needed to turn headlamps on. We each got our tools out and very carefully downclimbed the ice. It seemed more challenging this time and we probably should have rappelled it, but we were soon down and back to the tent by 9pm. We radioed Dima and he sounded relieved we were back at camp.

It was my turn to melt snow that night so I stayed outside another hour. I think we were both dehydrated that day and appreciated chugging a bunch of warm water.

Aug 10

The wind picked up significantly soon after we got to camp and didn’t relent all night. This made sleeping difficult. To save weight we had brought Andreas’s tent, which lacked a vestibule. But this meant to get any ventilation we needed to unzip the door. With all the wind , snow invariably blew in all night. The result was I got hardly any sleep.

Another consequence of the wind was snow was drifting up against the tent all night, and even on the slope above the tent. By 7am a small sluff released above the tent and slid into the side of the tent. It wasn’t dangerous, but I was still startled enough to immediately jump out of the tent and start digging it out with my bare hands. It was still extremely windy as I was digging and this would not have good long term consequences for my fingers.

With the continuing wind we didn’t feel safe staying where more snow could accumulate and slide. It would have been great to just ride out the storm in the tent, but we reluctantly started packing up. We then roped up and started looking for a new spot. Unfortunately there was zero shelter up there at 6600m. Behind the serac had been the only sheltered spot, but that likely contributed to the snow drifting there. We knew it would likely be sheltered lower below the ice pitch, so we started descending.

We made it to the top of the ice but then I noticed Andreas was missing a crampon! This had happened on Khan Tengri and I’d fashioned an extra strap to keep it on but it had fallen off again anyways. This was a big problem with so much ice to descend. We started back up to look for it but with so much deep snow we’d descended through we eventually decided it was futile. Andreas would just have to try to get down with one crampon. That meant I’d have to lead the way making good steps and setting good rappels on the icy sections.

At the top of the ice I found a V-thread anchor left by the russians and backed it up with a screw. I belayed Andreas down to the anchor, then I rappelled first. Luckily the doubled 60m rope was just barely long enough to get down to continuous snow. Andreas followed and we were soon roped back up descending the steep snow.

We descended through deeper snow, needing to break trail in many places. We soon reached the top of the rock step and I retrieved my stashed rock rack. I then rigged up another rappel at the slung horn and descended 30m down the steep snow slope. At the bottom I slung another horn as Andreas followed. From there we rapped over the rocks to a boulder sticking out of the snowfield. We then roped back up to downclimb the snow.

With all the wind overnight I was a bit concerned about shallow fresh windslab on the slope, though, so I looped the rope over a rock to belay Andreas. Indeed, once he got 10ft out he triggered the top 6″ of slab to slide off. He managed to jump out of the way and I also had him on belay so there was no real danger, but it was certainly startling. With the slope now stable we easily marched across.

At the bottom of the slope around 6100m we found a broad flat area far from any snow slopes and decided to pitch camp there. The weather was supposed to improve the next day and we thought it best to ride out the wind in the tent and save the big descent for better weather. We quickly got the tent up and started melting snow.

Once in the tent I realized I had been neglecting my hands all day and my fingers were all numb. I guess I had been so concerned with setting up good rappels quickly and making sure Andreas could get down safely with one crampon that I had just ignored my cold hands. I knew there was a risk of them getting cold again the next day, and refreezing is the worst thing you can do to cold hands. But leaving them cold all night seemed like a bad idea. So I stuck them in my arm pits to rewarm them and vowed to keep them warm the next day.

The wind picked up that afternoon and night and we had a lot of trouble keeping the stove going outside. I really wished we had a vestibule. As a result we probably didn’t make as much water as we should have. And, like before, snow was blowing into the tent all night through the small opening we needed for ventilation. As before, I got very little sleep that night.

The forecast was for dry weather the next day, but then storms rolling in the next day. We definitely wanted to make it the whole way back to basecamp Wednesday if possible.

Aug 11

By morning my hands were mostly warm though still a little numb. The morning was clear but cold and we got moving by 9am. Unfortunately I needed to lead to kick Andreas good steps, and needed to hold onto my cold ice ax since the terrain was very steep. I found it very difficult to keep my hands warm and for the most part they just got cold again. Unfortunately this would have bad consequences later.

We downclimbed the steep cornices, vaguely seeing our old tracks sometimes but mostly I had to break trail again downhill. This was surprisingly difficult. We soon reached the mega cornice we’d need to rappel, and unfortunately couldn’t find any anchor from the russians. I suspect they rapped off a picket, but it had since been buried in new snow. So near the lip I built a picket – ax anchor, then rapped over the edge. Andreas then removed the ax and rapped off the picket, which we left there when we pulled the rope. I had my email written on it so maybe someday someone will return it to me (but not likely).

We belayed each other down the rest of the snow slope in case of a slide, then I continued breaking trail down the ridge. We soon reached the top of the rock step, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a fixed rope there! I was prepared to leave a picket and sling a horn to make multiple rappels down, but apparently the russians had decided to leave a 60m rope there for all 6 of them to make a single full rappel.

We backed up the anchor with a picket and I went down first. Unfortunately the rope was about 5m too short, so at the bottom I had to detach myself and downclimb the final snow arete unprotected. But then I made an anchor and when Andreas reached the bottom I threw him the end of my rope and belayed him to safety.

From there I led the way across the final lower cornices. I tried to follow the vague hints of the russians tracks though mostly I couldn’t see them. As before it was a balance staying as far from the edge of the cornice as possible without getting on too steep of a snow section on the left. There were a few steep downclimbing sections but we eventually made it below the triangle at 5300m. We then breathed a huge sigh of relief because we were finally below the danger zone and could rest easy for the remainder of the descent.

Since it was no longer steep and didn’t warrant crampons I finally took a break from leading and let Andreas lead. It was then I realized how truly worn out I was. I think breaking trail 90% of the way on summit day had taken a lot out of me, and leading the way and breaking trail all of yesterday and all of today had zapped my remaining energy reserves. I really needed a break. It was great to have Andreas breaking trail down, but by then I was only moving half his speed at best.

We made slow progress down, by now following the visible tracks of the russians. By 4pm we reached the flat icy section of the Zvezdochka glacier at 4500m. We radioed Dima and he told us congratulations. He knew we were past the danger zone and now had a relatively easy walk back. Interestingly, the russians tracks seemed to simply disappear in the middle of the glacier. Unfortunately we later learned they had had an accident up on the cornices Aug 8 and a helicopter had to come evacuate them there lower on the glacier (see full account here from Konstantin Markevich, one of the rescuers who came up from BC  https://explorersweb.com/2021/08/19/how-valentin-mikhailov-died-on-pobeda/, and this account from Alexander Dusheyko from the group descending https://www.facebook.com/100003091373048/posts/4144205745692430/).

I led the way on the ice weaving around crevasses until we met up with the normal route. It was pretty hard to stay on the route since most of the flags were missing, but I eventually found it and followed it back to the moraine. In the last few hundred feet I had to belay Andreas a few times on ice screw anchors so he could get through sections without a crampon, but we eventually got off the glacier.

We found our stashed hiking boots but someone had stolen Andreas’s stashed hiking pole! I’m not sure what would possess someone to do this. I suspect it is the same person who stole the crampons a hungarian team stashed nearby also.

We were soon changed into our hiking boots with our Olympus mons strapped to our pack and started hiking out. In general it was straightforward following the cairns out, but got more difficult when darkness set in. I was still moving extremely slowly, and I can never remember ever being that worn out from a mountain. Luckily Andreas was nice enough to slow down and hike with me. We actually got passed on the way by the Piolet D’or team coming back from stashing gear for topographers peak.

By 930pm we finally staggered back to camp and let Dima know we were back. Luckily the generator was still on and the cooks had saved some mushroom pasta and corn for us. Some of our friends – Paul and Felix – were still in the dinner tent, along with two new climbers Jon and Rob. They all congratulated us for our climb.

At dinner I finally dared take off my gloves to survey the damage to my hands. It was bad. Most of my fingers had blistered and they were all numb and tingly, though not discolored. I knew I had frostbite. I kicked myself for taking such bad care of myself. I’d been so focused at having efficient safe rappels and getting down quickly that I hadn’t bothered to take care of myself when I was doing so much cold ropework in my liner gloves. It had also been very cold and windy at high altitude, which certainly didn’t help.

Luckily everyone at the dinner table had experience with frosbite and gave me good advice what to do. Jon was nice enough to bring me to the basecamp doctor, who gave me some medicine and had me soak my hands in warm water. Then Paul, Rob, and Felix helped me bandage up my fingers to protect them. I talked to Dima and he said there was a helicopter the next morning we could get on so I could visit a hospital as soon as possible. We all went to bed soon after.

Aug 12

The next morning we had breakfast and Dima presented us with official certificates and hats for climbing Pobeda. We were officially the 13th and 14th summitters of the season. (I think 6 russians did the abalakov route, then 3 Iranians and 3 ukrainians did the normal route before us).

Afterwards we hung out with Rob and Jon, who had just arrived to basecamp after guiding K2 and were waiting for a window to climb Pobeda via the normal route. Pobeda is Jon’s last snow leopard peak so I hope he makes it! (Jon later posted a trip report here: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=4843794202315714&id=344014572293722&__tn__=%2As%2As-R)

The helicopter came on schedule at 10am and we had a spectacular ride out to karkara, then shuttle back to Bishkek that night.

We had originally hoped to fly to Tajikistan to finish the remaining snow leopard peaks afterwards, but unfortunately that was no longer in the cards for me with my frostbite. Even without the frostbite, the basecamp operator Tajik Peaks had decided to cancel almost all helicopters to Moskvina basecamp except maybe one final shuttle Aug 17 to get the last climbers out. That might have gotten cancelled too, so didn’t seem like a good summer for Tajik peaks anyways.

We each spent a few rest days in Bishkek, where I went to the hospital, and then flew home Aug 16.

Late August 2021 update: The season is now over with the last helicopter shuttle leaving basecamp. It appears there were only two summits after Andreas and me, by two Russian guides on the normal route to the west summit. So in total this season by my count about 40 climbers attempted Pobeda, with 10 summits. Two teams summitted via Abalakov and one team via the normal route.

All summits on the Abalokov were between Aug 5 – 9 and the two Russians on the normal route summitted in late August. My fingers fully recovered after a few months.

Another interesting fact – of all the teams attempting Pobeda, as far as I can tell Andreas and I were the only ones not mentioned in any articles on Explorers Web. I think this is because nothing really major went wrong with our climb and we came back safely.

2023 update: I have completed a thorough analysis of 11 existing measurements of the east, central, and west regions of the main summit ridge. Measurements include the Soviet topo maps, satellite-based measurements from SRTM and from 2017-2021 I purchased from Airbus (not publicly available), photographic analysis I conducted using custom surveying software, and all digital elevation models. My conclusion is that the three regions are so close in elevation that yearly variation in snow depth and cornice formation determines which is highest, and each has been highest in at least one year and at least one measurement. Climbers reaching any of these regions should be able to claim an ascent of Pobeda. Full analysis here: https://www.countryhighpoints.com/the-true-summit-location-of-peak-pobeda/. If climbers want to go exactly where Abalakov went on the first ascent, then that is the east summit (source: page 32 of first ascent trip report found here: AbalakovReport1956)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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