Khan Tengri Mountain Festival

Festival Location: Khan Tengri, Kazakhstan

Festival Type(s): Mountaineering Events, Extreme Sports Events

King of the Hill in Kazakhstan

By: © Rick Hudson 2009

In the field of X-treme competitions, Hawaii's Ironman and Alaska's Iditarod strike awe into the hearts of competitors and spectators alike. In a remote corner of a remote country, a new race goes beyond X-treme. Rick Hudson reports.

At 06:00 it's far below freezing, and pitch black outside. On a positive note, there's no wind. I crawl slowly from my sleeping bag. Breathing comes in shallow gasps. At 4,200m (almost 14,000 ft), being short of oxygen is expected. So is the numbing cold. But what we have to endure is trivial compared to what we're here to witness.

06:25. Out on the glacier, amid supporters, officials and journalists, stand the competitors. They make an odd collection. The youngest is 27, the oldest 50. Some are dressed to storm Everest's North Face, others are in spandex. One carries a backpack stuffed with survival gear, another has just a fanny pack.

06:30. They come under starter's orders, and without fanfare they disappear into the glacier's gloom. The crowd wanders back to Camp. Getting into that warm sleeping bag is out of the question. There's a guilty feeling about being snug again when those guys are out there, doing the impossible.

What's the impossible? Seven climbers, from three countries, are competing in the First Khan Tengri Mountain Festival. Their goal? To speed climb from Base Camp (4,200m) to the summit of Khan Tengri (7,010m). And back.

Because of intervening minor summits, this will involve a 6,200m (20,500 ft) ascent and descent, without stopping, without camps, on a mountain that tops out at 23,130 ft, where the air is thin and cold, and the wind can blow you off the ridge and send you tumbling at the first mistake. Khan Tengri (which means 'Lord of the Spirits' in Chinese) is a formidable mountain. This year, less than one in three have made it to the top of the superb pyramid.

It stands deep in the Tien Shan (Celestial Mountains), yet can be seen from the steppes of Kazakhstan, China and Kyrgyzstan with ease. And now, the Central Sports Club of the Kazakhstan Army, together with Asia Tourism (the largest mountain trekking company in the country) are hosting a first-ever race from the north side, under Director Rhinat Khaibullin, an internationally acclaimed climber in his own right. Over 30 nationalities are in Base Camp for the Festival, more than 70 people in all. Across the North Inulchuk Glacier, 2km away, Khan Tengri's summit is lit by the first rays of the morning sun. That's a good sign. Last night's 5cm of new snow mantles the steep ridge that the climbers will follow. The fixed ropes, set there earlier in the season by guides, must be laboriously dug free before they can be used.

Here start the tactics ... is it best to hold back and let the leaders burn themselves out? Following a de-iced rope, using someone else's steps, makes for much easier going. But what if there's a breakaway? This isn't the Olympics. You can't easily overtake the person ahead of you. Only on some of the gentler slopes is it either safe, or even possible to struggle past. And the lack of oxygen, particularly at the higher elevations, can make rational people start to do crazy things. Such as believing they're immortal.

Most "normal" climbers attempt Khan Tengri over a period of 8-10 days, using four camps. From Base, the route is visible in the dawn's light. Incredibly, by 07:15, the first competitors have passed Camp One. They are setting a blistering pace: just 45 minutes to complete a stage that normally takes a fully loaded alpinist half a day to achieve.

Through a high-powered telescope, four climbers are tightly bunched. Race officials at Camp One radio that 38 year old Uri Yarmaichuk is leading. Uri is one of the older competitors, but has an impressive climbing record. He's summited two of the Himalayan 8,000m peaks -- Makalu and Annapurna. Currently employed in the Sports Club of the Russian Military, he has a long history of speed climbing wins. He wants this race badly, and took the whole summer off to train for it.

Ahead are the vertical rock bands, plastered in fresh snow, forming the first serious challenge. Until now it's just been steep snow and ice, using crampons (metal spikes attached to the boots) and ski poles.

Each climber will have to use the fixed ropes in earnest now, employing a device known as a prussiker. This mechanical ratchet, when attached to the rope, slides up, but not down. Should he slip or fall, the prussiker and rope will stop him dropping far.

So much for theory. Mountains are hard on both climbers and equipment. Prussikers jam and beak. Ropes fray, or are cut by rockfalls. A week earlier, a line on this very route shredded, sending an experienced alpinist to his death. Ropes ice up too, making the prussiker less likely to grip, or not grip at all.

The weather is perfect. The sky is blue and cloudless. At Base, a light breeze ruffles the flags as people brush last night's snow from tents. On the mountain, spindrift eddies slowly off the summit and upper ridges. A half moon hangs in the sky to the west.

At 09:20 there's a deafening roar from the mountain, as a huge powder avalanche drops off the north face, sweeping last night's snow from the ledges. A kilometer-wide cloud billows up at the foot of the face, drifting slowly across the glacier. There's nothing to worry about ... the competitors are clear of danger, and we're far enough away. The wall of choking snow won't reach us. But three weeks ago a similar slide raced across the intervening mile and destroyed three tents, flattened others, and filled the rest with freezing powder. No one was hurt, but a number of people were knocked off their feet or partially buried.

Someone shouts from the telescope that Nicolai Skabara is in the lead. A native of Russia, Nicolai holds the title of Master of Sport. He has been to the top of Khan Tengri four times in the past. This is his mountain, and his local experience will help him. Still, at the press conference the night before, one of the reporters asked him why he was smoking. Didn't he think that at 43, it might affect his performance? The question seemed to catch him off guard.

Speed climbing is a relatively new sport in the West, but Soviet elite teams have developed it since the 1930s. The USSR military took the sport to a very high level, setting impressive speed ascents on all the major summits within their boundaries.

In 1993, the first Khan Tengri race open to world competition took place on the south (Kyrgyzstan) side of the mountain. To everyone's surprise, both first and second places were won by Americans -- the late Alex Lowe, and Conrad Anker. Lowe, unfamiliar with the route and not even acclimatized, destroyed the competition by coming home four hours ahead of the rest. The Russians in particular were keen for a re-match, but the following two races were cancelled due to bad weather, and in 1996 Kyrgyzstan's economic deterioration meant there was no sporting body willing to underwrite the event.

Khan Tengri stands on the border of Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. In 2000, the Kazakhstan Central Sports Club organized a re-match, but specified that the race be from their (north) side of the mountain. Asia Tourism co-sponsored the event.

It is now three and a half hours after the start, and the front group have passed Camp Two (usually two day's climbing), and are approaching the steep rock bands leading to the summit of Chapaev Peak (5,800m). Beyond this, they will be out of our view, but we know they have to drop 300m (1,000 ft) to the Saddle, before starting the final 1,500m climb past Camps Three and Four to the summit. And then, when they return from that oxygen-depleted, wind-torn high point, they'll have to drag themselves back up those same 300m to Chapaev again, before starting the long descent to Base Camp.

The youngest climber in the pack, Denis Urubko is now ahead. He has pulled through the top rock bands and is moving up the final snow slope below Chapaev Peak, going strongly. Denis is the home town boy from Kazakhstan. At 27, he has already achieved some impressive mountaineering goals. This year has been his best. In the pre-monsoon season he climbed Everest without oxygen, and followed that by summiting all five peaks over 7,000m in Central Asia. This means he is a 'Snow Leopard', a title earned by few, and almost never in a single year.

The competitors are averaging about 370m per hour ascent -- that's 20 vertical feet per minute. But at the back of everyone's minds is the fear of the unexpected. They are all above 5,000m now and have been climbing for five hours without stopping, well beyond the time when energy can be stored in the body. The temperature is -7C at Camp Four.

If mistakes are going to be made, they'll happen up there, in the thin air. Rescuing someone from that altitude will be extremely complex. The big Russian helicopter from Base Camp can barely reach the rarified stratosphere of 6,000m. Already out of sight, the competitors are now beyond reach.

Just after 2pm the radio crackles into life. Urubko has summited, and is turning for home. A great cheer comes from the tents. Nikolay Chervonenco, a naturalist with the Ministry of Tourism in Kazakhstan, is not yet at Camp Four (6,400m), and is in second place.

We try to imagine what Urubko must feel, going from 13,500 ft to 23,100 ft in less than eight hours. More particularly, now that he's on top, what does it feel like to look down 4,000 feet of icy descent, then face another grueling climb of a thousand feet, before the final 5,000 ft drop. The Boston Marathon has its Heartbreak Hill. Khan Tengri has its Chapaev Agony.

4:45pm. A tiny figure emerges on the top slopes of Peak Chapaev. There are minutes when he appears motionless, and others when he descends at a frightening speed. There are huge distances to go, and a mistake on that exposed ridge has terrible prospects. Now that we can see him again, the danger seems more obvious and immediate.

The telescope confirms it's Urubko. An hour later he passes Camp Two, and we can see when he reaches the end of a fixed rope and must stop to unclip, re-attach to the next line, and set off again. The sun is flooding the slopes with late afternoon light. Beautiful to watch, but dangerous to be on. The risk of a slab avalanche increases as the warmth builds up.

At 6:30pm Base Camp empties to form a welcoming committee at the finish line on the glacier. As the last rays of the sun paint the mountain tops, a second figure appears on the upper skyline. Down on the glacier, Denis Urubko has destroyed the competition, and is leading by over three hours. As he closes with the crowd, applause rings out. He is almost trotting as he finishes the race, breaking the tape in 12 hours and 21 minutes.

Bent over, chest heaving, he struggles to stay upright as he's swarmed by supporters. Climbers all, we are aware that we're witnessing history here. This is a moment of alpine greatness, where extreme effort and courage have been tested and have triumphed. "Thank you for coming to meet me," he says in Russian, then collapses to his knees, his face a mixture of delight and exhaustion.

That night, in the warmth of the large mess tent, there's hot soup, speeches and vodka. Lots of vodka. Only two of the climbers are home, but already Director Rhinat Khaibullin is talking about the next Mountain Festival.

If you go:

You'll need a visa invitation from a host organization within the country, such as Asia Tourism, before you can apply for a visa at one of Kazakhstan's Embassies.

Austrian Airlines, British Airways, KLM, Lufthansa, Turkish Airways, China Airways, and others fly to Almaty (airport symbol ALA), which is the staging ground for the Festival, and most treks. Almaty (the name means 'father of apples') is an attractive city of a million, situated on the edge of the Tien Shan, like Denver is on the Rockies. The best ski touring months are March-May, and the best trekking months July-August.

This article appeared in The Globe & Mail Travel Section

by Rick Hudson