OPPOSITE CLOCKWISE FROM TOP Outside of our dom, Peter Biskind pours out water after rehydrating kidney beans. Rehydrated beans were the staple of most of our meals and oftentimes they wrecked our stomachs. These doms are mud huts for locals to use in the summertime when they bring their livestock up to the plateau. Lucky for us, we were there in the snow, so the locals let us use their dom as a base camp for the expedition. From here we would tour seven miles or so into the mountains and set up advanced base camp. A big part of expeditions is being self-sufficient in every single way possible, including medically. We packed an extensive med kit and did our research on how and when to use each thing in case of an emergency. We had everything from high-altitude meds to simple sleeping pills. Health plays an even more important role when you are hundreds of miles from any sort of rescue. We carried a simple kit of tools for repairing ski gear, electrical gear and everyday items. With a successful trip, we did not have to dive too deep into the kit. Elliot was the mastermind on the trip whenever we needed to fix or rewire something. ABOVE The town of Jilandi is about 20 miles from the base of the mountains where we skied. There must have been less than 100 people living in simple homes with hints of old Russian items like this car. We spent one night here with a local family before we set off to the mountains. The people were incredibly caring and excited to give us a place to lay our head and share a naan and yogurt dinner. PETER—DAY 1 The blurry first 48 hours began in the San Francisco airport. Two flights later, I arrived in Istanbul. I met Will [Saunders] en route to the gate to Dushanbe and searched for Wi-Fi and water to no avail. We took off at 8 p.m. (11 a.m. my time), the old delirium of time warp strengthening its grasp. A little napping and— poof—we were in Dushanbe in an hour-long visa line. We missed our ride, but immigration and customs were a breeze. Odd taxi ride negotiations. Note to self: Always set a price and destination before, even if you don’t speak the same language. Some amazing introductions at the hostel—Will had never met Ryan [Taylor] or Elliot [Smith]. Jump in the deep end, boys. The team hit it off, phew! A few hectic bazaar shopping sessions and 80 kilograms of food acquired. At the final market, an Interpol agent stopped us and said to keep our heads on a swivel because the Taliban had decapitated an American less than a year ago. He didn’t give us any more advice, which scared us. Time for some beers. WILL—DAY 4 Today was a long fucking day. Supposedly only a five-mile portage to the dom—the mud hut we’ll be using as base camp—but the terrain was intense. Lots of vert—think mud, scree fields and post-holing. Everyone was fully loaded. I thought we were going to watch a horse break its leg or a donkey die. This part of the expedition felt especially selfish, making locals use their limited resources to help us, but they seemed to have a good time. Our donkey did a barrel roll hauling our ski gear, so we took turns carrying bags. Oh! And we saw lots of bear tracks. The mountains look like Everest. Absolutely mind-blowing that we will be the only four people among these peaks for the next month. Large lock on the door of the dom. Our hearts sank. We waited in the cold for Elliot to catch up. The villagers told him the door was locked and gave us permission to remove it. Elliot wielded a BD Venom ice axe and slid the pick under the latch, quickly prying it out of the wood. Dehydrated, feeling wrecked, passed out in the mud hut. ELLIOT —DAY 3 (MY BIRTHDAY) We played Tetris getting all our gear into [Ryan’s fixer friend] Zafar’s now-familiar Land Cruiser. The former army doctor and our Tajik jack-of-all-trades assured me the brakes are working this time. The mood was good on the travel to Jilandi, and as the mountains came into sight, I couldn’t imagine a better birthday present. When we arrived, we realized our calls ahead to discuss horse transport and a potential base camp yurt had not been as fruitful as we’d hoped. Waiting to greet us was Mubien, the man that had solicited bribes from me on our last trip. Much hand waving, map pointing, broken Russian and stick drawings of horses later, we arranged two horses, one donkey, and Mubien, Kishmatolo and Dolat to accompany us. Business done, we gathered at Zafar’s house for chai, naan and catch-up with old friends. The hospitality of the Tajik people is humbling and we are very grateful for it. Tajikistan 049
The Ski Journal Volume 14, Issue 1: Page 49
