RYAN—DAY 22 Awoke at 1 a.m. to no wind and no clouds. A full moon hovered at the head of the glacier, bright and reassuring. We cooked our last breakfast and howled under the beaming moonlight. I triple-checked my gear before getting on the end of the rope. We contoured around the top of the icefall to the entrance of the line that I had skied in my mind for years. The moon was dropping behind the peaks, but moving directly into our couloir, as if by plan. Stashing our gear and transitioning to crampons, we climbed through a narrow chute in the wall to access the couloir proper. Our peaks were now orange in the morning alpenglow and the glaciers turned a deep green. The twisted rock bands, spires and hanging glaciers seemed closer to a van Gogh painting than reality. In the frigid conditions, Elliot was having issues with his feet. We put our warmest layers on, dug a platform, and he warmed his liners inside his jacket while I tightly clamped his feet under my armpits. It wasn’t very pleasant considering neither of us had showered in weeks, but it had to be done. I was determined that we were all getting up there. Gradually feeling returned, so I pushed up the couloir after the others. Eventually, I took the lead and went full beast mode. All I felt was pure joy. My longest running ski mountaineering ambition was within reach. But 300 feet from the top, the snow got slabby. I decided to gain more distance on the others. If I triggered a slab, there would be less of a chance they would be taken down with me. I peeled out from the wall, climbing straight up. I topped out at 17,400 feet. The couloir ended abruptly at a razor-backed spur, plunging back sharply toward the glacier. The sun had just peaked into our line—we had nailed the timing. I congratulated the boys as they arrived. We were privileged to be here. I gave Elliot a hug in my altitude-drunk state. The temp was near minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit. We fin-ished some remaining coffee, got the group selfie, and started getting ready. I dropped first, making slow, careful turns through the slabby snow until it became fluffy and deep. I opened it up, enjoying the deep powder and keeping enough speed to escape any potential slide. Cutting back beneath the safety of the wall, I hopped on the radio. All was well, I was ready to ski the couloir proper. I had spent years dreaming about skiing this line, and here it was in powder conditions. I traversed out toward the steeper, loaded side of the couloir, hoping it wouldn’t pop. The panel was slightly wind-packed but it didn’t feel hollow. I took the chance and submitted to gravity, opening up to the fall line and making GS turns. Nothing was moving so I let loose, skiing to the limit of my tired legs. Rounding the recurve, the snow became warmer and denser. I collapsed at the gear stash and sucked air. My brain was in a state of overload. I howled at the top of my lungs. I hopped back on the radio: The crew needed to get going quick, things were heating up. Fast. Grabbing my gear, I skated back across the glacier, strug-gling to see the boys skiing down the couloir, tiny ants against the towering terrain. ELLIOT—DAY 25 Two days ago, Ryan debated staying to ski another line but was outvoted. After eating our last cereal and milk powder for breakfast, we began the icefall descent with about 10 gummy chews between four of us and 80 milliliters of fuel left. Pretty good rationing, really. We thought the descent of the icefall would be faster since we could rappel down a more direct line, but it still took eight hours. Got to the dom just at dark and collapsed into bed. Yesterday we had a relaxing day in the sun and cooked a feast with our remaining salami and beans. Started drinking our brandy and vodka and found it went well with the codeine cough syrup Will had brought. Apparently, people buy the stuff for a grand a bottle. Fin-ished the night suitably drunk having an impromptu rave in the dom. Woke up hungover to a sunny day, but rain is in the fore-cast and the food situation is looking pretty bland. PETE—DAY 26 Dolat and Kismatolo, our two local horsemen, arrived with two horses—and food! They stayed the night and we ate after sundown since it was Ramadan. They ate again in the middle of the night while we slept. ELLIOT—DAY 27 We gave our “rescue party” our extra gear, and Kishmatolo is stoked about the Bluetooth speaker. Walking out, we meet some nomadic shepherds coming to graze their animals on the new grass. One stares at us tight-lipped as we walk past their camp, holding a blood-soaked knife from cutting an abscess out of a lamb tied up next to the tent. Wandering the same mountains, we look pretty out of place with our bright clothing and ski packs. In the village, our friend Zafar is waiting, his wide grin welcoming us back to the world below. Tajikistan 059
The Ski Journal Volume 14, Issue 1: Page 59
