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Hannah in Afghanistan - A lake on top of the world
Agu 17, 2004 01: 15 EST
In preparation for her South Pole expedition, Hannah is trekking/horse riding by the river Oxus in Northern Afghanistan, up to the river's source. Over the past weekend, she finally reached it. Here's a brief on the three days that took her there:
"It is a blisteringly cold night and once again I end wearing or lying under everything I have with me. I wake up at 4.45 and can hear that everyone else is moving too. Even before I sit up I know that I am ill. I'm shivering with nausea and my stomach is wracked with cramps.
Today will be the last day of our trek out, tonight we will camp as far up the Small Pamir as we can get, and the following day return to camp here again the night after. We pack up camp, in an effort to achieve a 6am start. Just as I have packed up my tent the sun breaks out over the tops of the eastern mountains and its rich warmth immediately starts to soak into my cold, cold bones.
The cheeky monkey decides to get down for a roll
We mount up and set off from camp. My little bay is full of beans after his night's rest and squeaks and whinnies at the mares and strikes out at them with his front legs when they come near. We are just crossing a big patch of sand when the cheeky monkey decides to get down for a roll. He drops down into the sand and for the second time in two days I find myself stepping off a horse on the ground.Tom is on his feet too so together we walk out across the grassy plains of the Small Pamir the Oxus snaking its way, now, quite modestly beside us.
After a few hours we reach a fork on the plain. The eastern root leads out to Pakistan and the area George Curzon claimed as the source of the Oxus.
The Afghan roof of the world
When the horses are rested we start up the north-eastern branch of the plain towards China. In this direction is one of the other disputed sources of the Oxus, Lake Chakmaktin, and we hope to get there by nightfall.
As the shadows grow long the river starts to widen until suddenly, from the top of a low rise we can see it open up into a great blue lake. Up here in the Small Pamir, the place the Afghans call the roof of the world, there is truly a little piece of heaven on earth. The green downs, the big lake reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky and the mountain rising purple all about us, there heads laced with white. Far ahead, at the end of the plain, the first mountains we can see only a few miles away, are in China. We have come to the far end of the Wakhan corridor.
We move down to the lake's edge and set up camp on a low hilltop overlooking the water. the sun slowly sets and long after it's left us in cold and darkness in the valley, we can see its last light blazing on the mountain tops across the lake, staining the snow with pink and gold.
There is a real sense of togetherness this evening, in such places divides of culture and experience are unimportant, in such places life is a simple matter.
The next day
"Another bitter night and in addition, everything this morning is slightly damp. Nevertheless, it all seems worthwhile when I unzip the tent and am faced with the extraordinary sight of Lake Chakmaktin lying blue under a fine layer of morning mist. We pack up quickly in the chilly dawn air and set off, all too soon, away from the lake at the top of the world, but excited by the knowledge that we have seen a place that almost no other living westerners have ever seen.
Injured horses
As we move away down the grassland, I glance at John's horse and see that she is hopping lame in her nearside foreleg. As I am wondering what to do, Raymond comes up beside me and his dear little mare is limping also, this time on the offside foreleg. This is really serious, we have 4 days of hard trekking ahead of us and it isn't going to happen if the horses aren't well. We have to get off these two and give them as easy a time as possible in the hope that they will be fit enough to get over the high passes in a few days.
Tom and I walk ahead of the group out over the plain in the morning sun. This countryside is full of wildlife, much of which would be fantastic but unlikely to see. The yak traders confirmed to us that there are bears, common leopard, snow leopard and wolves in the mountains. The Kirghiz won't travel this way in smaller groups than four, for fear of attack by packs of wolves. We content ourselves with spotting several ginger marmosets peeping cheekily out at us and a hare running startled across the hillside.
10 hour trek
The party is strung out over the last few miles and even the beautiful scenery can no longer distract me from my weariness, I focus on the few feet in front of me and plod forwards. Oddly, although I am tired I am also pleased to note my underlying fitness, I'm plodding, but if necessary I could keep up this plodding for many hours. After 10 hours covering about 24 miles, Philippa's tent on the stony plateau finally comes into view.
We flop out onto the ground and lie still in the last of the evening sunshine. Tom and I watch Moobin and some of the horsemen trying to put up the mess tent, we can see that they have the poles in the wrong order but don't have the energy to get up and put them right.
The third day
At midday we pack up camp and start off on the long road back to Boroghil. Thankfully, today is easy walking over the flat grassland that still fills the narrowing valley. It feels a little like we are the walking wounded, all morning Lesley has been tending to the ailments of the Waki men and, as well as the horses I have been tending to various sores on donkeys. It's a wonder to think that these people spend their lives travelling in these mountains, after five days the whole outfit seems to be falling apart.
Thankfully, our journey today isn't long. After about three hours we reach the end of the grass plains, the river starts to funnel down into a narrow canyon and we can see it snaking away between the encroaching mountains. Here at the end of the flatland we come to a last, high meadow and stop to make camp. It is a little corner of paradise. The long grass is laced with wild flowers and chamomile, filling the air with it's heavy scent as the horses disturb it with their hoofs; two clear streams bubble down on either side of us to the big Wakhan River below and the mountains surround us blue, green and purple in the evening light. There was never anywhere as peaceful as this high field tonight .
Hannah McKeand travels in Northern Afghanistan in search of the source of the River Oxus. After Afghanistan, Hannah will go for the South Pole this fall, and will then finish up the trifecta by hopefully competing in an around the world sailing race. Hannah uses Contact 3.0 for her updates.
Image of the river Oxus, courtesy of www.uwm.edu
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