Autumn ascent to Island Peak

This was my second ascent to Island peak. The first happened in the spring of 2018, then everything went quite smoothly and I even managed to shoot a fairly detailed video about the ascent. Now the summit was more difficult for me. I largely attribute these difficulties to the weather (it was snowing), but there were also some mistakes in home training and nutrition. On the other hand, thanks to the previously accumulated experience in this ascent, it was possible to better resolve organizational issues, find good guides, quality equipment and provide more information to the participants. Be that as it may, our entire group successfully climbed Island Peak and returned to camp without injuries or other troubles.

Background

We approached Island somewhat concerned about the weather conditions. It had been cloudy in the mountains for several days already, and there had been snowfalls several times, which is not very typical for the Everest region at this time of year. As a result, we went to Kala Patthar and Everest Base Camp without ever seeing the peak up close (the last time Everest was clearly visible from Tengboche).

The events preceding the ascent are described in more detail in the reviews of our tourists: "Weights are tied to the feet, or My Everest" by Evgenia Yatsychenko and "Mriya about Everest" by Anton Chikalovets.

Weather forecast

The weather forecast changed radically all the time. He alternately promised global deterioration (total snowfalls and continuous cloudiness), then complete clearing after a short snowfall. Based on the promises of meteorologists, two plans emerged:

• Radical - move towards Island at an accelerated pace and storm the peak before snowfalls turn it into an avalanche-prone branch of hell.
• Conservative - move according to a previously developed calm schedule and deal with problems as they arise. It sounds tempting, but what will happen later if we miss the weather window?

Both plans had equal priority and were considered quite seriously until the arrival in Chukung - the last permanent settlement before Island.

Group status

We had a fairly athletic group and there was reason to believe that with some effort we could implement any program. However, if now, from the heights of the past days and kilometers, we take a closer look at the state of the participants, then we can notice two points:

• Climbing Kala Pathar (5600 m) was not as easy as it should have been. The speed of the ascent was good (just one short stop, 1 hour 40 minutes from the shelter to the top), but the state after returning could have been less tired.
• There were very amplitude swings in the mood of the participants.

However, we noticed something already then, on the slope of Kala Pattara. Two future conquerors of the Island had freezing hands despite good running gloves (I have the same ones) and the presence of tops (thin mittens from Montane with synthetic insulation).

During an overnight stay in Dingboche, we managed to eliminate this drawback - the guys bought cheap Nepalese down mittens. They were clearly not of the best quality (more like feathers instead of down, not the best cut), but they were spacious and thick.

Upon arrival in Dingboche, there was some temptation to break away and run to Chukung that same evening. It would have been a hell of a long day (we got up at 3:30 am) and it would probably have ended badly. But fortunately we were delayed by organizational issues (a sick Sherpa) and we stayed to rest in Dingboche.

Chukung - equipment rental

We walked to Chukung slowly and somehow very relaxed. This could be either a sign of fatigue or a sign of good acclimatization. There were no longer any thoughts about ahead of plan and an unscheduled assault. We just breathed and walked.

In Chukunga, we settled in a good shelter with a warm dining room, comfortable rooms and stable internet without any problems. In fact, it is not always possible to do this, even when you reserve seats in advance. Features of Nepalese hotel management:)

The owner of the shelter opened his rental equipment warehouse for us and we began trying on and adjusting the equipment. This process took more than 2 hours (for 4 people), and could have lasted even longer.

The most difficult part of the program, as always, was choosing shoes. In the end, everyone got wonderful, practically new La Sportiva Nepal Evo GTX boots (the price of these in the store is about 450 Euros), but finding the right size required a lot of effort and time. So in normal life I wear size 45, but until recently I doubted whether to take shoes of size 47 or 48. Heavy plastics, no one liked this time))

Should I bring my own equipment?

This time I brought a lot of my equipment (helmet, system, carbines, mustache, trigger, jumar) and rented only crampons, an ice ax and boots. However, in the case of Island and its wonderful distributors, this tactic seems unjustified to me. Transporting equipment to the start of the route causes a lot of hassle. Even if it is carried by porters. And if you carry everything yourself, then the game is even less worth the candle. In Chukunga you can easily pick up new branded ammunition (80% Black Diamond products).

In the evening I practiced putting on a helmet in combination with a muzzle, ski mask and hood. I went through several combinations and sequences and seemed to have found the right one. As the ascent later showed, some problems still remained - when worn for a long time under a helmet, the seam of the hat pressed on the head.

The next day, during the transition from Chukung to the base Island, we, noticeably weighed down by equipment, completely slowed down the pace. Thoughts about an accelerated assault now seemed completely inappropriate. It would be easy to have time here, just drag yourself and not get overtired.

Island Peak Base Camp

Our climbing sherpa Rinji met us 200 meters from the tent camp. We crawled after him along a very gentle valley and it seemed that his silent back was radiating restrained condemnation - like, where are you going if you’re already breathing so hard here.

But upon arriving at the base camp, we plunged headlong into the unusual comfort and service of commercial climbing. We checked into the wonderful tents (already set up by the Sherpas), washed our hands in warm water and got thoroughly stuck in the dining room. We were carried away by simple pleasures like a jar of Nutella, Nesquik and instant coffee with powdered milk.

Training

Remembering last year's experience, I went to the rope technique training thoroughly insulated - in two jackets, with warm underpants and several hoods. In addition, we decided that it would be useful to walk along the slope in crampons and rental boots, even without snow. And in order to really get a feel for the perspective, we made the second approach to the rope wearing double mittens (gloves + tops). Thanks to this test, the guys realized in time that they urgently needed to sew safety ropes to the mittens. Otherwise, during the ascent, the entire slope would be covered with our rags, and our hands would suffer.

Back at home, I decided to use a glass (ATC-Guide) instead of a figure eight in this ascent and use a gripper to secure myself. During training, I tested the performance of this scheme in combination with shaggy Nepalese ropes and, in principle, everything went smoothly.

Dinner and lights out

There was no connection to update the forecast at the base camp. But even without this, it was clear that no turning point had occurred - clouds covered Lhotse and snow fell periodically.

For dinner they served delicious Dalbat and here, it seems to me, we were slightly screwed. I had to pull myself together and not eat anything other than one cup of rice. On the night of the ascent, the heaviness in my stomach greatly distracted me from overcoming gravity.

Busy with finishing our mittens and packing our backpacks, we went to bed quite late. There were only 3.5 hours left before the alarm clock.

I wish I could wake up

I slept well, but when I woke up at 23:30, I still did not experience the desired feeling of 100% recovery. I had to overcome myself a little and turn on music to spur my sleepy brain and push myself into my boots. By the way, I took them into the tent in the evening and in the morning they were warm and fluffy.

It was warm in the tent (probably around zero), which is not surprising given the snow that had fallen. The camp, which was a boring autumn valley just a couple of hours ago, has become much more elegant and clean. But doubts flared up with renewed vigor - are we doing the right thing by starting in the snow? Is it safe? Isn’t it better to wait it out (postpone the ascent for a couple of hours or even until tomorrow)?

The Sherpas got up 15 minutes later than us, brushed the snow off the tent and calmly began to prepare to leave. When asked about safety, they said “it won’t be easy” and they turned out to be absolutely right...

Preparing to go out

The midnight breakfast consisted of oatmeal and pancakes. And here again I had to restrain myself and limit myself to one spoon of oatmeal.

We set out on the route half an hour late (at 1:30 am). It was a little embarrassing that there was virgin snow lying in front of us - no one had passed here yet today. And in general, the huge base camp was not too full of life. But there was no time left for reflection - we shot ourselves towards the top and now all that was left was to fly.

I started off fairly lightly dressed and with a loaded backpack accordingly.

Clothes and equipment on me

• thin thermal underwear (top and bottom)
• running trousers, thin fleece (weave)
• thin Pertex windbreaker
• fleece gloves
• fleece hat
• two pairs of socks
• windproof muzzle
• trekking poles
• flashlight
• light leggings

Backpack Contents

• card on primaloft
• down jacket
• insulated self-resets
• insulated tops
• raincoat
• thermos
• helmet
• system, mustache, carbines, jumar, trigger
• crampons
• ice axe
• ski mask
• sunglasses
• sunscreen
• protein bars and hematogen
• first aid kit
• powerbank
• spare socks
• spare mittens
• cord in pieces for Prussians

In order not to drain the batteries in the cold, I hid the walkie-talkie in the pocket of my backpack, and the camera in the breast pocket of my jacket (the camera was secured to the backpack). For the same purpose, I moved the thermos from the side pocket deep into the backpack and wrapped it with self-resets.

Although there were still 5 hours before dawn, I played it safe and, before setting out on the route, generously smeared my face with sunscreen and my lips with a softening balm. I understood perfectly well that later, on the slope, I might not have the strength and time for such manipulations and, in principle, I was not mistaken in my forecast.

Sherpas

For the ascent, our small group (Irina, Oleg, Anatoly and I) was accompanied by two high-altitude guides - Rinji Sherpa and Lakpa Sherpa. We first met them in Lukla, where they met equipment for the base camp. Later we met Rinji briefly in Dingboche - apparently he was escorting other clients there. High-altitude guides are a privileged caste; they do not carry loads on trekking or follow tourists to Kala Pathar. Their work begins much later - at the base camp below the summit.

Yesterday, they were the ones who conducted training for us on the slope. They double-checked and helped set up rental equipment. And now they were leading our group through the snowstorm.

Make no mistake about their mission - the guys are not here to tell clients about spaceships. Sherpas are very quiet guys, although Rinji spoke good English. They don't really explain or show anything. The maximum is to point a finger at Makalu when he appears above the line of mountains. But the Sherpas are always nearby and ready to help. They will help you fasten carabiners, put on crampons, untangle the rope, and even get a thermos. At altitude, where the brain works like a rusty samovar, these are not trifles at all.

Finding the pace

So, at the first “trekking” stage of the assault, Lakpa walked ahead, looking for the road in the dark, and Rinji brought up the rear of the group. They were in no hurry and walked deliberately slowly and measuredly. However, we found it difficult to keep up with their pace and had to stop often. I ended up going second (to set the pace) and we tried going even half slower. To be honest, my memory fails me and I cannot remember many details of that night. I also don’t remember if we found the ideal pace.

Verkhonki

I specifically put the tops in the side pocket of my backpack so that if necessary, I could take them out on the go. However, I walked a significant part of the night march without tops, putting them on only when I had to hold on with my hands on snow-covered rocks. My comrades, if I’m not mistaken, walked in high tops almost constantly. Your hands get absolutely unbelievably cold here. Don't ignore this question. For simplicity, consider that you will face not -10, but a cosmic -50. Perhaps such an adjustment will help you adequately prepare to protect your limbs.

Snowy rocks

If you were even slightly interested in the details of climbing Island, you probably heard about 200 meters of “desperate jumaring”© and about the terrible stairs. But many people completely forget that before this heroic and spectacular side of mountaineering begins, they have to climb 4 hours in the dark along slippery rocks.

The slope here is very destroyed, as if the path was strewn with large stone bricks. The sides of the couloir along which we walk for at least half an hour are made of blocks similar in structure.

Even in dry weather, movement here requires some concentration, which is not very easy given the wake-up call at midnight. And in snowfall, when the stones become wildly slippery, the prospect of spending 4 hours like this becomes literally frightening.

At some point, despair was easily visible on our faces. What will happen next if it is already so difficult?

Another important point. Sliding over the rocks, you concentrate on your feet and what's underneath them. In this case, you can easily miss the overhanging rock and touch your head to it. Therefore, even at this stage it is better to move with a helmet.

High camp

At about 1/3 of the “trekking” stage we passed the so-called upper camp. There were literally several tents standing there (there were about 40 of them in the main camp) and a couple of people were preparing to leave. Judging by the speed with which they moved up, these were clearly more prepared guys. A few hours later, before the start of jumaring, we met them again, already going down the railing.

Nausea

Two of us felt nauseous on the climb and vomited several times. Traditionally, vomiting is associated with digestion, but in this case, the “central” origin of nausea seems more likely to me. It’s just that the brain is a little naughty under the influence of a lack of oxygen and sends erroneous signals. Typically, such nervous vomiting, unlike digestive vomiting, does not bring relief. You can try to calm her down with Cerucal, but this can also be difficult.

In the second third of the trekking stage, we made a special stop to deal with these unpleasant sensations and at the same time go to the toilet while it was still dark.

The snowfall stopped, but the wind increased (fortunately, it was blowing from the back), so at the same toilet stop I put on a primaloft jacket over my windbreaker and did not take it off again until I returned to a similar altitude. He put the camera in the pocket of his outer jacket.

Crampon point

Crampon Point is a site on the slope where trekking ends and mountaineering begins. Here everyone puts on crampons (hence the name), harnesses, organizes ropes, and exchanges trekking poles for ice axes.

The wind was getting stronger, so we all decided that before putting on the safety systems it made sense to insulate ourselves more thoroughly. We put on self-release pants and down jackets and never regretted it (it would be almost impossible to take off extra trousers on the slope later).

While I was getting up after fastening the crampons, the wind blew away my seat. Don't leave things unattended, even for a second.

Why no helmet?

It was already dawn, we finally took off our flashlights and had to put on our helmets. But after thinking about it, I didn’t put mine on. This is categorically wrong from a safety point of view, but... After yesterday’s training (I was wearing a helmet over a hat), my head was noticeably aching at the seams (the seams of the hat, not the head). Such extraordinary sensitivity of the head and some indifference of consciousness are quite common at high altitudes. So I gave up on everything and moved on in two hoods and without a helmet.

But I spared no effort in protecting my eyes. I took a ski mask out of my backpack, adjusted the elastic (requiring the highest effort of intellect and motor centers) and hid behind a reliable double lens. Wearing a ski mask immediately made me feel much warmer, lighter (the orange filter rules) and more comfortable. I highly recommend it.

In bundles

From Crempon Point we walked along the glacier, dividing into 2 groups, each of which consisted of one Sherpa and two tourists. The pace of movement was emphatically slow, pauses were often made to catch our breath and so that the “tail” of the ligament did not cut corners, but calmly avoided dangerous areas.

Of all the stages of the ascent, it was the movement along the glacier that turned out to be the calmest and at the same time photogenic. Thanks to frequent stops, it was possible to calmly take out the camera and photograph your own or a neighboring bunch. In addition, the glacier slightly protected us from the wind and, if desired, we could even take off our gloves for a second. However, I didn't do this.

Don't think that the relief on the glacier was elementary. In order to get around the cracks, we had to overcome steps 10-15 meters high several times. There were stationary railings installed there and many (our Sherpas, for example) simply held onto them with their hands. I didn’t feel too much strength and therefore didn’t take risks - even on the shortest railings I went up with a jumar and went down with a “glass”.

I repeat that the main source of comfort at this stage was not the route itself, but the calm pace to which we were forced to move together.

Stairs

This season there was no need to walk on stairs thrown over wide glacial stairs. On the one hand, this is good - less risk, less nerves. But on the other hand, this is robbery - in fact, we have lost part of our feat, part of a well-paid attraction...

Just kidding, of course. There, on the glacier, no one thought “it’s a pity that everything is so simple.” We crawled thoughtlessly and rejoiced if we managed to maintain even breathing.

Oddly enough, we came across the stairs themselves. One of them stood at the bottom of a wide crack. Leaning, entangled in pieces of rope, half frozen into the slope. An excellent setting for a disaster film about yet another fair of human vanity. Of course, we had to climb on it and take a photo. But there was neither the strength nor the time for this.

Snow plateau

The plateau is relatively flat and from the outside looks like an ordinary snow-covered field. However, you should not give in to this impression. In fact, a huge number of cracks are hidden under the snow and every step away from the path should be perceived as jumping through a minefield.

The plateau ends with a gentle takeoff, which ends with a steep slope for the final jumaring. Visually, everything looks elementary simple. However, this takeoff was very difficult to overcome in fresh snow. We suddenly lost speed and rhythm of movement.

I didn’t time it, but it felt like we were resting longer (breathing) longer than we were moving (moving our legs).

Jumaring

We left our ice axes at the lower edge of the long railing (just stuck them in the snow) and caught our breath a little. At that moment, the sports group that had overtaken us at the upper camp was just descending the railing. If I'm not mistaken, the guys were warming up before climbing Ama Dablam. In general, we let the athletes through and quietly moved up.

This season, in some places there were 3 ropes on the slope (usually there are two). Perhaps one of them was old and therefore unreliable, but I didn’t have enough strength to look at them more closely and draw any conclusions.

All the energy was spent on rising and subsequent asmatic breathing.

Fresh snow made moving up the slope much more difficult. My legs often slipped and this choked my already frantic breathing. It didn’t work out beautifully, like in the textbook, to walk on the front teeth. It was more like a young lady in high heels painfully making her way through the snow porridge in the yard.

A typical movement algorithm looked like this: You stand for a couple of minutes, breathe and adjust. Then you make a rapid spurt - from three to five wide steps up while simultaneously pushing your jumar along the railing. As a result, your heart explodes in your chest and your lungs burn. You are hunched over the slope trying to find a stable position to rest.

To relax my legs, I sometimes hung slightly on the jumar, but even through the intoxication of that time, the thought slipped through that I shouldn’t rely so much on this clothesline. My fellow travelers experimented with resting while lying on a slope, but I didn’t really like this option, because... the steepness was too great and there was always a risk of slipping down and losing half a meter gained with such difficulty.

Summit of Island Peak

Between 10:00 and 10:30, all 4 climbers (and two Sherpas) reached the summit.

This time there was no crowd due to bad weather. We were alone not only on the summit, but on the entire pre-summit slope. The nearest group was visible somewhere far away - at the very beginning of the glacier.

We buckled into the station, secured our backpacks and lay down in the snow. There was probably wind at the top, but it didn’t interfere at all with enjoying the peace and stillness. Only after 5 minutes we started to move, started taking pictures with flags and discussing all sorts of nonsense. Yes, it’s hard for me to believe it myself, but the video clearly confirms that at the top we were talking about the ACDC concert in London.

The top of the Island is very small in area. To take photos effectively there you need the widest angle cameras and the longest selfie sticks. I wasn't in the mood for either. I never took the 360 ​​camera out of my pocket or used the selfie stick. Well, at least he had enough brains to pull out the flag.

Rappelling

After about 30 minutes at the top we began our descent. I walked last and filmed my comrades leaving behind the bend.

I am proud that I did not deviate from my plans and secured myself with a catch knot throughout the entire descent (I attached it to the leg loop of the gazebo).

I got stuck in the lower third of the railing. The rope to which I descended and to which I was fastened was for some reason taut and the descender on it was blocked. Maybe someone is already hanging on it below, behind the bend? I waited a couple of minutes, but nothing changed. We should move to the neighboring railing. But they are 4 meters away on a steep slope, and I don’t have an ice ax...

Rinji Sherpa, who was just walking along the parallel railing, came to the rescue. He threw me the end of a loop from the cord, I secured it and moved with a pendulum to the desired line.

When the railings had already ended, and there were still 20 meters left along the slope to the “flat” snow plateau, it was not very comfortable to walk. But I wasn’t worried because the ice ax was already with me, and the slope below looked “toothless.” Even if I had fallen off, I would have ridden on my belly for these 20 meters and most likely would not have crashed into anything or fallen into hidden cracks.

A foreign tourist in fantastic sportswear rushed past (up!). He zhumar very quickly, hardly rested and easily kept up with his Sherpa. In an hour he will overtake us on the descent...

Picnic on the glacier

On the way back across the glacier, the sun finally came out and the world began to sparkle with new colors. Before this, the area around was more reminiscent of Alaska - harsh snowy mountains under lead clouds. I again began to photograph everything, although given the constraint of the ligament and cracks, I could not expect any masterpieces. Just familiar backs in a new setting.

In one of the crevices we took a short break while sitting (!!!) and finally had a snack - we chewed hematogen and tea. Before this, my fellow travelers had repeatedly tried to eat different bars, but the very first bite of food led to vomiting.

Crampon point again

The sun was also shining on the long-awaited site. We stretched out in the snow and for a very long time and very lazily pulled off the crampons, self-resets and extra twists.

In general, the entire further journey to the base camp (and it’s still a damn long way to go!!!) was spent in a painful struggle with laziness and fatigue.

Going down the snow-covered rocks was even more daunting than going up, and worried about safety, I finally put on my helmet.

Endless Descent

Oleg, Ira and Lakpa rushed forward, and Tolik and I moved down at an extremely slow pace. If a snowstorm or other weather disaster began now, we would have a very hard time. But the sun continued to shine and we allowed ourselves to walk at a comfortable pace. We slowly climbed over the rubble, slid along shady couloirs, and leaned on the stones. All this lasted an unimaginably long time (3 hours!) and in the process the consciousness completely disconnected from the process.

Below the high camp we met two Russian-speaking groups moving towards the tents. It must be said that, unlike the group leaders, many participants had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into. They asked us in all seriousness when it would become easier!

— This is the most difficult section, isn’t it? Will we break through soon?
- Yes, guys, you are almost at the top))

Return to base camp

We crawled to our tents around 16:30. A wall of clouds was already creeping into the valley, it became cold and damp.

At the camp, the first thing I did was take off my tired pads (climbing boots) and change into soft and comfortable trekking shoes. Like house slippers, honestly!

We sat in the dining room for at least an hour, drinking tea (as well as coffee, cocoa and Nutella). The Sherpas fed us pancakes and we, well-fed and slightly revived, crawled to collect our things.

Descent to Chukung

The fact is that we agreed in advance to try to go down to Chukung that same evening. Theoretically, it was possible to stay another 1 night in the base camp tents, but then you would have to pay extra for equipment rental. And the descent to Luklu was not long, so every extra kilometer simplified the subsequent program.

We left the camp just at sunset, immediately putting on flashlights and warm jackets. Our porter was without a flashlight today, so he walked with us most of the way.

Again, frequent stops and a leisurely pace. There was much more oxygen around, so we were no longer staggering, but the general state is quite reliably described by the word “zombie”. Zero emotions, zero desires, just a few automatic reflexes. You see the path - you move your feet.

At 20:30 in the evening, 19 hours after leaving for the assault, we finally arrived in Chukung. If I'm not mistaken, I didn't even have dinner that evening. I finished my tea from the thermos and went to bed.

Conclusion

What happened next? In 2 days we ran to Lukla, flew to Kathmandu on time, drove into the Chitwan jungle and walked through Nepalese rock bars. But that doesn't matter anymore. All the most important things happened on that endlessly long day of October 24, 2019, when we overcame ourselves no less than 23,000 times (exactly the number of steps). I would like to believe that we needed all these efforts not only for the sake of the photo at the top, and we descended from the Island having become at least a little better.

Kirill Yasko, April 9, 2020