Following the footsteps of the Norwegians up to the base camp of Tirich Mir 7,708 metres in Hindu Kush

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Hindu Kush is a mighty mountain range stretching out for hundred of miles into Afghanistan and Pakistan, and having dozen of peaks rising above seven thousand metres, has been lured adventure-seekers since long. Its tallest mountain, Tirich Mir 7,708 metres, is the most easterly peak in the range, lies between the Chitral and Oxus rivers. It's a giant, soaring precipitously to daunting heights, kissing the sky, and forming an imposing backdrop. Both the east and to the west, the surrounding mountains are much lower, and so Tirich Mir stands out in its isolated splendour dominating the entire Chitral valley with its vast shining grandeur. The vale is backdropped imposingly by the dazzling Tirich Mir.







There is little wonder about Tirich Mir that there has grown up in the minds of those who live under its spell, a multitude of superstitions and myth. The stories have been passed down from generation to generation and are believed, anyway in part, by even the most enlightened Chitralis. It's said that the summit is in the form of a castle inhabited by fairies. The fairies are guarded by frogs, the size of lorries, which live in the crevasses on the glaciers. Anyone ventur­ing on the mountain will probably be devoured by the frogs, but should they survive these, then they are cursed to die within the next year. It's a cheerful thought. There are said to be people in Chitral who have been up to visit the fairies, on invitation, and have lived to tell the tale. Having been several times to its base camp, I have yet to meet one. People in Tirich valley, where we had been in 2014, also used to thrash out the same stories. In fact, the whole lot in Chitral is stuck on to the mantra of superstitions and myths.







Tirich Mir, having been conquered by the Norwegians in the 1950 for the first time, enticed mountaineers until the hostilities began in Afghanistan in 1979. Ever since, it's rarely been attempted. The Norwegian team, led by late Prof Arne Naees, approached the mountain via Barum, a small village in Lot Owir Valley of Chitral. A jeep-track branches off the main Boni-Mastuj Road at Nol further off Maroi, takes one across the Mastuj River into Barum and Shabronz through Parpish and Riri villages.







When the mountain was knocked out in the 1950, valleys that were surrounding Tirich Mir, were only accessible through gruelling foot journey off the main town in Chitral – there was no road or jeep-track. The Norwegians journeyed four days from Chitral to reach Shahbronz, last village before embarking on the trek to the base camp. Setting out from Chitral, they camped at Koghozi and Barenis, and then, on the third day, crossed a very primitive bridge on Mastuj River to the village of Parpish.







These days one can travel by jeep to get to the last village, or at least, Nol or Green Lasht, wherefrom it's a five hour trek up to Barum. Both in 2009 and 2012, I avoided travelling by jeep from Nol, and footslogged up the track, and got to Barum.







The Norwegian team's journey from Dir to the base camp was not without event. Their journal, taken down by Tony Streather, member of the expedition, chronicles that the troubles started when they tried to get the hundred or so porters, who were to carry the equipment the first stages, started from Dir. It was late in the morning before the chaos of shouting and arguing ceased, and the last load left on its way.



The main route into Chitral from Pakistan, was through Dir State, and over the 10,000 feet Lawari Pass. All goods going into Chitral must be carried over the pass by pack animals or by coolies. The pass was closed by deep snow, sometimes for weeks on end, during the winter, and it was not possible to get animals over until well into June. If they had been able to carry their equipments on mules their transport problem would have been much simplified, but there were but few animals crossing the pass at the time. Their first night was spent at Ziarat, a small post on the Chitral side of the pass. On the second day, they rejoined the few miles of road which have been built in the State, and late in the evening, reached the town of Chitral. The lorries in which they travelled, had been dragged on the hard snow over the pass by hundreds of coolies many years earlier. Rough use on the roads of Chitral had done them little good, and the 26-mile journey from Drosh to Chitral took them nearly four hours. In Chitral, the party was welcomed by the Board of Administration which was at the time ruling the State in the absence of His Highness the Mehtar.



Accommodation was arranged in the grounds of the Palace, and a State Banquet was given in the evening. Unfortunately, the party were in no form to appreciate the splendid eastern food, but Pro­fessor Beg and some other were able to do it full justice. The Assistant Political Agent, Mr. Mir Ajam, was also there to welcome the party to Chitral, and he kindly made many arrangements for their comfort. He gener­ously offered to send on mail by porter to them at Base Camp every few days. The Political Agent of Malakand, Major Mohammad Yusuf, M.C., who was responsible for maintaining contact between the Pakistan Government and the three Frontier States of Dir, Swat, and Chitral, was at the time on tour in Chitral. He showed very great interest in the aims of the expedition, and sent them on their way with every good wish for success.



Later, when returning to Peshawar, they were to enjoy the generous hospitality of his wife and himself to lunch at his house in Malakand.



After a short rest in Chitral, they were ready for the four days' trek which was to take them to their Base Camp. They had engaged fresh porters to carry the equipment, and they were all looking forward to getting up to the cool mountains and away from the stifling heat of the Chitral valley. Even on the mountain, it was the heat which was to prove so troublesome to the Norwegians, whereas to Beg, and the porters, it was a welcome sight to see the sun rise in the morn­ing and slowly feel their blood warm again, having spent the night in freezing agony.



They trekked for two days north, up the main Chitral valley, camp­ing for the night at Koghozi and Barenis. On the third day, they crossed the river by a very primitive and frightening bridge at Parpish, and reached Barum. This was the last village before Base Camp, and it was from that village that they hoped to enlist porters who would work on the mountain.



They called for volunteers and many came forward. The next day, 11th June, Base Camp was established at a height of about 12,000 feet at the snout of the South Barum Glacier. Some of the keener and stronger-looking porters from Chitral and from Barum, were selected to remain for work between the high camps, and the rest were paid off.



It had been arranged through the kindness of H.Q. Frontier Corps at Peshawar that a wireless station, manned by the Chitral State Scouts, should be established at Base Camp, and should re­main there to enable the expedition to be in direct contact with Chitral and through Peshawar with the outside world. This proved very useful when it became necessary to call up further supplies from the porters from Chitral, and it meant that news of their success was able to reach Norway the same day as they returned to Base Camp, and not after about a week, as would have been the case if it had had to be sent from Chitral after their return there.



Most of June was spent in establishing advanced Base Camp or Camp IV, near the top of the South Barum Glacier, at about 17,800 feet. There were no serious obstacles, and a huge ice-fall between Camps III and IV proved easily climbable by a narrow path of snow on its east edge.



The three Hunza porters, who were to work with the expedition, were late in arriving at Gilgit, and did not join them until much of the heavy work in establishing the lower camps had already been com­pleted. In many ways this was an advantage, for although only two of them proved fit for the work they were fresh for carrying at the higher camps. The third was a veteran from the German Nanga Parbat Expedition and although keen and efficient was much too old for any climbing. He spent most of the time in hospital at Camp IV. They had held high hopes of the Hunza men being their mainstay for the summit but as things turned out they did not prove better than the best of their Chitrali porters. Apart from the old veteran, they were not pleasant to work with, and when the time came to pay them off, two of them refused to accept their money, saying it was not enough. This was hard to understand as the Chitrali porters were more than pleased with their pay, and the Hunza men were to receive an extra two rupees a day as travelling allowance while on their journey to and from Hunza. They sent their pay on to the Mir of Hunza.



Soon after Advance Base Camp had been established, the south-east ridge was inspected, and it was soon found that the snow conditions were bad as compared with those at the time of the 1949 reconnais­sance. It was therefore decided to give up the idea of an attack by this route—anyway until late in July.







I, a restless soul and adventure-seeker, was to follow the footsteps of the Norwegians with Saif, a local guide and friend. According to plan, I was to join Saif at Lasht Ghari, a small hamlet lying high up across Shabronz. Travelled by a jeep from Chitral, I arrived quite late in the evening at Barum, and couldn't venture up the few miles to Lasht Ghari in dark. Telecommunication facilities were but none at all that time, and therefore, I couldn't contact my friend about my arrival.







I stayed with a nice gentleman at Pachanshok, a small hamlet on the bank of Barum Gol. Barum Gol – a river of enormous fury, wild, restless and angry, races and plunges, cutting deeply into the rocks. It issues off the snout of North Barum Glacier, and rushes down the valley to merge into Mastuj River. My host conveyed a message of my arrival to Saif, and to my wonder, he appeared early in the morning. Together, we went up to Shabronz village to stock up needed supplies for the trek up to the Shokorshal base camp of Tirich Mir. Shabronz, a verdurous settlement, and being the last village before embarking on the trek, lies higher up Barum, and is accessed via a rough jeep-track crossing a wooden-bridge on Barum Gol. Shabronz, Barum, Riri and Parpish villages rely on on the water of Barum Gol for irrigation, drinking and in the past, for generating power.







I had been to Barum for the first time in 2009 where the Norwegian team had hired porters to haul their supplies and equipments to the base camp of Tirich Mir. Saif's father, being in his 80s, when asked about the Norwegian Expedition by me in 2009, told out that, "I was part of an expedition aiming at conquering Tirich Mir long time ago". But he failed to recall the exact name of the expedition or nationalities of the members. Following the 1950s Norwegian Expedition, there were Spanish, Japanese, British and Czech expeditions to Tirich Mir either through Lot Owir or Lotkho valleys. And, indeed, there was another Norwegian Expedition in 1964 to attempt the eastern summit of Tirich Mir.







The trek up to the base camp passes through a narrow valley towered by formidable mountains on all sides. Deep beneath the giddying heights, the furious Barum Gol thudding down into the narrow gorge. The trek up for the most part, is along the right bank of the river. It's a gentle ascent of about eight hour, begins immediately at Shabronz, and ends up at the snout of North Barum Glacier – source of Barum Gol.







Saif and I, set out at forenoon having turnaround time in our minds to get back to Shabronz in the evening. Ahead of Shabronz, we crossed a wooden structure on the river, and trekked up to a summer settlement. Here, we rested for a while, and then resumed our trek. As we approached a confluence where a glacial stream merges into Barum Gol, thundering sound began louder and louder until we hardly hear our own voices. The stream rises high in the glacier, racing down the slope and making an enormous waterfall named – Mardagul.







Back in 2009, on my first trek via Barum, Saif's father had told me a brief tale ascribed to the waterfall and its name. According to him, "Mardagul was an audaciously brave hunter, residing in Lot Owir valley. He used to hunt game birds, and even markhors when sighted up on the narrow slopes. Hunting was perhaps his livelihood, and he used to do it with whatever hunting tools he managed to get in that remote valley. One day he was in search of markhors high up on a steep mountainside close to the fall; stalking quarries all day, he gave a weary sigh on a steep slope, and made up his mind to go back home before dusk could fall. Climbing down the incline on the way back, he misstepped a cliff, and slipped down the slope. As the gradient dipped, his body gained momentum, and he rolled down the slope dropping into a huge waterfall. Struggling desperately to save himself, but on that steep slope, it was next to impossible.







The slippery slopes, the ever-increasing momentum of his body, rocketing him down into the enormous waterfall, its freezing water, thundering sound, and a vertical drop, proved fatal. Despite a thorough search, probably after some days, his body never found.







After the tragedy, the local people named the fall as "Mardagul", he added".











When we moved up the route, the clear blue water of the fall warranted a stopover. The water down to the fall, dashes down through an invisibly narrow ravine. The glacier, wherefrom the stream issues off, is also out of sight from the riverbed. Higher above, Tango Gol Zom, a daunting peak, rising steeply from the gorge, dominates the eastern horizon. I began feeling giddy when I stared up at that granite spire in front of me.







We trudged up along the stream in order to ford it at a narrow place, and eventually we did. The eastern summit of Tirich Mir became visible from that point, scaled up for the first time in 1964 by the Norwegians, and again led by late Prof Arne Naees.







Ahead of the stream, glacial moraine is a major obstacle to get through. The glacier, smaller in size, is heavily fractured and crevassed. For a while, we followed a defunct water irrigation-channel, washed away at some points by landslides – common in the mountains. Here, beneath the towering mountains, rockfall is a major danger. Rockfall, triggered by tremors, can hurl down the mountain slopes, smacking anything coming its way.







We were alert when passing through that tricky section. Even at some places, we had to scramble up, and travere the perilous slopes. On a lateral moraine, we came across, Meena Khan, a hunter from Barum. We exchanged foodstuffs, took shots, and then trekked up to the snout of North Barum Glacier.







At the snout, closer views revealed that blocks of ice were to fall straight on where the river issues off the glacier. Inside the glacier, lays a world, totally different, alien and strange. Whenever a block of ice would fall, a fine drizzle would coming out off the snout. Huge rocks, fallen down off the mountains, were layered down into the ice. Weird sounds were coming forth off the semi-hollowed glacier.







Fearing of a huge block of ice, which could detach and fall anytime, we started moving up along the lateral moraine. Pained and tired, we got through extreme difficulties while negotiating the glacier up to a point where we could cross it to a low-lying land referred to as the "Shokorshal base camp of Tirich Mir". It's covered with trees. Scaling a slope littered with huge rocks, and even having vegetation, was in between us and the base camp. We got over the scree slope, and then inched up to a raised strip of the moraine, gasping for breath.







Here at the strip, strewn over with boulders, we could see the eastern summit of Tirich Mir, Barum Gol Zom, Tango Gol Zom and even Little Tirich. In that lonely place, what we could see were jagged peaks rising to the sky, rushing streams, waterfalls, clear blue sky – and smaller glaciers, inching down the slopes to form a bigger one lying at the valley-bed. It seemed like a waking dream. Hypnotized by the immensity and austerity of the landscape, I found it hard to stop goggling at the view and resume climbing down.







The Southeast Ridge of Tirich Mir was steep, precipitous, and leading straight up to the summit shrouded in clouds. Where the Southeast Ridge starts, here is an icy col separating Owir and Tirich valleys. One can venture beyond into Tirich Valley via that col provided one has climbing skills, experience – and more importantly – the will to go. However, it's difficult from Tirich Valley.







I wish I could do it one day!







Saif and I descended to the base camp after resting at the ridge. The camping ground is meandered by small glacial rills. It lies in the lap of very steep mountains; rising steeply off the valley-bed, looming up in all directions, crowning jagged-peaks – and forming a valley so narrow that one couldn't gaze beyond. The base camp, used by numerous expeditions in the past, is a launching pad for assaulting the eastern summit of Tirich Mir, looming over the entire narrow valley.







We would have explored that awesome area had we camping gears. Unfortunately, we lacked trekking equipments, and therefore, we were to return just before the evening. I wished we could venture up to the site where the southeastern ridge begins, but it would have taken us more than three hours, and ultimately, we would have passed the night at that isolated place without tent. Therefore, we completely given up on that idea.







The local people of Barum and Shabronz bring up their cattle to Shokorshal for grazing, usually at the beginning of the spring. They appear at the grazing site occasionally to find out whether their cattle nibbling on the pasture or not. At the onset of autumn, stocks are being carried down to villages. It appears that snow leopards no longer patrol that rugged terrain, otherwise local people wouldn't have carried on that transhumant practice. Snow leopard, an endangered species, inhabits the northern mountainous areas of our country. Pakistan is one of the last sanctuaries for this wild mythical creature, endangered by poachers, and local inhabitants. When it comes to local people, they kill it mostly in retaliation for attacking their cattle.







Taking a reasonable time off at the camping ground, then we were to get back to Shabronz. We ate our last skimpy meal, packed up, said good-bye to those glorious, snow-plastered giant peaks; and then we set out on the long journey back to Pachanshok. Now we trailed downward, opposite to the lateral moraine. Once arrived at the confluence, I was to shoot the waterfall; and therefore, I slogged up through a scree slope and inched up very close to the fall. Shot at a closer range, it seemed out very vivid, beautiful and enormous. The sun had just setting down in the west over the towering Ausher peak to the south. To the north, the mountains were wreathed in mist.







We pressed on down the beaten track on the way back in the narrow valley, towered by lofty, barren, and twisting mountains. The moon had just appeared in the sky while we were walking down slowly with heavy steps. Deep beneath the track, Barum Gol was careering down roaringly; gorging hungrily at its rocky sides. The whole valley was shimmered off in the moonlight while the roaring Barum Gol breaking the silence. A wooden-structure, spanning the rushing river, was not so far when we turned up at a slope dropping straightly onto the river.







Here, we began descending cautiously; the track being lit up by the moon, was rather easily negotiable then. As we drew nearer to the river, the noise became louder and louder. The wooden-structure – precisely to be two sleepers made of hard wood, were laid across the river, and was the only access across the village for the local people of Pachanshok.







First, Saif crossed the wooden-structure, and got to the opposite bank, thickly wooded with poplar trees – common in Lot Owir. The I stepped forward, and began crossing the bridge, but halted in the middle to wallow in off a scene so romantic and beautiful that I forgot that Saif was waiting across the river. The scene, being upstream, dramatized by the moonlight; towered by snow-capped mountains; a rushing glacial river flowing through it; poplar trees grown on both banks of the river – was so charming that it engrossed all my attention for a while.







Facing upstream, and enjoying what charmed me so compellingly, I would often stare up at both the scene and the glowing moon. At last, Saif yelled at me; and I had to eye off the scene, and crossed the wooden-structure to follow him.







Then we followed a sinuous trail deep into a wooded-terrain; passing through poplar trees, the moonlight was peeping out through canopies, lighting up the way for us.











Exhausted, pained and spent, we passed the night at the village with our host, who was a very nice person. The day dawned bright and sunny, and I was to leave for Chitral. Saif accompanied me down to Barum, and then I bade him adieu, and started trekking down the jeep-track. A few jeeps, travelling between Chitral and the valley, had already left in the morning. So I was to trek down to either Nol or Green Lasht. Alone, I hiked down to a suspension bridge spanning Barum Gol close to Riri village. Here, I was in quandary whether to follow a track passing through Riri to Nol, or the other leading to Green Lasht. However, after some time, I followed the later and set off. Heavy rain the previous night had silted up the track at some points.





An hour later at noon, I arrived at Green Lasht, a small village having a small bazaar on Boni-Mastuj Road. Here, I got on to a jeep travelling to Chitral, and wound up in Chitral late in the afternoon.



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