Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Alex,' he said, 'would you like maybe to try Bandaka?'
'Sure,' Alex replied. 'Do you eat it hot or cold?'
'No, no, Alex, is not something you eat, it is mountain. When you see it you will
want big sheet. Here, look at these.' He passed us each a black-and-white photo-
graph of a great triangular face bearing some resemblance to the north face of the
Eiger, except it was much bigger. And that was the opening gambit of Voytek's
plan, harboured from before we left Poland, to organise a breakaway group within
the expedition.
Although he respected Zawada, Voytek did not enjoy the big expedition mental-
ity. Zawada's plan, and the one we had followed up until now, was to travel
halfway up the Wakhan Corridor to the Mandaras Valley and climb a number of
mountains from there. That is what the Afghanis had tentatively agreed in our cor-
respondence with Kabul, pending the essential bribes, of course. But there was
only one clear plum in the valley: the north face of Mandaras itself, a technically
difficult 1,500-metre face on a 6,400-metre peak.
Voytek had a different objective in mind, the 2,300-metre unclimbed north-east
face of Koh-i-Bandaka (6,850 metres), the highest peak in the central Hindu Kush.
We would have to leave the main party and head south-west toward Kafiristan be-
fore entering the Wakhan Corridor. I recalled Doug Scott had made an early ascent
of this peak. An experienced Polish team had tried and failed to climb the face the
year before. It seemed a perfect idea, to divide the group to avoid any competition
on the main objective in the Mandaras. Ten of us vying for the same north face
might have forced us into a siege-style approach, which I suspect may have been
what Zawada hoped.
[4]
'Good, that's settled. Jan Wolf wants to go as well so we will be two ropes. Now
we must say nothing until I have seen Andrez and agreed it with him.'
The train trundled to the end of its journey at Termez, a small city in southern
Uzbekistan on 14 July. The climate and rich agriculture resembled the San
Fernando Valley. Well-kept orchards and fields of wheat were juxtaposed with
rows of melons that seemed to have multiplied in numbers too great for the size of
their vines. There were even occasional vineyards. It seemed idyllic as we unloaded
the bags and stacked them on the platform, but not for long.
A Red Army captain and four sub-machine gun-slinging soldiers were working
their way down the platform checking everyone's papers. As soon as he reached us,
things became complicated and rather unfriendly. How could it be that four Brits
were suddenly in their midst?
