When you are standing on Yukhin Pik (5100m) and looking up towards Lenin Pik (7134m), you not only have an open mouth without speaking any words but you are located high in the central part of the Trans-Alai region of the Pamir Mountains. I had a headache back then while looking at Lenin Pik for 15 minutes without moving my head. The headache was probably from the altitude, the bad sleep I had last night, or the lack of water in my body. Maintaining a good physical and biological shape in altitude is a science. Many people I have talked with regarding the altitude and proper acclimatisation suggested I drink a lot of water, climb very slowly, and sleep well. Eating food anyway is hard at altitude, so I received no advice. However, it's obvious that you need a lot of energy. We slept one night on Yukhin Pik with Dejan as a part of our acclimatisation for climbing Lenin Pik. It was a boring night, incredibly boring. Dejan immediately fell asleep when we arrived at the summit and accessed our tent. I use this loneliness to visualise our trip to Kyrgyzstan so far. I was thinking of where I am and why I got to this place. What was the main reason I am doing this high altitude mountaineering? It is a complex process of little and bigger experiences, highs and lows, toughts and converstaions throug our lives that builds our desteny. We are the only one responbileb for our path in life, finding our purpose and creating our meaning. Maybe, the mountains can give us all this, but still, its something very personal and need to be disvocers on our own.

Land of nomads

After 7 hours of flying from Istanbul, you are in Central Asia, or more specifically, you are in the Kyrgyz Republic. Climbing Lenin Pik is usually doable in summer or, if you are a high-level alpinist, in winter as well. The climate in Kyrgyzstan in the summer period is generally sunny, with, by some metrics, around 80 days of unstable weather. A continental climate is dominatiing here, probably since the Indian subcontinent plate hit the Asian one, making Kyrgyzstan from far away from the oceans. Continental climate usually means that the summers in Kyrgyzstan are very hot, and the winters are very cold. While traveling from Manas Airport to Bishkek, I noticed something: These lands are optimized for moving. Manas is the name of the Airport, but is also the name of the warrior Manas who united the Kyrgyz tribe and led them through the hard times, according to the 18th-century poem “Epic of Manas”. “Here, the land is for adventurers, right?” the taxi driver asks us, although he knows the answer. He recognises us because of our heavy backpacks. Without any doubts, I reply to him, “Yes, indeed. It seems like another world to be explored.” I thought in myself that although many things are explored, one can always find something undiscovered, and that is ussauly hidden within ourselves. Exploratiion, as I am thinking, is not only external activity, but it is internal much more.

The Yurt, a well known tent and a shaltter for families across these open wide spaces, takes around 2 hours to set up or take down. It's a national treasure, national spirit, national philosophy, national nomadic proof. We cannot imagine the nomadic way of life without the Yurt. It is everywhere, and even at the Airport, you can find one standing there as a symbol of these lands. The Yurt, as a shallter, is three thousand years old, witnessing and supporting the nomadic way of life, giving the people from the Steepps a place to sleep, launch, get warm or tell stories. I had an opportunity to observe one family that lived in a Yurt. I remember I was sitting in the middle of the hill with my eyes directed towards them. I was sitting there for almost 3 hours, looking at the freedom around the Yurt and within the family, considering 98% of the global population does not have such freedom. Many people will say that these are poor conditions, and not sustainable for a proper life, but they are wrong. Sustainability is at the heart, not in the building, on the street, or in the coffee shop. These nomadic peoples are the ones who embrace the earth, the climate, the food, the air, the fire, the snow, and the horses as they are. They live with them, and the food is always aorund them. Instead of looking at the high towers and budilings, they are looking in the high mountains coverd by snow. They looked at the wild horses and the unlimited open space. They don’t just look at the freedom, but they live it.

Soviet marks

In the process of the history evolution, they came, saw, and left their marks. The streets in Bishkek were with wounds, and the whole city has somehow a soviet structure. In everything, buildings, monuments, saunas and bathhouses, and mosaics, you can recognize the mark of the pre-democratic era of the Kyrgyz Republic. “Shoot me with Lenin”, I said to Dejan, “With the winners”, I added. It was just a joke, because no one can win life. We walked around the city for 4 days, and we never felt bored. We witness the post-soviet development in the form of art, with some modern buildings and shopping malls. We saw creative advertisements of the local brands. From the city, you can see 4000 thousand meters of mountain peaks, covered with snow, while sitting in one of the many parks in Bishkek. “I think we are in the most beautiful county in the World?” “By which metrics?” Dejan asked, “Excluding the politcal history and consquences, anything can be measured here”, I said.

Open spaces

“Just look…”, Dejan said to me, “Just look at the empty and never-ending space”. We were driving to the Base Camp of Lenin Pik, and the only way to get there was a 7-hour drive from the oldest city in the county, which is considered 3000 years old, the city of Osh. It was the most beautiful drive I have had so far in my life. I saw at least 200 Yurts and maybe Dejan from the other side of the window saw much more. People were living there, the kids were playing some weird games, and the horses stayed calm and ready. Finally, we made a pause, and we had the opportunity we both wanted: Getting inside the Yurt. We had our lunch in the Yurt, and for a moment, for a very tiny moment, we were part of a centuries-long tradition of a Nomadic way of life. On average, our vehicle moved from 3000 to 3300 altitude non-stop. “They live the life. They live the life,” I told the guy beside me. He agreed, saying “Sure” with a Russian accent.

Lenin Pik, but not this try

We moved relatively fast in the uphills on our first days in the mountains, doing our acclimatisation. We climb Pik Petrovski (4880m), a peak next to the Base Camp, and other smaller peaks in the surroundings. For those who don’t know, the process of acclimatisation means going up and down, and then up again, for the body to become used to the altitude so you can proceed to higher heights. I don’t know why, but I had very high blood pressure that period, and the doctor in the Base Camp suggested I should not proceed to the Advanced Base Camp but stay here for some more days. The day after, we started our climb towards the Advance Base Camp (4500m), following a long route where, for the first time, we saw Lenin Pik.

We install ourselves at the ABC (Advance Base Camp). Now, the plan was to go higher and sleep at Yukhin Pik, as one of the most essential activities in the acclimation process, spending a night in the altitude. Before going to sleep at 5100m, we take a one-day break. Surprisingly, we were 6 Macedonians in the Base Camp, including myself, Dejan and 4 other climbers from the “I Love Hiking” Mountain Club. In our company, the attendee was very often Ruki from Finland. He was a great guy. He came to Macedonia some months after the expedition. We all spend several days together, discussing and sharing different stories and experiences.

The other group from Macedonia were very well organised, and it seems like their motivation for climbing the mountain was on a high level. But, they had a different plan than us. After we get our backpacks ready, we take off for the overnight at 5100m. The climb was straightforward, and we reached the summit in 4 hours, coming to the summit not so tired. After arriving, we ate something very fast, made some tea, entered the tent, and started to rest. Dejan fell asleep right after we laid down, as I said in the beggining. The night was cold and boring, and I could not fall asleep. After struggling the night, the “Morning, man.” from Dejan has arrived. “Hey man, how was the sleeping?” I asked him, “It was like home,” he said. We get out of our tent and start to look at Lenin Pik without moving our heads at all for some time.

Losing motivation in the mountains

The bad weather has arrived in the mountains. In the following 4 days after we came down from Yukhin Pik the snow fell all the time, and sitting in the tent and waiting for the cyclone to pass, we had waves of different emotions almost every 30 minutes. What do waves of emotions mean? Are they bad or good, or maybe neutral? What are they? You see, you can translate them however you like and use them for anything. Maybe the bad gut feeling you can use as a good sign, I don’t know, but unfortunately, we translate them in a bad way. “The days are passing by, and the time for reaching the summit for us is becoming more tight”, Dejan said. It was true. After the bad weather cyclone, we had only one opportunity to go higher than 5100m, sleep there, climb down, and then go for the final ascent for Lenin Pik. On expeditions, your mental power is truly on a test. After 10 days spent at the mountain in the tent with your partner, everything starts to annoy you. It was very challenging — at least for me — to balance the communication, emotions and the will to go up these last days. At that time, I was listening to an audiobook called The Endurance, talking about the adventure for the last unclaimed prize in the history of exploration back then (1914): The first crossing of the Antarctic continent on foot. Still, I remember the quote I heard in that book, “Adventure is just bad planning”. “Tomorrow is a good day, but after tomorrow is bad again. Let’s go tomorrow as high as we can and climb down to ABC the same day”, Dejan suggested to me, and I agreed. We start our day very early, putting on our gear for high temperatures and hard snow. After 3 hours of climbing, we reached 5400m, but I was exhausted, I have no power in my body and the moving bacme very slow. Lenin Pik was somehow very close to my eyes, although the was a few days far. Maybe it was an optical illusion, but at the place where we took the rest, it was unusually close.

We climbed down, not reaching the sub-conscious goal that we had of getting up to 6100m. This was a big hit to our expedition and very hard to accept, and our expedition started its descent from than on. We had our meal the day after, and no one said anything. I can’t remember what was the first exchange between me and Dejan, but we knew that our expedition was coming to an end. Descending to the Base Camp, from where we start our way back to Skopje, Dejan said, “Everything is an experience, but not reaching the summit can be sometins greater expereince that climbing it”. I take that. We missed the flight back to Skopje. Unmotivated and not having the will to discuss with the technicals at the Airport, we accepted that we were not on the list for onboarding because of some technical problems with our return tickets. They replaced us on the next flight, 24 hours later. This was a new experience for us both: being stuck at the airport for 24 hours, walking in circles, journaling, and reading.

The same day I came from Kyrgyzstan, I went in my home woods. Walking very fast in the uphill towards peak of Vodno, while analyzing my behaviour and my actions for the entire expedition. Now, sitting at the peak, and lookged at the mountians faraway, I consider that we are never the final version of ourselves.