Ararat - A High-Altitude Hike with Sophie von Maltzahn
- Written by Portal Editor
Ararat - Anyone climbing the 5,137-meter-high mountain in eastern Turkey for the first time is torn between pain and joy, self-doubt and belief in their own strength.
Diary of a Summit Conquest! Let others start small, I think to myself as I book my first mountain hike. Not a hill, but a real mountain: Mount Ararat in Turkey, whose summit reaches 5,137 meters, making it higher than Mont Blanc.
I'm going to lose a few pounds, boost my self-esteem, and push my limits to unimaginable heights. But when you stand before it for the first time, doubts creep in. Is my strength enough to conquer this enormous volcanic mountain, visible from 50 kilometers away? A little less than a week later, I'll know.
According to legend, Noah's Ark came to rest on Mount Ararat after the Great Flood. For the Christian Armenians, who have lived in the region for millennia, it remains a sacred mountain and a national symbol, even though it lies not on their territory, but just across the border in Turkey. The border is closed, however, because the two countries disagree on whether the expulsion and murder of the Armenian population in the Ottoman Empire during World War I constituted genocide. At least: What is forbidden to Armenians—namely, climbing Mount Ararat—is permitted for tourists, but only with a special visa and only as part of a group.
Ararat - First Day of Hiking
From Van Airport, deep in eastern Anatolia, Kurdish mountain guides pick us up and take us to the small town of Doğubayazıt at the foot of Mount Ararat. The Turkish military checks our special visa, which is required for the border region with Armenia and Iran. The snow-covered giant stands alone above the sparsely populated highlands.
After a night in a hotel, a rickety bus takes us up to 2,300 meters above sea level. From there, we begin our hike, climbing 900 meters. A sea of yellow and blue wildflowers blankets the sparse green of the hills. At base camp at 3,200 meters, our luggage, provisions, and tents are already waiting for us, kindly hauled here by horses. Just a few meters away lies the first snow.
Day Two of Hiking
In the morning, there's no putting off what I'm dreading any longer: I have to go. Unfortunately, only a few chunks of lava rock are suitable as toilet blocks—and those are particularly popular. The landscape compensates for the rudimentary sanitary facilities, and I greedily inhale the fresh air. Today is an acclimatization day, to help my body adjust to the altitude. It's a test run up to 4,000 meters and back down to base camp, so that enough red blood cells are produced to absorb sufficient oxygen. Our mountain guides are determined that everyone makes it to the summit; no one should give up due to altitude sickness.
We trek through dense lava scree, where you can't trust every stone. You have to carefully check which ones are suitable as steps. It's arduous, but we manage. At the second camp at 3,800 meters, we drink chai; there are no more flowers or alpine meadows here. The tents are pitched on scree, surrounded by snow. The group camping here today is already on their way back down from the summit. I can't believe that we'll be that far in two days; I can only think as far as where I am right now.
The ascent ends at 4,000 meters. That suits me just fine. In the last half hour, all sorts of aches and pains have been getting on my nerves: an old fracture in my heel, my upper arm hurts from dragging my trekking poles, and something's rumbling in my stomach. The way back down, however, is pure snow fun! Exuberantly, we slide downhill over the snow with great cheers.
Day Three of the Hike
Today is a rest day. That means we're only supposed to scramble to the second camp again and rest there for the night, because the summit attempt begins at 2:00 a.m. when the snow is frozen solid. Every step is easy for me; euphoric about my fitness, I bound up the trail to the second camp like a chamois.
We're now so high that you can see the plumage of the flying birds from above. We go to sleep at 5:00 p.m., but I can't close my eyes because of the excitement, especially since the weather is getting worse. Raindrops drum on the tent, the wind tugs at the tent pegs and at my nerves.
Ararat Summit Day
Departure at 2:00 a.m. Wearing crampons and headlamps, we walk single file. I only look at the footprints of the person in front of me, because every glance back makes me uneasy. I don't even look down the slope anymore; it makes me dizzy immediately.
At first, we march at the same pace, but after two hours, some are going too fast, others are taking too many breaks. Under the pressure of the still long way to go, it's hard to accept someone else's pace. Especially for me. But I can't go any faster and I refuse to follow the lead. If you don't stand up for yourself on the mountain, you won't reach the summit. It's not a question of discipline, but of self-confidence.
The higher we climb, the stronger the wind blows. At 5,000 meters, it mercilessly whips snow into our faces. The fog is so thick you can't see ten meters ahead. I remember headlines about missing climbers; panic chokes me, and the air, which is incredibly thin up here anyway, chokes me. Mountain guide Nouri rips off my balaclava so I can breathe better and patiently talks to me. "Now you'll finally get to know my beloved Mount Ararat!" I suggest he should find a girlfriend instead.
My fingers are numb with cold, I'm done. Why take the risk any further when you can't see anything from the summit anyway? But the group insists on going up. Stupid group. After ten minutes, I give in. It's too cold to stop, and I can't go down alone. My anger gives me new strength; defiantly, I trudge past everyone—and am even the first one on the summit. The wind is sweeping across the ridge with unexpected force, and we quickly retreat a few meters lower. We hug and congratulate each other, then head back down. It took us seven and a half hours to get here; going down is much faster.
Last Day
Today the hike ends. What a shame. I feel incredibly happy after yesterday's exhilarating climb. On the other hand, the thought of finally being able to shower again is also appealing. The anticipation takes the strain out of the four-hour hike ahead. Once we reach the bottom, we know that we have far more strength than we ever imagined. A good feeling! It feels as if a medal gleams on our chests, inscribed: "Summit conqueror, who determines strength and conquers fear."
Getting there: There are no direct flights from Germany to Van in Eastern Anatolia; you must change planes in Istanbul. The tour operator will arrange the transfer from Van to Doğubayazıt/Ararat.
Trekking operators: Only licensed tour operators are permitted to guide tourists to the summit. Ceven Travel, run by the local Ceven family with over 50 employees, is highly recommended. Their guides climb the summit more than 30 times a year. Ski tours are offered from March to May. The hiking season runs from June to September. A trekking tour like the one described costs €550, including a €50 fee for the mandatory special visa.
Information: Consulate General of Turkey, Frankfurt/Main, Tel. +90/69/23 30 81
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