Four women go undercover in the Islamic Republic
Standing in Tehran airport I watched as four women in long beige coats and head scarves swished past, their city slicker image only slightly marred by Tevas and bulging rucksacks, “We’re here!” yelled Celia in her fetching Islamic dress. And so began the first ever women’s climbing exchange between Iran and Britain, the culmination of months of global emailing and faxes from the BMC, the Iranian Women’s Mountaineering Federation, and of course various embassies and ministries.
The seeds of inspiration for the trip were sown back in May, at the BMC’s Women’s Symposium in North Wales. The slide show “Women’s climbing in the Islamic Republic of Iran” raised a lot of interest, most people being unaware that climbing exists in Iran, let alone any active women’s climbing groups. This is hardly surprising since media coverage focuses more on political controversy than the excellent skiing, 4000m peaks and remote unexplored ranges. After the symposium though many women were curious to sample Iran, and I offered to liase with the women’s climbing groups there and to organise a joint climbing expedition. The final team was Celia Bull, Glenda Huxter, Kath Pyke and myself, with Glenda’s sister Linda roped in to catch it all on film.
Women’s climbing in Iran has been greatly affected by the Islamic Revolution in 1979. Women are legally required to wear Islamic dress and sports clubs are segregated. But despite the constrictive dress code – loose trousers, a coat to the knees and a head scarf covering the hair - climbing continues, women have their own climbing federation, run their own workshops and train women to become instructors.
Fleeing Tehran’s terrible traffic and pollution, we headed straight for the Alburz mountains. Our destination was Alam Kuh, Iran’s second highest mountain at 4,850 metres, which boasts a formidable granite wall starting at 4,000 metres.
At the mountain village of Rudbarak we received a very warm welcome from the representatives of the Women’s Climbing Federation. Having little information about the Alam Kuh wall, we spent an evening scouring photos at the local mountain centre, trying to spot lines to climb, this impressive white granite wall has enticed climbers since the beginning of the century, and was finally ascended in the 1960s by various French, Iranian, Polish and German teams.
To gain a more personal insight into the climbing, we interviewed Mr Nagavi, the local hero, recently returned from the first ever Iranian ascent of Everest. Mr Nagavi, works as a guide to the Alum Kuh area, and his father was the first ever professional mountain guide in Iran. Speaking with abounding enthusiasm, he pointed out the main lines on the wall, and warned us of serious rock fall risk, and the dangerous and involved descent route. But overwhelmed by sleepless nights, non-stop travel and jet-lag, Kath and Glenda dozed quietly in the corner as Mr Nagavi talked on.
It was a wet, drizzly morning as we loaded mules to begin the long walk in to the Sarchal hut at 3,850 metres. Miraculously, within a few hours of walking, we passed through the clouds to discover a startling blue sky, and bright sunshine. Conversations in broken English echoed throughout the valley,
“Are you married?” asked an Iranian host.
“No”, replied Kath, “are you?”
“Me?” she replied with startled chuckle, “I like climbing too much!”
The mules could go no further than the Sarchal hut, and from then on we had to ferry our equipment over the glacier to our higher camp near the base of the Alam Kuh wall.
Truck loads of rock thundered down the wall continuously through the day, and only then did we begin to appreciate the seriousness of the climbs we had planned. Kath and Glenda spent a whole day scouting out potential lines, as well as working out where established routes began. “It was epic” grinned Glenda as she described finding the base of routes. We had begun to question the possibility of putting up a new route, considering the limited time available, and the heavy rock fall. Kath and Glenda decided to do an established route called “Hariroost”, the last British team to climb it had spent three days on the wall, but Glenda and Kath hoped to do it in one.
We watched the small figures gradually ascend the immense wall from the security of our tents. Climbing steadily up the route they summited at dusk, and we waited to celebrate with them. By nightfall they still hadn’t returned and the Iranian women were visibly worried, they were terrified about an accident happening on this trip. Celia and I decided to postpone our route and to search for them at first light.
At 3am two very weary climbers stumbled into the camp, after summiting they had descended almost a kilometre of scree only to discover that they were in the wrong valley! Nagavi’s advice about the descent was now remembered with startling clarity. They told hellish stories of reascending before eventually finding the route down with one head torch between them.
An hour after their arrival Celia and I set off for our route, another established one called the German Flank – which follows a ridge through the middle of the wall. We watched a spectacular pink dawn over the cloud-inverted sky. The route is a classic – varied climbing with stunning views on both sides. As the route became steeper we passed a precariously perched boulder called the “Samovar rock”, which can be distinguished when looking at the wall from a distance. Celia noticed two bolt lines and we both mumbled something about “death wish” and then climbed on. Finishing the final crack Celia and I summited at the same time as an Iranian Women’s team. “Congratulations!”, were yelled in several broken languages as well as numerous hugs and handshakes.
The descent down was not to be underestimated though. It follows a very winding path through ”The black towers” before reaching what Iranians call “a scree ski slope”- or simply a steep icy couloir decorated with loose rocks.
Following the Alam Kuh trip was a rock climbing workshop held in the foothills surrounding Tehran. For five days Kath, Celia and Glenda used ingenuous methods of communication to teach this group of almost twenty Iranian women climbers. Despite the language barrier, there was an incredible sense of exchange between the two groups.
The climbing workshop by day was often accompanied by singing in a café at night. Some of these girls had travelled from provinces throughout Iran, places as far away as the Afghan border, to be taught by the team. Their enthusiasm to learn was astonishing if not exhausting. At the end of the program, we were invited to go and visit the girls who all claimed that their province had the most beautiful climbing in the country.
Next summer a group of Iranian women are hopefully coming to Britain and the Alps for the return part of the exchange. So far Iranian Women’s teams have found it almost impossible to go on expeditions abroad for both financial and political reasons. This trip has begun the first few steps in building a bridge between women and climbers in the two countries and we are very grateful to everyone that helped it happen.
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