Tengkangpoche Part 1 - Boundless Energy
Part 1
October ‘21. North-east pillar of Tengkangpoche, Day Five (around 6000 metres). Khumbu region, Nepal
Hanging from a single peg in front of my face, I watched as it flexed under my weight. Anxiously scratching the snow, I searched for another placement. The key to Tengkangpoche’s upper headwall was contained within this single crack. All our efforts up to this moment were suspended in one question: could we climb through this feature? How I’d wondered, worried, longed to see what was around the corner. Would it go?
A gale blew ice into my numb cheeks and stung my eyes, shaking the rope like useless string. Straddling the blunt arête, a thousand metres of air dropped beneath my boots. The distant valley was already dark - night was rushing. ‘Move!’ I shouted at myself, trying to maintain a pace whilst aid climbing. The building, pounding drumbeat of ‘Angel’ by Massive Attack rose in my ears, thundering round my head.
In another metre I looked up, simultaneously registering the setting sun on my face - bright but without warmth - and the end of the headwall. I could see easier nevé leading to the summit ridge. I leant out above the void and glanced back at Matt, huddled in all his clothes. Punching my arms into the air, I screamed, ‘YEEAAHH! It goes! Also, watch me!’
***
September ‘21. Six weeks earlier.
I was eager to climb in Nepal for many years. Its history and culture is intertwined with mountains and alpinism. I’d heard many stories of the kind Sherpa people, living in the shadows of the world’s highest mountains. Since I’d already visited Pakistan three times and India once, the Nepali Himalaya was a logical. In September 2021, Matt Glenn and I agreed on a last-minute climbing trip there.
Matt’s strength of mind compensated for his relatively green experience in the Greater Ranges. He speaks with a light Northern Irish accent and his eyes light up when he enthuses about ‘the sesh’ (hedonistic parties). I saw a familiar burning psyche for difficult alpine routes. He is also a member of the UK’s Young Alpinist Group, a mentoring programme I set up a few years ago. Last winter we shared a rope on the north faces of La Meije, the Grandes Jorasses and Les Droites, promptly developing a strong partnership and mutual affinity for techno music.
Matt and I quickly searched for objectives which fit our requirements of a relatively short trip in October: the mountain couldn’t be too high, so as to limit the acclimatisation needed; not too far from civilisation, so as to limit the trekking approach; not too expensive; and either something that ‘grabbed our attention,’ like an aesthetic and already-climbed line, or a new route which appeared high-quality.
As an aside, I’ve always considered it important to consolidate my climbing ability and experience steadily, rather than rush through the grades. I think it’s necessary to build a high technical standard across the many forms of climbing. Over the last decade of my alpine ‘career,’ I’ve gone from UK trad to Scottish winter, then the Alps, Alaska, Patagonia, and the Canadian Rockies. I deliberately wanted to be at a reasonable level within each environment and discipline before trying hard things in the Greater Ranges. As always, I don’t specifically look for a first ascent, but rather an enjoyable time. The climbing is what matters to me.
I found a couple of mountains in Nepal but filed them away for another time, either too high or too remote. By chance, I was scrolling around Google Earth when I saw a mysterious peak. There was only the telltale sign of a large pointed shadow which jutted from its base. The altitude was good, there was a village nearby, and the face looked steep. I messaged an agent (Dawa at Dream Himalaya Adventures), but he immediately replied, ‘that’s Tsoboje, the Slovenians’ objective!’ I’d just spent 10 days in Slovenia with Christelle, seeing all my friends there. We knew of each other’s trips to Nepal, but I hadn’t asked about their ideas. I called Luka Stražar and we laughed. ‘You’ve discovered our plans,’ he said, ‘and you’re welcome to join us.’ We joked this could be a rematch between the UK and Slovenia (after teams have unexpectedly and unintentionally met in the same base camp).
‘Thanks,’ I replied, ‘but if you’re going to this mountain, Matt and I will look elsewhere.’ Whilst I enjoy sociable trips, I prefer isolation.
I re-checked my list of ‘amazing unclimbed peaks,’ noting I’d written ‘Tengkangpoche.’ I’d already messaged Quentin Roberts in June 2021, congratulating him on his previous attempts to climb this 6487-metre mountain in Nepal’s Khumbu region. He’d spent six days on the sharp and sheer north-east pillar in 2019 with Juho Knuuttila, and tried it again in spring 2021 with Jesse Huey. I asked if he was planning to return and if conditions were much worse in the autumn. Quentin’s confirmed, and made the peak sound better in the spring (more sun and a more pleasant-looking snow ridge), so I initially ruled it out.
The search continued, Matt and I stressing about our departure date looming in just two weeks. Eventually, I suggested the Thame valley: it fitted our requirements and had a host of mountains nearby: Kwande, Kongde Ri, Tengkangpoche, Tengi Ragu Tau - and several things we couldn’t identify but liked the look of. I figured we’d find something when we arrived and saw the peaks first-hand. We’d keep our options open - or as I often do: we just postponed the decision.
I had also asked Quentin about logistics in Nepal. I messaged him again on the 17th September: ‘we’re going exploring but I feel it’s important to be honest - Tengkangpoche is something we’re interested in! Reading about your first attempt makes me think it was a really good effort and there doesn’t seem to be a feasible way up it… but then if you went back for a second time you think it’ll go…?!’
Quentin replied, ‘I appreciate the honesty!! It is a beautiful mountain! Yes I hope so but sadly wasn’t able to find out. Keep in touch when you’re in the khumbu I’m excited to hear how things go for you guys. Especially [with regards to] weather and conditions. if you’ve got any questions hit me up of course. Jesse and I are planning to go back in the spring. Would you be keen? Or going back to Pakistan?’
Over the next two days we exchanged dozens of messages about Tengkangpoche. Quentin kindly offered lots of beta about route choice, gear and logistics. Much of it was things I’d already figured out from my own experience in the mountains (take a two-person sleeping bag; try the right-trending ramp system through the upper headwall; satellite maps indicated you could descend the south side of the peak if necessary; and so on). However, I was grateful to Quentin for sharing his first-hand experience.
In fact, there was plenty of information from Quentin’s two previous attempts on the mountain: articles, reports, photos, a kit list, a podcast interview, and videos. This publicity had certainly generated interest within the alpine community, and I wondered if we’d meet other teams in Nepal with more concrete ideas of trying Tengkangpoche.
I asked Dawa for a permit to the Thame valley. My experience in Pakistan and India has been that permits are a pointlessly bureaucratic and occasionally expensive process. On three of my trips the agent has essentially ‘fudged’ the permit, either ignoring it or combining it with another team. I’ve also heard of permits being issued after the route has been climbed. Dawa explained the easiest method was to apply for Tengkangpoche. Its altitude (sub-6500m) meant we had minimal paperwork and it was an ‘open’ peak. With the flights hurriedly booked and only days to go, Matt and I agreed: put Tengkangpoche on the form and we can sort it out later, if - or when - we summited anything (keeping in mind that about 50% of these trips result in nothing being climbed). The permit is not a binding obligation.
After so much organising, it was finally time for action. We bought boxes of Clif and Kind bars (Matt baulked - he’d been eating almost nothing but Kind bars all summer!). Exploding my garage with gear, I blasted music through my speaker and bounced with energy, stuffing gear into duffles. ‘You rocket!’ Matt said when he saw the mess; he often used the phrase to describe someone - or something - which was a bit crazy or wild. By now, after ten alpine trips to the Greater Ranges and similar destinations, I’m boring enough to have a spreadsheet to remind me what to bring; although I usually still forget items. Matt and I laughed: we’d be absolutely identical whilst climbing, with our matching orange jackets, Sportiva boots, red backpacks, grey trousers, and so on…!
We threw a ‘going away party’ and amongst the guests were Gabriel and his girlfriend; Gab was going with the French Young Alpinist Team to Nepal. We chatted and planned to meet in Kathmandu after our trips.
I said goodbye to Christelle at the airport. ‘Come back safe,’ she replied.