The Ghar

Kabul Military Training Compound on the left, Kabul on the right,

and some very tired LTCs in the front.

As a rule, they don't let us out much here at CSTC-A.  There's not a lot of need for operations research analysts to go out on convoys around the city, and definitely not outside of the city.  So it's fairly exciting to get out of the office for some "R&R".  Well, only the second part of that term is applicable in this case.  There was definitely no resting.

"Ghar" is the Dari word for "mountain".  The spot we call The Ghar is a relatively small pile of rock on one of the Afghan National Army (ANA) training sites just on the outskirts of Kabul.  Groups from CSTC-A used to organize trips to hike to the top fairly often, but the approval procedure changed a few months ago, making it a lot more difficult to put together.  My predecessor had climbed several times, but I'd been here for almost 5 months and still hadn't gotten to go.  Thankfully, one of my office mates got to be buddies with the aide of the approving authority and was able to get a Ghar trip cleared.  As the adage goes, it's not what you know, it's who you know.

Friday mornings are the only suitable time to go climbing a mountain.  Fridays are the low battle-rhythm day, meaning no work until 1300.  It's a chance to sleep in, recharge the batteries, go do some shopping at the bazaar and generally relax.  Having the work day start that late gives time to travel, climb, return, rest and recharge before the job begins again.  Unfortunately, this means waking up at 0415 on my sleep-in day.  Boo, times two.  We met up at the parking lot at 0500 for a final briefing before rolling out at 0530.  Security precautions necessitated multiple groups of cars along multiple routes all meeting at the same place around 45 minutes later.  We started hiking up the slope just as the sun was peaking through the clouds on the horizon.

Here comes the sun, doo-do-do-dooo...

Now, I've been working out 6 days a week while I've been here, weightlifting for the past few months.  My body has changed shape, and I feel pretty good about myself.  

Then the mountain decided to serve me some humble pie.  

Total ascent on this "relatively small" mountain was around 1,000 feet.  I'd climbed maybe 50 when my lungs and I had to have a little chat.  They were filing formal complaint about being used so strenuously somewhere where the air was so thin.  In their opinion, I should turn back now before they go on strike and make me pass out.  There were threats on both sides, but I won out in the end by offering frequent breaks on the way up.  I'm just glad they didn't have a union.  Seeing the coup I won over my lungs, my legs' protest was fairly weak, as they knew my determination was no match for their pathetic whining.  They made their objection, it was noted in the log, then I beat them into oblivion to drive home the point that I would not be denied a summit.

The path up the slope was not always apparent, often times requiring scrambling hands and feet over large rocks, or trying to climb up little, loose, sliding pebbles.  There weren't any rock walls to scale or anything, but it wasn't exactly a gentle hike either.  My method of ascent was to pick a big rock up the mountain a ways, set a goal to reach it before taking a break, then push my goal back to the next big rock instead.  I knew if I didn't push myself I wasn't going to get up the mountain fast enough to have time to enjoy the top.  That worked out pretty well for me.  In no time I was nearing the crest, raising my head over the rise to see the end...

Wait a minute.  Why are people still walking around the corner?  Where are they going?  Don't they know this is the end?  Let's just follow them and see what's over h-...awwww, crap....

The mountain had tricked me.  Complete fake out.  From the base, the spot I was standing on clearly was the top.  Now from the "top", clearly there was more mountain to climb.  /fume.  Trudge, trudge, trudge, trudge, pant, pant, pant, pant, top in sight, nearing summit, keep moving, keep moving....

Now what is this?  Seriously, I'm at the top this time.  Where is everyone?  Wait, what's over here?  Oh, you've got to be kidding me...

Just as deceiving as a low-down dirty...deceiver.

I can't explain how soul crushingly terrible it was to find out that the mountain had made a fool of me again.  I mean, c'mon!  False endings are an annoying gimmick in a movie or a song, but they're downright infuriating on a friggin mountain.  So, once again, I'm climbing, climbing, this time I can see a crowd of people at the top so I know I'm actually nearing the end.  And those two stupid fake endings made reaching the real one all the more sweet.

 The CJ7 gang at the top of the Ghar.  No, the anonymous one is not in the picture.

The view from the top of my newly conquered mountain was pretty amazing.  On the south side of the mountain was Kabul and the Army training grounds.  The city looked like quite the sprawl, as it should be, home to around 3 million people and all.  The thing noticeably different about this city was the lack of tall buildings.  Even in my relatively small hometown of Kansas City, home to around 1 million people, there's a couple dense clusters of skyscrapers.  Kabul might be lucky to have a building that tops 10 stories.  On the north side was the valley leading away to the mountains that eventually blend with the Himalayas some 300 miles from here.  The landscape was dotted with defensive fighting positions for armored vehicles, though whether they were an extension of the training grounds or left over from the British or Soviets I do not know.  I took a hometown newspaper up the mountain with me, and a card from a kid in New York named Jack who's class sent us letters and candy.  I also took pictures of my girls, and took pictures of their pictures on top of the mountain.  Even if they couldn't be there in body, I brought them there in spirit. 

Left to right, Daughter Prime, Wallflower, and Little One, at the top 

of the Ghar in Afghanistan.  Sort of.

After an all-too-short stay at the peak, it was time to head down and back to Camp Eggers.  Whereas the ascent saw my lungs and legs complaining, the descent was the cue for my toes to join the whining.  Good balance on my toes was the only thing that kept me from rolling down to the bottom in more than a few spots.  Finding that balance in combat boots is not simple.  I breathed a thankful prayer that there are men out there better than I that volunteer to hike these mountains carrying 50+ pounds of armor, weapons, ammo and other gear in search of the enemy.  I didn't have a true appreciation for the difficulty of that task before.  I do now.

 Me in my body armor on the way back to town.  Very happy

I only had to carry the pistol on the ascent. 

The ride back to Eggers was interesting in its own right.  On the way to the Ghar, the sun wasn't even up, so it was dark and there weren't a lot of people around.  On the drive back into town, the streets were packed.  It was, after all, Friday morning.  Friday is the Muslim holy day, and while traffic was reduced from typical levels, more people were out on the street than I had seen during my two previous trips through town.  Lots of shopping was going on at the roadside fruit vendors and butchers.  Sadly, the burger joint looked closed.  No, I'm not kidding.

Apparently we've brought our bad eating habits with us from America.

The Ghar is one of the best experiences I've had during my time here.  We get to spend quite a bit of recreation time together as a group, but it's so much more satisfying when you can go somewhere besides the office or the dining facility to do it.  We're planning to go once more before I head home, some time in early December.  It looks possible that my replacement will actually be on the ground by then.  Hopefully that is the case, as that would be pretty cool to hike to the top with a co-worker from back home.  We'll just have to see.  

Coming up next, more exciting adventures outside the walls of Camp Eggers.  Stay tuned.  That's all for tonight.  Out here.