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Rick Hudson

He didn't make a good first impression. The temperature was over 35C in the Almaty hotel lobby. I hadn't slept for two nights (jetlag), and was just going down with some infection, acquired on one of the flights. So, for these and other reasons, I chewed him out for being late. To his credit, he didn't blame someone else, which is what most people would do. He just apologised for keeping me waiting. After that, we got on famously. Andrey Barbashinov was to be the guide for my son and me on a ten day trek in the Tien Shan, a warm-up for Khan Tengri (7,010m) later in the season. In addition to him, there would be Svetlana ('Sveta') our camp cook, and Terson, a local Kazakhi veterinarian-turned-packer, who would handle the horses.

Always the gentleman, Andrey (barefoot) carries Sveta across a glacial stream.

A day later, close to the road-head, Terson appeared beside the 4WD, leading a pair of ponies. Andrey waved him over, jumped onto one of the animals, and galloped off, bareback, down a mile-long swath of rolling grass and flowers. I was spellbound. In the short time I'd known him, I'd sensed his passion for mountains and climbing, but he'd never mentioned horses! He rode as though he had done so all his life. Which, it transpired, he had.

For the following week, our routine varied little. We'd rise early. Andrey, cheerful always, with his broad shoulders and complete disdain for warm clothes on cold mornings, started the stoves. Sveta cooked breakfast. Terson rounded up the horses from wherever they'd managed to hobble overnight. We'd strike camp. At a small table we'd drink copious amounts of tea, chew dry bread, and discuss the day's hike, the faded map spread between jam jars and mugs.

Descending to Akkol Lake, Tien Shan Mtns.

The weather varied, but the length of the days seldom did. We crossed numerous 3,000+ meter passes, and rarely made camp in less than eight hours. Often, it was more than ten. Throughout the day, Andrey was wherever needed, friendly, willing, but most of all, strong. He was wonderfully strong, in a way that a 50+ year old ex-climber, who remembers his many years in remote ranges, can only appreciate. He carried an enormous pack, even when the horses were lightly loaded. "Keeps me full of muscle!" he'd say.

As we trekked through high alpine valleys, carpeted with flowers and lakes, we'd talk about where his country was heading, and where he wanted to be. His English was good, his humor sharp, and his sense of history strong. Although a Russian by origin, he'd been born in Kazakhstan and considered it his country. He'd read Dostoevsky and Solzhenitsyn. He had original views on NATO, Stalin and Clinton. He was informed. He liked jazz, especially big band jazz. And pretty girls (blonde Sveta would giggle at that).

It was his dream to climb in North America. "See," he said one day, "I already have the equipment!" Somewhere, he'd acquired a North Face jacket, which was his pride and joy. If he ever bothered to dress for the cold, he wore that jacket. But, with a monthly income of less than $50 (typical of most professionals in that poor, ex-USSR country), travel to the USA seemed impossible. We talked about the Rockies, the Himalayas, and Greenland, and Alaska, and how cold it was on McKinley, and what route to try. He'd already made his mind up that he wanted to 'do' Denali. And we talked of what there was to do in the Tien Shan. And where the best night clubs were in Almaty.

Andrey (right) with client after crossing 3,400m pass (behind)

He was modest about his own climbing achievements, but enormously proud of his friends' accomplishments. In particular, he spoke of his buddy Denis Urubko, who'd just done Everest without oxygen, and who would, a week later, win the Khan Tengri speed race at the International Festival nearby (in the extraordinary time of 12 hours and 21 minutes; the 4-camp route usually takes about 8 days).

One night, a lightning storm rolled across the range. We were camped on the flank of a peak, at 2,900m. Not a good spot. "Tonight, we don't need flashlights," Andrey said with a chuckle. He was right about that.

We were treated to a spectacular light show that left us quivering and nearly deaf. Then the hail fell, and the taut tents drummed like fury. By midnight it had passed, and we scrambled out to a star-filled sky and a full moon. Around the camp, hailstones coated the grass like snow. It was cold and very beautiful. "Life is full of surprises, eh?" Andrey said.

He was right about that too. And I for one will miss him.

Andrey in his element.

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