Accompanied by specially selected Kirghizes, I tried four times to climb to the top of the "Father of Ice-Mountains," but always without success. Our camp was pitched high up among the moraines. Islam Bay, six Kirghizes, and ten yaks were in readiness before sunrise, and we took with us ample provisions, fur coats, spades and alpenstocks, food and a tent. At first we climbed up over gravel, and then over snow which became deeper the higher we went. As the air became rarer, respiration was more difficult, and even the yaks halted frequently to recover their breath. The Kirghizes walked on foot and urged the animals up towards the giddy heights. It took us the whole day to reach a point 20,700 feet above sea-level. At this point we halted for the night, intending to push on higher in the morning, but two of the Kirghizes were so overcome with weariness and headaches that they asked to be allowed to go down again. The others shovelled away the snow and pitched the little tent within a wall of snow. A fire was kindled and the tea-kettle put on, but our appetites were poor, as we were suffering from mountain sickness. The ten yaks stood tethered in the snow outside, and the Kirghizes curled themselves up in their skin coats like hedgehogs. The full moon soared like a silvery white balloon just above the top of the mountain, and I left the tent to enjoy this never-to-be-forgotten spectacle. The glacier below us lay in shadow in its deep bed, but the snow-fields were dazzling white. The yaks stood out jet black against the snow, their nostrils steaming, and the snow crunching under them. Light white clouds floated rapidly from the mountain under the moon. At last I returned to the tent. The fire had died down, and the recently melted snow had frozen into ice. There was a smell of damp and smoke inside, and the men groaned and complained of headache and singing in the ears. I crawled under my furs, but could not sleep. The night was quiet, but at times a dull report was heard when a crevasse was formed in the ice or a boulder fell from the mountain-side. When I crawled out from under my furs in the morning, a violent snowstorm was sweeping along the flanks of the mountain. Through the dense cloud of whirling snow we could not see our way, and it would have been death to mount to still higher regions. We might be glad if we could struggle down again alive in such weather, so down we started through the drifts, down headlong. We all needed a thorough rest after this experience.