Haba Mountain Village

At sunset we arrive at the ramshackle Haba Mountain Village Inn, a rather homely looking place as you can see in the adjacent picture.  We duck into the dimly lit, dining room / reception area where the innkeeper family is huddled around a woodburning stove and where the wall is decorated with pictures of earlier guests smiling with triumph at the summit of Mount Haba,

Mount Haba towers ominously above us.  We immediately set about trying to arrange our summit attempt for the following morning.  The Haba Mountain innkeepers immediately set about emphatically trying to discourage us.  Apparently after taking one look at me and my sorry climbing gear, they are convinced I would never survive the mountain assault.  "The wind is terrible.  The trail is long.  The terrain is treacherous.  And worst of all the cook has left the base camp!"  they warn us.  We are not dissuaded by all their warnings, but the practical reality is that we need to be provided with a guide and they do not seem willing to grant us their services (or introduce the Muslim guide in town).  

As we huddle next to the stove picking at our dinner of Yak liver, two climbers from Beijing stumble in off the mountain.  They had successfully summitted, and are clearly drained by the effort and conditions, and they too are quick to join the innkeepers in trying to persuade us not to try climbing Mount Haba.