In the morning the sun sneaks up on you. It rises so suddenly and so close you feel you can grab it and warm your hands with it. In a few minutes it makes the whole mountain glitter like a bar of silver. Heavy fog may in the beginning block your view, but it soon disperses and many more mountains reveal themselves.
There are many mountains in Kurdistan and all of them worth a personal pilgrimage. But Korek Mountain is different. It is a place where people of all religious, ethnic, or political orientation come together for an escape from the political turmoil at home.
On top of Korek Mountain you hear all the local dialects of Kurdish, Arabic, English, Farsi, Turkish, and a range of other foreign languages. As I stood watching a friend try the ski trail, a Filipino man in a red winter coat stepped into the ring and declared very early on that he had no idea how to ski and was only there for a photo.
Three young girls from Sulaimani stood behind the fence. They curiously asked about the sport and were determined to try their luck no matter the risk or the cost. Two Chinese tourists came asking about where to rent ski gear while a few meters away Kurdish and Arab families stood on the edge of another slope for group selfies.
Arab tourists from Mosul, Baghdad, and other parts of Iraq ran up and down the mountain as they played excitedly in the snow. They dotted the white slopes with their colourful coats, hats, boots, and gloves. Children trailed their parents to one of the cafes while teenagers filled the mountainside with screams of joy as they flew overhead on a sky glider.
During the day the mountaintop is a hub of activity. Snowball fighting, skydiving, skiing, and paintball. But in the evening as the sun disappears in the distance the hustle and bustle of the day stops and the mountains turn into a haven of peace. Those there for the day head down to the foot of the mountain and those who stay overnight retreat to their cottages built very close to the peak and overlooking every mountain within sight.
Before long a giant moon appears in the sky and shines everything in its path. The white snow of the day takes on a different colour in the moonlight and the cold of night turns the snow into a crispy field. If you go for a night walk, the moon will show you the way while the only sound you hear is the crunching of snow under your feet. As you pass under streetlights half buried in snow, you see your own breath steaming into the cold air.
There are different ways to get to the mountaintop. You can trek a winding track from the bottom to the top. There is also a road for vehicles. But the most popular way is by cable car known here as telefric.
At the main station hundreds of people, tickets in hand and fully dressed for the ride, gather in several long lines to get on the cable cars. They chat merrily, taking selfies and videos as the line moves at a snail's pace.
For a first timer the crowd makes you ever more curious and you begin to wonder where those magic boxes hanging on electric cables will take you as from the bottom you barely see the peak.
As the cable cars pick up their passengers and make a slow U-run towards the top it feels like a ride into the unknown. But in a few moments you find yourself in midair looking down on giant boulders sticking out of the ground like signposts. Goats from nearby villages roam among the oak trees down below and graze on young shoots, dead leaves or grass that have survived the winter cold. As you go higher the goats, the trees and the rocks become smaller and disappear from sight.
Some of the passing cable cars are like mobile disco techs. Young men and women, student groups or lovers play loud music on speakers and sing and clap as they go up or down the mountain. Others sit silently and stare through the glass into the pristine nature that sprawls as far as the eye can see.
As British explorer Wilfred Thesiger once said, "It is not the goal but the way there that matters and the harder the way the more worthwhile the journey." Though the way to the top of Korek is smooth, it is still a worthwhile journey from the world of news and conflict to the heart of Kurdistan's nature.
