Turkey’s glacier-crowned Mt. Ararat holds sway over a land that lies at the turbulent crossroads of religion, geopolitics, and culture.

Mt. Ararat - In Noah's Wake

There’s eco-tourism, and then there’s "Ego-tourism". Mountaineering, detractors have said, often sips at the straw of the latter. But I had no time for such lofty debate. I had a date with destiny.

I was in Eastern Turkey, in the dumpy frontier town of Dogubeyazit (think ‘doggie-biscuit’), near the Iranian border, to fulfil a smouldering dream. I was here to climb the massive Mt. Ararat – at 5165m, a medium-big mountain, and the most technically challenging peak in the Near/Middle-East. (Go on, get out your atlas).

I wasn’t necessarily pursuing some bold, epic, soul-nourishing experience. I was simply keen to satisfy my craving for a bit of adventure, test some new mountaineering gear, and get my adrenaline shots along the way. This would be the biggest mountain I’d ever attempted.

If you're looking for bragging rights to a fairly untouched mountain, consider that Ararat was closed to international climbers from 1989 to 2001, due to terrorist concerns posed by the then very active Kurdish Separatist Party (PKK). With a special pass (easily obtained from your local Turkish Embassy), the mountain is once again begging to be climbed by anyone reasonably fit, determined, and well enough equipped.

Mt Ararat, a dormant, monolithic volcano, has been here for the last 7 million years. Turkey, Russia, Armenia and Iran - representing cultures and religions that could not be more different - have been fighting over this mountain for all of recorded history.

The irony, of course, is that their dispute hinges on the plainly indisputable - that Mt Ararat is deeply intertwined in all their national identities. It’s the one thing these history-scarred lands have in common.