Laying around base camp in perfectly good weather while K2 remains unclimbed leaves me with a slight sense of guilt--kinda like goofing off while at work. So if you are currently at work while reading this dispatch, then you are familiar with what I am trying to articulate here.

The waiting game is a part of Himalayan expeditions which some find incomprehensively frustrating--but the rewards can be counted on both hands and both feet, mostly because by waiting, your fingers and toes are part of what you get to keep. Not that losing digits whilst climbing is a sign of incompetence or impatience. Heck, many of the best climbers in the world have suffered amputations after making all the right decisions--only to get caught out in a freak storm. Even my brother Steve, a burly rugby player from the frost-coated playing fields of Canada, is missing a finger--a result of trying to play favorites between a farm tractor and a load of hay. Now 15 years later, Steve still rolls with the jesting and juvenile chides like, "Dude, give me a high 4 ½!" (As opposed to a "High-5". I hate explaining my humor). 

Oddly enough, Bruce's mantra on the subject is, "Anyone who gets frostbite (without prior injury) is an idiot." This commentary is of special interest considering Bruce lost (technically) 1.5 toes to frostbite in 1997 while climbing the north face of the Matterhorn in winter. His boots were laced up tight for the technical portions, and by days end looked "rather purple". The following day on the route, his toes froze again, thus ensuring tissue loss due to refreezing. His "I was an idiot" confession now seems rather earnest and is especially convincing when he wears his Tevas.

Last year, while climbing for the summit on Cho Oyu, I lost feeling in all 5 toes after waiting for my Polish partners to climb a small rock wall at just under 26,000 feet. By the time I finally ascended the obstacle, I had not been able to feel the entire front of my right foot for almost 3 hours. For some weird reason my left foot was toasty warm. But just as the sun came over the ridge and things were begging to warm up (relatively), I had a sudden minor panic-attack about the loss of my toes, tucked tail, and descended alone to our high camp. In the tent at 23,000 feet, I discovered the front of my right boot encrusted with snow and frost, which I had cleared from my left boot the night before but failed to do so for the right side. That night, the end of my second toe blistered, and the next day turned dark brown. A few weeks later the whole tip dropped off while hiking into Annapurna base camp. Even though this small affliction of "frost nip" could hardly justify anything close to serious frostbite, I still categorize the event in similar self-deprecating idiom as Bruce. 

Returning to my original subject, that of patience and waiting, my thoughts immediately turn to the upper slopes of Broad Peak, where as I type this dispatch more than 50 climbers are fighting to descend in high winds. Watching with binoculars from base camp, we could infrequently catch glimpses of their progress through the clouds. I recall how only a week ago we fought against even fiercer elements in our upward struggle to Camp 3, but with experience and tenacity, came through the ordeal with no ill effects. The trick is to know when to fight and when to wait--but even then, there are no guarantees. As for those coming down from Broad Peak, our hopes and prayers are for their success and safe return--all digits intact.

As we wait out the incoming storm, it gets easier to justify being in base camp. I feel wiser for not being up in the storms, and will feel even wiser as the storms intensify. But even so, in the back of my mind comes the impatience, the desire to plainly grit my teeth, charge directly into the wind, and continue to climb up the rock and ice in "irretractable" fashion. But one thing holds me in check: the click-clack of my ten fingers on this keyboard. 

Ok, I lied. In reality I only type with my two index fingers- but you get the picture. I also realize that this dispatch has zilch to do with the current video. So what. Now get back to work.

Don Bowie