K2 (
8,611 meters - 28,251 feet )
This expedition was ill-fated, perhaps from the
beginning. We were a group of 11 climbers, all sharing
a permit, and brought together by one of the most experienced
of modern day expedition organizers: Henry Todd. But in
reality we weren' t there so much to climb together as to
just summit. This paradox , combined with horrible weather
and the tragedies that be-fell our neighboring teams,
combined to defeat us. In the end, not a single climber summited
either K2 or Broad Peak that season. Two climbers lost
their lives trying.
As the years pass, 4 of the 11 climbers on this
permit have passed. Ray Brown died days after returning home. A clot formed in
his leg, probably as the result of the stresses of high altitude climbing. As
he sat on his front stoop and untied his shoes after a run (he had completed
dozens of marathons), he dropped dead of a massive heart attack.
In 2006, Rod Richardson, the most amazing person I
have ever met, was killed by an IED in Iraq. A retired Lt. Colonel in the US
Marines, Rod was a true hero. Most of us thought Rod was immortal. We miss him
dearly.
A few weeks after Rod was killed, Christine Boskoff
and Charlie Fowler were swept to their deaths while climbing a peak in Western
China.
We may not have summited, but we are truly richer for
having shared this adventure.
Chris Warner
[ top ]
Expedition 2002
Fewer than 200 people have summited the world's second
tallest mountain. K2 is much steeper than
Everest. The climbing is harder. The weather is worse. With a history of epic
ascents, K2 has earned its nickname: The
Savage Mountain.
Chris Warner, the owner of Earth Treks, is heading there
this summer, as a member of an international expedition led by Henry
Todd. The
team is made up of extremely skilled and experienced climbers, each of
whom has summited at least two 8000 meter peaks. The team will attempt
the Abruzzi
Ridge, the ultra-technical "normal" route. They will be climbing
without oxygen.
Chris departs the US
on June 6th, traveling via Islamabad,
Pakistan. They
should arrive in base camp during the third week of June and hope to be making
attempts on the summit in late July.
Chris will be sending dispatches and photos from his
expedition back to the Earth Treks' website. Stay tuned for an amazing
adventure.
[ top ]
K2: Climbing the Abruzzi
Spur
The Abruzzi Spur (ESE Ridge)
was first climbed by Achille
Compangnoni and Lino Lacedelli, members of an Italian Expedition in
1954.
Technically challenging, with sustained sections of fifth class rock
climbing,
steep snow and ice it is nonetheless the "normal" route on K2. To date
198 people have climbed to the summit of K2, with 103 of those climbers
ascending via the Abruzzi
Spur.
The journey to base camp begins in the city of Islamabad, Pakistan.
Here the team will meet before flying to Skardu, in Pakistan's infamous Northern Area.
An 8-9 day trek brings us to base camp. Base camp is located at 5000 m./16500
ft.on the Godwin-Austen Glacier below the mountain's triangular South Face.
Base Camp, at 5000 m./16500 ft., is known as the Strip.
Many parties will place an Advanced Base Camp at 5400 m./18000 ft. The route
from BC to ABC follows the Godwin-Austen Glacier, climbing through a small ice
fall. It takes about two hours to get to ABC, located at the base of the spur.
Moderately steep snow slopes and the rocky crest of the
spur lead to Camp 1 at 6000 m./19,686 ft. C1, like every camp on the route, is
exposed to the winds and storms that lash the South Face of the mountain. The
climbing above C1 was pioneered by the American Expedition of 1938. Here the
climbing is famed for its technical level of difficulty, often in the fifth
class (classic rock climbing). The hardest part of this section is a cleft in
the cliff bands just below Camp 2, known as House's Chimney. In 1938, Bill
House found this weak link in the otherwise impenetrable ridge, climbing what
was then the "hardest single pitch climbed at that time in the Karakorum
or Himalaya."
Camp 2 is hacked from an icy crest, at the top of this
section of rock, at approximately 6760 m./22,180 ft.
Above C2, a short section of moderate scrambling on a
rocky spur leads to the Black Pyramid. Back on steep terrain, the climbing
hovers in the 5.4 range. Above here, we climb onto a shoulder of the spur that
slowly widens. Camp 3 is placed above a serac, on the completely exposed slopes
at 7450 m./24,443 ft. Our plan is to fix ropes to this camp, making escape in a
storm or while exhausted a realistic possibility.
From C3, the route ascends a snowy shoulder, and the primary
dangers come during storms, as this section of the route often avalanches. It
is also fairly featureless, making descent in bad weather nearly impossible
without a GPS unit to guide your way. Cresting the "Shoulder," the
team will place Camp 4 at 8000 m./26,248 ft.
Summit day on K2 is the most dangerous time on the climb. The ridge
fades into a headwall, with a steep couloir called the Bottleneck providing the
best route to the upper mountain. Conditions in the Bottleneck vary from
Styrofoam like snow, which accepts easily kicked and secure steps, to bullet
proof ice or even ice covered by powdery snow. Climbing out of the Bottleneck
is tricky as it steepens near the top and leads onto an exposed snowy
"Traverse". We will be bringing 200 meters of 5.5 mm Bluewater Titan
cord with us to fix that section.
Above the Traverse, things remain tricky, depending on
the conditions. We plan to fix an additional 200 meters of Titan cord here as
well. Finally the summit ridge eases off and the 8611 m./28,250 ft. summit is
reached.
In the past, some of the strongest Himalayan climbers of
all time have turned back within a hundred feet of the summit. Climbers have
taken as many as 20 hours to climb from high camp to the summit, a distance of
less than 700 m./2100 ft. The climbing can take that long simply because the
snow and ice conditions can be so poor and even in the best of conditions, the
climb is hard and scary.
There is no lingering on the summit of K2:
snap some photos and go. It is a race to get down alive. After rappelling down
the fixed lines and pulling C4, you need to set your sights on getting to at
least the safety of C3.
Violent and sudden storms, if they catch you high on the
mountain, can make descent nearly impossible. The greatest tools a climber can
have on K2 are speed, humility and extra
batteries for the GPS unit. Let's throw in a dose of luck, an accurate weather
forecast, excellent gear, strong partners, a smart plan and lots of GU, just to
be on the safe side.
[ top ]
Departing for K2
June 8, 2002
Two days ago, I sat amidst 300 pounds of equipment. Today
5 duffel bags have been loaded into my truck for the trip to the airport.
I will be meeting three other members of our team at JFK
airport. Together we will fly to Islamabad and
transfer to a flight to Skardu, the regional capitol of the Balti area of Pakistan. Most
of our team is already in Pakistan,
buying the last of the food and fuel, organizing the cook staff and readying
the group gear for the trip.
I have heard from the team in Pakistan. They report that things
are quiet and that the Pakistani people they meet on the street are full of
hope for the peaceful resolve of the Kashmir
issue. The well known Pakistani hospitality has not been eroded by the recent
political crisis that swirl through the air.
I am not certain if I will be able to send a dispatch
before we hit the trail, for the 7-8 trek to base camp. At worst, the dispatches
should begin to flow in the second half of June.
Well, it is time to get this show on the road.
Chris Warner
[ top ]
K2 base camp (17,200
ft.)
June 20, 2002 - The Journey to K2
Base Camp
Three of the team, Rod Richardson, Joby Ogwyn and I, all
boarded the same flight from New York to Islamabad. 17 hours
later, we arrived in a very hot and sticky city, and were met by Henry Todd,
the expedition leader. All of our bags, except one of Joby's, made all of the
connections. (Incredibly, Joby's duffel actually met up with us at Concordia,
55 miles up the Baltoro Glacier.)
We loaded in a van and sped across the city to our
expedition's base of operations at the Shalimar Hotel. Nearly one hundred
barrels and duffels were packed in the lobby, representing some of our gear.
 Rod, Joby and I were among the last of the team to arrive
(Simone Moro of Italy
is about a week behind us and will meet us in base camp. He summited both
Everest and Cho Oyu in May and probably
deserves a little rest). The rest of the team was already in Skardu, the last
"city" enroute to K2.
On the flight to Skardu, the Captain of the plane
actually came down the aisle and asked if we wanted to join him in the cockpit
for even better views of his country. We practically fell over the other
passengers as we raced forward. Crammed in the tiny space and a little careful
not to lean on any levers or push any buttons, we snapped photos of Nanga
Parbat (8th highest peak in the world) and the Indus River
Valley. This privilege
was actually arranged for us by the VP of Passenger Services of Pakistani
International Airlines, whom we had met on the flight from NY.
At the K2 Motel, the main team gathered. While I had
heard of most of these folks, I had met few before. This is a very strong team,
certainly the strongest big group I ever climbed with. Everyone has been on
many expeditions to 8000 meter peaks (I'll send bios in a few days). The
climbers come from Australia,
Italy, Basque(Spain), Scotland,
Nepal and the US. Our
fearless leader is Henry Todd, perhaps the best known Big Peak
expedition organizer in the world.
Suffering from jet lag was hardly an excuse. Within 48
hours of leaving New York we were loading the
trucks and jeeps for the journey to the village of Askole.
Here the road ends and the hiking begins.
 
Askole is split in two by the Braldu River.
The local people subsist on farming, shepherding and portering loads for
expeditions. This year, with the threat of war and nearby Afghanistan
serving as the hiding ground of Al Queada and the Taliban, there are few
expeditions. The locals are rightfully afraid of not earning the precious money
needed for salt, sugar and medical care. They are far too removed from the
world, in this dead end valley, to care much for international intrigue or yet
another threatened border war with India.
By late afternoon, the fields around us filled with local
men, hoping to be chosen to carry 70 pounds on a 65 mile journey up to the
altitude of 17,200 feet. They will earn about $1.60 per day and be paid for 10
days' work.
As dawn arrived, the tents came down, the packs were
shouldered and 200 lucky porters strapped sacks and crates to the wooden frames
they carry. The first day we walked for nearly 13 miles under a blistering sun.
On the second day we stopped in a steeply wooded place
named Paiju. Here we would take a rest day, allowing the porters to slaughter,
butcher and cook a Yak, the bulk of the food they would eat once we stepped
onto the glacier.
 On the fourth morning we climbed on to the Baltoro
Glacier. This river of ice is among the 5 largest glaciers outside of the polar
regions. Often over a mile wide and many hundreds of feet thick, it has
conspired with hundreds of smaller glaciers to carve the most amazing landscape
I have ever seen. Dozens of 20,000 foot tall spires of granite, needle sharp
and often unclimbed, line the valley's sides. Side valleys reveal even more
peaks, some more snow and ice, but none are gently sloped. Only the tallest and
the most creatively carved are given names. And to a climber the names are
steeped in history. At the head of the valley is G4, to the sides are
Masherbrum, the Trango
Towers, Lobsang Spire and
Uli Biaho. Up side valleys are Chogolisa, G1 and G2, Mustagh Tower
and Golden Throne. And these are the little peaks. Towering above this
orographic chaos are 4 of the tallest mountains in the world: Hidden Peak,
Gasherbrum 2, Broad Peak and K2. We are
here to climb both Broad Peak and K2, the two
tallest.
We awoke, on the morning of the trek's seventh day, to 4
inches of fresh snow. The wind borne snow showed little signs of slowing. Temperatures
hovered around 10 degrees. The climbing team and our Pakistani staff (cooks,
etc.) could have comfortably passed another night at Concordia, the campsite
which serves as the meeting ground of several glaciers. The porters, huddled by
the dozen, under sheets of plastic, were anxious to get us to base camp, so
they could race home.
Laden with their loads, the 200 porters inched up the
glacier like a giant caterpillar. The line bunched up as we navigated through
crevasses and stretched as the terrain allowed. Wrapped in scarfs, wearing thin
rubber shoes and sagging socks, they braved the weather and the icy trail.
Nearly 5 hours after starting the snowfall eased away and base camp was
finally established.
Despite persistent fears of war and chaos, Pakistan has
been nothing short of peaceful. While in Islamabad,
the capital city, everyone was shocked by the American media's coverage of
events. To paraphrase a number of conversations I had with the locals: Of
course there is a border struggle with India, these seem to be an annual
occurrence. If India was to
invade Pakistan,
it would have done so in the 80's when the balance of power was tilted in its
favor. Musharaff is loved by the upper and middle classes. They were so
frustrated with the democratically elected governments that preceded the
General, and allowed the Islamic extremist to have a disproportional say in
national affairs. The educated in Pakistan is fully behind Musharaff
and his crackdown on the anti-development (pro-Western) minority.
The result of the "scare" has been horrible for
the Balti people, who are dependent upon tourism for hard earned cash. But for
us climbers, it is wonderful. The campsites along the Baltoro were empty. For
days, we hiked without seeing anyone else. Currently there isn't a soul on Broad Peak,
and only three groups are attempting the Abruzzi Spur on K2.
We have stepped back in time: there hasn't been this few people in the Karakorum since the late
70s.
K2 rises 10,000 feet
above our base camp and today we will wander to the base of our route to check
things out. Tomorrow, we will begin to ferry loads to Broad Peak,
which we will climb first. This team's enthusiasm and determination will not
allow for much rest.
Well, it is time to eat some breakfast and pack my pack.
A long and exciting day awaits.
Chris Warner
[ top ]
Camp 1 Is Established
June 22, 2002
The weather has been perfect and we are using this
blessing to push our way up the hill.
Yesterday (6/21) the team hiked to the site of Advanced
Base Camp at 5400 meters. The route to ABC is very straightforward, crossing a
flat glacier and then ascending a baby ice fall. We are averaging 1.5 hours up.
The only challenge of this short leg is the timing of the ascent or descent. As
long as we leave before the sun turns the glacier into an oven, we arrive at
ABC refreshed and ready for more climbing.
This morning we were up at 4 a.m. and hiking by 5. Each
of us carried packs weighing about 25 pounds. Inaki Ochoa led the way, kicking
steps in the snow all the way from ABC to Camp 1, over 2400 vertical feet. He
obviously maintained a lot of his acclimatization earned on the north side of
Everest this Spring. The route is fairly steep, ranging from 35 to 55 degrees.
In the 5.5 hours of climbing, we gained a total of 3300 ft.
Camp 1 is quite an airy perch, into which the Japanese,
Chinese/Pakistani and our team have carved platforms for 6 tents. The views out
the tent door are spectacular. Straight down, a glacial divide separates China from Pakistan. The three summits of Broad Peak
slice the sky to the south. Further west, Chogolisa and Marble Peak
rise above dozens of smaller or more distant mountains. And above us, the
Abruzzi Spur climbs upward.
Camp 1 is not spacious. There are no terraced gardens or
even a hand railed balcony. You put your crampons on at the tent door and the
first step is vertical (up or down). Our hope is to use it only when absolutely
necessary.
June 23
Henry, Peta, Rod, Ray and Oscar made another push up
hill. Loudly leaving BC at 3:30 a.m. they all climbed to Camp 1, dumping more
gear and accelerating their acclimatization. Tonight Henry and Rod are camping
out in the wilds of ABC, while the rest of luxuriate in BC. As they slurp
Ramens, we will indulge in yet another superb dinner prepared by our creative
and talented Pakistani chef, Karim.
Everyone is very healthy and climbing with power at this
stage in the trip.
The weather is showing signs of a change. The winds,
which blew lightly from the North yesterday have now strengthened and
are
shifting from West to South. Traditionally, the storms which attack K2
come from the South. Monsoonal waves beat against the Karakorum and
eventually
gather the power needed to push up and over the foothills that have
kept the
highest peaks in a virtual desert like climate.
If the weather holds, we will be back on the hill the day
after tomorrow.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
Remarking the Trail
June 27, 2002: K2 Base Camp
 On the evening of the 25th, dark clouds rolled up from
the south, covering our tents with snow. We awoke to a chaotic weather pattern
that lasted until the early morning of the 27th: brief storms shaking the
tents, brilliant sunshine sneaking through holes in the clouds, fog rolling up
and sliding back down the valley.
On the 25th, Ray, Oscar and I managed to ferry a load to
ABC, remarking the trail as we went. The trail passes through a number of
deposition zones from avalanches that tear down the South Face. We use bamboo wands
with fluorescent survey tape to mark the way around these dangerous sections.
Once inside jumbled mess of the ice fall, every snow fall hides the best route.
Here we marked the trail just about every 50 feet. One could easily become lost
in that mess of crevasses and ice towers, if you were descending in a storm.
The bamboo wands are our best street signs.
The storm system seemed to lose all its energy early this
morning. We can now see the summit of K2 and Broad Peak,
and the winds up high have weakened. With the strong Karakorum sun baking the
slopes, the team is once again preparing to move up.
This afternoon, Inaki, Oscar, Joby and I will climb to
Camp 1. Rod and Henry will spend the night ABC. By 5 a.m. tomorrow, Peta,
Pasang Dawa (Padawa), and Ray will shoulder packs at BC, and climb straight
through to Camp 1. If all goes as planned, on the 28th, Joby and I will spend a
night at Camp 2. Ray, Rod, Henry, Peta and Padawa will be at Camp 1. And Inaki
and Oscar will return to BC after tagging Camp 2.
Our goal is to get Camp 2 established, while allowing our
bodies to get further acclimated to the altitude. We are hoping that the
Spanish weather forecast holds true: good weather through July 1st.
Meanwhile back at BC, things are wonderful. Our cooks are
talented, our health is excellent and our team is even keeled and enjoying each
other's company. (Yes, we did have a bit of a row over someone's insistence to
play Wayne Newton during breakfast). My only fear is of running out of books
and good coffee.
I am packed and ready to go. Weather and health
permitting, I won't report back to you before the 29th.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
The Weather Adds to the Challenge
June 27, 2002
As hoped, the team moved up the hill, just not as
planned. Inaki, Oscar, Joby and I left base camp at 3:30 p.m., scrambled through
the ice fall, and reached the beginning of the climbing between 5 and 5:30 p.m.
The fixed ropes, which lead to Camp 1, were already
hidden among the shadows. A cool wind blew from the south. The recent snow fall
had buried those tracks which the morning's wet avalanches hadn't scoured away.
I started up the hill, fighting with a nagging question: "Why are you
heading up so late? Can't you see that it will be at least 8 p.m. and dark by
the time you get to Camp 1?"
Wisely I retreated, along with Joby, to the comfort of
the tents at ABC. Inaki, Oscar and four Pakistani porters climbed into the cold
and dark. Joby and I were in our sleeping bags by the time the others reached
Camp 1. There, the cold tortured them. Screaming with pain, they put their cold
feet on each other's bellies to warm them. It was well past nine before they
had unrolled their Therm-a-rest pads and crawled into their sleeping bags.
June 28, 2002
Joby, Rod, Ray and I were busy packing, hoping for a 6
a.m. start, when Peta and Pasang Dawa (Padawa) arrived in ABC. Peta left base
camp just before 4 a.m., a film crew from National Geographic trying to keep up
with her. As the terrain steepened, the cameraman headed home for a nice cup
of coffee. The six of us climbed the 2500 vertical feet to Camp 1.
As Joby pulled over the lip, to the very tiny site of
Camp 1, he could see Inaki and Oscar breaking trail and uncovering buried fixed
ropes enroute to Camp 2. The wind howled above them. Tiny avalanches of powdery
snow (spindrift) poured over the rock band at 21,000 ft. This barrier is
breached via the famed House's Chimney, 75 ft. of technical rock climbing.
As we watched them from Camp 1, horizontal winds tore among
the rock towers, carrying airborne snow, like clouds, across their path. If the
wind's force decreased, the snow, pulled by gravity, poured like waterfalls
down the rock band.
Inaki, Oscar and the four porters managed to climb to
Camp 2. Here the skeletons of tents poked through the snow. Windswept and still
steep, the slope on which Camp 2 will be built shares the same tortured
ambience as Camp 1: cold, exposed and windy. They deposited gear and hurried
down.
By this time a party had developed at Camp 1. There are
three teams climbing this route: Japanese, Chinese/Pakistani, and our
international gang. All of us who were hoping for a change in the weather had
amassed on the tiny site of Camp 1. Six tents are literally crammed on top of
each other. Often as not, the tents are tied to each other. We all sleep so
close that a loud Tibetan fart could cause panic among the Japanese fearing an
avalanche.
I'm willing to guess that over 30 of us were at Camp 1 at
some point during the day, but as things settled down, at least ten folks
returned to base camp. The chaos which washed over the tiny place at mid-day
settled down as the wind picked up and the snow began to fall. Rod, Joby and I
(the three biggest guys) huddled into a hardly spacious two person tent. Ray,
Peta and Padawa canoodled like puppies in their even smaller two person tent.
June 29, 2002
Despite the falling snow and howling winds, we actually
heard the Japanese preparing to and finally setting of for Camp 2. The day
before, Inaki had seen their tent at 2 laying in ruins: flapping blue nylon
waiving from bent and broken aluminum poles.
At 10 a.m. Henry woke me from a nap with a call to arms.
The view from base camp was spectacular. Climbers could be seen in the sun,
ascending the flanks of Broad Peak and the south face of K2. Shamed into
action, we bundled up, strapped on the goggles and crawled into the storm that
raged over our route. Of course, we climb around the corner from base camp, out
of view of the lounge chair crowd.
The six of us climbed for about an hour, barely ascending
500 vertical feet. The snow was deep and getting deeper. We couldn't even see
the rock band that Inaki and Oscar had climbed through to reach Camp 2. I
climbed atop a lovely rock and claimed it as a moral highpoint. The two hour
mid day distraction made the day go by a bit quicker, at least.
Back at Camp 1, Ray, Peta and Padawa shouldered their
packs and headed for base camp. Rod, Joby and I settled in for another storm
tossed night.
June 30, 2002
Rising at 5 a.m. we packed up and returned to base camp
in time for breakfast. Joby and I used the extra night up high to become better
acclimatized. We will be shifting our energies to Broad Peak, while the rest of
the team uses K2 to further prepare for their summit attempt.
Hopefully the weather is improving (yes, it is snowing).
Our Pakistani staff are shocked at how bad the weather has been so far.
Normally the weather pattern shifts, with southerly winds carrying monsoon
moisture and northerlies winds carrying a Chinese high pressure system. This
flip flopping usually lasts for 3 to 4 days. This year, the southerlies have
been dominating, resulting in near daily precipitation and strong winds on our
route.
The forecasts we are getting call for less precipitation
over the next few days. Hopefully this will allow us to have even more fun high
on these neighboring peaks.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
Alpine Style on Broad Peak
July 1, 2002
On the morning of July 2nd, Joby and I are splitting away
from the Abruzzi Spur of K2 to attempt Broad Peak. Meanwhile the rest of the
team will be establishing Camp 2 on K2. Broad Peak stands opposite K2, and the
base of the route is 2.5 hours from our base camp. Our plan is to climb it using
3 camps. We will be climbing it Alpine style, carrying everything we need on
our backs.
Leaving base camp at 6 a.m. we will place our first camp
at about 5800 meters. From there, continuous scrambling on a long ridge leads
us to camp 2 at 6400 meters. Following the ever broadening ridge we will place
camp 3 at 7000 meters. If all goes as planned, we will strike out for the
summit around midnight on Thursday and summit on Friday morning. Believe it or
not, I can't remember the exact height of Broad Peak; it is something like
8047m./26,500 ft.
Our hope is to use Broad Peak to acclimatize for a mid
July summit attempt on K2. I feel that most of the accidents on K2 occur
because it so hard to get properly acclimatized on that peak. The camps are
cramped and Camp 3 is supposedly so bad that few spend a night there prior to
their summit bid.
I will send a dispatch as soon as I get back from Broad
Peak, which will hopefully not be before Saturday. We are bringing enough food
to spend extra days on the hill, waiting for a break in the weather or for
better conditions if necessary.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
"An Elegant Plan, But..."
July 4th, 2002
At home it may be the anniversary of the deaths of Tom
Jefferson and Sam Adams, but deep in the Karakorum it is just another snowy,
cloudy day. Joby and I have crawled back to our base camp tents, a bit tired
and without much to show for our efforts. On the morning of the 2nd we hiked to
the base of Broad Peak. Heavy packs and boundless ambition waylaid our normally
good sense into a less than well thought out alternative plan. By 9 a.m. we had
the tent set up and we were lying on top of our sleeping bags.
Our plan was elegant. Late in the afternoon we would
shoulder light packs and race to the summit, 10,000 feet above us. Now I love
that kind of climbing. Just last September I had done the same thing, alone, on
Shishapangma (7500 vertical feet in a 34 hour round tripper). Light and fast,
with the suffering compressed from three or four days of carrying big packs and
sleeping in the coldest of temperatures, is an easy philosophy to subscribe to.
However, that game has special rules, rules which cannot
be broken. First among the rules is the development of a plan, involving just
the right gear, pacing, caloric consumption, hydration, etc. Next comes the
things you have no control over: wind, temperatures and snow conditions. Well,
within two hours, I was becoming convinced that the snow conditions were
horrible. We were using up too much energy to climb the lowest parts of the
mountain. At 5 p.m. four members of the large German Expedition (20 climbers)
were coming down from the site of Camp 2 and told us that the snow was soft and
to the knees.
I wanted to turn back. But my convictions weren't strong
enough to resist my curiosity; besides my spirits were buoyed by Joby's desire
to teach the mountain a lesson. He shot forward, kicking the most beautifully
sculpted steps I have ever seen. His long legs made quick work of the steep
headwall leading to the rocks at 19,400 feet. Here we stopped, next to a pair
of unoccupied tents the Germans had used while fixing the route. Committed to
our plan, we pulled out the stove and brewed up.
We discussed the poor conditions, debated our options and
decided we would wait for a few hours to see if the cold temps improved the
snow conditions. At 9 p.m. we headed upwards again. I lead out, the terrain a
steep (40 degree) snow slope, leading to the broad ridgeline. Within a few
hundred feet, our lack of energy and the hardly improved snow conditions made
the decision perfectly obvious. We had used too much of our reserves fighting
up the first 2000 feet, and hadn't enough left to get anywhere near the still
distant summit. Unhappily we turned into the darkness and began our descent.
Well, the terrain we were on was steep. Descending for
2000 feet, this late at night seemed like plain hard and simply miserable work.
We beelined it for the German tents. As I said, they were unoccupied: nothing
but a few candy wrappers inside. We crawled in, knowing that our trespassing
would be forgiven. After all, we had already developed a great relationship
with their team (although we were lagging in friendliness behind their gifts of
chocolate cake).
We bundled ourselves in all of our clothes. I even
slipped my feet into my backpack. Cushioned by a bed of irregular stones, my
kidneys reminded me of the comfort of the Therm-a-rest and sleeping bag that lay
unused in the tent far, far below.
Dawn, who could wait for such a thing. Convinced it would
never come, we harnessed up at 4 a.m. and began the long series of rappels and
interminable down climbing. By 6:30 a.m. we crawled into our sleeping bags. At
10:30 a.m. Joby announced he was heading back to base camp, a four to five hour
round trip journey, for a real meal. He never returned. His sleeping bag,
backpack and all his gear are still in the tent at the base of Broad Peak.
On the morning of the 4th, with the sky turning gray (the
weather forecast blabbering on about a Saturday storm) and my partner AWOL, I
grabbed my sleeping bag and the garbage and strolled back to my comfortable
tent at K2 base camp.
Now of course I am going back to Broad Peak. I have gear
scattered at the base and 2000 feet up the route. Next time, however, I am
committed to eating the elephant one bite at a time. Just have to wait for the
weather to change back to the favorable.
Meanwhile, for those of you interested in the peak over
my shoulder, the rest of the team has been, or is at Camp 2 on K2. We are all
making progress, considering that the goal at this stage is to acclimatize. The
part of the team on K2 has just had more sleep than Joby and I.
The plan for the next few days: everyone should be
returning to base camp to see about this predicted storm. Once that is decided
and the bodies seem able, we will head upward, again.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
A Warning from K2
July 1-6, 2002:
Ray Brown dispatch
 
Monday 1 July was an absolutely brilliant day. The first
day of completely clear skies in the 3 weeks since we had arrived at Base Camp.
If anybody was ready it seemed that these were perfect summit days. We were
still in our acclimatization phase, so for us these 2 "perfect days"
were spent reading and preparing for our first climb to C2.
An after dinner stroll across the flat avalanche debris
fed snow fields of the glacier and through the icefall to our single tent at
ABC had become my preferred method of approaching the trip from BC to C1.
However, the last few days of direct sunlight had created glacial pools covered
in a thin layer of ice supported snow. An increasing number of alarming stories
from those unfortunates who had the exhilarating and potentially dangerous
experience of a glacial bath on this section of the route meant that it was wiser
to travel only in the cold of the early morning.
Tuesday 2 July was a cool clear morning so the 4am start
was as conducive as any early start in the mountains could be. This being my
fourth sortie up the 35 to 40 degree slopes to C1 I had developed a routine
which took advantage of the firm steps implanted by the regular traffic of the
other climbers and porters. I wear an easily removable outer shell and hat
because I find the almost instant rise in body heat when the first rays of the
sun hit me almost stop me in my tracks. If the sun is out the final hour to C1
is performed in little more than thermal underwear. My choice of heat
attracting black being the worst color choice. C1 is a collection of 6 tents, 2
from each expedition precariously placed along a tiny ridge leading out to a
rock spur. It is a photographer's dream. All around stunning views of the
world's most famous mountains and glaciers, but most enthralling, the
precariousness of this eerie and the breathtaking slope back down to the crevassed
glacier below.
I nitially there were to be 2 of us per tent but a message
from Henry informing us that he was staying in ABC made the rooming rate look
good. I chose to tent with Rod, leaving Peta to enjoy the comfort of a tent to
herself. At midday 4 porters arrived expecting to stay. Two obviously drew the
short straw and continued down. Rod moved to Peta's tent and me being the
smallest dozed down with the 2 porters from the tiny villages of Shimshal and
Sahid. They were the most amiable and attentive company but the confined space
dampened my enjoyment of their company. Forgetting my pee bottle meant that I
had to limit my liquid intake and bladder strain became my obsession for the
night. Sleep was intermittent and the waking hours uncomfortable. I was slow to
rise but conditions were good for climbing and I could feel myself thawing as
the sun rose.
The route is strenuous climbing on ropes similar to that
from C1. 'House's Chimney', just below C2 has a reputation as a formidable
obstacle and I am sure it was for the lead climbers who first fixed the ropes
through it. I think it was the exhilaration of facing a challenge I had read so
much about that gave the strength to actually enjoy this section of the climb.
The effects of altitude, this was approximately 6700 meters in altitude, made
the final plod of 100 vertical meters to C2 seem a more difficult proposition
for me.
The vista was a magnificent panorama of mountains and
glaciers stretching as far as the eye could see. The mountaineer's reward. It
was fleeting though, and within minutes the wind and clouds came in. Visibility
dropped alarmingly from almost infinity to 20 meters. The tents flapped
incessantly and even the smallest of openings let in copious amounts of spin
drift which clung to everything, then melted, creating a dismal, slick, damp
cell. We were caught here for days.
These intervals of enforced "boredom" (how I
hate that word) I try to counter by enjoying the time in reflection and
meditation. However after 2 days of my own company I was yearning for gentler
climes and some friendly human contact. Outside the storm continued to rip at
the tent in an attempt to find out whether I was really a hard man or not. Rod
pulled me out to dig the tents out of the snow and after only 15 minutes we
were back in the tents thawing raw fingers and reassessing our plans to retreat
down the mountain.
A call from Henry informing us of at least another 5 days
of storm galvanized us into action. I recoiled from the effort of strapping on
crampons with rigid fingers unable to see through streaming eyes. It was
surreal down climbing the 'Chimney' clipping into hoar covered ropes, your
world a hostile world of a few cubic meters torn by wind and ice. My fingers
and feet were chilled to the extent that I was becoming concerned about frostbite.
Dropping a few hundred meters below the Chimney I felt the wind lose its bite
and with that I relaxed.
I had been served my warning from K2. It still takes some
resolve to stagger back the 3 hours to the comfort of base camp, where we now
sit waiting out the storm.
Ray Brown
K2 2002
[ top ]
Horrible Weather Forecast
July 8, 2002
Bad weather forecasts send the team scrambling in a
million directions.
We just got another horrible forecast. We have been in
the midst of a period of unstable weather, afternoon storms, strong winds and
deep, soft snow up high.
It has been possible to play throughout this system, as
long as you don't hope to be too high. This morning, I went back to Broad Peak,
carrying a tent, etc. to the first camp (5800 m.). Meanwhile Padawa and the
high altitude porters made a carry back to camp 1 on the Abruzzi Spur of K2.
The Abruzzi has been battered by the winds, making progress above camp 1
almost impossible. This afternoon, we learned that the weather is due to
deteriorate dramatically on the 11th and be absolutely horrible on the 12th.
This gives us two marginal days with which to get good and tired prior to the
enforced sitting in the tent that the coming storm is going to demand.
The plans are formulating, few are in stone. At this
stage, Oscar is hoping to dash up Broad Peak with two fellow Spaniards. The
two Spaniards are actually hoping to race to the summit, since their plans for
climbing K2 have been dashed by their running out of time.
Inaki, Joby, Ray and Peta are going to make a very long
day of it on Broad Peak, perhaps on the 10th.
On the 9th, I am heading back to the 5800 camp on Broad
Peak, from there I will move all of my gear to the 6400 meter camp. I'll spend
the night there, taking a long walk as high as I can get on that peak.
Henry is going back to Camp 1 on K2, and then on to Camp
2.
If the weather is as bad as threatened, we will be
straggling back to base camp from mid-day on the 10th to the afternoon of the
11th. Wish us luck.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
A Battle with the Wind
July 10, 2002
 It takes one minute of discussion to scatter us to the
winds, then 35 hours to get us all back again.
Two nights ago, a brilliant sunset painted the tops of
Broad Peak and K2 in wonderful shades of pink and orange. Minutes before, we
had read a weather report calling for 48-60 hours of unsettled weather followed
by a vicious storm. Could we squeeze two good days up high into that weather
window? Certainly it would allow our bodies to better adapt to the altitude.
At 3:15 a.m. the first team ate a loud (to those trying
to sleep: obnoxiously loud) breakfast. The next wave was fed at 4:00 a.m. I
enjoyed a very quiet bowl of corn flakes and a cup of coffee, alone, at 5:45.
By 6:30 I shouldered my pack and made the now familiar
hike down to Broad Peak's base camp. With the sun shining on the surrounding
summits, and the valley deep in shadows, I crossed the convoluted glacier,
through a labyrinth of ice towers and dangerous river crossings. Within 90
minutes I was at the base of the route.
Granted the climbing isn't too steep and my pack was
light so I had no excuse but to climb fast. Earlier in the week I had stashed a
tent, stove, pot, food, etc. at the 5800m./19,400 ft. camp. Once at that camp,
though, my pack weight strained my shoulders with a good 40 pounds of necessary
stuff. Since I was climbing alone, I had no one to share all that gear.
Within 5.5 hours of leaving the K2 base camp, I had
climbed over 3200 feet and set up my tent in the most precarious, but aesthetic
place in the world. The tiny platform, at 20,400 ft., was literally sculpted by
climbers years ago, on the very crest of the ridge. I had been told that it was
in a completely wind sheltered place. The surrounding towers of rock seemed to
slice the prevailing winds, creating a calm eddy where my tent was erected.
A loop of rope around a small tower of rock allowed me to
anchor the tent more securely than any time in my whole life. I stretched
strings to boulders, tied ropes to others, and laid the tent out perfectly. If
I only had a camera, I knew I could win an advertising award for that tent
manufacturer.
I settled in for the night. At 6 p.m. a light snow began
to fall. I dozed off. At 3 a.m. a gust of wind picked me and the tent off of
the ground, tore at the very anchors and slammed us back to the ground. I tore
open the zipper of my sleeping bag and frantically put on all my clothes, my
boots and my harness. The wind racked the tent as I stuffed all of my gear into
my pack.
Throughout the next 2 hours, I was prepared for the
worst, to have the tent literally torn to shreds as I cowered in my only bit of
shelter. At times the winds roared up both sides of the near vertical mountain
walls, twisting and pulling at the tent in an effort to toss me off the
mountain. I was definitely not going to let that happen. I lay on my back,
clutching the tent poles in the upper corners with both hands while pressing
against the poles in the lower corners with my boots. Bracing the tent like
this, I knew it could withstand wind forces up to at least one hundred miles an
hour.
Between gusts, I was sometimes given 15 minutes during
which I tried to bring warmth back to my body. I would pull off my boots and
massage my feet. The wind always returned like a locomotive, howling as it
clawed up the face to my tiny platform.
I knew that I would have to escape during one of the
brief spells of low winds. I also knew that I had to wear my darkened goggles
or my eyelashes would freeze solid in this blowing and far below freezing night
air. As 5 a.m. arrived, the sky began to lighten. Still it was too dark. At
5:30 a.m. the winds ebbed. Within 5 minutes I was out of the tent, strapped on my
crampons, collapsed the tent and secured it with rocks, shouldered my back and
descended into the storm.
A few hundred feet below my camp, the twists of the ridge
combined with the blocking effect of the neighboring peaks, reduced the wind
speeds by 75%. It was still snowing, and blowing, but it was balmy in
comparison. Inaki, Joby, Peta and Ray were camped at the 5800 meter camp and I
woke them as I came through. They, too, decided a retreat was in order.
My momentum carried me back to K2's base camp in time for
breakfast. Throughout the day, all the others on our team straggled in from
their own private adventures. Some vagaries in the atmosphere accelerated our
weather forecast. We are now settling back in to the comfort of our base camp
tents to wait out the next storm.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
A Flicker of Hope
July 14, 2002: K2 Base camp
The story of bad weather can be retold, but why bother? A
flicker of hope has pierced the gloom, with a fresh email from some Spanish
meteorologists. July 15th will be wonderful, the best day we've seen since July
3rd. The 16th, of course, is forecasted to be bad.
At lunch today we all discussed plans to get in some
exercise tomorrow. Joby, Inaki and Oscar are going to push as high as they can
on the Abruzzi, returning to BC the same day. Henry, Rod and Peta will spend
tomorrow night at Camp 1. If the weather allows, they will push on to Camp 2 on
the 16th. Ray is heading straight to Camp 2. Even Simone Moro, who has now
joined the team, is going to climb high as well and might spend a night at one
of the camps.
I'm heading in the opposite direction, to Broad Peak. A
handful of our neighbors share my hope that we just might be able to force a
route to its summit. At any rate, the German expedition, with its 20+ members,
needs to either summit or collect all of their gear (they have tents at 5800,
6200 and 6900 meters). Their porters are coming in a week to take them home, so
it is now or never. A Korean team is also on Broad Peak, with tents established
up to camp 3 (approx. 6900 meters). Add to those teams Charlie Fowler and
Christine Boskoff and all we will need is good weather to force the route
upwards.
If the weather allows, I will not be back at K2 base camp
for 4-5 days. Wish me luck.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
Catastrophic Avalanche and High Winds
July 16, 2002: K2 Base Camp
The cooks think we are nuts. Yesterday we woke them at
3:00 a.m. to make us breakfast. 6 hours later we straggled back to camp, most
of the gang being repulsed by a snow storm on K2, and me wandering in from
Broad Peak. The smiling cooks made us a second breakfast.
This morning the community needed to take care of some
grim business. Three mornings ago, a catastrophic avalanche swept the base of
the SSE Spur. 6 Sherpas and Pakistani high altitude porters were caught in the
tidal wave of ice and snow that tore down the gully. A Pakistani porter was hit
by massive chunks of ice and was killed instantly. The remainder of the porters
and Sherpas were OK, despite some being hit and all nearly being killed.
The Spanish team, whose porter was killed, called for a
helicopter to carry the body back to the town of Skardu, so his family can
perform the ceremonies they need. Unfortunately the unsettled weather prevented
the helicopter from arriving. So this morning about 40 of us carried the body,
on a make shift stretcher the 5 miles down valley to the military outpost at
Concordia.
Things on K2 and all of the surrounding peaks are very
uncertain right now. The bad weather and tight schedules have caused at least
four expeditions to end their trips without getting anywhere near their chosen
summits. The highest any teams have gotten on K2 is 7000 meters on the SSE Spur
and on the Abruzzi Spur. Right now five or so climbers are trying to force the
route on Broad Peak, despite less than ideal conditions.
The winds above 8000 meters have been blowing between
50-100 mph almost daily, although micro-holes in the weather have shown us
sunny and calm conditions lasting no longer than 20 minutes on most days. Above
6000 meters the winds make it difficult to even spend a night, as the tents are
tossed about and half buried by blowing snow. The weather forecasts are not
reliable. Today the weather was supposed to be horrible and it is by far the
best day we've seen in two weeks.
Having said all of that, a handful of us will try to
reach camp 1 on the Abruzzi Ridge tomorrow. If it is possible we will stay up
in an effort to reach camp 3. At this stage in the expedition it is critical
for us to get as high as possible, allowing our bodies to readjust to the
rarified air. Too much sitting around, and even the short bursts we've been
making to 6,200 meters, is not helping us get closer to the summit of K2.
We do have almost all of the group gear and half of our
personal gear in place at Camp 2, so despite the horrible weather, we really
aren't in such desperate straits. A conservative shopping list would ask for 3
nice days in the next week to help us acclimatize, followed by 4-6 days of
light winds so we can summit. There is still plenty of time before we have to
pack up.
OK, we're moving forward, as the weather allows.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
Broad Peak: Elusive
July 21, 2002
On the morning of July 17th, I was planning on heading to
Camp 1 on K2, but something about Broad Peak drew me in the opposite direction.
I repacked my backpack at dawn, shouldered it and headed off by myself to Camp
1 at 6200 m/20,400 ft.
Arriving at 1 pm, I hydrated, pared down my gear and
napped for hours. At 9 p.m. I strapped on the crampons and headed up the steep
snow slopes and rocky ridge towards camp 2. Clouds rolled over me, carrying
snow, and obscuring the view to mere feet. Climbing in the clouds, I was soon
damp, then drenched by the mists.
At 10 pm, I was almost 1000 feet up the route, traveling
quickly, but beginning to doubt the wisdom of pushing on. At 10:30, the clouds
tried to part, at least the snow and mist stopped. The winds simply blew that
inconvenience away. The cold really began to creep through my damp clothes.
Visibility was still limited, the higher clouds masking the moon and casting
deep dark shadows across Broad Peak. At 6900 m./22,800 ft. I decided to head
back to the warmth of my sleeping bag.
On the morning of July 18th, as a storm tore at Broad
Peak's camp 1, my teammates left base camp to join me. Inaki, Peta, Ray,
Henry, Simone, Barbara, Rod and Padawa, with the help of our four high altitude
porters arrived between noon and 2 p.m. Oscar and Joby came much later,
arriving around 7 p.m. for just a short rest.
The weather seemed unstable through the afternoon. By 8
p.m. the skies cleared completely, simply beautiful. At 9 p.m. we (all but
Henry) strapped on our crampons and started upwards. As the sky darkened, the
moon brightened and the stars stretched across the sky.
Within 2 hours we reached the 6900m. camp of the Koreans.
They, too, were pushing for the summit this night. Here some of our climbers
began to fade back and in the next few hours, almost everyone found their
personal summit. By 3 a.m. Inaki and I caught up to the Koreans, and the team
of Charlie Fowler and Christine Boskoff. We were now quite high, perhaps at
7600 m./25,700 ft. The Koreans were passing Charlie and Christine and started
to fix some ropes along a rising traverse.
As the progress faded to next to nothing, I climbed past
the gang to see if I could force the route. It seemed that the Koreans were
trying to force the route over a deep crevasse, hidden by unconsolidated snow.
In the confusion and deserved apprehension, I tied into the sharp end of the
rope and tried to move us forward.
We were perhaps 150 vertical feet below the col, from
there we knew that the route was just a rock scramble to the summit. If we
reached the col, especially at this early hour, we would certainly be
successful. What separated us from the col (the low point between the central
and main summits) was 150 vertical and 300 horizontal feet of 45-60 degree
completely unconsolidated snow. I dug a quick pit, judging the avalanche danger
to be moderate.
Tied into the rope I headed up, hoping to find a secret
passage through the danger zone. The snow was too soft to hold my weight. Using
my mittened hands, I dug a trench 3 feet deep in the steep slope. It seemed
that 3 feet down, the snow was thick enough to hold my weight. At the end of
the rope, I dug even deeper, pushing in a snow picket with which to anchor the
rope. A Korean, climbing in my footsteps, pulled on the rope and the picket
simply sliced through the soft snow. It was impossible to secure the rope and
safeguard our route to the col.
Contacting Inaki on the radio, we decided at nearly 7800
m./26,000 ft. to get down, immediately. The slope was unsafe and the bottleneck
of us 10 climbers, none of us sharing a common language and ambition, darkness
and a lot competing opinions was causing further challenges. In better
conditions, we were just 2 hours from the summit.
Our team of Inaki, Ray and myself, joined by Christine
and Charlie beat a quick retreat. As the sky lightened with the hope of dawn,
we could see that Koreans were also turning back.
As we descended, we picked up most of our team. As we sat
with Simone, at 7200 meters, the ridgelines of K2 were turning red. It was a
beautiful morning. Despite not summiting, we had accomplished a goal: to use
Broad Peak as a way of acclimatizing for the summit of K2.
Now, on July 21, we are sitting in base camp, waiting for
our summit bid. We hope, based on some new weather information that we have, to
be able to move upwards at the end of this week, perhaps summiting early next
week. I will keep you posted.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
K2: Summit Bound
July 21, 2002
We have just received another weather forecast,
indicating that the current period of semi-stable weather is to continue
through the week. While we haven't finalized our plans, this has sent everyone
to their tents, scurrying to pack gear for a Monday or Tuesday departure. A
handful of us will leave a day earlier, taking a more leisurely pace, stopping
at Camp 1 for a night. The rest of the gang will go directly to Camp 2 on
Tuesday.
Our plan is to summit on Friday. The summit push starts
at Camp 4, at approx. 7950 meters (26,300 ft.). I will probably be leaving the
tent at about 11 a.m. Thursday Baltimore time, 9 p.m. Thursday K2 time. That
should see me on the summit, conditions permitting, in 10-14 hours. My hope is
to summit early in the morning and run like crazy for the safety of Camp 3.
Please understand that the weather and climbing
conditions vary greatly and we may be delayed. We may even have another blast
of wisdom, forcing us to change our minds or develop a new strategy.
If there are any changes, we'll let you know. Otherwise,
if things go perfectly (hardly possible) we will be sending a detailed update
next Sunday. If possible, we will send a few super short dispatches using a
small phone as we proceed from camp to camp. In addition Simone Moro will be
sending short dispatches to his website: www.freeridespirit.com
Wish us luck,
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
K2: Wrapping Up an Expedition
July 23, 2002
We have decided to end our K2 expedition. The weather is
simply not cooperating. We set off for Camp 1 yesterday, only to be turned back
by a mini-blizzard. 24 hours later it is still snowing.
We have been on the mountain for 35 days, trying to
establish camps, acclimatize and prep the mountain for a summit bid. On the
Abruzzi Spur, climbing with us, have been a Pakistani-Tibetan expedition and a
team of Japanese climbers. The Paki-Tibetan team has gotten the highest, in
fact they almost summited the other day. They actually climbed to 8400 meters,
only to be turned back just 211 meters short of the summit. The weather chased
them back towards their tents, but they almost didn't make it. Just short of
the tents, the blizzard caught them. For 7 hours they stayed in one place,
doing jumping jacks, hoping to survive the storm. As the winds died down they
found the tents: 50 feet from where they were standing. If, they had walked
back and forth, chances are they would have fallen off the ridge.
The Pakistani-Tibetan team is also heading home. The
Japanese are waiting.
In this region of the Karakorum, no teams have summited
on the 8000 meter peaks. Those still hanging in there are hoping for a major
shift in the weather: none is forecast (the best forecasts have always been
wrong, while the bad forecasts have generally been right).
I am leaving K2 feeling a bit sad, but convinced that I
am making the correct decision. This is a dangerous peak, if conditions aren't
right, the risks are simply too great.
Hopefully it will be hot when we get home, allowing our
cold bones to heat up.
Chris Warner
K2 2002
[ top ]
Leaving K2: How I got home and why I left.
August 1, 2002: Columbia, Maryland
Once my decision to leave K2 was made, things happened
fast. Seven porters magically appeared in the midst of the blowing snow, enough
to take the gear of 3 of us back to the road head. We said our quick goodbyes
and at dawn on July 24th, we shouldered our packs. Normally the 65 mile trek is
spread over 4 days. We convinced our porters to compress the schedule, covering
over 25 miles a day in an effort to reach the jeeps in just two and a half
days.
This seemed like a great idea, and I am sure I would do
it again, but.....after 12-14 hours of hiking, over rugged terrain, we hobbled
into the campsites each night. So tired were we, that we didn't put up tents on
the last night, simply collapsing, porters and ourselves, in a single pile to
sleep.
By 11 a.m. on the third day, the three of us were in the
village of Skardu, trying to calm a very anxious jeep driver. The river levels,
you see, were rising with glacial meltwater. By 1 p.m. the worst of the
crossings would be too high. If our porters didn't arrive soon, we'd be trapped
for another day. Time raced by with no sign of the porters. At 1:05, a cloud of
dust was visible on the distant trail, and luckily, a layer of thick clouds was
hiding the sun. Maybe we could still escape. At 1:30 the porters finally
arrived. We loaded the old Toyota Land Cruiser pickup, 13 of us and all of our
gear squeezing into the tiny cab and bed.
With the hubs locked in four-wheel drive we grinded up
and down the rock strewn, narrow track that passes for a road. Occasionally we
could shift into second gear, but more often we all jumped out to push or
simply walk, not daring to sit while the driver inched the Land Cruiser
forward. At the river things didn't look good. The road crosses at a stretch of
class two whitewater in the midst of the class five run. Few kayakers could
navigate this section, never mind our Land Cruiser.
This driver was smart; he had brought a teenager with him
for moments just like this. This kid was in charge of navigation. He would run
ahead and scout the road, move boulders as they slid in front of us, fetch tea
in the little villages and wade into the middle of the river to test its depth
and force. If he didn't get swept to his death the driver knew he could ford
this torrent.
I positioned myself downstream, hoping to catch the kid
before he drowned. One look at the currents and the force, though and I knew he
was a goner. He had better be lucky or wise enough to know when to retreat.
Standing besides the river, I could sense that this kid was fearful enough to
make the right decision.
Just below me a foot bridge stretched across the river.
It was simply two twenty foot logs, 6-10 inches in diameter, lashed together
and propped upon two giant boulders. The mist from the rapids coated the logs
in a greasy layer and the twisted wood and lack of handrail made things even
worse. The porters raced across this to see if they could coax the driver from
the other side. I decided to follow them. Spotting some better stances on the
log, I tried not to look down as I made my first step toward them. The logs had
some spring in them still, and the whole "bridge" began to shimmy
under my weight. This was just like being on a ropes course, just without the
help of ropes. I thought about all the kids and corporate groups I had worked
with over the years: get them on this and they would build some self esteem.
Well, our driver had a determined look in his eyes. Greed
demanded that he gets his cargo to Skardu and no little brook was going to stop
him. He gunned the diesel engine and lurched forward, climbing over rocks, then
splashing down into even deeper waters. The water level was over the wheels and
then over the engine's hood, the water was pushing the back of the truck
downstream. Fighting with the wheel and pushing on the gas pedal, he pushed
through the lowest section and was climbing to the opposite bank. A cloud of
steam was blocking his view, the crash of the waves against the panels of the
truck was adding to the cacophony of screaming porters. From amidst this chaos,
the Land Cruiser emerged from the river, another battle won.
Eight hours later, our dust covered, dehydrated, squished
and cranky crew pulled up to a hotel in Skardu...and the hot water for the
showers wasn't working.
The rest of the journey unfolded just like that. No
planes had been able to land in Skardu, due to the bad weather system that was
wreaking havoc in the Karakorum for the last 6 days. Yet the morning after we
arrived in town, we were able to fly directly to Islamabad. Once there I caught
the next flight to England (if not, I would have had to wait for 4 days for the
next departure). So on the fourth day of travel I was sitting in a pub in
London, telling tales about sharing chappatis with our porters, fording rivers
and marveling in one traveling miracle after the next.
My decision to leave K2 wasn't simply based on the
weather, although that was what I had stressed in my last dispatch. Fact is, a
number of things weighed heavy in my decision making. I know that my climbing
is fueled by passion, but I do consider myself to be a very thoughtful and
rational climber. I am constantly collecting data, hoping that I am making
smarter choices through analysis. The experience I am about to describe made
the decision to go home very easy. I couldn't share this with you when I was on
the mountain, because the family involved still needed to be notified. Below is
the email I sent to a few friends just after the event.
"Dear Friends,
Well I am back in BC, after experiencing one of the worst
days of my life. As I was standing at ABC, one of our group started screaming.
A body was falling down the face, bouncing, spinning, tumbling. Pieces of gear
spread downward. Was it two bodies? Was it Pasang Dawa, a Sherpa on our team,
who was high above us, jumaring on the fixed ropes? Was it one of the four high
altitude porters that were climbing from Camp 1 to Camp 2? Everyone was
screaming. Henry Todd on the ropes high above us, dodged one object and then
seemed to be hit by the second. He was knocked off his feet, did it kill
him?The radios were screaming. Base camp, climbers on the ridge, us at ABC,
were all crying out for information.
Rod Richardson and I emptied our packs,pulling from the pile
anything we would need to save this man's life. Henry shouted over the radio,
don't worry, he is dead. There is no need to bring a first aid kit. Capt.
Iqbal, the Liaison Officer for the Chinese-Pakistan Friendship Expedition had
been descending from Camp 3 on K2's Abruzzi Ridge. As he was rappelling, or
maybe simply switching from one rope to the next, the rope either broke (later
we confirmed that the rope did break) or he slipped, plunging over 5000 feet to
his death. It wasn't a pretty fall. Large red spots marked every point of
contact. His body finally stopped, pushed into the snow, about 500 feet above
those of us at ABC.
Rod and I were the first on the scene. His body had been
severely destroyed by the impact of each of the dozens of impacts. We
pronounced him dead at 1:11 pm.
I have held two people as they died in my hands. I have
rescued at least a dozen climbing accident victims, pulling them from
crevasses, resplinting compound fractures, using drugs to pull people from
comas.....I have never witnessed anything so gruesome. (Last night, I used
intense emotional energy to not see that site everyone time I closed my eyes.)
By a miracle, his large red down jacket (which had hit Henry) and an ensolite
pad, tumbled down with his body. We were able to use this to package him and
with some short ropes we (Pasang Dawa, Henry, Rod, Gia and I) lowered him to
the bottom of the snow. Here we gathered the parts of a tent and gently wrapped
him in layer upon layer of nylon. Thankfully, we had him beautifully wrapped
before any of the Pakistani climbers and porters on the mountains arrived.
Peta, Henry, Rod, Pasang Dawa, Gia and I sat at the base,
next to Capt.Iqbal for more than an hour waiting for help to arrive. We all had
funny stories to tell about this larger than life man, whom everyone in base
camp knew and loved. As I told and listened to the stories (mine were about
Catholic School:Iqbal and I spent an hour laughing about my elementary
education. He wanted to know if the nuns were beautiful woman. 'How was I to
know, at 8 years old?' 'Come on man, you can tell.' 'All I could see was there
face?'), my stomach began to turn. I felt the nausea growing and finally I had
to leave the scene and walk the two hours back to base camp. I cried much of the
way.
You know something, K2 is climbable, of course. But this
is not the year for me. The bad weather (our last two forecasts have been exact
opposites: from stable and low winds, we now have snow storms and 90 mph winds
at 8000meters) and the 2 deaths have made my decision for me. I am coming home.
I would love to spend the next few weeks in a warmer, safer place. Afterall,
today is my birthday, I might as well give myself the gift of returning early
to bother my poor employees. "
Will I go back to K2? I hope to. It is going to take me a
few years to get back there, though, as I've got some crazy things taking shape
for next year. As soon as though things get confirmed, I'll let you know.
Thanks for joining me on this adventure,
Chris Warner
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