Surviving K2, by Wilco van Rooijen.

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SURVIVING K2

SURVIVING THREE DAYS IN THE DEATH ZONE 

by WILCO VAN ROOIJEN. 

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Realities and nitty-gritties of mountaineering, in high Himaalaya, with details of dangers thereof, and effects of altitude on human body, given along with the stories of personal climbs therein - interspersed with awesome photographs and links for videos shot during the climbs. 

A small correction necessary is about when author keeps giving names of, instead of the legitimate nation's, the illegal occupiers. It's akin to, say, mentioning Prague in 1940 as part of Germany. (Did anyone do that, apart from nazies?)

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" ... After three hours I reach camp 1 at 6150 metres. I am pleased. On this section I have only heard one stone flying past. When I arrive in camp 1, I expect to be able to lie in my tent, melt snow, drink tea, eat lots of sugary sources of energy and rest for the morrow. The HAPs, however, have other ideas. Four of them are sitting in one tent drinking, relaxing and chatting. The other two are snoring in the other tent. At first I laugh about it. I realise that I have ascended quickly, and have ‘surprised’ the HAPs with my arrival. According to the agreement they should now be going up to prepare camp 2, and for the moment they show no intention of leaving. When I mention this, they appear to have suddenly changed their mind. They say the wind is blowing too hard. I wait until Ryan arrives half an hour later and notice that he also has difficulty swallowing his disappointment on the attitude of the HAPs. The plan is under threat. Ryan says it was clearly explained to them in base camp and they should stick to the agreement. At base camp the question had been asked who was motivated enough to work for the expedition. Everyone had responded enthusiastically. But now there is wind and the initial enthusiasm seems to have waned somewhat. Takhi, the responsible HAP, is in a conundrum. He knows by now that our weather forecasts are reliable and he can believe us when we say the wind will not be blowing hard. But you need to win everyone over. In any case, camp 1 simply does not have enough room for so many people. Two two-person tents have been set up on a small ledge, everyone is crammed together and there is barely room to move. Six HAPs and four climbers on this tiny ledge is not going to work. I am getting cold and want to crawl into one of the tents. Again I explain the wind may seem strong, but this is only the thermal flow up the slopes. In the afternoon the wind will settle, and evening might even be windless. The HAPs do not believe it. I start putting their gear outside the tent. Rucksacks, stoves, sleeping mats, gloves, climbing gear. Luckily, they come round, Takhi and Akbar are in favour of going up. I wonder how this ‘argument’ would have ended if they would not have budged. Finally, five of them leave and promise to return if the wind is too strong. In that case they must take two tents back down, dig a plateau and set them up in camp 1. The sixth HAP is sick and needs to descend. ... The climb was great, but I had not counted on this reluctance. Fortunately, the HAPs do not return and by around 17.00 the wind has died completely."

It never occurs to them that this surprising reluctance, after promises, isn't surprising to the locals, but counted on? 

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" ... During this part of the climb, between camp 1 and 2, you are fully aware you are on the infamous Abruzzi Ridge, from where most of the stones fall. In spite of this permanent danger I fully enjoy the ‘airy’ climb and allow myself the time to soak up the wonderful colours and enormous rock formations. The climb leads higher and higher. We reach House’s Chimney - a rock corner to the left of around 20 metres. Thierry Schmitter, part of our team in 1995, then opened the ‘Schmitter variant’; considering it easier than House’s Chimney. I want to film and let Ryan lead. I recognise the yellow band of rock and the ladder dangling there. Other climbers have told me not to trust the new rope, but to trust the old blue rope. Hats off for the very first climbers on K2, who had to climb this without rope and ladders, and did so much of the pioneering work on this enormously difficult mountain.

"We manage to scale House’s Chimney fairly easily and feel we have entered a new phase in the expedition. Another milestone. Above House’s Chimney we easily reach the always windy location of camp 2. It is a graveyard of tents. Whenever the wind picks up, this place takes a serious beating. The tents and contents of the Pakistani climbers have been blown into the abyss, as well as the tents of the Irishman, Banjo and Polish climber, Jacek. Our two three-person tents are still safe and firmly anchored.

"Déjà vu. After four hours of wonderful climbing, I run into the same thing that occurred in camp 1. The five HAPs are sitting comfortably in the tent, drinking tea and chatting. I try to stay calm."

When does West plan to learn? 

Honour from pakis, unlike climbers from Nepal or Darjeeling et al, is strictly limited to within their own faith, regardless of payments and promises. 

Anyone outside their creed isn't a human on par, just someone to extract from, until he can no longer serve that purpose - and that's about human males! Rest are not even supposed, as per the paki creed, to possess souls, therefore not worthy of consideration any more than animals or furniture. Indeed, latter may be valued far more. 

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"A three-person tent is available, but only two thirds of it is anchored down on the snow and ice, while one third hangs in the air as a result of the incline. It’s the same old song, the porters are refusing to climb to the next camp, and once again they are complaining about the strong wind. The wind in camp 2 is more of a rule than an exception, because this area is located beneath an enormous mass of rock, from where the route ascends steeply. This time, the porters are refusing to move and this means that four of us will have to share the three-man tent. Due to the incline this is effectively only a two-man tent. There is no other option as there is no room to set up the two lightweight tents. Our tents are here, along with the Italians’ broken tent, and Russians’ and Antoine’s tent. Tomorrow Antoine will climb with us to camp 3, along with the five HAPs. We resign ourselves to the situation, and prepare for a restless night."

A Sherpa would have behaved far more honourably, but abrahmic West has blinkers, preferring abrahmics - who do not return the favour of considering them equals, despite being paid for promised services. 

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"The next morning, we awake, all four of us having slept badly due to the lack of space. On the up side, it wasn’t cold. As predicted, the wind settled in the afternoon and remained calm throughout the night. Another confirmation that we can rely on the weather forecasts from the home front. Today we will focus on climbing the ‘Black Pyramid’. Takhi, the leader of the HAPs, is sick and descends. Four other HAPs are climbing to camp 3 and hopefully on to camp 4. The four remaining HAPs leave early and that pleases me. They just want to arrive at camp 3 on time. That is a good sign. I am the first to leave after the HAPs, and ninety minutes later am climbing in the crux. The Black Pyramid is a massive, black pyramid of rock that blocks any further view of K2. You must first pass it in order to see where you are going. It is pure rock climbing, around 1000 metres, with a band of rock that is similar to House’s Chimney. A nice climb. The first passage rises over 30 metres vertically. There are old ropes here and a wobbly, ladder attached to steel cables. Luckily there are no other climbers. Ryan is climbing below me, and Gerard below him. I wait for Ryan so I can also photograph and film this passage. Ryan doesn’t feel like going first, but does anyway. He slowly but competently struggles through the crux on the Black Pyramid, with his heavy pack on. I follow and find out that this passage is a lot harder than House’s Chimney. It is a long day, it’s cloudy and occasionally the view of the route to camp 3 completely disappears from view. I still trust the weather forecasts that say the cloud will disappear higher up and the wind will fall. Once we have passed Black Pyramid, we climb out of the rocks and go onto the ice on the glacier.

"We meet the first two HAPs on their way down. That was quick. We ask how far the climb to camp 3 is, they have dropped their loads – ropes, oxygen bottles and tents. They smile and say it’s another two hours. We climb on finally past the last two HAPs. We reach a narrow extension of the final rock ledge and discover two lengths of each at least 100 metres of rope. Ryan decides to take up one roll and I the other. We climb on, over the ice on the glacier at the bottom of K2’s shoulder. I think I can see the end point where camp 3 should be. Strange, it’s in the middle of a slope that disappears two-and-half kilometres into the depths below. Not the greatest place for a tent. We soon find out what has happened. The HAPs have just dropped their loads in the middle of the flank. Every day the HAPs have another wonderful surprise in store for us. I plump down next to the stocks and wait for the rest. Gerard arrives first, he grunts at this new setback, braces himself, picks up the three-person tent and some ice axes and ties the whole bunch onto his heavy rucksack. I follow his example and take what I can carry. I leave the three oxygen bottles for flowing climbers. I later hear that Ryan and Mick also leave behind the oxygen because they cannot make it. I see Antoine climbing ahead of Gerard. He left earlier, but I can see that he is completely exhausted. He climbs ten metres and then leans on his ice axe. His tongue is hanging from his mouth. But it has to be said, he is tough. He keeps climbing and is the first to reach camp 3. Camp 3 stands at a corner of the glacier, with a view of the Godwin Austen Glacier, 2.5 kilometres below us. A truly amazing sight. Looking carefully, one can see the pin-head that is our base camp. Above us is the extension of the shoulder of K2, with an enormous serac zone in front. We will leave this task for tomorrow. We will build up our camp first and then rest. It’s fairly late, and it’s been a long day. The last two HAPs arrive with Ryan and Mick. Akbar, one of the porters, is a good guy. We ask him to stay so he can climb with us tomorrow. He agrees.

"Later on we will find out what the real reason was why the two HAPs did not take up the gear to camp 3, but left it 250 metres lower. Apparently, later that day, they did an extra job for the French-Canadian expedition leader. They had double work to do. And apparently the fact that we had already hired them, paid them well and were busy on our summit attempt, did not really interest them. Yes, market forces also apply on K2. The one who pays the most, gets the most done. There goes your good intentions and delicate strategy. A shame, but that’s the way it is. We wonder whether we can call this progress…."

No, it's neither market nor progress, but the unreliability of pakis, completely opposite that of Sherpas. 

The former can cheat for whim, too, not just because someone else paid more. 

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" ... I stare at a frightening abyss. Black rocks to my left and right, but no exit, and a fathomless abyss and clouds below me. The decision is simple, because climbing up in this condition is impossible. Fool’s world, I traverse across the dangerously steep rocks and each time I pass them, I hope to see a way out. But it’s getting very hard. I am scared and start hesitating. If the face gets any steeper, I will be trapped and never get out alive. I don’t have the strength to climb up again. If the path is closed, then it’s over. I realise that one small mistake or slip will be fatal."

" ... I cannot keep this up. I am dead tired, and am bound to slip somewhere. After having descended and traversed a hundred metres, I collapse. The terrain is too dangerous and too difficult. I cannot see a safe escape. I know that I am trapped. No one can help me at this time. I use the satellite phone to make another call, but the batteries are too cold and empty. It cannot make a connection. No one knows where I am, no helicopter can fly at this altitude. God, I feel so alone. ... " 

And yet they fail to realise that Eastern Himaalaya has better survival for a good reason, or that it's a simple matter of perception - that's to begin with, if not all. Of Himaalaya being Abode of Gods, not only of snow that's inherent in the name Himaalaya. And the reverence Himaalaya has in hearts of not only India but all nations contiguous to Himaalaya, whether Tibet or Nepal or Bhutan, has a relevance in this matter. 

Attitude of disdain and worse that abrahmics hold, for everything not explicitly ordered revered in their one book, gets progressively worse from Abrahmic-I to Abrahmic-II to Abrahmic-III, and they still fail to understand why K2 is unforgiving. 

Nor have they learned from the dual horrendous events of tsunami and subsequent landslides in Kashmir. 

And this lack of perception remains through the powerful dawning of a "God, I feel so alone.", so firmly hammered in are the blinkers of the abrahmic creeds. It's only an arrogance that forces them to ignore a fact known yo well over a billion - that India sees Himaalaya as a helper in spiritual attainments, and this includes all creeds purely Indian in source and spirit. 

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" ... Of course non-climbers have a different way of responding to certain situations than climbers do. Particularly in emergencies it is all or nothing. There's often not sufficient enough time for rational thinking or taking action. In situations of life-and-death, choices and decisions often need to be made in a split-second. These decisions are often made, in part, based on knowledge, but particularly based on experience. And even if it doesn't depend on a single decision, then you will still see a dramatic worsening of the situation due to the facts on which inexperienced people base their decisions. As an organizer or expedition leader you will then have to intervene and sometimes need to make unpleasant decisions. The most obvious one that can be easily understood, for example, is the turn-around time. Before you set off everyone understands the importance of starting the descent when faced with the onset of bad weather approaching. But from my own experience I do know how difficult it is to actually turn around, as often you have been going up already for a considerable time and feel like you have almost made the top. These are "unpopular" decisions that people will often continue to talk about. But emotions and reason should be clearly separated in the mountains.

"The big challenge in mountaineering is that the summit is only a halfway point. Inexperienced people do not see it this way and consider it as being a match that finishes on the top. The way down is a part that one tends to forget about and in a kind of "tunnel vision"— which increases with the height one attains, as there is less oxygen for the brain and muscles to function normally— one wants to reach the top of the world at all cost! All energy and forces are being spent on the way up, but in this blind ambition one easily tends to forget about the descent. Only by increasing your level of experience you'll be able to correctly assess your strength and from that point onward you can try, step by step, to go a little higher. But what is it that often happens? People buy into a Himalayan expedition and immediately try to attempt Mount Everest. Bottled supplemental oxygen is being relied upon for the ascent and it is all too often suggested that with oxygen it is no problem to scale the peak, because the height of the summit will be lowered to approximately 6000 meters. Acclimatization is said to be not as important as it used to be, and the logistics for ropes, oxygen bottles, tents, food, stoves, fuel and the rest, has all been taken care of. When an inexperienced climber hears that he is progressing too slowly, but that he has only a few hundred meters more to go to the top, this person will absolutely not acknowledge the fact that he really should descend. On the way down he will be confronted with a shortage of oxygen, as well as with the extreme decrease in temperature once the sun dips behind the horizon. This is not an inconceivable scenario as, unfortunately, it is happening all too often.

"From the perception and emotions from the side of the customer, in a way, it is understandable; he invested in this with his training, his time and his money. But, rationally speaking, the only correct decision is to turn around in time and to start the descent. One can only hope that there will always be expedition leaders who have the courage to make this decision. Even when this would mean that you will often be called a heartless person afterwards."

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"No one could have suspected that, after having reached the summit with eighteen people, it would go so horribly wrong on the descent.  There was not a single cloud in the sky], the weather was perfect and it seemed like a routine job; back to the fixed ropes, clip-in and just follow the lines down to Camp 4.  That was what it looked like from an objective perspective but, all of a sudden, this scenario had been changed and the carefully built construction collapsed like a house of cards."

"Yes, the mountains really put someone in their place.  In the mountains we experienced how insignificant we are and I think that's the right perspective.  We think we can achieve a lot, but nature is so much more powerful.  You can feel that in the mountains.  Because of that magnificence and splendour, the overwhelming vistas, the heights, the different dimensions and proportions, the primeval forces, these all make you humble and ensure that you'll see it in the right perspective and respect the bigger scheme of things.  I do believe there is more to it than can be explained by the laws of Isaac Newton, because they aren't sufficient enough to explain the world around us.  I do believe that there must be something more powerful and grander than just our puny creatures."

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" ... We have had many discussions, for example, about what type of ice axes we should take. Do you go for the extremely light ones (not the best), long ones, short ones, etc. This often depends on your personal preferences, on your climbing skills and level of experience. This also applies to the choice of crampons, helmet, goggles, backpack and shoes. The choice of rope was also an essential one. At extreme altitude the use of rope is often abandoned, because it's too heavy. We have been trying to find a rope that was light enough and wouldn't freeze, and yet be able to arrest a fall. We knew this rope would not meet all the required criteria, but UIAA-approved ropes failed to meet our demands, simply because they weigh too much."

" ... The very moment your lifelines are torn away, then you are not only facing a mystery, but there is an immense challenge awaiting you. You may have tried to think of all the scenarios in advance, but you would never have imagined this, not even in your wildest dreams. From that moment on the only thing you can do is to act instinctively and do what's good for you, since you are trying to survive. This also applies when you see fallen climbers. You can observe them, but you can't allow emotions to get in the way. Fear and all the other emotions only come afterwards, when you've calmed down. There is no tailor-made survival training. In "survival mode" you will have to rely on past experience, intuition and primary behaviour. To this day for me it's as if I'm watching a movie and in a way it still feels like it hasn't really happened.

"If and when it goes wrong, you don't have to feel sorry for climbers, because that's the last thing they will be asking for. That's why we have no need for trauma counselling after a tragedy like this one. ... We are proud of the results achieved after three months of hard work and to reach the summit with one another. You see and experience the splendour of the world and its nature; the curvature of the Earth, the shadow which rises above the horizon, and the feeling of literally standing between Heaven and Earth."

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"For years now some have considered Wilco and I as the Siamese twins of Dutch mountaineering; an inseparable team, merrily racing through the Alps, sometimes away from home for weeks on end, sometimes on quick hit-and-run missions. The year 1995 was supposed to be ours - the step towards more serious climbing. We were two young Turks playing a part in a team of experienced expedition climbers. Our goal was the 8611-metre K2.

"This expedition was to be the crowning glory after years of alpine work. But things did not go as planned. In the early stages of the expedition Wilco was hit by a rock, which ended any thoughts of summiting for him. I suffered from an uninvited stomach bug that had me more time behind the tent than on the mountain.

"But that 1995 setback on K2 made Wilco the man who he is today. In the years that followed, he became stronger and more motivated. His philosophy was simple – after careful calculation he set himself a goal and then went for it. Many years of climbing in the Alps followed, as well as expeditions to Poland and the Himalayas. But I recollect that the idea of climbing K2 always lurked in his mind, and not always at the back of it. In 2004 he climbed Mount Everest without the use of bottled oxygen. It was only logical that K2 would be the next step.

"The experience of being on a mountain a second or third time is a special one. You don’t always need to succeed the first time, and a first failed attempt is a magnificent motivator for a second visit. You view the mountain from a different perspective and adapt your strategy. There is rather more respect for the beast, and both drive and motivation grow. You tread more skilfully. In 2006 Wilco took part in an international K2 expedition which again proved unsuccessful, he did not summit. But he did meet Irishman Gerard McDonnell and together they planned to return to K2 in 2008.

"Today he has a family and is professionally involved in expedition climbing. 2008 saw Wilco as leader of the Norit K2 Expedition. With an international team Wilco returned to K2 for a third time.

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"Each year K2 makes new victims. No one knew that just as in 1986, the year 2008 would be a disastrous year on the mountain. That season we were the first ones on the mountain. We had a strong team in which everyone was prepared to work towards a common goal, reaching the summit of K2 via the Cesen Route. Wilco is a good expedition leader. He does his utmost to ensure everyone has a summit attempt. And having to work hard on a mountain is not at all bad if the atmosphere in the team is good. We take the greatest pleasure in climbing on K2 together.

"The climb proves successful whereby four of our eight-man team reach the summit. An achievement that the whole team is proud of. But the situation takes a dramatic turn during descent. Gerard dies after a heroic feat. It is a tragic blow to the team.

"In dealing with this terrible loss, the strongest support comes from Gerard’s girlfriend and family. They were willing to listen to the true story of Gerard’s descent without reproach. It remains a huge loss. But climbers are climbers. This is what defines who they are. I am proud that Gerard and our expedition members managed a successful climb of K2.

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"As a true professional, Wilco is able to separate expedition, family and the loss of Gerard. He sets out a clear line for his life. His longing for the unknown, higher goals whereby he explores the limits of his abilities , such as during the descent from the summit of K2, where he lost all his toes. Everyone was astonished by his perseverance. He is a well-balanced individual and that is also e his strength in terms of his rehabilitation. I have doubts he will climb again. There is no way back. But new challenges lie ahead. The longing for new adventure remains.

"Cas van de Gevel Mountaineer, 

"The Netherlands."

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" ... I look at the notary and he nods: it’s officially our home now. A dream has come true and we feel the deep meaning of the moment. A day later I’ll join the eight-man climbing team as part of the Norit K2 Expedition. We are to climb one of the most dangerous mountains in the world. If everything goes to plan I’ll be back in three months."

" ... My passion for mountains and extreme expeditions always dominated everything and made my life very orderly. But ever since my marriage to Heleen, my son’s birth and purchasing our home the risks that make up such an intricate part of a life as adventurer, are more present than ever. What am I doing to them? I am responsible for them, what will happen to my wife and child if I don’t come back? And let’s face it, that’s a possibility."

" ... I cannot even promise that I’ll give up if this attempt also fails. My head is filled with contradictory thoughts and emotions at the start of the Norit K2 Expedition."

"It is a déjà vu. Standing next to Cas at Schiphol are two other enthusiastic young team members, Roeland van Oss and Jelle Staleman. Towards the end of 2007 we had placed an ad for two young, ambitious climbers to join us on the 2008 Norit K2 expedition. And here they were. The two who best matched the job description and dared to play high stakes on climbing’s Holy Grail. One needs guts, passion, climbing skills, excellent physical condition and personal maturity in making decisions. In other words: you need to understand the dangers and know exactly what you are doing. Reckless behaviour or overconfidence tends to lead to disaster."

" ... It’s good to have stamina, but what do you do when you are over 8000 metres and faced with the choice of descending or digging a snow hole to survive?

"A die-hard marine who never stops may sound tough, but in the mountains this can leave you dead. When you are in the mountains you must not simply keep on going expending the last of your energy until you reach the summit. The summit is only half way, a fact many have forgotten in the emotional high of summiting. You must know what you are doing and have yourself completely under control. ... "

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" ... The Norit K2 expedition team also includes three foreigners: a Nepalese, an Irishman and an Australian. I want an eight-man team so we can work on the mountain in two teams of four.

"Over the years I have become closely acquainted with Gerard McDonnell, an Irishman who lives in Alaska where we have climbed and trained together at length. He is a man after my own heart. Calm, balanced, no beating about the bush, and someone you can take at his word. A climber who understands endurance and perseverance. We unintentionally share near-death experiences on the mountain of our dreams: me in 1995, and Gerard in 2006. I always knew that Gerard would never be daunted by the experience. We are very similar in this way. Maybe our accidents made us more determined. This would never happen to us again, and we would show that back then it was just bad luck.

"In 2003 Gerard climbed Everest with oxygen from the Nepalese south side together with Sherpa Pemba who hailed from the Khumbu region. Sherpas are tireless workers who are extremely well adapted to climbing at high altitudes, and they are born to an impressive and proud culture. Of the entire group, Pemba has the most experience above 8000 metres. Although he had never climbed Everest without oxygen, he stood at the summit six times. Pemba is an absolute professional; he would be very popular with sponsors in Europe - a man of consensus, never seeking out confrontation but not afraid of speaking his mind. It is striking that Pemba doesn’t consider K2 to be the most dangerous mountain, but rather Annapurna’s south face. Pemba thinks that this mountain is much more dangerous because the avalanches there are very unpredictable. Pemba’s athletic physique makes him a climber who commands respect from everyone.

"Last but not least, the Australian Mark Sheen. In 2006 Mark climbed on Broad Peak with Gerard and myself, and we immediately hit it off. Mark is from Perth and does not have a mountaineering background – a fun laid-back Aussie who is ambitious and eager to learn. During the Broad Peak expedition, he climbed to camp 4 with Gerard and me to just below the col at almost 8000 metres. In the middle of the night Gerard, Mark and I set off for the summit. Mark was quickly forced to give up: he returned to camp 4. His decision not to descend further, but to wait for Gerard and me, proved a serious error of judgement. Upon returning that evening, we found Mark in a delirious condition. We were shocked to find him so depleted and forced him to descend with us. We reached camp 3, the next day continuing on down to base camp. Mark was suffering from frostbite in his fingers. It was a hard lesson but Mark accepted his mistake and didn’t complain. Luckily his fingers fully recovered.

"A year later. Mark is climbing Mount Everest with a team from New Zealand. A strong, cold wind is blowing when he reaches the summit. When I hear about his successful summit attempt, I e-mail him my congratulations. He replies asking me what my plans are and enquires about a place on the team. I am ecstatic, it will be wonderful to have Mark on board. He is a team player. And now the team is complete, a balanced group with ‘winners’ at all positions. I am happy, more than happy."

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" ... Karakoram Highway (whoever came up with this moniker must have had something of a sense of humour) - the old silk route ... Although this is a relatively quiet area where a cease-fire is in place, there are many army posts on the glaciers up to K2. ... "

"We want to drive to Skardu over the coming two days. We leave at 06.00 in two buses. We haven’t even been on the road for an hour when the suspension on one of them gives up. Yet another adventure begins. The driver attempts to drive on but the screeching noises are too much even for him. We switch buses and continue slowly. In the next village, we look for a new vehicle and driver. Serious negotiating is necessary before a deal is closed. ... "

Were they aware that it might have been deliberate cheating rather than incompetence when the first vehicle broke down? 

" ... We finally continue, the views brightening our mood. We have magnificent views of Nanga Parbat (8125 m) and Rakaposhi (7790 m), just like K2, mountains with characteristic shapes.

"Our driver is amazing. For the past two days he has been driving along narrow, dangerous, unpaved roads. He is positive and optimistic and, in spite of the time lost, he thinks we will reach Skardu on the second day. We are startled as we careen from the road, but it’s not serious. The rush of adrenaline from the near-accident enables our driver to deliver us to our destination quickly, we arrive 23.00. We are standing in the famous K2 hotel in Skardu with its magnificent view of the desert plains and mighty mountain rivers. We quickly take our things to our rooms, shower and sleep.

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"When we wake up, we are in a different world. An oasis of rest, with views that are only possible in the high mountains. ... From now on we only use solar energy and no longer need the 220V plugs."

" ... My heart is in my throat, but I needn’t have worried. We climb the hill at the first elegant attempt."

" ... We are the first expedition of the season and the porters are raring to go. I have brought along 100 Norit K2 Expedition caps. I know from experience how happy porters are to have such headgear. A quality cap is easily worth three day’s wages. The caps are handed out, and all hell breaks loose. We feel like pop stars, there are sadly not enough caps to go round. Happily some of the porters prefer their traditional Hunza headdress.

"On 22 May we begin our seven-day trek. We are tired of sitting, and eager to make active use of our bodies again. Active acclimatisation can begin. We - are still at only 2500 metres, but will quickly ascend to 5000 metres. The trek goes via Korophon to Jhula, Paju where we will have a day of rest, then on to Urdukas, Goro II, Broad Peak base camp and our final goal: K2 base camp. We trek for six to eight hours a day. We start early, around 06.00, before sunrise, and by around 15.00 have done the distance and still have time set up camp. K2 trekking is one of the roughest and heaviest as there are no villages or settlements along the way (unlike Everest), nowhere to buy cola or tea or whatever. We don't complain. It’s part of the story. The mountains along the route are also among the highest and most rugged with five of the world’s 14 eight thousanders in handsome view. We have already passed Nanga Parbat (8125 m), and are now walking past Gasherbrum 1 (8068 m), Gasherbrum 2 (8035 m) and Broad Peak (8060 m). The path will end at the foot of K2, mountain of mountains (8611 m). Other famous summits here include the Great Trango Towers, the Cathedrals, Uli Biaho, Paju Peak, Liligo Peak, Masherbrum, Mitre Peak, Muztagh Tower and Chogolisa - a climbers’ Valhalla.

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"From Paju we climb onto the famous Baltoro Glacier, which we follow to Concordia, the ice plateau where some 6 glaciers converge. From here we should be able to see K2 but today the view is obstructed by mist, clouds and snow. In the process of covering distance at high altitude it’s best to keep your mind blank and focus on infinity. We continue trudging through the snow and cold to Broad Peak base camp. Quiet is all around. Tent, food, water and fatigue combine to put us to sleep fast. When we wake up the next day, we are surrounded by powder snow as far as the eye can see. We gaze in delight. A clear blue ceiling on a white white world. And there it is, in the far distance - King of the Karakoram - higher than all the surrounding summits. Humility, pride, wonder, fear, and bravado all have a place in our cocktail of emotions What a simply magnificent view. The area immediately around K2 is called the throne room of the gods of the mountain. It is easy to understand why.

"From Broad Peak base camp we cross the Godwin Austen glacier. We cross moraines, jump melt-water streams and move delicately between the massive boulders. We soon arrive at the K2 base camp. Because we are the first expedition to arrive (there will be many more during the season) we can choose the best spot on the famous moraine strip below the slopes of K2. Somewhere in the middle the porters thrown down their load from their powerful sweating backs. They have worked hard. And now these hard workers are to be paid. A fixed fee was agreed in advance, but they are secretly hoping for a tip. When I announce to the porters, who are gathered together in a large circle, that they will receive 10 days pay instead of the agreed seven applause rings through the camp. We are a popular bunch, and probably spoil things for expeditions to come. After the porters leave, a feeling of tranquillity descends. We can start building our home for the coming two months."

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" ... Although it is the third time, you never get used to the awe-inspiring sight of this mountain. At night it inspires the most fear; it makes me feel small. In the light of day and from the safety of base camp, I have often stared at its flanks and broad shoulders: it doesn’t seem to hide any secrets from me and I can effortlessly find my way along the route and camps to the summit; both with my eyes and in my mind. But now in the dark, in the middle of the night, I have lost all my bearings and with the growing feeling of disappointment that this attempt will also prove unsuccessful; the mountain appears more cruel than ever. ... "

" ... May, when we arrived. The glacier was still smooth and everything looked different. It was all covered by a beautiful, thick white layer of snow. Setting up camp was simple and there was plenty of room. We were the first expedition on the glacier. We were able to choose the best spot for our base camp at 5000 metres altitude with a fantastic view of K2. We quickly set up our comfortable base camp – in the beginning of the expedition everything seemed to go well. After returning to my tent I quickly squeeze into my warm sleeping bag and reflect on that first day of climbing. The Norit K2 Expedition commenced on 3 June. ... "

"We ascend to around 5500 metres, then return feeling tired but fulfilled. Pemba, Gerard and Mark have not yet joined the expedition. Pemba has asked his lama in Nepal to bless the expedition and has built a stone altar with Tibetan prayer flags. The expedition’s prayer ceremony will take place on 5 June. Pemba does not want to climb or step onto the mountain before then. Gerard and Mark join Pemba out of respect for him. Pemba doesn’t mind that we have already started climbing: with all his experience he understands that you should make the utmost of every good day on the mountain. The images are very vivid in my mind. ... "

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" ... It’s very important to mark the route according to a specific line as it very dangerous to walk to the bottom of the route in too direct a line. You are literally walking through a potential avalanche cone of snow and ice. If these come crashing down (which they do with monotonous regularity) they will instantly bury you."

" ... In a total white-out you must be able to walk from flag to flag; the route to base camp should be clearly marked, especially when returning to base camp after an exhausting climb. At 5.00 we started preparing the route, and at 6.30 we were standing at the bottom of the slope up to the route. We put on our equipment and started climbing. ... We climbed up to 5500 metres, where we ended the previous day and put all the gear that we had left behind in our rucksacks. In addition to this equipment, we were also hauling up new stuff - two tents, two sets of MSR Reactor stoves, gas tanks, breakfast, warm meals, three lengths of 200-metre rope, pitons, ice axes and more. ... After more than six hours we reached camp 1, we were totally exhausted. The weather had deteriorated. At camp 1 everything was shrouded in a dense mist and clouds and it was snowing. Very much in contrast with the conditions when heading out this morning with the sun shining, and sweat pouring down our faces. A few hours later our hands were numb, it was snowing and a cold wind was blowing. Although we were not yet properly acclimatised, we had managed to fix 600 metres of rope up to camp 1. It was an impressive achievement. Even speaking required a great deal of effort. You had to breathe deeply before being able to reply. While climbing, we were constantly out of breath. Just before Camp 1, we ran out of rope. We were 20 metres short to actually reach the camp. Camp 1 is small: a ledge squeezed between two rock towers with two tiny flats for two-person tents, I estimated them to be 2.5 metres by 1.5 metres. Directly next to two massive rock towers is the abyss to the other side down to the glacier and the base camp. We can see the small, coloured specks of our tents. Later on, we hear that Pemba, Mark, Gerard and Court closely follow our movements. We empty our rucksacks, fix everything to a rope and decide to quickly go back down. The weather is getting worse and we decide not to put up our tents as a precaution against the fierce storms. Images of the 2002 Mount Everest expedition, where complete camps blew away, come to mind.

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" ... Climbing simultaneously at different places on a face can be risky, and this often happens of course when different teams are climbing the same mountain. The solution was carefully thought through. The first team would ascend carrying as much equipment from base camp as possible like tents, anchors, route markers and so on. They would carry the gear to camp 2, sleep there and descend the next morning. When they appeared team 2 would go up to camp 2, and the next day they would prepare the route up to camp 3 with the materials brought up by team 1. This should be clever use of shift work. If the weather and the conditions permitted this, the preparation work up to camp 3 would quickly be completed. This was the theory, but would it also work in practice?"

" ... Everybody knows that the hardest part of the expedition is yet to come. If the signs are not betraying us... We are still the only expedition that has reached this far. A lot of the other expeditions have just arrived, or are still on the way to base camp."

"Maturity is noticeable in the decision-making by the group. When asking if anyone is willing to carry up the equipment to camp 3, Mark and Roeland immediately offer help. After Gerard explains that the terrain above camp 2 is a lot steeper and more difficult than we have yet dealt with, Mark doesn’t mind that Roeland will come up with us because he is a more technical climber with more experience in difficult terrain. That’s what I call team spirit. Unselfish and self-assured. It’s time to grit our teeth. We will ascend to camp 2 with our heavy rucksacks (that contain heavy material including tent, stove, food, personal items, down suit, sleeping bag, mat, gloves, thermos flask, photo and video camera). As forecast, the weather on Monday 16 June does not look great; however, on Tuesday conditions should improve. We leave base camp at 04.00, it’s pitch black. Our cooks Hussain and Hassan send us off. By 05.00 we have our crampons on. With our ice axe and jumar in hand, protective cream on our faces, we start climbing the face up to camp 1. Cas, Jelle, Roeland and I ascend at a steady pace. There is no clear line of ascent and at the bottom of the face there is a vast mess of snow, ice and rocks. The high temperatures over the past days have caused changes. Rocks normally frozen solidly in place come loose and literally whistle past. One of the reasons we ascend so early. Best to be in camp 1 by 08.00 at the latest. In fact the earlier the better. And then continue on to camp 2, which should be reached by around 12.00 noon. The higher the altitude the lower the chance of rocks round your ears. There are also snow avalanches – we estimate some ten a day – but fortunately they are rarely close to us. The ones that are close only miss us narrowly, as happened last night.

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"Roeland and I were sleeping in camp 2 when a loud bang woke us up with a start. For a second I couldn't remember where I was. What was that? The bang was followed by roar. It sounded  ominous and for a second I thought to myself that this might be it. Roeland also woke up with a start. We briefly stared at each other, zipped open the tent to see we if would survive. We peered through the tent opening to see a gigantic avalanche roaring through the couloir to the left of camp 2. We felt the strangely reduced air pressure, a terrifying sensation. However, we realised that we were safely below a rock overhang, and the tents are firmly fixed to secure pitons. We went back to sleep, but without feeling entirely at ease.

"Climbing is never without its risks of course. We are in nature’s most threatening environment – the mountains - and as a vulnerable human being you can only outwit but never beat the forces of nature. One day when climbing just below camp 1, a rock fizzes past, seemingly out of nowhere. The treacherous hissing sound is actually rather like a rifle shot, if you hear it and nothing hurts, you know you’ve survived. Out of the corner of my eye the projectile flies past at a metre distance. I shout as loudly as I can to Cas, Jelle and Roeland below me. I cannot see if they have been hit, because I’m climbing out of sight. I hear no screams so I warmly assume everything is OK. After arriving in camp 1 I wait for Cas, Jelle and Roeland. My heart is pounding. It seems they reacted to my shout and nothing happened. This unnerving experience recurs three times that morning. It’s nerve-racking."

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" ... Until now we used free of charge weather forecasts via the Internet, which turns out to be a mistake. At 18.00 I contact Maarten who is manning our ‘mission control’ back in the Netherlands via satellite phone. The first thing I shout to him through the raging storm is: “Maarten, the weather is terrible.” Maarten reassures me by explaining that our weatherman Ab Maas is at his post again, and has just sent new forecasts. They paint a different picture than the internet forecast. According to Ab’s calculations the unstable weather will continue throughout the week, with enormous jet stream winds near the summit and rapidly dropping temperatures! It’s storming and snowing at 6000 metres. We unequivocally confirm that. Even though I am glad to receive Ab’s more reliable forecast, it’s a disappointment. There is no option but to descend. ... At 03.00 Cas and I step out into screaming wind and snowdrift. We have to go down, fast. ... "

"On 18 June there will be a full moon, and we want to seize this opportunity. If there is enough light (also at night) and the weather is stable, then the camps can quickly be in order. If we can set up the logistics and the four camps before the end of June, we could try a summit attempt in July, as originally planned. The next full moon will be 18 July. This is when the summit attempt should take place. We will need to be mentally prepared by 10 July at the latest. This will give us the required four to five weeks to acclimatise. We should work towards this date. Just to be safe, I factor in another five days of bad weather with heavy snowfall. This will not be a problem if we can prepare camps 3 and 4 on time. If not, it will be much harder to set them up after a snowfall and only then make a summit attempt."

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"Climbing at altitude

"It is impossible to climb an 8611-metre high mountain from base camp (at 5100 metres) in one go. If a human being is taken from sea level directly to 8000 metres, they will die within minutes. Climbing a mountain of this altitude is only possible if the body is allowed to adjust to the altitude. Acclimatisation is as follows: climbing to a high altitude during day, and sleeping at a lower altitude at night. The climbing allows the body to adjust to the altitude, while sleeping at a lower elevation with sufficient oxygen enables the body to recuperate properly. Going up and down on the mountain, a little higher each time, has two benefits. It allows the climber to acclimatise, and simultaneously take up expedition gear such as tents, stoves, food, and climbing equipment. In this way the camps are equipped for future efforts. If conditions allow then the provisioning and positioning of these camps will allow a summit attempt. It takes weeks to set up four camps on such a mountain, and to have all the equipment in the right place. That is why it takes so long to climb an eight-thousander. One also has to factor in lay days and bad weather. The actual summit attempt is only possible after the preparations and logistics around the four camps are complete.

"It all sounds logical, but there is a serious catch. If one spends a lot of time at high altitude he body starts to deteriorate. While the body acclimatises, it is also breaking down. The climber loses weight because the body starts to ‘consume’ itself; not only fat, but muscle. At high altitude the body burns muscle more easily than it does fat, as burning fat at altitude requires more oxygen than is normally available.

"Air pressure at 5000 metres is around 50 percent of that at sea level, and above 8000 metres it is only one third. This effectively means the body is only getting one third the amount of oxygen at 8,000 metres in each breath than at sea level. This requires you to use energy wisely. It is as if the body is an emptying vessel. It is no longer able to absorb sufficient energy via the food consumed, partly because you lose appetite at altitude. Even if you force yourself to consume sufficient food, it is likely it would exit the body almost immediately. The body is in a state of alert and no longer focuses on digestion. It chooses to use the scarce oxygen for ‘more important’ vital functions such as physical movement, heat regulation, thinking and the organs.

"After a week at high altitude the climber must return to a lower altitude to allow their body to recuperate. The longer the time spent and the higher the altitude, the faster the bodily deterioration."

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" ... Tuesday 24 June. We leave at 04.00, just before first light. We are carrying heavy packs with equipment for camp 3. Two tents, four sleeping mats and four sleeping bags, two Reactor stoves (these are great – but slightly heavier than the MSR ‘pocket rockets’, the Reactor works faster and is more efficient), three down suits, snow anchors, pitons, climbing ropes, and food, drink, and so on. The weather on the morning of the 24th isn’t very good, however, we trust the forecast that predicts good weather through Friday. And this appears to be right; the more the cloud cover breaks and the brighter the sun shines, the more optimistic we are. I arrive in camp 1 at 07.20 ... "

" ... In the meantime an expedition led by Frenchman Hugues d’Aubarede is also climbing the Cesen Route. Their team has two high altitude porters (HAPs) who will set up tents. ... We are still preparing ourselves, when the HAPs announce that they are going up ahead. At first I am happy with this decision because it means they will be tracking in the fresh snow. At the same time I have a premonition that things might not go to plan. My suspicions strangely turn out to be right. Less than ninety minutes later we reach the rock passages above camp 2 and see the two HAPs sitting in the snow. They say they are tired and are going back down. This means the two ropes are now lying in the snow 150 metres above camp 2. This does not make us happy. ... We keep climbing, but progress slowly and with difficulty. We are running out of reserves. Where is camp 3? We look up, but cannot see any smooth places on the route where there is not too great a danger of avalanche. We trust the last climbers and briskly continue along the route. Two hours later, at 15.30, Cas, Jelle and I reach 7000 metres. We discover three tents, destroyed by the wind, lying under a thick layer of snow. We decide to make camp 3 by preparing a level area to set up a VE 25 tent. Cas and Jelle start digging and I put on a pot of tea. We are dehydrated. Just before sundown, the tent is up. It is on a very small ledge that doesn’t provide enough space for the tent. Part of it floats in space. But once lying in it with a rucksack in the floating part, things are more or less level. A biting wind is blowing at 7000 metres. We crawl into the tent and try to drink some soup. ... My body also knows it is up at 7000 metres; I cannot keep any food down. Another problem emerges. We only have two lightweight North Face Hightail sleeping bags and two down suits with us. ... We prepare for the night, but know that we won’t get much sleep. Not long after, I cannot feel my feet anymore. The down suit is great, but it does not have ‘slippers’ so my feet are less protected. I have left my second pair of thick Icebreaker socks, of pure Merino wool, back in camp 2. Cas gives me a pair of dry socks and I wrap my feet in two layers. However, cold feet in cold socks remain cold. It’s my own fault. To save on weight I brought up half a Therm-a-Rest mat. And I need the other half for my back. My rucksack is lying at the head and my feet are lying on cold climbing boots. Cas notices this and shoves his rucksack towards me for my feet. Cas had not made the same mistake and had a long, heavy Therm-a-Rest mat to reduce heat loss from the body. In the middle of the night, after having nightmares about frostbite to my feet, Cas offers to switch. He will exchange his sleeping bag for my down suit. In the sleeping bag, I can roll up like a foetus and massage my feet. That night we only occasionally manage to doze off. The strong wind is causing the tent cloth to flap, and prevents us from getting any sleep. ... Once again, I am forced to face the facts: different laws apply at this altitude and the human body reacts violently to such hostile conditions. This leaves you constantly feeling bad. you don’t belong here. You are constantly gasping, as if you were breathing through a straw.

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"When it gets light, descent to camp 2 awaits us. We will retrieve the two ropes that were left behind by the HAPs along with Roeland’s gear. We really don’t feel like it and we have to force ourselves. Fortunately, we are still feeling strong. We decide to make breakfast though at this altitude no one is feeling hungry; we know we need the energy. We open a cruesli breakfast that we all three enjoy. But after taking a few bites I can no longer keep the food down. ... Pemba, Gerard, Court and Mark will fix these ropes tomorrow. They cannot take up the gear because they are carrying the equipment for camp 4 in their rucksacks. This includes extremely lightweight TNF tents, two stoves, mats, food, the dynamic rope, and two 200-metre lengths of Enduro for the infamous Bottleneck. At 08.30 Cas and I arrive at the location of the two heavy 11mm ropes; team two is nowhere to be seen. We wait and, finally, at 9.00 we see Pemba appearing around the corner above camp 2. He tells us that Gerard has been throwing up all morning and is feeling weak. Court was coughing all night, and his legs are hurting. The enormous altitude is starting to take its toll. ... The landscape is literally and figuratively breathtaking. Amazing views. We are now high enough to look down on surrounding summits. The view is beyond words and I cannot imagine any other place in the world that could surpass it. Hundreds of summits. At least fifty over 7000 metres. From K2 to Broad Peak, the Gasherbrums, Muztagh Tower, K6, K12, and so on. I am too tired to film and take pictures. We climb along awe-inspiring seracs, like tilting high-rise flats. If I stare at them too long, I get light-headed and clenched by fear. I feel small and vulnerable. The weather is perfect, a clear blue sky and searing sun. Today, I’m feeling happy again. The track, and the fact that we know the exact location of camp 3, enables us to progress faster. We arrive at 13.00. ... "

" ... Chasing your dream of climbing K2 may seem great, but you know you’ll need a tremendous amount of stamina, especially if things fail to go according to plan. ... On Saturday morning the team is complete again. Pemba, Gerard and Mark descended early in the morning. The weather has worsened. It is snowing, and it’s cold and wet - not the nicest time to be in base camp. Although we have plenty of time to work out our plans."

" ... Our summit attempt can wait until 18 July, when there will be a full moon. This will give us time to rest and build up the camps. The weather remains an uncertain factor. If it doesn’t hold through the period of the full moon, our plan will fail. To benefit from the coming weather window, the route will need to be fully prepared. Camp 4 has not yet been set up on the shoulder. We can either play it safe by setting up camp 4 and miss our summit attempt, or climb up to camp 4 without all the fixed ropes in place and try a summit attempt. This is exciting and riskier, but the risks are manageable. ... "

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"We know it will be extremely tough. We are early in the season, so it’s extra cold. The wind will be at least 20 km/h. We will be the first team this year. This means we will need to do all the tracking, and in the occasional waist-deep snow that is very hard work. We will place the ropes in the Bottleneck ourselves, and will not rely on anyone else."

" ... A summit attempt means thinking five days ahead, it’s a delicate and painstaking decision. If we suffer any setbacks during that time, things can go horribly wrong. In traditional ‘authoritarian’ expeditions, the expedition leader simply gives instructions to his climbers on the mountain; I refuse to send climbers up the mountain against their will. The thought alone upsets me."

" ... Roeland suffered carbon monoxide poisoning while melting snow, he forgot to ventilate properly and was unconscious for ten minutes. This is bad news. ... He is able to descend to base camp with Mark. Staying in camp 2 is not an option due to lack of space, but mainly the lack of oxygen at this altitude. And Roeland needs oxygen to recuperate. ... "

" ... The afternoon is spent drinking and resting in the sun. The weather is good, with little to no wind, and our confidence is growing. The view is phenomenal and overwhelming. These are small moments that make it all worthwhile: sitting in front of your tent on a small ledge, enjoying a hot cup of tea with a great team. The steep drop below shows how much progress you have made and makes you feel simultaneously small and proud. But the hardest part is yet to come. K2 is immense.

"On Thursday 3 July, at 08.00, the five of us leave for camp 3. We know it will be a heavy day. It will require us to track in knee-deep snow. . The first part of the route goes along rocks, followed by a small traverse, a steep couloir and then by what seems to be an endless snow ridge. This is serious climbing. Fortunately, there was a strong wind last night that blew away much of the powder snow which makes a huge difference, but it is still heavy work. Now and then I need to rest and lean against a rock to raise my blood oxygen. Climbing in terrain like this is a question of measuring your movement and using your limited energy resources wisely. We take turns tracking up the mountain, and arrive in camp 3 at 14.30. We feel content. We still have to set up the second tent and that is no easy effort. This is a heavier tent whose round shape requires a large surface. In spite of our efforts to fasten the tent we keep hitting into rock just below the snow. It is impossible to secure the tent. We decide to let part of it hang free which will at least allow us to sleep on an area that is fairly level. ... The plan is simple: climb up to camp 4 in one go, spend several hours in the bivouac, and on Saturday night at 01.00 start our first summit attempt.

"Just before falling asleep, the Serb Hoselito suddenly arrives. He has taken more than ten hours to get from camp 2 to camp 3. Tomorrow he wants to go up to camp 4 with us to try his summit attempt (with the help of oxygen). I swear inwardly. What a dilemma. He asks if he can set up his small, lightweight tents next to ours. Our reaction is unanimous: no. If we accept him, we will also be responsible for him. I explain to him that he is not sufficiently acclimatised and should not count on us during the summit attempt. After lengthy bickering, we reach a compromise. He will set up his tent next to ours, on the condition that he will descend the next day."

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" ... The terrain above camp 3 is difficult - very alpine, requiring one’s utmost concentration to find the way through the mixed terrain. The altitude is beginning to take its toll. I still feel good, but not everyone is feeling well."

"A new problem arises: There is not enough rope to secure the last section. We had calculated we only needed another 400 metres. A lot of rope has been used to secure the horizontal sections along the route. The slope appears to be much steeper than expected, and climbing the last section in alpine style (without being attached to the fixed rope) is too high a risk for the descent. ... We ultimately decide to do the only right thing: turn around and go back down. This attempt has failed. Maybe there will be another opportunity. We all swallow hard before we begin the descent.

"We empty our rucksacks and create a hanging depot. In the last light of day we descend to camp 3, disappointed, but remaining alert. We need to be, because night is falling. Before we know it, we are descending along the ropes in darkness. We switch on our headlamps and realise how important the fixed ropes are. They will lead us straight back to our tents. If other expeditions’ ropes had also been hanging here, we may never have found our tents. This strengthens us in our decision. Continuing up the mountain would have been extremely foolish."

"The bad weather persists and spoils our plans."

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" ... We were young, strong and open-minded. Climbing dominated our lives. We were prepared to give it everything we had, and were completely addicted to it. We were always finding an excuse to drop everything and go to the Alps to climb some tough mountain or other. Those were happy times. I remember the exuberant feeling of freedom and the ever closer friendship with Cas as if it were yesterday. We never seemed to get enough. Often, after completing one climb we would already have started planning the next.

"The publication of a full-page article in the Dutch newspaper, the Telegraaf, in which Dutch climber Ronald Naar revealed his plans for an expedition to K2, hit us like a bombshell. Of course, we considered ourselves good enough, so we immediately responded. Although we had never climbed an eight thousander before, we felt we were up to the task. In reality, we never really expected we would make the team as it would include the Dutch climbing elite. But we knew that if we didn’t try we would always regret it."

" ... At 8611 metres, K2 was not just the second highest mountain in the world, it was also technically and strategically the hardest of the fearsome eight thousanders. One in four climbers never returned from the summit. The mountain derives its nickname, ‘Killer Mountain’, from these macabre statistics. No Dutch climber had ever climbed K2."

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" ... The technical climbing level didn’t worry us, but we doubted our experience of climbing at high altitude. We had never been above 5500 metres! And what if Ronald were to choose only one of us? We were both aware of the possibility, but neither of us mentioned it. ... "

" ... We had imagined a job interview, and had properly prepared for any tricky questions. But we hardly had to draw on our knowledge. We talked about our work in the Alps. It appeared that Ronald had followed our climbs, which made us feel good. We glowed. The renowned Dutchman of the mountains Ronald Naar had followed the exploits of a pair of young unknowns. Conversation turned to the Eiger North Face, of which he had his happiest memories. This surprised us. ‘Not Mount Everest?’"

" ... He asked if we knew Thierry Schmitter. No, but of course we knew his climbing stories and were familiar with routes that he had climbed. Thierry was studying at the University of Delft and was a member of Yeti, the Student Alpine Club. Ronald enquired about my filming experience. He knew that I had filmed a lot of our climbs. He wanted a second cameraman for the team. The discussion continued. All of a sudden Ronald said: ‘You can join the expedition!’ The remark overwhelmed us, we could not believe our ears. This was the chance of a lifetime. We would be climbing the mountain of mountains with respected climbers like Naar, Hans van der Meulen and Edmond Öfner. And the two of us had been invited. Nice. Ronald would later call us ‘the Siamese twins’.... He wanted us to gain more experience with high-altitude climbing, and wanted us to climb the Eiger North Face. ... "

"July 1994 we were pumped up for the Eiger North Face. We had done many difficult Alpine routes. A year earlier, in August 1993, we had attempted the Nordwand but had been forced to turn around at Death bivouac. In addition to climbing these technical routes in the Alps, like the north faces of the Matterhorn, the Grandes Jorasses and the Eiger, we would later focus on climbing at higher altitudes. Our intensive training programme had begun, and K2’s image was firmly planted in our minds."

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"Diary fragments by Cas van de Gevel

"Eiger North Face, July 1994. We are on our way. Tactics as follows: set up tent beneath face, wait for good weather and go! No noisy alarm clocks or irritating buzzers. A sandwich and coffee at 13.00, and then we leave. Relaxed. and this is how it should be. Hopefully the entire climb. Rushing a mountain wall like this is useless. It is much more important to be at the right place at the right time. Strict rules apply to different passages in the route. Don’t be on the Second Ice field, the Flat Iron or in the Spider in the afternoon. … with a bit of luck. Today we will try to reach the Swallow’s Nest. More waterfalls on the face, and the snow fields and ice fields are bigger. We soon pass the first pillar to reach the shattered pillar.

"This is where the difficulties begin. The Difficult Crack, a fifth-degree passage, is equipped with old, fixed ropes. We climb through this section without too much difficulty. It is striking that in the bottom part, multiple passages are equipped with fixed ropes. Until just after the Swallow’s Nest. After that only at the Corti Bivouac high in the face. More and more water is falling. Especially, now that we are here in the overhanging wall, the Rote Fluh. Here a curtain of water, provides a free shower. We try to stay dry, but quickly learn how difficult that is. While belaying, the water simply flows via the rope and your hands along your arms into your jacket. It’s impossible to stay dry. We are standing at the Hinterstoisser Traverse. It is still equipped with fixed ropes which also enable climbers to return along the same route. What would happen if there weren’t any ropes here? You would be trapped ... This was described in the tragedy about Toni Kurz in the book The White Spider. The party of four climbers did not leave a fixed rope, their retreat was cut off, and Toni Kurz died a tragic death just beyond the reach of his rescuers. He was the last survivor of the group."

" ... The ice field is at an angle of some 50 to 60 degrees and must be traversed along a 300-metre long section. The steepness and length are actually not the difficulties here. The Second Ice Field enjoys its fearsome reputation due to the large numbers of rocks dislodged by the warming sun. Two important factors play a part here: speed and luck. We both move together across the ice field on a shortened rope, and quickly pass it. We recognise the right approach to the Flat Iron from last year and find the right entry point. The Flat Iron is directly below the White Spider, and thus also dangerous. If the weather turns, all the rocks and ice collect in the White Spider, a cone-shaped ice field at the top section of the face, and will subsequently be deposited onto the lower-lying Flat Iron. Last year we suffered the consequences."

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" ... We pass below the White Spider on time, and hardly suffer from the gravity fed artillery. Three rope lengths later, we are standing at Death Bivouac. This is the place where last year, after a terrible night, we were forced to abandon the climb and struggle for hours to return safely.

"Now thunder and lightening. So loud and fierce we are unable to hear and see much. Powder snow is blowing all around us. We’re soaked. After this horrible night I can imagine, … now more than ever before… that you could die from misery and cold on a face like this. You could die in your bivouac. It is just a matter of time. It doesn’t require much effort. In 1935 this was what happened to Max Sedlmayer and Karl Mehringer. And Death Bivouac was named after them. Worth a thought."

"The Third Ice Field is not much fun. It is a long section, which is showered with stones and ice. Wilco is hit on his shoulder. His down jacket tears and feathers fly. All efforts to minimise the loss of down prove useless. The Ramp requires four rope lengths, a beautiful section. But the weather and visibility are deteriorating. The mist gives a whole new character to the route. Everything looks bleak. The Ramp is long. More and more water cascades down the steep sidewall that rises vertically to the right of us. We climb through to the next difficult passage that makes us so tense: Waterfall Chimney. The chimney about which such horrible stories abound. We imagine what it will be like. Getting soaked without being able to dry out is something of an off-putting experience. We have almost reached it. We can hear the water splashing. We go around the corner and see the Kamin. We assess the situation. A river at our feet. A twenty metres high waterfall. The mist makes it look macabre, and obstructs all further view

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" ... It is almost twelve and more and more stones and ice are coming screaming down at us from the face through the exit cracks. They make noise as they fly. And they pass by always at unexpected moments. Not just when you are standing safe at a belay, but when you are concentrating on a difficult thrutch move. You never get used to the rain of rocks and ice coming down the mountain. All the more, because you can never be exactly sure where it is coming from and where it will end up."

" ... Together we hoist up the injured Thomas with the help of an improvised pulley system. Thomas uses his other arm to pull himself up on a fixed rope. Wilco is the last, untying the gear and bringing it up. Thomas’s gear is split among the three other rucksacks. It is all very time-consuming."

" ... Everyone is testing their limits. The weather also makes the environment daunting. Thomas finds appropriate wording: ‘macabre’. After many hours and many more rope lengths later, we arrive at the summit ice field. Evening has fallen. We quickly move on and when all that is left is the summit ridge, we know the top is ours.

"We summit at 20.00. The ropes, rucksacks and equipment are thrown on a heap, all shake hands. Wilco and I give each other a hug. We are happy. And still it hardly sinks in. Particularly Thomas is happy. Hats off to him. To our surprise two Koreans are on the summit. They climbed up via the normal route to meet their climbing buddies coming up the North Face. They have radio equipment which they kindly allow us to use to contact Kleine Scheidegg. The situation is somewhat unclear at first, but finally someone at the other end confirms our emergency call. The helicopter is on its way. It is already 23.00 and pitch black. The dull chop chop of the blades in the distance announces the imminent arrival of the helicopter from the valley. Its lights are clearly visible. The sound falls away and it looks as though it will simply fly on. We send emergency signals from the summit. Suddenly, it appears out of the east. Wind, dust, snow and ice all blow through the air. We have to be careful the gear is not blown away. Search lights are on as it hangs over us. The whole area is illuminated. A rescuer is lowered. He unclips and the helicopter disappears again. Ten minutes later it returns and Thomas and his rescuer are picked up. Thomas waves with his good arm and that’s it. It’s quiet again. ..."

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"First view of K2 

"I will never forget my first view of K2. After a seven-day trek through the Karakorum, already an achievement in itself, it stands before you. The imperturbable and mighty mountain towers high. You feel small next to this giant. A pure, rugged thing of terrifying size and beauty."

" ... At dinner we look out over the Godwin Austen glacier below us, perched in our eagle’s nest. This enormous glacier, where our base camp lies, crosses over into the Baltoro Glacier, that follows its way to Concordia. The glacier is about 70 kilometres long. The 8047 metre Broad Peak (also called K3) which stands across from us is coloured yellow ochre. The fourteen highest summits in the world are here in the Himalayas. Each is over 8000 metres. It’s humbling. You’re looking into the face of giants, and have not a single word to say if they get angry.

"A week ago Jordi Angeles, a young climber on a Spanish expedition, perished after a failed summit attempt. Descending exhausted on the Cesen Route high up on the mountain, he must have stumbled near camp 1 without being attached to a fixed rope. His body has been lying in a body bag for several days now, waiting for a helicopter to take it down. It all seems so far away, and yet it is all so close. This sort of thing sadly comes with the territory."

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" ... something goes wrong. We are on unstable rocks. A lot of stones are coming loose as we are passing through gullies. They are falling down around us. I put the video camera back in the rucksack. Hans has just passed me, so is out of view. Cas is ten metres below me. I look between my legs and see him moving easily. It is steep and we need to watch carefully how and where we put feet and hands. And then I glance upwards to see what is above. I am concentrated. Just as I am about to make the next swift move, I hear Hans scream: ‘Watch out, rocks!’ As I look up, something the size of a kitchen cabinet hits me half on the head below my helmet, half on my shoulder. The air is squeezed from my lungs, everything goes black. There is no pain, but the blow has drained all energy from my body. Where am I? I lose contact with the mountain, and an ice-cold shiver moves through me. What happened? Time seems to stand still. Suddenly, the brute shock of the rope receiving the weight of my limp body. All is quiet. I am not hanging correctly. I am slanted, upside down, uncomfortable. One moment I am concentrating on climbing, the next I am hanging in the dark, tasting blood, vaguely aware of the cries from my climbing partners. I try to collect my thoughts. This is not good. Where am I, why does everything feel so strange? I slowly regain consciousness, and realise what must have happened. It starts to hit me. This could be difficult.

"From Wilco’s diary 

"I am exhausted. Every five metres, I must sit and regain my strength. Hans and Cas are managing the impossible: for five-and-half hours they pull and push me down the mountain in terrain that is highly exposed to stone falls and avalanches. During the descent, stones fly around our ears. Hans and Cas are constantly ducking and using all their senses to avoid the projectiles. I am blissfully unaware of this tango of theirs. ... One thing that does drift through is that without their help I will not make it off the mountain. If they don’t hold me and catch me every time I fall, I will fall off ... Although I feel I cannot continue, and Hans and Cas are also exhausted, they still force me to descend to the ABC at the foot of the mountain. I am not easily convinced. I debate the issue with Hans. I am desperate and irrational. I hurt. We shout at each other and, finally, I surrender. I am too exhausted to put up further resistance. I don’t care. I’ll do what they say. Just tell me what I should do."

" ... As soon as I am lying in the sledge, I lose consciousness. I am pulled along the glacier to base camp, a one-hour journey. I wake up  in base camp. I slowly regain consciousness, but am confused. My ears sing. Where am I? I can hardly move. For a brief moment I can’t feel the pain. But then I am helped up. Pain shoots all over the damn place. I swear and tears roll down my cheeks. I am carried into the base camp medical tent, placed on an air bed and immediately fall into a deep sleep. I am physically and mentally out for the count."

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" ... I realise how unreasonable I was up the mountain being so impulsive and not accepting my lot. K2 is a difficult and dangerous mountain. But I never thought this would happen to me. I have been climbing the Alps for over ten years. From simple routes to dangerous and technically hard, extreme north faces. Neither Cas nor I had ever suffered a serious accident, not even on the Eiger. ... "

" ... A Dutch doctor and nurse are waiting for me in Skardu. The law prescribes that I am not allowed to travel by myself with injuries like this. They escort me on the long journey back to the Netherlands. They mean well and I am grateful that they are with me, but I do not communicate a lot and remain withdrawn."

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"After my near-fatal accident in 1995 I more than ever realised why the climbing world views K2 as the Holy Grail. The mountain of mountains. Difficult, unpredictable, deadly and beautiful. I was determined to return. Over ten years passed with many expeditions around the world – from North Pole to South Pole – many climbs in the Alps – from the classic four thousanders to extreme north faces – before I would return there. Wonderful routes filled with challenges."

" ... I learned several hard lessons that would later prove useful on other expeditions. Patience, planning and experience in extreme cold were three important ones. Along with safety. I still remember how I passed through the eye of the needle ... "

" ... The world around me was white and familiar. Dangers were out of mind. Suddenly I collapse through the snow and lose control. Gravity does its work and pulls me into the void. With a thud I come to a standstill - hanging with my rucksack caught between two walls of ice above an enormous crevasse. Below me everything was black. I was surrounded by hard blue ice and I was gripped by fear. For a brief instant I panicked. I started shouting for help. I stared upwards. Above me, I could see the layer of snow that I had fallen through and the blue sky above. I regained my confidence and calmly reflected on the situation. Hans and Cas must have heard or seen it happen. They must be on their way, especially after hearing me scream. I hung there in dead silence, but nothing happened. Cold entered my body and I hung there very uncomfortable. Luckily, the loop of the ice axe was still attached to my hand. I tried to free myself with my ice axe and crampons, and to straddle upwards. I shouted at Cas and Hans again, but the sound was smothered by the ice walls. My shouting could barely reach beyond this deep, black chasm, let alone reach Hans or Cas, who were obviously still focused on climbing. It’s bizarre that in a mere fraction of a second you can fall and just disappear. Surely Cas should have seen the hole in the snow by now? He was climbing behind me. But I wasn’t going to wait. The cold and the position I was in, were starting to hurt. I had to escape from here at any cost. If I fell any deeper I would be in real trouble. And hypothermia would only take a matter of minutes. Even with the help of a rope, Cas and Hans would be unable to immediately free me from my precarious situation. Shivers were running down my spine. For the moment I would have to rely on myself. I felt like I had been hanging in this awkward position for minutes. The adrenaline in my body provided a burst of energy. I had to deal with this myself. I used all my effort to crawl up the crevasse. Centimetre by centimetre, and panting heavily I managed to free myself, and now had a bit more room. The enormous chasm still below me. But if the top layer of snow were to cave in, my escape would be blocked. I was extremely frightened. ... Cold shivers were replaced by overheating. Sweat was dripping. I was exhausted. With a final desperate attempt I managed to pull myself over the edge. I had freed myself. And learned another hard, but wise lesson: always rely on your own strength, do things yourself as much as possible.

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" ... The biggest risk that climbers face on K2 is in the five to seven-week acclimatisation period. It is crucial that the body gradually gets used to the altitude. And this requires careful effort. During this period the four camps are built and kilometres of fixed rope are attached to protect the climbers in their supply and practice runs. Climbing from the bottom to the summit of an eight thousander in one go is impossible. The climber has to move up and down the mountain for weeks on end. You ascend to camp 1 and then descend to base camp to rest. This is followed by climbing back up to camp 1, and the next day on to camp 2. And then going down to camp 1 again. This process is continued until all the camps are equipped with sleeping bags, stoves, food, mats and climbing gear, and the physical system has gotten accustomed to the extreme oxygen-thin conditions. Above 8000 metres there is only one third of the oxygen in the air as at sea level. It has been likened to running a marathon while breathing only through a straw. This is not a problem when you are resting. But the moment you make heavier demands of your body’s abilities it is one of mountaineering’s extreme tests. It is however best to spend as little time as possible in the aptly named ‘Death Zone’ above 8000 metres – a rapid ascent, touch the summit and a rapid descent. Always you need to be prepared. This law applies to all eight thousanders and is known to all serious climbers. K2 comes with an extra risk, which I learned the hard way: stone falls. Ground below the Abruzzi Ridge is famous for them. The rocks here whistle past, their sound reflecting their size, shape and speed. They vary in size from nuts to eggs, beer crates and refrigerators, even large bits of furniture. They are typically dislodged by melting snow, wind and erosion. The risks of them rearranging your body geometry can be limited by climbing fast from base camp to the summit in one go. But this is subject to two conditions. Number one is that you are already used to the altitude by acclimatising on another seven or eight thousander. And number two that other climbers fix safety ropes and set up the tents at the right locations. There was something to be said for this tactic. In 1995 I had seen how Alan Hinkes reached K2’s summit in the slipstream of the Dutch, who had equipped the entire route with fixed ropes, after failing his two previous attempts. This time he chose to begin on K2 after acclimatising for a period of three weeks on another mountain. When he arrived in base camp, he encountered a ‘ready-made’ route. And – together with a strong team – this approach gave him success."

"The plan was to spend the first five to six weeks of the climb acclimatising on the relatively safe Broad Peak (8047 metres). If the conditions were good we would then push on to the summit, quickly descend and go straight on to K2 that lies right next to Broad Peak. The two base camps are at three-hour walking distance from each other. Planning is crucial when doing a so-called double header. The actual climbing season only lasts just over two months, from June through early August. The Swiss mountain guide, Josette, had exclusively come to climb K2, and so she and two HAPs would set up the camps and acclimatise. A perfect plan. All the conditions to be able to execute the tactic of the double header had been met.

"Broad Peak may not have the magical ring to it of K2, but it certainly isn’t an easy mountain. Several interesting challenges present themselves at the summit. Once you have climbed the col, you climb the first rock tower that you see. This is the False Summit. This is followed by a long snow ridge to the next rock tower. Once you have this, you see another rock tower, and after this has been climbed the actual summit appears. After this, you are standing at the True Summit. Climbing these ‘gendarme’ rock formations is a very risky undertaking. One mistake and you will be three thousand metres below on the glacier ... "

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"As soon as the camps are up, the team enjoys its first success. Ryan Waters summits the True Summit. This feat creates a rush of optimism, everyone smells an opportunity. We also prepare ourselves for a summit attempt. I form the second team together with Gerard, Mark and Bill. I am the first member of the team to go up from camp 3. No other teams are on the mountain, for the time being we have to rely on ourselves. ... From camp 3 the route rises steeply along an area of glacier filled with seracs and deep crevasses. We have to be very careful. At 11.00 I turn around but cannot see anyone. I don’t understand it, don’t they realise that how heavy it will be today? And by remaining in camp 3, they are only making it harder on themselves. I ascend so fast, that at a certain point I can no longer see camp 3. Suddenly, I feel lonely and vulnerable. The cloud cover has increased and I occasionally find it difficult to follow the route to where camp 4 should be. The snow is very deep, sometimes hip deep; it’s physically and mentally hard. I am constantly looking for hard areas of snow. Now and then I choose to climb over the bergschrund, a crevasse between ice masses that move at different speeds, and risk falling in. It’s dangerous but saves time. No one would find me if I were to fall into a crevasse here. And even if they would find me, there would probably be insufficient rope for a rescue operation. ... "

" ... 15.00 I reach camp 4 after six hours of tracking. The tents are nowhere to be seen. If I cannot find the tents, then we don’t have any sleeping bags, gas canisters or shelter. It’s one thing not to have a bivouac, but not having gas canisters means we won’t be able to melt snow and have a drink. In other words: no summit attempt! Are the tents buried beneath the snow or did they blow away in a storm? I start digging at what seems the most logical spot and soon uncover the first tent. ... "

" ... I feel good, have had enough to eat and drink, and watch the sun set in the valley. High up on the mountain here, the sun will keep shining until 20.30. What an amazing view. I record it on video, but the lens only captures a tiny part of this indescribable scene. What pure beauty."

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"Mark arrives at 21.00. It is dark and I am already in my sleeping bag. Mark is upset: several hundred metres before the camp he got caught in a small avalanche. He was scared to death. He even screamed, but we didn’t hear anything. Ending up alone in the dark in an avalanche is terrifying. Once he has recovered, I tell him to drink as much a possible, and that the departure time is 02.00. He nods, and in his tiny tent, he tries to light the stove to melt snow."

"We leave according to plan at 02.00. But ... Mark has no strength left. He turns around, Gerard and I continue climbing without saying a word. Camp 4 stands below an overhanging serac. We turn the corner of the serac and the steep climbing work can begin. The slope is 60 to 70 degrees steep, and I exclaim to Gerard that I cannot remember this section. We focus both headlamps upwards, but cannot see further than 50 metres. We think we are in the wrong place and need daylight to confirm the route. If we climb in the wrong direction, it will cost us the summit attempt and could lead us into serious danger. I propose to return to the tent while it’s still possible, and try again at first light. But I cannot understand it. During the previous attempt I just went round the corner, followed the glacier and ended up in a large bowl at the bottom of the extension to the col. Now we are standing on the right side of seracs, and the way up is extremely steep. Last time I was using my ski poles, this time I need my ice axe. We decide to go back down. Disappointed. A while later I zip the tent open and find Mark shaking under my sleeping bag. Back already? Yes, we weren’t sure about the route, we want to wait for daylight."

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" ... The Austrians rest up with us. An Argentine has climbed up with them and he continues up the route. We follow the Argentine and can see the route by daylight. We discover we were on the route after all! To reach higher up the col one can choose to climb a steep ice wall to the right of the seracs or, like I did the first time, left of the seracs and then gradually follow the glacier – but this meant you had to start climbing from a much lower point to the col, and with a lot more snow. A missed opportunity. The advantage is that now we can give it our best effort with the help of the Argentine and the three Austrians. ... "

" ... When I finally reach the col, the Argentine is lying exhausted in the snow. I settle down next to him, and what I see is incredible. What a view. I look left and see Central Summit (8013 m) and much further to the right an even more impressive view of Main Summit (8047 m). I am beat, but can barely wait. On the other side of the col is an endlessly deep abyss ... The other side of Broad Peak is steep and now I understand why Broad Peak’s Main Summit has not yet been climbed from ... What ice formations and what an unbelievably steep wall. We continue, deeply impressed by the views. ... I recognise Gasherbrum I, II, III and IV. Only K2 is still significantly higher. Broad Peak is also referred to as the Breithorn of the Baltoro, because it looks rather like Switzerland’s Breithorn, and also has multiple summits. We follow a razor-sharp ridge and clip onto old ropes that we have found. The rocky ridge is very exposed. As I shuffle along it on my hands and feet, a gigantic chunk of snow breaks off and thunders into the depths. My right backside is still on a rock. I throw my weight to the right and tremble. ... "

"After the summit the route continues along an unstable ridge which first descends a bit and then rises towards the next gendarme, several dozen metres higher. Up and down. Time is short. Because we left late, we did not bring headlamps. We estimate that there is at least another two hours of climbing ahead of us. This means we will lose daylight. We climb on, but we are only delaying the inevitable. On the flank of the second gendarme I say that we should turn back. A hard and difficult decision, but the right one. We are standing in between the two summits. It is magnificent weather on the Broad Peak massif, we can see in all directions. But we realise we also need to get safely back down. In our plan of the double header, Broad Peak primarily served as acclimatisation. Looked at this way, this part of the expedition was very successful."

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" ... Descending the same route is not an option, as this means abseiling down the steep ice wall we climbed this morning. I choose a straight line from the col to camp 4. Gerard follows in my tracks. I am taking my time, determining camp 4’s exact position is also difficult on the way down. The face is steep and the tents are below an overhanging serac. I reach a section of the glacier that descends vertically into the abyss. Not a good idea, the bottom part disappears into a crevasse. I can see an old black rope hanging to my left, unfortunately it is taut and frozen. I refuse to go back up, even though I know that I’ll have to let go and make a fall at the last section, hopefully into soft snow. I am no longer thinking, I’m too tired, and on the rope I let go. But I lose control, I feel my body accelerate and go crashing down. All the fibres in my tired body stiffen and I look at where I will land. What an uncontrolled fall. The snow was harder than I thought, and I have twisted my knee. But a sense of relief prevails and when I get up I’m – oh my god! – at the bottom of the serac at camp 4. ... I quickly start the descent to camp 3 to create a trail and find the route back before dark. I hurry. The route to camp 3 is partly marked with red flags. I reach camp 3 at 20.00. We have managed to return before dark. ... "

"The next day we descend fast. At around 16.00, I am on the final metres from camp 1 to the Concordia Glacier, which is followed by a ninety minute trek across the moraine to Broad Peak’s base camp. You think you are safe on this last section, but this is deceptive. Stones are much likelier to fall in a period of good warm weather, like now, the warmth melting the glue that keeps them normally in place. And I have no helmet. I am still moving fast, and don’t want to be here too long. ... "

"A little further, at the foot of Broad Peak Glacier, I see three people pulling on a rope. I realise that someone has fallen into a crevasse. They are calling for help. I leave my heavy rucksack and go to help them. ... Using all our strength we pull Jorge, a Spaniard, out of the crevasse. He fell at least ten metres to the bottom. He is now drenched and suffering from hypothermia. ... "

" ... It is awful what is happening high up on the mountain. Two climbers are about to face their second night in a snow hole at 8000 metres, without water. We are powerless to help."

"Awful news reaches the camp. The Polish climbers have found the Austrians, and one of them, Markus, the expedition leader, did not survive the second bivouac at over 8000 metres. My stomach turns. The day before yesterday Gerard and I spoke a few words with Markus and his fellow climber, during our descent. The Polish climbers are taking care of the other Austrian and bringing him back to camp 3 today. What a tragedy."

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"K2 Base Camp 2006

"When we exchange Broad Peak for K2, we have no idea what we will encounter. ... The Russians from another expedition are waiting for a better weather window, and first want to take up gear to set up camp 3. So be it. This is the plan. During the discussion an enormous avalanche comes crashing down along the route. Anyone caught in it would have had no chance. We know that nobody is on the mountain, and so laugh with that look of ‘there but for the grace of God…’ ... "

" ... A walk of around one hour across the glacier. The memorial was erected in 1953 to commemorate climber Art Gilkey, who was part of the second American K2 expedition. It has become something of a place of pilgrimage for many expedition climbers; I had visited it years ago. I am surprised by the number of names that have been added. ... "

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"On 19 July we leave for ABC at around 16.00. The weather is not great. It has been cloudy for days, and starts snowing just before our departure. The six HAPs are already on their way. They will climb one day in advance to secure the camps, and bring up oxygen for the climbers who will be using it. The plan is simple: when we climb to camp 1, they will climb to camp 2. The next day will be followed by our ascent to camp 2 and their ascent to camp 3. We hope that at least two of the six HAPs will be strong and motivated enough to climb to camp 4, and maybe summit. This would be the ideal scenario. If not, they will descend and take our (Gerard, Mick, Ryan and my) two lightweight tents, 300 metres of rope, gas, ice axes, screws and four oxygen bottles for Ryan and Mick. We will need to track and set out the route to camp 4 ourselves. After a short night in our bivouac we should be able to undertake the summit attempt.

"In our strategy of the ‘double header’ we assumed – and that was also the deal – that preparations would already have been made on K2, during our acclimatisation on Broad Peak. The weather had been great, and we had reason to be optimistic about what we would find there. The strange thing was that, in the entire season from May onwards, no one had set foot towards camp 4. We had to rely on ourselves on the most crucial part of the route. This fact provoked surprised reactions in our Broad Peak group. For almost the entire month of June the weather had been magnificent. But none of the expeditions (Russian, Italian, French-Canadian, Japanese or Pakistani) had reached camp 4. We had only been here two weeks and were already ahead of the other expeditions. It was inevitable that the different tempos and understanding of duties would get in the way of a good cooperation.

"The intention had been to work closely together. We had laid out our strategy for the summit attempt. Everyone agreed: due to the different climbing strategies and speeds, we would make sure that on 22 July we would be in camp 3. The equipment that everyone would be using on the mountain would be equally divided among all of us. This included several hundred metres of rope, ice screws, ice axes and flags for marking the route. Our objective was to open the track in the deep snow to camp 4, and finally attempt the summit together."

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" ... The people remaining behind watch us over the moraines, before we step onto the enormous Godwin Austen Glacier and gradually begin our ascent. But what seems an innocent-looking glacier, gradually loses its pretty character. The crevasses gradually become larger and deeper, the watercourses in the glacial channels become veritable rivers. Higher up, the ice towers and seracs become more impressive and threatening. The terrain is more ominous, one can ever more easily lose his way here. The Japanese have tried to flag a route, but the swirling rivers flow so hard, and the glacial ice melts so quickly, that the flags did not remain standing for a day. Fortunately, Ryan has already walked this route twice, and points us to a different one. This goes along a large, wild river along the centre of the glacier. We must stay close together and watch for each other. It only takes a moment, an instant for someone to disappear into a dark chasm, get lost behind an ice tower, and for the team to break up and lose the trail. I understand why we are taking our time and have left in the afternoon instead of early morning. It is best to cross this section during daylight. And the journey to ABC, at 5400 metres, is only two hours away, so there is no need to rush. This is where the serious climbing work will begin. The route here follows a 45-degree slope that is prone to stone avalanches and leads to camp 1 at 6150 metres. The slope should be ascended early in the morning and not at 10.00 when the sun is beating down. The heat melts the ice, and stones, previously safely frozen into place, rain down unannounced on the vulnerable human teams below. When the atmosphere is warm it is obviously wiser to be past this section and to have reached the relative safety of camp 1. After a short search, we manage to escape the ice valley and reach firm ground: the moraine ridge below the slopes of the Abruzzi Ridge. There are two tents waiting for us here."

" ... Gerard is always the optimist and a level-headed guy. He is convinced that we will cross the area so prone to rock falls unscathed. I think back to my last time here in the ice valley when I had only one functioning eye and no depth perception. I had also an open fracture to my left arm, which was tied firmly to my body and tucked under my jacket. I staggered around, lost one-and-half litres of blood and was blissfully pumped full of morphine. At the time, there seemed to be no end to this ice valley, until I lost consciousness and the other expedition members brought me down on an improvised sled back to base camp. This spot where the tent is located does not hold warm memories for me.

"The next morning, we rise at 04.00 and, 30 minutes later, leave for camp 1 at 6150 metres. It is still pretty cold and we ascend rapidly. We stay as close as possible to the wall, and hide behind the rocks to protect ourselves from falling stones. The stones that fly past fall from somewhere up around 7000 metres. Even the small ones are potentially murderous. The sounds they make are also terrifying. When you hear that fizz, that buzz, all you can do is pray the stones don’t hit. It starts with a humming sound and then vrrmm... vrrmm... vrrmm... an infernal whistle that stays locked in the memory of everyone who has been to the high mountains. It is truly scary. Best not to think about it too much. Just keep small, keep climbing and keep up the pace."

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" ... After three hours I reach camp 1 at 6150 metres. I am pleased. On this section I have only heard one stone flying past. When I arrive in camp 1, I expect to be able to lie in my tent, melt snow, drink tea, eat lots of sugary sources of energy and rest for the morrow. The HAPs, however, have other ideas. Four of them are sitting in one tent drinking, relaxing and chatting. The other two are snoring in the other tent. At first I laugh about it. I realise that I have ascended quickly, and have ‘surprised’ the HAPs with my arrival. According to the agreement they should now be going up to prepare camp 2, and for the moment they show no intention of leaving. When I mention this, they appear to have suddenly changed their mind. They say the wind is blowing too hard. I wait until Ryan arrives half an hour later and notice that he also has difficulty swallowing his disappointment on the attitude of the HAPs. The plan is under threat. Ryan says it was clearly explained to them in base camp and they should stick to the agreement. At base camp the question had been asked who was motivated enough to work for the expedition. Everyone had responded enthusiastically. But now there is wind and the initial enthusiasm seems to have waned somewhat. Takhi, the responsible HAP, is in a conundrum. He knows by now that our weather forecasts are reliable and he can believe us when we say the wind will not be blowing hard. But you need to win everyone over. In any case, camp 1 simply does not have enough room for so many people. Two two-person tents have been set up on a small ledge, everyone is crammed together and there is barely room to move. Six HAPs and four climbers on this tiny ledge is not going to work. I am getting cold and want to crawl into one of the tents. Again I explain the wind may seem strong, but this is only the thermal flow up the slopes. In the afternoon the wind will settle, and evening might even be windless. The HAPs do not believe it. I start putting their gear outside the tent. Rucksacks, stoves, sleeping mats, gloves, climbing gear. Luckily, they come round, Takhi and Akbar are in favour of going up. I wonder how this ‘argument’ would have ended if they would not have budged. Finally, five of them leave and promise to return if the wind is too strong. In that case they must take two tents back down, dig a plateau and set them up in camp 1. The sixth HAP is sick and needs to descend. ... The climb was great, but I had not counted on this reluctance. Fortunately, the HAPs do not return and by around 17.00 the wind has died completely."

It never occurs to them that this surprising reluctance, after promises, isn't surprising to the locals, but counted on? 

................................................................................................

" ... During this part of the climb, between camp 1 and 2, you are fully aware you are on the infamous Abruzzi Ridge, from where most of the stones fall. In spite of this permanent danger I fully enjoy the ‘airy’ climb and allow myself the time to soak up the wonderful colours and enormous rock formations. The climb leads higher and higher. We reach House’s Chimney - a rock corner to the left of around 20 metres. Thierry Schmitter, part of our team in 1995, then opened the ‘Schmitter variant’; considering it easier than House’s Chimney. I want to film and let Ryan lead. I recognise the yellow band of rock and the ladder dangling there. Other climbers have told me not to trust the new rope, but to trust the old blue rope. Hats off for the very first climbers on K2, who had to climb this without rope and ladders, and did so much of the pioneering work on this enormously difficult mountain.

"We manage to scale House’s Chimney fairly easily and feel we have entered a new phase in the expedition. Another milestone. Above House’s Chimney we easily reach the always windy location of camp 2. It is a graveyard of tents. Whenever the wind picks up, this place takes a serious beating. The tents and contents of the Pakistani climbers have been blown into the abyss, as well as the tents of the Irishman, Banjo and Polish climber, Jacek. Our two three-person tents are still safe and firmly anchored.

"Déjà vu. After four hours of wonderful climbing, I run into the same thing that occurred in camp 1. The five HAPs are sitting comfortably in the tent, drinking tea and chatting. I try to stay calm."

When does West plan to learn? 

Honour from pakis, unlike climbers from Nepal or Darjeeling et al, is strictly limited to within their own faith, regardless of payments and promises. 

Anyone outside their creed isn't a human on par, just someone to extract from, until he can no longer serve that purpose - and that's about human males! Rest are not even supposed, as per the paki creed, to possess souls, therefore not worthy of consideration any more than animals or furniture. Indeed, latter may be valued far more. 

................................................................................................

"A three-person tent is available, but only two thirds of it is anchored down on the snow and ice, while one third hangs in the air as a result of the incline. It’s the same old song, the porters are refusing to climb to the next camp, and once again they are complaining about the strong wind. The wind in camp 2 is more of a rule than an exception, because this area is located beneath an enormous mass of rock, from where the route ascends steeply. This time, the porters are refusing to move and this means that four of us will have to share the three-man tent.  Due to the incline this is effectively only a two-man tent. There is no other option as there is no room to set up the two lightweight tents. Our tents are here, along with the Italians’ broken tent, and Russians’ and Antoine’s tent. Tomorrow Antoine will climb with us to camp 3, along with the five HAPs. We resign ourselves to the situation, and prepare for a restless night."

A Sherpa would have behaved far more honourably, but abrahmic West has blinkers, preferring abrahmics - who do not return the favour of considering them equals, despite being paid for promised services. 

................................................................................................

"The next morning, we awake, all four of us having slept badly due to the lack of space. On the up side, it wasn’t cold. As predicted, the wind settled in the afternoon and remained calm throughout the night. Another confirmation that we can rely on the weather forecasts from the home front. Today we will focus on climbing the ‘Black Pyramid’. Takhi, the leader of the HAPs, is sick and descends. Four other HAPs are climbing to camp 3 and hopefully on to camp 4. The four remaining HAPs leave early and that pleases me. They just want to arrive at camp 3 on time. That is a good sign. I am the first to leave after the HAPs, and ninety minutes later am climbing in the crux. The Black Pyramid is a massive, black pyramid of rock that blocks any further view of K2. You must first pass it in order to see where you are going. It is pure rock climbing, around 1000 metres, with a band of rock that is similar to House’s Chimney. A nice climb. The first passage rises over 30 metres vertically. There are old ropes here and a wobbly, ladder attached to steel cables. Luckily there are no other climbers. Ryan is climbing below me, and Gerard below him. I wait for Ryan so I can also photograph and film this passage. Ryan doesn’t feel like going first, but does anyway. He slowly but competently struggles through the crux on the Black Pyramid, with his heavy pack on. I follow and find out that this passage is a lot harder than House’s Chimney. It is a long day, it’s cloudy and occasionally the view of the route to camp 3 completely disappears from view. I still trust the weather forecasts that say the cloud will disappear higher up and the wind will fall. Once we have passed Black Pyramid, we climb out of the rocks and go onto the ice on the glacier.

"We meet the first two HAPs on their way down. That was quick. We ask how far the climb to camp 3 is, they have dropped their loads – ropes, oxygen bottles and tents. They smile and say it’s another two hours. We climb on finally past the last two HAPs. We reach a narrow extension of the final rock ledge and discover two lengths of each at least 100 metres of rope. Ryan decides to take up one roll and I the other. We climb on, over the ice on the glacier at the bottom of K2’s shoulder. I think I can see the end point where camp 3 should be. Strange, it’s in the middle of a slope that disappears two-and-half kilometres into the depths below. Not the greatest place for a tent. We soon find out what has happened. The HAPs have just dropped their loads in the middle of the flank. Every day the HAPs have another wonderful surprise in store for us. I plump down next to the stocks and wait for the rest. Gerard arrives first, he grunts at this new setback, braces himself, picks up the three-person tent and some ice axes and ties the whole bunch onto his heavy rucksack. I follow his example and take what I can carry. I leave the three oxygen bottles for flowing climbers. I later hear that Ryan and Mick also leave behind the oxygen because they cannot make it. I see Antoine climbing ahead of Gerard. He left earlier, but I can see that he is completely exhausted. He climbs ten metres and then leans on his ice axe. His tongue is hanging from his mouth. But it has to be said, he is tough. He keeps climbing and is the first to reach camp 3. Camp 3 stands at a corner of the glacier, with a view of  the Godwin Austen Glacier, 2.5 kilometres below us. A truly amazing sight. Looking carefully, one can see the pin-head that is our base camp. Above us is the extension of the shoulder of K2, with an enormous serac zone in front. We will leave this task for tomorrow. We will build up our camp first and then rest. It’s fairly late, and it’s been a long day. The last two HAPs arrive with Ryan and Mick. Akbar, one of the porters, is a good guy. We ask him to stay so he can climb with us tomorrow. He agrees.

"Later on we will find out what the real reason was why the two HAPs did not take up the gear to camp 3, but left it 250 metres lower. Apparently, later that day, they did an extra job for the French-Canadian expedition leader. They had double work to do. And apparently the fact that we had already hired them, paid them well and were busy on our summit attempt, did not really interest them. Yes, market forces also apply on K2. The one who pays the most, gets the most done. There goes your good intentions and delicate strategy. A shame, but that’s the way it is. We wonder whether we can call this progress…."

No, it's neither market nor progress, but the unreliability of pakis, completely opposite that of Sherpas. 

The former can cheat for whim, too, not just because someone else paid more. 

................................................................................................

" ... Gerard and I are each carrying up an extra 100-metres of rope, and our rucksacks are really heavy. At base camp we had measured everything up to the gram and made careful choices as to what gear to bring up. And now, we are burdened with these extra ropes, ice screws and ice axes. We will have to manage, because the Bottleneck can only be overcome if we secure it. We made agreements and if everyone would have kept to them, we would not be having these problems. The reality of the situation is different, and can only rely on ourselves. The Italians, Russians and Pakistanis are nowhere to be seen. ... "

" ... Clouds are gathering, and sometimes we are unable to see much. There is also wind, and Gerard, in particular, does not trust the situation. On a mountain like K2, you can never be careful enough. ... every climber is responsible for their own actions. The climber himself must decide if and when they will turn around. I am not a huge proponent of waiting for each other, deliberating and making new choices at each setback or change in pace. That takes too much time. The train must remain in motion. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work like that. The pace is dropping.

"Gerard spots another problem. He feels it is irresponsible to climb the shoulder without clearly marking the route, because he is uncertain that visibility will be sufficient on the descent. ... It is a large glacier and if you need to turn around and do not have any markings, you risk falling and ending up on the wrong side of the mountain. And there no one will ever find you. I am convinced of my weather forecast. The mist and clouds are only veils and will not get worse, but will burn off. Gerard remains hesitant, but is finally persuaded. We climb on, the train is in motion again. We ascend steadily, gasping for air, but with a clear goal in mind. Camp 4, on the way to the summit of K2.

................................................................................................

"A new obstacle presents itself. In front of us lies the enormous serac zone, which we must cross along the top. It looks appealing to climb across it. It is a slope that leads to the left at around a 40 degree angle; ideal for avalanches. There is snow cover, lying loosely on top, but we don’t trust it. The alternative is not so great either: pass below the gigantic ice towers and enormous crevasses. There is no other option. We choose to climb through the seracs. And hope to get through them quickly. But it’s not easy. They look manageable from a distance, but we are soon up to our hips in snow. We take turns to fight our way through. This train is no longer running smoothly. Up until now Gerard, Ryan, Antoine and myself have all shared the lead, but now it’s a mess and the situation is deteriorating. We are pleased when we pass the next step. It is extremely heavy going. We continue against our better judgement. I take the lead and am confronted with a crevasse. The snow is metres deep. Snow everywhere, no firm or hard ice anywhere. I dig like a madman. At a certain point, I cannot help but think that I’m not on the route. I turn around and look at my mates, but no one responds. I propose to set up our temporary camp 4 further on, at the edge of the glacier at over 7700 metres. After some deliberation we decide to continue up the shoulder.

"Antoine is leading. With the help of two ice axes he is working his way across a crevasse. Shivers run down my spine: I was unable to find the edge when I tried. Antoine has not even crossed the crevasse when he discovers the next one beneath the snow, it appears even bigger. He has also had enough. We decide to go back down to the dangerous avalanche slope, and make a depot there for our tents, ropes, ice screws and ice axes; and then to return camp 3.

"The six of us, Ryan Waters, Mick Murphy, Gerard McDonnell, Antoine Girrard, Banjo Bannon, who just arrived and me, spend the night in camp 3. We hope to track up to camp 4 the next day, and that has been properly prepared. The weather forecast is becoming clearer and my confidence in the predictions of our weatherman Ab Maas only grows. We are barely able to speak. We are worn out, and have lost a lot time talking and searching for the route."

"The night is spent tossing and turning in the tent. We awake feeling broken. We can feel that we wasted a lot of energy yesterday and last night. And before we realise it, the atmosphere in the group has turned into a negative downwards spiral. Antoine is the first to exclaim that he is ready to pack it in. He decides to go back down, he is sick and weak. Last night Mick had already decided not to go up. I have placed all my hope in Gerard and Ryan; however Gerard has had a bad night. I don’t even need to ask what he plans to do. And Ryan is also having his doubts, he is shocked at how little energy he had left yesterday. He assumed that he would not have his usual strength on K2 after having climbed Broad Peak. Hence his plan to climb K2 with extra oxygen. However, the bottles can only be used above 8000 metres, otherwise the plan will not work. Dragging the bottles up the mountain also proves to be an enormous task. The thought alone tires him out."

" ... The decision is quickly made. We will go back down. Spending another night at 7500 metres while feeling unstable will be a tremendous burden on the body.

................................................................................................

"During the descent all four of us are unscathed by the numerous falling stones. We all pass through the eye of the needle, and are even too tired to realise. On one occasion Gerard warns me from below when he spots a rock. I am preoccupied with abseiling, but fortunately crouch at the right moment. I look at Gerard: I don’t want to look up anymore. Of course it’s like sticking you’re head in the sand. I crouch and say a short prayer when I hear the horrific fizzing sound.. vrrmm... vrrmm... All over in seconds of course. My heart races as I continue the route. Ryan is the only one who is hit. His knee is stiff and swollen, but not broken.

"In camp 2 we hear that Nick has been hit on the chest by a rock several metres in diameter. The accident happened somewhere between ABC and camp 1. We hear via the radio that his arm is broken and he is waiting for us. We pick up the pace and hurry down. It is strange sensation, but this time I am convinced that I will not fall victim to any rock avalanches. An intangible feeling that is not based on any particular logic. When Ryan later tells me that over the years he has encountered the greatest risks on this part of the descent, it hits me that I have just been lucky.

"After two hours we finally reach Nick and learn that his injury is not as bad as we thought. ... Tired, but happy to have survived, we walk back to base camp, where the cook welcomes us with a delicious meal."

"We quickly recover and are not discouraged by the setbacks. Another summit attempt will be undertaken in a few days. The opportunity quickly presents itself. I decide to go back up ... "

................................................................................................

" ... Stones whizz past every few minutes, but it is no worse than we have experienced over the past days. It is wise to spend as little time here as possible, so you climb at your own speed and try to get out of the danger zone as quickly as possible. Somewhere between camp 1 and 2 disaster strikes, although I initially don't notice anything. Below me, Gerard is hit by a stone. I am not aware of it and continue towards camp 2.

"Gerard is hit on his head. He has a nasty, deep wound, although he is lucky to be wearing a special experimental Kevlar helmet. This probably saved him. An ordinary helmet would never have withstood the shock. But his situation is extremely precarious and life-threatening. Banjo, Mick and Jacek see the accident happen and immediately go to him. They work together to get him down to the relative safety of the ABC. Gerard needs to be taken off the mountain and to a hospital as soon as possible.

"In the meantime, without being aware of the drama unfolding beneath me, I wait in camp 2. I wonder where my fellow climbers are. I prepare the camp for their arrival; but there is no sign of Gerard, Mick, Banjo or Jacek. Descending is not an option, it is too late. I cannot communicate with them because I left the satellite phone at the advanced base camp that morning. A night of uncertainty follows. No one comes up. I am alone and wonder what has happened.

"The next day likewise I am hit by doubt. The conditions on the mountain are reasonably good. I decide to climb on to camp 3 by myself. A small window to reach the summit remains, and I decide to grab this opportunity. At some point I must have thought to myself that to continue climbing was against my better judgement. I would never make the run to the summit without the support of my fellow climbers. The longer you remain alone on the dangerous face of K2, the more you are hit by doubt. Danger lurks everywhere.

"Shortly after, Gerard is helped towards base camp and the same day he is taken off the mountain and flown to the hospital on Skardu. After arriving in the safety of camp 3, I hear the sound of a helicopter. This causes me huge concern. All my alarm bells ring. What has happened? I decide to wait a while and rest after my climb, but I know I won’t be climbing to camp 4. I can be certain of that. I vaguely hope that someone will come up to bring news from below, but nothing happens."

................................................................................................

"In the meantime, Banjo and Jacek have gone back up, from ABC to camp 2 in one go. The next day I begin my descent – being alone on the mountain is no fun. Below camp 3 I finally run into Jacek and Banjo. I am initially relieved to see two familiar faces, but when they explain what has happened to Gerard, I am ready to give up. The expedition is definitely not blessed. Given the circumstances, Gerard appears to be well, his is not in mortal danger. Banjo and Jacek plan to climb on and they manage to convince me, but I am no longer feeling confident. Jacek lets me borrow his satellite phone to call home.

"The rest of the climb occurs in a haze. I am timid and the conditions are not improving. There is a lot of snow on the way up to camp 4, visibility is poor and our rucksacks are extremely heavy; this all prevents us from being fully in control. When a total white-out arrives we realise this phase has come to an end. Carrying on would be suicidal. We discuss the situation, but I cannot see any ray of hope. I decide to pull the plug. I have reached my breaking point. This is it. Enough is enough. I descend. Banjo and Jacek continue upwards."

" ... In spite of everything, Banjo Bannon and Jacek Teler risk another summit attempt. They have joined up with the Russian team. An enormous avalanche has occurred above the Bottleneck. This avalanche has carried off four members of the Russian climbing team, and dragged them to their deaths. Banjo and Jacek and the survivors of the Russian team manage to return safely to base camp. When I hear the news, shivers run down my spine. These events have a serious impact on me, I take stock of the situation. Once again, K2 has shown its worst side."

" ... It is remarkable that with the help of modern communication technology I could rely on better and more up-to-date data than many others on the mountain. This has also kept me on the right side of risk. This expedition also yet again demonstrated that the natural laws of the eight-thousanders cannot be bent or broken. ... The difference between life and death, particularly on K2, is a thin elastic band. If you stretch it too far, it snaps."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"Every day K2 presents a slightly different picture. And however paradoxical it may sound, I love it when the jet stream blasts the mountain to create furious white summit plumes. K2 stands proud; it sits there, threatening, immoveable, self confident. Those fierce winds flay its flanks, blowing away everything that doesn’t belong on the mountain. And any climber unlucky enough to be caught up in such a storm faces a serious survival challenge. The climber knows the risks up there, but from a safe distance the graceful plumes look beautiful. They are warning signals; the mountain of mountains is letting you know you may not be welcome today, so perhaps postpone your effort for a gentler moment. Today? don’t even consider trying it. It gives a strange sense of excitement to see how powerful the elements can be up there – where I soon hope to be standing when conditions improve – while still finding myself in the relative safety of base camp. The panorama is sensationally beautiful. Here in base camp we have front row seats in the theatre of weather on show each day. However, this is not why we are here. ... "

"On Sunday 27 July the enormous Korean expedition, together with the Serbs and Americans, will leave for camp 1 on the Abruzzi Ridge. A day later we will set off via the Cesen Route directly towards camp 2 at 6400 metres, together with Hughes and his two HAPs, the American Nick Rice and the Serb Hosolito. All other climbers will ascend via the Abruzzi Ridge. From camp 4 at around 7700 metres the Cesen Route and the route along the Abruzzi Ridge come together and continue as one. Relaxing while waiting in base camp has done our physical abilities a lot of good."

" ... when our turn comes we make it to camp 2 in one push. ... "

" ... after our ‘sprint’ along the Cesen Route, even before arriving in camp 2, we are met with disappointing news. The co-operative effort that we agreed on in base camp now feels like a millstone around our necks. We must wait because Korean expedition leader Kim, and the Serbs on the Abruzzi Ridge feel that the wind is blowing too hard to leave for camp 3. If we don’t match our efforts we won’t reach camp 4 at the same time. A joint summit attempt will probably not be possible. ... "

................................................................................................

"I feel it’s best to put it aside and begin again. A day later on Wednesday 30 July, we leave for camp 3. The weather is perfect. Now let’s hope that it stays perfect for the Koreans, Serbs and Americans so that they can find their way and secure the route up to camp 4. Later on we hear that Hughes and his two HAPs have already left for camp 4, and plan to set up camp 3.5. The idea being that this would halve the distance between camp 3 and camp 4. We could have told them that this plan will probably not work as the terrain is just too steep and rocky. There is simply no place to put up a tent. The weather is fantastic and the forecast for the coming days remains positive. There are barely any clouds thanks to a drop in atmospheric humidity, and the wind is expected to drop further. Our spirits are high and mood good as we prepare to overnight at camp 3. In spite of the lost day we are feeling good. Our patience has been tested to the limit, but our time has come. The situation looks much better than during our first summit attempt, even though we then had the whole mountain to ourselves. Now there are several teams on the mountain, though if we successfully work together we stand a good chance of a win. ... "

"But the night of 30 to 31 July sees hell break loose. We are awoken from sleep by a rapidly strengthening wind, and thundering violence. Scary and horrible. The storm rapidly grows to a level we have never experienced before. ... The tent flaps are frozen, but the tension on the canvas is enormous and the savage wind the tent must endure is something else. I am worried about the canvas. I estimate the wind to be over 100 km/h. The adrenaline courses through our systems. Occasionally we doze off, but then another massive gust hits the tent and has us sitting up straight clutching our nerves. We hardly speak. ... there should never be so much wind - in a radius of 300 kilometres there is no disturbance to be seen on his radar. Ab suspects these are katabatic winds that rage down the steep slopes from the shoulder, some 700 metres above us. The call does nothing to ease my mind. ... if the tent rips apart we are lost, everything is lying loose in the tent – boots, inners, climbing equipment, helmets, harnesses, jumars, screws, axes, clothes, burner, food, drinks. I feel my throat clinching in fear as I consider the realistic chance that in a couple of seconds we could effectively be lying outside, and blown down the mountain with as much ease as the feathers in our sleeping bags. I try to fool myself by putting earplugs in my ears to ban the wind. But this only works for an instant; the gusts are just too strong. ... "

"The next morning the wind dies down, and we debate the situation. No one trusts the weather forecasts any longer. How can the weather window seem so perfect, and suddenly we are caught in a veritable hurricane? There is no explanation for it. And what is worse, reliance on the weather forecasts has suffered a serious blow. This may mean the end of the expedition. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... You don’t climb K2 in unstable weather conditions like these. If you were on any other mountain, you might venture a gamble. Like on the adjacent Broad Peak for example. But K2, ‘the savage mountain’? No way. We discuss the situation again, and even Pemba who is always so wise and stable, cannot believe that the weather forecast is correct. I have had it. We have done our best, seized every opportunity. There is nothing more we can do.

"Finally, the storm settles and I call Maarten at 8.00 again to check the weather outlook. He maintains regular contact with Ab. They insist that the weather will be perfect and that the wind will die. I am confused. ... Finally I am convinced, and feel it is now or never. This will be last chance this season before the start of the monsoons. The wind dies down further, and I convince the rest of the group. ... "

"Wonders never cease. The weather turns out beautiful. No wind, sheer blue sky. It is all in the game. Was this our final trial? We climb steadily onwards and after some hours reach the highest fixed ropes. The first part has gone smoothly and I almost forgot about the stormy night. We put all the equipment in the rucksack that was previously left here.

"Gas canisters, three 100 metre lengths of rope, two lengths of lightweight rope of 200 metres each, route marker flags, ice axes, tents. We climb on and fix ropes on the last 200 metres to the shoulder. We climb a rock pyramid via an old rope and finally reach the shoulder. Jelle is ahead of me, Pemba ahead of him, and Gerard and Cas are below me. Camp 3 on the Abruzzi Ridge lies far below us. I inadvertently think back to 2006, when a whiteout and snow prevented Gerard and I from reaching it. This time we manage to reach camp 4 easily. I look around and gasp for air. What a fabulous view, what overwhelming beauty. It is very unrealistic to finally be so close to the Bottleneck. We feel like ants crawling across a white bed sheet, so tiny on this huge mountain. We arrive on the shoulder and it feels like a victory. ... Group 1 is supposed to leave camp 4 at around 01.00. However, there is not much activity in the camp. Finally, the first team leaves at around 01.30. We start melting snow. This is the last time the flasks will be filled. ... I have brought a 150 gram GPS device to retrieve at camp 4 in the event of an emergency. But the weather promises to be good, so I don’t see the need to carry it. I also have a stroboscopic lamp to hang in the tent, just in case we need to find the camp in the dark. I don’t see any point in taking that up. The marker flags are already in place."

................................................................................................

"I look around and can hardly believe where I am. The picturesque sunrise in front of me is wonderful and indescribable. The horizon is slowing changing colour. I realise that only a small handful of people have ever seen this. I am grateful and consider myself fortunate to be one of them. What an amazing view. At the top of the world, where the curvature of the horizon is clearly visible. We are almost leaving earth’s atmosphere and practically in the stratosphere. When I look up, it seems like I’m in space. The sky is pitch black. It is a magical sensation and feels like it would not be possible to get any closer to the divine. It defies description. It can only be experienced by being there. Every moment is different – the colour, the air, the feeling, the ultimate view ... "

"After climbing for around three hours we join the first group with Pemba, the three sherpas and HAPs. The first group did not manage to fix the ropes on time, and I now hear we are out of rope! How can the rope be finished? We took up 500 metres in total. Our team took up 400 metres and the HAPs brought up 100 metres belonging to the two Italians. What has happened? It turns out that ‘trail-breaking’ sherpas and HAPs fixed rope unnecessarily on a relatively easy section of the glacier. And now the rope for the most crucial passage, the Bottleneck, is missing. ... The only solution is to descend, and bring up the rope where it is not needed."

" ... Several hundred metres are collected and taken up. I grab one hundred metres, the Norwegians several hundred metres and sherpa Dorje Chirring also grabs a hundred metres. We have wasted valuable time, but there is nothing else for it. ... Now that we are at over 8300 metres, I climb on without my rucksack. The train gathers speed, I am climbing at the same pace as the climber ahead of me. The Koreans and their sherpas, Pemba and the Serbian. The HAPs are at the front. ... The delay is getting worse and I am getting irritated. I look up to see what is happening."

" ... I finally reach the top of the Bottleneck. Pemba is standing there. I ask him what is going on, and why it’s all going so slow. He apologises and says that it’s because of the Koreans ahead of him going slow. I realise there is nothing we can do to change situation. This is the result of too many climbers in a difficult key passage. The plan to send up a team ahead to prevent this has not worked. I fasten myself back onto the rope above the Bottleneck, and suddenly hear a loud scream. I turn around and see Serb Dren Mandic fall backwards and plummet into the depths. I hear the scream and turn, thinking I can reach my hand to him, but the next moment he has disappeared. ... Dren unfastened himself from the rope to adjust his oxygen bottle, and in a split second disappeared. However awful it sounds, we can do nothing else than look on powerlessly as he falls. He falls almost straight down then, on a slightly less steep section around 400 metres lower, he comes to a standstill on the glacier. ... The next section is a 250-metre diagonal traverse to the left below gigantic seracs. In the Bottleneck you can duck behind rocks, but when on the traverse you are open and exposed. You are vulnerable to the mercy of Mother Nature."

" ... Those seracs are as huge as skyscrapers, cathedrals and they are teetering; no way stable. If any fragments were to collapse we wouldn’t stand a chance."

................................................................................................

" ... I am surrounded by vertical ice walls on my right, whose top I cannot see. To my left, around three metres from me, vertical rocks begin that disappear three kilometres in the abyss below. We manoeuvre ourselves across the steep ice below the shelves of the seracs. The special rope that was taken along for our expedition, hangs here. It is attached with ice screws. In front of me a sherpa from the Korean team hangs up an extra oxygen bottle next to the other two. The pace is still extremely slow, but there is no sign of danger. ... "

" ... At this point, there are no more fixed ropes. We should be near the top of the seracs. This is followed by the summit pyramid, and then the summit. But before reaching the top of the seracs, another obstacle stands in the way. The snow is getting deeper as we ascend along the seracs. An old rope from a previous expedition is here. I am starting to lose my strength. But after the rope, we finally stand at the top of the seracs with a clear view along the summit pyramid. Too much of a view. It is still a long way up. I still cannot make out the outlines of the summit. I follow the rocks that ascend diagonally to the left of me. After them the route crosses over into snow. If I follow the ridge up, it appears to end in a large heap of snow. The snow slope to the right of me goes down. In front of me stands a large snow plateau, it rises and steepens until it reaches another large heap of snow. One thing is clear: it is still a long way up. Maybe another three hours climbing. Or maybe, God forbid, even four, five or six?"

" ... The last part is so steep that I suddenly can no longer see the summit. ... Tears, I cannot believe it, we have made it! ... "

................................................................................................

" ... I see the shadow of K2’s summit on the horizon. It even seems to extend beyond it. What a spectacular sight from the world’s most difficult summit. Camp 4 below is a pin-head. We look out over hundreds of mountains, all 7000 metres and higher. Even Broad Peak at 8046 metres seems cowed."

" ... The descent from the summit pyramid is not without its dangers. Especially those dangers caused by the euphoria of victory. The terrain is steep and one would plummet with one mistake with either crampons or ice axe. You have to stay focused. Any error will probably receive the extreme sanction. It is tempting to think that you can save yourself by using your ice axe to break your fall. But in reality, if you slip you are gone. You are so exhausted that you no longer have the strength to ram the tip into the snow, and at this altitude you respond much too slowly. I carefully place one foot in front of the other. ... Dusk is setting quickly and we switch on headlamps. An uneasy sensation creeps up, because the 70 metre light beam does not shine on familiar ground. I place my hope on the other lamps that I see in the distance, because the terrain does not offer any visible points of recognition. We descend one behind the other. I am exhausted, and occasionally sit down to rest. Everyone has passed me. ... In the descent everybody goes at their own speed. My buddy Cas, with whom I have such a special bond, is nowhere to be seen. It does not surprise me; this is an extremely hostile environment, and you want descend to the relative safe surroundings below as fast as possible. The contrast is enormous. The blissful feeling on the summit. You switch a button, and the next moment you are back in the hard reality of small ledges, slippery, black rocks, treacherous snow and immense ice masses."

................................................................................................

" ... Marco explains that he saw several lamps disappearing into the abyss several hundred metres in front of him. The meaning of this statement does not get through to me. I can still see lots of lamps below us in the distance. We stand up and try to find the right route together. One of us must be able to recognise something? Why can’t I hear the delighted shout of someone who has found the beginning of the fixed ropes? Just as I start wondering, we are stuck. We are standing in front of a steep chasm of snow and ice and cannot continue. I am now more than disappointed, I am full of fear. How could the situation have taken such an unexpected turn? We briefly deliberate and I explore the terrain on the right and try to climb down. Marco attempts the left side. Gerard waits. But we are unsuccessful. It is too steep and we cannot even see the bottom. As I stare down, the beam of light from my headlamp shines into an unfathomable, dark depth. I still have enough strength, I still feel that my hold is strong enough, but the chance of falling is much too great. It is very risky. However much we want to descend, its just too dangerous. One wrong step on the tips of your crampons and it is over. We search the terrain, but cannot find an exit. It is a cruel sight to see the cheerful snake of headlamps of climbers several hundred metres below, as they descend to camp 4 through simple terrain. ... It is inevitable, we are stuck here tonight. We will need to set up a bivouac. ... We try to protect ourselves against the wind by turning our backs towards it. ... "

"The next morning I rise at first light, at around 5.00. ... The snow is knee-deep and there is a real danger of avalanches. ... But it is much too dangerous to descend unsecured, and a fall here would be over the seracs, down the Bottleneck and into the terrifying abyss, not really an option. The annoying thing is that these setbacks our also causing our strength to be drained from our bodies. ... "

" ... I am a dead man if I become snow-blind. I really need my vision. If I miss a hold, judge a distance wrongly or not see something essential, then I will almost certainly fall. Helicopters cannot reach up here, Gerard and Marco cannot carry a 77 kilo body. ... "

" ... The only thing that gives comfort and a feeling of security is that I am going down facing the mountain. Luckily I hardly need my eyes for this task, so I don’t know whether my vision is improving or deteriorating. I don’t want to worry about it too much. I am descending, and making reasonable progress. The effort slowly starts to take its toll. I order myself to climb calmly and cautiously. Rushing will be fatal. At the start of the almost vertical descent, I may have taken a greater risk because of the adrenaline surge, but now I have come this far, I am more cautious. I want to get off the mountain alive. Judging speed and progress is difficult, but I am not cold. I just have that terrible thirst."

................................................................................................

" ... Three climbers are hanging less than two metres from me. It is the two Koreans and Sherpa Jumic Bhote. They are entangled in ropes, completely helpless and exhausted. I immediately see it is hopeless. There is no use to shout. Marco and Gerard will not hear me. The distances are too big, I am much lower."

" ... Bringing climbers back to safety requires strength, which I no longer have. Untangling or cutting the ropes loose is out of the question, they will immediately fall. Sherpa Jumic’s words that help is on the way, give me the final push. I swallow and decide to descend further. My vision is still very poor, and my situation is also precarious, if not life-threatening. Life has been reduced to the essence of survival. Nothing more. However hard it may sound. Actually, it was clear from the moment I saw these three helpless climbers. I am hardly thinking, but acting on instinct. I say goodbye and continue down to prevent total snow blindness.

"At that point in time I didn’t realise what had happened. But the night before Marco spoke about lamps suddenly disappearing into the depth. These lamps must have belonged to the Koreans and Sherpa Jumic. They took the rope down in their fall. That is why we could not find the rope. Not even in daylight.

"I continue down in a haze. Thoughts course through my head. I cry without tears. I am shouting on the inside. I am angry and curse the mountain, this hopeless situation. But I also try to remain focused. ... "

"Not much later the rope ends. It doesn’t upset me too much, I am getting used to setbacks. I descend further without rope and know that one wrong step will mean the end, and I will have no story to recount. One slip and it is over and out. I stare into the depth and around me, but can't discover a safe route. I am surrounded by the abyss, hanging rocks, steep, and slippery, white walls of ice."

................................................................................................

"The face is getting steeper and steeper. Suddenly, I am standing in front of vertical rocks that I am unable to go down, simply because I have nowhere to place my foot or hand. I cannot go left or right either. It’s too steep or too slippery. I look around but cannot find a solution. I am dead tired. I can hardly concentrate anymore. And I really need to stay focused. There is only one thing I can still do and that is climb back up. When I think, everything inside me is protesting. I say ‘no’ to myself. I can’t, I am too tired, exhausted. But I must. I am stuck and there is no other way."

"As I climb below the seracs, I suddenly see the ropes again. I am surprised and it immediately boosts my confidence. Finally, a ray of hope. Have I found the route? Am I going to succeed? I clip onto the rope and traverse below the massive seracs. This makes it a lot easier and faster to move along. I smile inwardly. I pass four oxygen bottles that the Koreans’ sherpas left here on the way up. But still no bell rings. I have found a rhythm and busy with one thing only: survival. ... Once I have passed the rocks, the rope ends. I have reached the end of the rope! I clip off the rope, and as I am turning around I bump into a soft object. It plummets into the depths. A rucksack? I had hung up my rucksack at the start of the Bottleneck. But I am hardly aware of this, it no longer matters. I descend the last steep section unsecured and arrive at a steep glacier slope."

"When I sit to find my bearings I nearly lose consciousness. After more than 30 hours above 8000 metres, I am so tired that I hardly feel anything, the signals of exhaustion are not getting through to me. I have a dull pain throughout my whole body, from hunger, thirst and exhaustion. I am almost at a point where I have to remain lying down. I no longer feel my toes. I am slowly losing consciousness, my eyes are closing and I doze off. My body has reached its final stage of life. It has been in the survival phase for too long, and has now chosen to only spare those organs that are vital for survival. I have no awareness of time any more. Minutes and hours pass. When I open my eyes again, I feel so bad, that I have no idea how much time has passed. One minute? One hour? Two hours? No idea."

................................................................................................

" ... I stare at a frightening abyss. Black rocks to my left and right, but no exit, and a fathomless abyss and clouds below me. The decision is simple, because climbing up in this condition is impossible. Fool’s world, I traverse across the dangerously steep rocks and each time I pass them, I hope to see a way out. But it’s getting very hard. I am scared and start hesitating. If the face gets any steeper, I will be trapped and never get out alive. I don’t have the strength to climb up again. If the path is closed, then it’s over. I realise that one small mistake or slip will be fatal."

" ...  I cannot keep this up. I am dead tired, and am bound to slip somewhere. After having descended and traversed a hundred metres, I collapse. The terrain is too dangerous and too difficult. I cannot see a safe escape. I know that I am trapped. No one can help me at this time. I use the satellite phone to make another call, but the batteries are too cold and empty. It cannot make a connection. No one knows where I am, no helicopter can fly at this altitude. God, I feel so alone. ... " 

And yet they fail to realise that Eastern Himaalaya has better survival for a good reason, or that it's a simple matter of perception - that's to begin with, if not all. Of Himaalaya being Abode of Gods, not only of snow that's inherent in the name Himaalaya. And the reverence Himaalaya has in hearts of not only India but all nations contiguous to Himaalaya, whether Tibet or Nepal or Bhutan, has a relevance in this matter. 

Attitude of disdain and worse that abrahmics hold, for everything not explicitly ordered revered in their one book, gets progressively worse from Abrahmic-I to Abrahmic-II to Abrahmic-III, and they still fail to understand why K2 is unforgiving. 

Nor have they learned from the dual horrendous events of tsunami and subsequent landslides in Kashmir. 

And this lack of perception remains through the powerful dawning of a "God, I feel so alone.", so firmly hammered in are the blinkers of the abrahmic creeds. It's only an arrogance that forces them to ignore a fact known yo well over a billion - that India sees Himaalaya as a helper in spiritual attainments, and this includes all creeds purely Indian in source and spirit. 

................................................................................................

" ... This is the end, it must be. I look around. I see a sloping snow plateau around sixty metres below. I try to concentrate, take a deep breath and look again. The idea to jump is starting to look appealing. If am lucky, I will land in soft snow and may survive the fall. It is not a bad idea. I grunt and hit my fist against my forehead, as if to convince myself that I am awake. But it still seems a good idea. Stay calm. Think it through again. I don’t want to die in my sleep, I know that much. So I need to get out of here. Jumping is an option. But it is the only option, would I survive the jump? Yes, in theory I could. But I don’t trust my own thoughts any more. I wrack my brains and try to think logically. Take it easy, come on, no rash decisions. I make myself more comfortable by leaning against the face and resting my head against a rock. The only solution I can think of is to wait for better weather, it is still so misty. Then I will perhaps be able to see where I am, and maybe climbers in base camp can see where I am sitting and see an exit through easier terrain. Stuck against the rocks, I try to sit as comfortably as possible by making myself as small as possible and to warm myself up like this. I doze. ... Am I imagining there are climbers nearby? That can’t be. The situation seems bad. Could they deliberately not want to help me? When I try to crawl towards them, they disappear. I rage with anger and frustration, but it helps me collect myself. Not for long, soon I doze off again and fall asleep at 7700 metres. Am I in heaven? ..."

"When I wake up, it is late. Several hours have passed, the clouds have cleared slightly and the view has somewhat improved. All of a sudden I can see a big ‘snow duct’ several hundred metres further to the left. New hope surges like a warm tidal wave through my stiff body. If I can reach the gully, I can keep descending. I hardly dare believe it. Once I manage to reach the gully, I know that I will have passed this horrific terrain. I feel withdrawn and scared in these rocks. But still, one wrong move and I will fall hundreds, or thousands of metres. This reality is very much present."

" ... I traverse along a wall which normally I would never do even with ropes. ... The bottom part of the rocks is mixed terrain. Below the snowy slope lie steep rocks. I must be careful not to slip when placing my crampons. Extremely careful, but sometimes sliding on purpose, I end up in the snow below the rocks. Man, that feels good – what a victory. I gasp for air. Finally, I can descend in a straight line in easier terrain and make distance. A voice in the back of my mind tells me to watch out for avalanches. I am in a gully where avalanches will be common currency. But I am so happy I have made progress that I forget about those problems. I move quickly but cautiously so as not to kick loose the snow. A sense of optimism is starting to grow. In two hours I descend from 7700 to 7350. It is growing dark. Over the past hours my eyesight has improved and the extra oxygen also makes a difference. ... the situation no longer seems so desperate.

"At this point in time back in base camp, Chris Klinke, one of the Americans, observes an orange speck moving slowly high up on the mountain to the left of the Cesen Route above camp 3. The news is immediately passed on to base camp in the Netherlands. Maarten has had my geographical position determined using the last telephone conversations via the satellite. From this data and the fact that it is an orange speck, the conclusion is drawn that it must be Wilco. But base camp is not absolutely sure. Are Cas and Wilco the only ones with the characteristic conspicuous orange North Face down suits? Roeland, who manages communications in K2’s base camp, immediately passes on this information to Cas and Pemba in camp 4. Not much later Cas and Pemba leave via the fixed ropes in the direction of camp 3. They had given up the search and returned to camp 4."

................................................................................................

" ... I try to spot the sunrise, but it doesn’t appear. Not for a long time. ... "

" ... At last, after what seems at eternity, I can see a sign of light on the horizon. At around 05.00 in the cold I get up and continue my way down. There is hardly any feeling left in my frozen, stiff body. ... I reached 7100. Where the rock ledge ends and crosses over in the glacier, I bend off to the left and traverse below the ridge. I no longer have any idea of place or distance. And then suddenly my phone rings. I pick it up surprised. It is Heleen. Heleen is also surprised to get me on the line. The phone is normally switched off to save the battery. But because it no longer worked last night, I unintentionally left it on. It must have switched on due to the increase in temperature."

" ... I climb on. As I move around the corner and below the ledge, I can see two tiny yellow tents in the distance. My heart starts beating faster. And a while later I see two climbers! I don’t recognise the tents and the climbers, and still don’t dare to trust what I see. I have been disappointed too often. The only thing I think about is water and safety. I climb on through the snow towards the tents and see one climber in an orange and one in a blue down suit. But still it doesn’t ring a bell. I really want to surrender to my exhaustion, to settle down in the snow and wait to be rescued. But I don’t. I keep going. When I am a hundred metres from the climber in the orange suit, it starts to dawn on me. To my amazement I see it is Cas, my friend, my soul mate. I can hardly believe my eyes. We fall into each other’s arms and cry. Cas tells me that he expected he would never see me again. After two bivouacs and more than 30 hours at above 8000 metres, we know our chances of survival were minimal. The other climber must be Pemba; strong, loyal Pemba. We stop our blubbering and continue towards the tents. It appears to be our camp on the Cesen Route. Cas says it is camp 3, and I nearly fall over in amazement. ‘Camp 3!’ I yell. I thought this was camp 1– my feelings and judgement were completely off the mark! If I hadn’t found camp 3 I would clearly still have had a long way to go. ... "

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"The blissful feeling of being saved only lasts briefly. Cas tells me that they were able to rescue Marco but that Gerard is probably dead. The words hit me like a hammer. I am deeply shocked and seek support from Cas. Questions fly through my head, but I don’t get any answers. Cas is still speaking and there seems to be no end to the horror story that he tells. It is so unreal, his words slowly reach me. Gerard! and Hugues and Karim and... I cannot comprehend it. It is all too overwhelming. I am perplexed and disillusioned at the same time. How could this have happened? I survived my tormenting situation and did not get wiped away by avalanches or falling stones. It is beyond my comprehension. I think back to the accident that I witnessed with my own eyes: Dren Mandic and Jehan Baig fell to their deaths. I am able to place this. Not the rest. I am hit by disbelief."

" ... I decide to concentrate on something more simple. Maybe, I should check my feet. They don’t hurt, but I cannot feel them either. My outer boots come off and nothing seems to be wrong. But when I undo my inner boots, I can see I have a problem. The entire front side, including all the toes, are light-blue and glassy looking. It’s clearly frostbite, but the significance doesn’t get through to me. I observe it, I establish that they are rock-hard and frozen. I feel no pain and no emotion. It is what it is."

" ... Eric advises using the oxygen as soon as possible and to drink as much as possible, and to descend to base camp as quickly as possible There he will treat us. ... "

" ... we begin the descent along our own safety ropes. I feel weak, but the oxygen helps enormously. What a difference! The first section from camp 3 to camp 2 is steep and goes fast, but is followed by a snow ridge, and is very tiring. Cas is suffering, and going excruciatingly slowly. I wait for him on the snow ridge, and he says he wants to sleep in camp 2 tonight. I want to do the same – I am also exhausted – but the wonderful oxygen-rich air and the doctor’s advice help motivate me: down as fast as possible. It would also be better for Cas, because his hands have second-degree frostbite. But Cas is completely exhausted. I convince him by giving him the oxygen bottle, and immediately the roles are reversed. Unbelievable, what a difference the use of oxygen makes. Cas is going down in front of me and I will never keep up with him now. I immediately feel miserable. I walk, rest and walk again. We finally reach camp 2. The oxygen bottle is empty. But Pemba’s silent strength creates optimism. He has gone ahead to melt snow. We both collapse in front of the tent and Pemba takes care of us. He really is as hard as nails. After having drunk at least two litres, and had two hours of rest, we get ready to leave for camp 1. God, I am really dreading this, it is so tempting to give yourself over to the exhaustion. We decide to leave the rucksack behind; we have almost reached the end of our strength. Pemba takes the lead and leaves. I carefully get up. Everything but everything hurts. Cas wants to lie there a bit longer but I urge him to come with me. We slowly rise to our feet. We wait for our muscles to show a sign of life and start descending on our ropes to traverse from camp 2 to camp 1. Fortunately, the weather is good and there is little wind. We force our way down to camp 1. The sun is down and we won’t be at our destination before dark. We continue on auto pilot, ... "

"After resting for an hour we continue our journey across the glacier to base camp. My feet are hurting. I am supported and at 21.30 we stumble in. We zip open the mess tent where a surprise awaits us. The Americans have transformed our mess tent into a hospital. An enormous two-person air mattress awaits us. ... The whole tent is full of people helping us. Lars, the Norwegian, is also here. We offer our condolences for the terrible loss of his team mate, Rolf Bae. He says that Cecile is extremely shaken. Eric and Chris watch over us the entire night. ... "

" ... Because of the thin air, two helicopters are needed. One passenger next to the two pilots is the maximum weight that the helicopter can handle at this altitude. One of the helicopters tries to fly to camp 2 on the Abruzzi Ridge to get Marco down, but this operation proves impossible. The helicopter does not have a winch to lower a cable, as is usually done in the Alps. It cannot land."

" ... In 1995 my injuries were so bad that I was unable to enjoy the flight, but this one ends up being my most rewarding flight ever. ... "

................................................................................................

"Marco and Gerard’s story. 

" ... Pemba climbs on and discovers Marco who is unconscious. Pemba has brought drinks and oxygen, and for the moment Marco is saved. While Pemba is helping Marco, a radio conversation takes place with Sherpa Pasang, who is busy with his rescue operation. Pasang has reached the top of the Bottleneck and to his amazement he finds the two Koreans and Jumic alive. He can hardly believe it. Is it a miracle? Gerard must have succeeded in freeing them. There is no other way. It is incredible. What a will power, this beyond any ‘records’.

"When Pemba hears the good news, he immediately asks if there is fourth person. Pasang responds with a no, but says that the last climber has been hit by falling ice and swept off the mountain. When Pemba enquires about the colour of the down suit, he knows the truth. The down suit was red and black. Pemba realises that this must be Gerard. Soon after this emotional radio conversation fate strikes again for the second time, an avalanche of ice that destroys everything in its path roars down the mountain. It appears out of the blue. One moment it is calm and quiet, and the next… suddenly an infernal noise and ice-chilling rumbling. Pemba needs to get Marco and himself to safety, he drags Marco away from the path of the ice masses. But he cannot prevent Marco from being hit on the head by a block of ice. He was lucky, the big pieces of ice miss him. He only suffers a light head wound.

"The enormous ice avalanche sweeps away the sherpas Jumic and Pasang, and the two Koreans in a deafening roar, like a game board being swept clean in one wild movement. They are all killed, except for Sherpa Tsering. He was standing some hundred metres below Pasang, who apparently climbed faster than he did. Tsering just manages to avoid the falling ice.

"When the avalanche has passed, Pemba finds four bodies, Pasang Bhote and Jumic Bhote are still tied together. It is terrible how these extremely strong, proud men died as a result of this indescribable climbing drama, and as if that is not enough, Sherpa Jumic’s wife later gives birth to a daughter. Sherpa Jumic called her from the summit of K2 to reassure her and tell her that everything had gone well. In one go the Tsering family loses a father, brother, nephew and friend. Terribly unnerving and fatefully unjust when one realises that there is no life insurance or any other form of compensation for sherpas’ widows. The wives and their children are simply left to fend for themselves."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"At almost 30,000 feet I look out the aircraft window. I can see the Karakorum mountains beneath. Cas, Pemba, Gerard and I stood on one of those summits. Four members of the Norit K2 expedition team, who reached the summit through the tireless effort of other strong team members Roeland, Jelle, Mark and Court. We did this on our own strength, without using bottled oxygen. ‘By fair means’, a conviction that binds us. We enjoyed the spectacular views. The world lay at our feet, we were privileged to experience all we experienced, especially the views. Never was the setting sun coloured more beautifully than at that one moment."

" ... A year ago, all of us were sitting in a bar. After climbing Mount McKinley in Alaska, I stayed with Gerard and Annie, a wonderful woman. A runner who is not afraid of doing a hundred kilometres. And when asked if she did special training programmes to accomplish this, she responded by saying she didn’t know any and just ran to empty her head. She also worked with children with learning disabilities. She would help to come up with solutions for children with a handicap who were unable or had great difficulty learning. Annie is pure, independent, honest and beautiful.

"Cas used his sketches to explain what probably happened. In between our tears, he tried to create a clear picture, but at the time, the details on Gerard’s fateful accident still contained a number of blank spots. What had happened to Gerard after Marco had left him in the traverse, was something we could only guess."

................................................................................................

"After my emotional reunion with Heleen and Teun, I dry my eyes and the press conference begins, which also occurs behind closed doors. The entire team is given the chance to speak and everyone undergoes the required interview. At around midnight, we drive home, totally exhausted. I spend one day alone with Heleen and Teun. The next day we fly to Ireland, where Gerard’s funeral will be held. Together with Heleen, Cas and his girlfriend Carmen, I meet the rest of the Gerard’s family for the first time. This time at his mother’s home. He grew up on his grandfather’s farm in a small village named Kilcornan, near Limerick. Later on in life Gerard would live together with Annie. During the K2 Expedition Gerard’s mother had a new kitchen fitted for them in their house.

"At the kitchen table we meet Gerard’s mother for the first time. She is in mourning but quietly asks how Gerard was during his last weeks. Was he happy? And what was it like on the summit? We try to find words to express the joy that we felt as a team. But it is not easy. Talking about mountains, dreams, passions and happiness without being at the centre of it is clinical and remote. We tell anecdotes about Gerard. We tell stories that he told us about his living on the farm, and working hard. About the camaraderie with his brother. His school period. University. His adventure on the motorcycle through America, and finally ending up in Alaska where he met Annie. His ICT work in the north of Alaska, where he specialised in making pipeline corrosion calculations. His outdoor life in Alaska where he made many climbs and encountered grizzly bears. But he spoke so passionately about his Irish origins, more than anything else. He was proud to be able to sing in Gaelic. As a tribute to his Irish roots he even took up a ‘hurley and sliotar’ to the summit of Everest in 2003. From the summit, he hit the puck as far as he could in the direction of his beloved snow-capped summits."

................................................................................................

"I deeply admire the way the family and the Irish community treat us. We feel like we will forever be part of this special family. No blame, no guilt, no envy, no jealousy because we came out alive. I stand holding his mother, and Annie, his sisters and brother. We commemorate Gerard, the man who gave his life to save men like himself."

" ... Irish media are not interested in mistakes or blame. Of course, they want to know what happened, and rightly so. But they speak of Gerard with respect and awe. A minister issues a statement that the Irish have the right to be proud of Gerard. He was the first Irishman to stand on the summit of K2. Gerard took his Irish culture and background to the highest summits in the world and risked his life for others.

" ... We know that the Irish people were interested in the K2 climb. More than a million watched the programme, in a country with a population of just over three million. ... "

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"It is 2012 and almost four years have passed. Now much more is known about what happened in these fatal hours on K2 in 2008. But it is also certain that we will never know about all facts in detail. The mighty mountain will always have its secrets and mysteries."

" ... Now, after four years, I have received confirmation that my book does not contain gross errors or mistaken perceptions. This was not entirely inconceivable: on the mountain everything was happening in many different places at the same time and my thought process wasn't always as clear as I would have wanted it to be in the "death zone". Some parts have disappeared completely. That the real story is as I have described gives me great satisfaction. To know that it complies with other versions and descriptions confirms that my book is a piece that fits well into the puzzle. I find this particularly comforting for the bereaved, who were left with so many questions about their deceased loved ones that they lost in this terrible tragedy."

" ... It is striking that some books appear to have been written quite hastily and carelessly. You could almost suspect that, with these volumes, truthful representation was not the first priority. That's a shame. Especially when they are from writers who aren't climbers themselves. Writers who feel compelled to explain the intricacies of "the insane climber's world" to the general audience, all from behind the safety of their desks. They end up delivering sensationalist depictions and many impressive but unverified rumours. However, sometimes it is all very detached from what really took place on the mountain. Though it will undoubtedly be good for sales, it does taint the drama. So be it. I think it's particularly admirable how Gerard McDonnell's family has dealt with these, sometimes downright hurtful, half-truths.

"After 2008 I managed to complete the Explorer's Grand Slam: the Seven Summits (the highest mountain on each continent) and the two Poles (the North and South Poles) so I'm now officially— according to the general audience— a real adventurer. ... "

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

" ... In the broader context of the tragedy the loss of my toes means nothing, absolutely nothing. I think I've been extremely lucky that I "only" lost my toes. ... "

" ... In recent years, however, it has become clear that this particular tragedy was caused by a rather unique combination of bad luck and uncontrollable, unpredictable conditions. Never before have I experienced an accident of such magnitude on a mountain. It is one of the greatest disasters in the recorded history of mountaineering. Nevertheless, I still consider (expedition) climbing to be a safe sport which can be practiced without insurmountable risks, as long as one is well prepared, well trained and has access to good resources and equipment. That was my opinion and I still think it's valid. Therefore, I have never considered quitting. ... "

" ... In the past the gold rule amongst trauma surgeons was to amputate as quickly as possible. They have now reversed their decision because tissue and parts were sometimes removed that could have healed by itself. Now the policy is to wait as long as possible before performing an amputation until the point where, in the open, rather bloody wound surrounding the line of demarcation, an infection will occur. It's not a pleasant situation and you certainly have to get used to it, but the damage has already been done. In my specific case the tissue and the toes were already dead and the only thing I could hope for was to gain a couple of millimetres of tissue that might recover."

................................................................................................

" ... From the moment I had returned from the mountain my toes and feet began to swell. The 45 degree Celsius temperatures in Islamabad undoubtedly contributed to this. I thought it was a bothersome sight because my toes were as big and as thick as eggplants. It was painful as well because the skin around my inflated toes put a tremendous strain and tension on the healthy skin of the rest of my feet. I was fortunate that Cas managed to arrange a wheelchair somewhere in Islamabad so I could sit with them at breakfast at the hotel. Every morning Cas would wash my feet with iodine to protect against infections and bandaged them with ten layers of fat cotton and bandages to prevent that I would accidentally puncture these blisters. It's absolutely unbelievable what Cas has done for me. Unsolicited and selfless. I owe him many thanks and am highly indebted to him."

" ... One advantage of this was that I was allowed to fly home in business class. I'll never forget the look of the steward's face when he came to serve me a three-course menu and he was suddenly confronted with a rather distasteful little scene, when the bandages accidentally slid off my feet. His eyes rolled in their sockets in amazement. Back home in Utrecht the waiting for the amputation began. Meanwhile, the toes continued to dry more and more and the demarcation line became increasingly clear.

"During a visit to the UMC Utrecht a trauma doctor advised me to book a holiday at a sea resort and stick my feet into the salt water of the North Sea. The concentration of salt and the composition of the sea water would ensure that my toes would dry even faster and would mummify. One week later I was already crawling on my hands and knees towards the sea, somewhere in the province of Zeeland. And sure enough it worked; within a week my toes had become wooden sticks. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... My friend and physiotherapist Emile van Bruggen drew my attention to the RKZ in Beverwijk which is a hospital specializing in the treatment of burns. They have a specialized team of different surgeons who were willing to have a look at my feet. My trauma doctor at the UMC, however, was very firm and clear; if I were to go for a second opinion he would stop treating me. In his opinion there are as many opinions as there are surgeons. I suggested that an MRI-scan could offer some additional security as to how far my feet and should be amputated. Again, his answer was a firm "no". He said that he had removed tumours that hadn't been visible on an MRI. In his opinion an MRI was primarily used because of commercial considerations as a lot of money can be made. In any case his position was very clear; put up or shut up.

"After extensive research by Ronald Hulsebosch, who also collected advice from sources in Chamonix, France and even from Alaska, he advised me to have the trauma doctor at the UMC perform amputation. He was known to be very knowledgeable and had gained a lot of experience by performing amputations on military personnel."

" ... I talk to the doctor who is examining my feet. He starts laughing and tells me that this is a good sign. These maggots, in fact, do a very useful job, as they consume the excess dead skin and tissue, and in this way the wound is cleaned in a very natural way. It's bizarre. But who's going to remove them? He tells me that when their food runs out they'll die. The doctor says that in some patients a culture of maggots is implanted directly onto a wound. With a wink he adds, "You have grown these yourself".

"Eventually I surrender to the doctor at the UMC. With a spinal block I undergo surgery. ... "

................................................................................................

" ... In spite of a whole slew of medication— MS Contin, Oxynorm, Oxycontin, Diclofenac, Paracetamol and Morphine— I could hardly bear the pain.  The annoying thing about this procedure was that the pain would build up and reach a record-level in a couple of hours.  During that time I was usually at home, upstairs in my bed, trying to endure the pain, crying and howling until I couldn't bear it any more.  Heleen would then attempt to soften the pain by firmly massaging my legs.  Usually the pain would then drop to a more tolerable level, and the next day I would be able to move around normally.

"Despite my intensive medical rehabilitation I tried to pick up the thread again, almost like "business as usual".  Part of this was by giving of lectures to companies.  After all, that was my only source of income.  I remember presenting lectures whilst sitting in a wheelchair on a large stage, but also at a couple of smaller venues where I would be chatting with people from the audience.  I was moving about in a clumsy kind of way amongst the audience, but what I did not realize was that the smell of rotting flesh came through all the bandages.  Only months later did I hear that the terrible stench had made a lasting impression upon them."

" ... a trainee doctor thought it was a smart move to do it swiftly.  Instead of quietly cutting open the plastic casing and gently soaking and loosening the sponge, he tore everything off in one expeditious move.  The primordial scream that I howled must have been audible throughout the whole hospital, as I almost fainted from the excruciating pain.  I cursed the man with a full set of four letter expletives and with a reflex of my knee I knocked down the operating table.  All sterile dressings and instruments were on the ground.  The doctor was quite shocked and offered his apologies."

................................................................................................

" ... As soon as possible I wanted to start with sports rehabilitation, but that was not to be. The transplant doctor did not want to refer me as he didn't want to take any chances because he intended to carefully work on a cautious recovery. We would carefully proceed and slowly but steadily work on taxing the foot bit by bit. The only sport that I was allowed to do was some tentative training rounds on an exercise bike. I insisted that I sensed I was becoming stronger and was convinced that I was ready for a more serious taxation of my feet. However, even the physiotherapist at the hospital didn't dare to go any further and restricted me to exercises that I had to perform by lying on the ground in order to keep my ankles loose.

"A few weeks later, the doctor finally loosened the reins and I was allowed to go to the sports rehabilitation department at the hospital. There I came under the guidance of a sports doctor and right from the start I did not like the program. I didn't feel that I could make any progress and so I repeatedly asked him for a specific rehabilitation program. Finally he admitted that he hadn't been able to find me an adequate program. Apparently my case was an exceptional one."

"The main advice that the sports doctor gave me was to rest, and that I should forget about ever being able to run again. It really hit me hard when he said that I had to take into account that I would never be climbing again. It was something I could not face. To be honest, from the beginning I hadn't even considered resigning to such a verdict. When I told him a few months later that I intended to climb Mount Toubkal (4167m) in Morocco he said I was crazy. The absence of any feeling in my left foot would ensure that I would not be able to feel the cold. Moreover, he could not predict what would happen to the transplanted tissue if you would suddenly start walking hours on end with hiking boots. He estimated that the chances were good that the tissue at the front of my foot would simply fall off. My foot would not be able to handle it.

"My world collapsed. Could this really be true? No more running and climbing? I refused to believe it. And again I started calling and consulting with people who could possibly help me. Via Emile van Bruggen I eventually found out that the military rehabilitation centre Aardenburg in Doorn might be an option. During the intake interview a captain of the armed forces told me that I could come for rehabilitation. He warned me, however, that no instant solution would exist for me. But his idea appealed very much to me; "We are not sure either, but we are convinced that where there is a will, there is a way". From such a simple, focused and positive attitude I always get very happy. And so I was immediately motivated from head to toe— that is, if I still had any.

................................................................................................

" ... With a very simple solution in the form of a flexible carbon-fibre sole inside my running shoes, I literally rebounded. The insoles took over the flexible spring functionality that my toes used to provide. Different types of carbon soles with variable spring characteristics were available in Germany. It was all a matter of being stubborn, of searching and trying them out and evaluating them. The world looked like a much more positive place now. I could go running again and climbing suddenly seemed to lie within my grasp.

"And indeed, after a second small operation a couple of months later, I'm on the summit of Mount Toubkal, a physical victory, but especially a psychological one. I have found the way back up again to the highest mountains of the Himalayas!"

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"What is your opinion about the fact that, in some books, climbers are being characterised as "not being normal", including yourself?

"Some things should be taken with a pinch of salt. It is often somewhat exaggerated to make a point. But when it is a deliberate attempt to try and bring climbers into disrepute I have objections. In one of the books— which indeed was written by a non-climber— I was portrayed as a "spoilt corporate expedition leader". I shrug my shoulders when I read that. But then, to continue and say that I am a self-centered person is one step too far. Yes, climbers in general are outspoken and have a clear opinion on things, but that is something different than being self-centered. This word would be more applicable to other climbers, those who— on purpose— arrive later in the season to take advantage of all the preparatory work that has been done by others. After which they then start blogging to the outside world about the quick progress that they're making. As a responsible expedition leader I clearly forewarned these climbers that they should not take advantage of the efforts and hard work of my team. You take care of your own equipment and make sure you do not endanger yourself or my team. With some imagination you can interpret this warning as egocentric, but I have a different view. My first priority is my responsibility for the members of my team and I will always stand up for them. I will not accept the irresponsible behaviour of others when it brings danger to my team. This shows the major difference in the books that I just mentioned. This characterization of "selfishness" appeared in the book written by the non climber. However, an author like Freddie Wilkinson, who's a climber himself, understands how these things work out and he knows that success and destiny are very close to each other. That's the thin line on which you have to balance. The results of one's actions in the mountains don't have many shades of grey; they are predominantly black and white. Every climber knows that."

................................................................................................

"How is Heleen doing? What does she think of the tragedy? Has anything changed between the two of you? Or in your relationship with Teun?

"Heleen is doing fine. She has started her own company "In The Wild", which is a design and training agency for adventurous, green outdoor spaces for children. When we moved from the city to a farmhouse in the countryside this has all accelerated.

"Did something change? Well, just recently I explained to her that from the outside it might look like nothing changed with me, but that a tragedy like this one of course has made a big impact. I'm still approaching life like I did before, but lately I find myself thinking back to it more and more often. To the outside world I might appear to be very positive. And I also want my story to be a positive one, but on these quiet moments I am really sad inside. That was suddenly apparent after the presentation of the book about Ger. Afterwards I was standing there, talking with his older brother JJ and I knew how dearly he loved Ger. While I was talking I suddenly burst in to tears. Not dramatic, but on the inside I do scream out loud. Why? Why him and not me? Whenever I feel down, these questions and the tragedy return in an instant. I do not always share this with Heleen. I try to deal with it in a spiritual kind of way, by which I don't mean that I'm going to meditate, but I'm thinking about it when I train, when I lie in bed or when I'm alone. I just realize that tomorrow everything may be over. I also realize that, right now, we have to try to live at the pinnacle of our lives. Life can not be more beautiful than it is now and that fills me with gratitude. In my relationship with Teun there is more awareness that a father and son relationship should not just be taken for granted, especially if you're an expedition climber. After the experiences that I've been through on K2 I feel an even stronger bond with him because I could've just as easily not been here with him any more."

................................................................................................

" ... We all sit at the kitchen table at Ger's mum's place and just talk about our daily lives. Of course, there's a lot of talk about Ger and all in a positive way. They always manage to come up with new anecdotes and JJ is especially good at this. Hanging above the kitchen table is a drawing that shows a broadly smiling Ger with K2 the background. In the window frame there is a photograph of Ger on the summit of K2, with a text that so belonged to him; "That's it for now my friends. The time has come.""

................................................................................................

" ... Of course non-climbers have a different way of responding to certain situations than climbers do. Particularly in emergencies it is all or nothing. There's often not sufficient enough time for rational thinking or taking action. In situations of life-and-death, choices and decisions often need to be made in a split-second. These decisions are often made, in part, based on knowledge, but particularly based on experience. And even if it doesn't depend on a single decision, then you will still see a dramatic worsening of the situation due to the facts on which inexperienced people base their decisions. As an organizer or expedition leader you will then have to intervene and sometimes need to make unpleasant decisions. The most obvious one that can be easily understood, for example, is the turn-around time. Before you set off everyone understands the importance of starting the descent when faced with the onset of bad weather approaching. But from my own experience I do know how difficult it is to actually turn around, as often you have been going up already for a considerable time and feel like you have almost made the top. These are "unpopular" decisions that people will often continue to talk about. But emotions and reason should be clearly separated in the mountains.

"The big challenge in mountaineering is that the summit is only a halfway point. Inexperienced people do not see it this way and consider it as being a match that finishes on the top. The way down is a part that one tends to forget about and in a kind of "tunnel vision"— which increases with the height one attains, as there is less oxygen for the brain and muscles to function normally— one wants to reach the top of the world at all cost! All energy and forces are being spent on the way up, but in this blind ambition one easily tends to forget about the descent. Only by increasing your level of experience you'll be able to correctly assess your strength and from that point onward you can try, step by step, to go a little higher. But what is it that often happens? People buy into a Himalayan expedition and immediately try to attempt Mount Everest. Bottled supplemental oxygen is being relied upon for the ascent and it is all too often suggested that with oxygen it is no problem to scale the peak, because the height of the summit will be lowered to approximately 6000 meters. Acclimatization is said to be not as important as it used to be, and the logistics for ropes, oxygen bottles, tents, food, stoves, fuel and the rest, has all been taken care of. When an inexperienced climber hears that he is progressing too slowly, but that he has only a few hundred meters more to go to the top, this person will absolutely not acknowledge the fact that he really should descend. On the way down he will be confronted with a shortage of oxygen, as well as with the extreme decrease in temperature once the sun dips behind the horizon. This is not an inconceivable scenario as, unfortunately, it is happening all too often.

"From the perception and emotions from the side of the customer, in a way, it is understandable; he invested in this with his training, his time and his money. But, rationally speaking, the only correct decision is to turn around in time and to start the descent. One can only hope that there will always be expedition leaders who have the courage to make this decision. Even when this would mean that you will often be called a heartless person afterwards."

................................................................................................

"Every day there were difficult decisions that had to be made.  This would usually start at 7:00 a.m. in base camp.  I would boot up the laptop and make a connection via the satellite to receive the newest weather reports, after which I had to adjust the schedules.  Often this would not just be for that day, but for the next five days, and in the beginning sometimes even for the weeks ahead.  This would also apply to the choice of materials: who will be carrying this or that to the next camp, who will bring what food, what rope, which tents, drills, what quantity of gas, how many pitons, the radio, the telephone, and lots more.  But there were also decisions to be made on the formation of the teams; who's going to climb with who and why?  And the most difficult decision of all: when will we make a summit bid and who's going to be in the first team and who'll be in the second one?

"The one error of judgement that I have made during this expedition was that I put too much faith in the other teams.  During the preparations for the summit day we had divided the necessary tasks amongst all teams.  Working together appeared to make some sense in order to conserve energy and to be able to ascend in a more efficient way.  The necessary agreements were made by the expedition leaders and their separate teams and had even been put down in writing.  What I did not properly assess was the fact that, the longer the chain, the greater the chance that a link is likely to fail. ... I should've relied more on our own strength, solely based on the power of our own team.  You know exactly what you can expect from your own people because you have carefully selected them yourself.  This has been a psychological trap.  Maybe it feels like it is less difficult, and much safer, when you have to jump across a deep ravine if you do so with more people, but the gorge itself will not be any narrower or shallower."

................................................................................................

"No one could have suspected that, after having reached the summit with eighteen people, it would go so horribly wrong on the descent. There was not a single cloud in the sky], the weather was perfect and it seemed like a routine job; back to the fixed ropes, clip-in and just follow the lines down to Camp 4. That was what it looked like from an objective perspective but, all of a sudden, this scenario had been changed and the carefully built construction collapsed like a house of cards."

"Yes, the mountains really put someone in their place. In the mountains we experienced how insignificant we are and I think that's the right perspective. We think we can achieve a lot, but nature is so much more powerful. You can feel that in the mountains. Because of that magnificence and splendour, the overwhelming vistas, the heights, the different dimensions and proportions, the primeval forces, these all make you humble and ensure that you'll see it in the right perspective and respect the bigger scheme of things. I do believe there is more to it than can be explained by the laws of Isaac Newton, because they aren't sufficient enough to explain the world around us. I do believe that there must be something more powerful and grander than just our puny creatures."

................................................................................................

"What role has the tragedy played in your decision to complete the Seven Summits? Was that something that you've always wanted to do and did K2 play no part in that, or has it inspired you to go climb these last peaks? Or did it create a barrier that you first had to overcome before you could continue climbing again? Do you have any ambitions to eventually climb all 14 eight-thousanders? Did the Norit K2 Expedition bring about any change in this?

"Yes, the K2 tragedy has affected me. Frankly speaking, the Seven Summits have never really been that important to me. For a professional climber they are more some kind of allurement than an outstanding achievement. Let's face it; once you have climbed Everest, the rest is a walk in the park. My dream has always been to climb Everest under my own steam; put in the purest possible performance by fair means. The question was whether it would be possible for me to climb the highest mountain in the world without supplemental oxygen. That is the best possible achievement, like winning a gold medal without the use of doping. I finally succeeded in 2004. Then I started completing the Seven Summits, especially since it is also very nice to travel all the continents. In 2007 I had two more summits to go, and after Everest these were the two most costly ones; Carstensz Pyramid (4884m) in Papua New Guinea and Mount Vinson (4897m) on Antarctica.

"After K2 I had to work on my recovery and had to learn how to walk and climb all over again. First to Mount Toubkal (4167m) in Morocco, a mountain in a warm country, then to Papua New Guinea and lastly to the cold Mount Vinson on Antarctica. It was all part of my medical rehabilitation program and was the start of my new big project: Mission Antarctica 2048, in order to drive a solar-powered vehicle to the South Pole. This we do to inspire the youth to opt more often for sustainable clean-tech solutions and to draw attention to the fact that the Antarctic Treaty will come up for review in 2048, which protects this pristine continent from military missions, oil exploration and other tests."

"Obviously, completing the Seven Summits was a goal of minor importance, because I would have never allowed myself to miss out on a chance to climb a "real mountain" in the Himalaya for them. Yet, it feels pretty good that I managed to complete the Seven Summits during my rehabilitation, while I secretly dreamt of the Himalayas. In that respect the tragedy on K2 hasn't brought about any change in my ambitions. Just like Reinhold Messner, I am indeed no longer able to climb rock at a technically advanced level but that has never been my main interest. Expedition climbing, that's what I've always liked best and in that respect no change has taken place.

"To complete the fourteen eight-thousanders has never been my goal, I try to avoid being an addict of my own ambitions, but first and foremost I try to enjoy, and live in, the present. That's what I've learned from the events on K2. Tomorrow may never come, so I do not plan ahead for more than three years.

................................................................................................

" ... Running is very good for your physical condition, but too limited for the rest of the groups of muscles. The combination of running, cycling, swimming and corresponding length of time is an ideal one. You develop yourself broadly and it builds stamina. I think that triathlons are an effective training, because a full-length triathlon will approximately take me 11 hours to complete, and a summit bid usually takes around 15 hours. In 2000 I took part in the mountain triathlon of Embrun, France, in which, apart from the distance that had to be covered, also close to 9000 vertical metres had to be overcome. I clocked a time of 13 hours and 50 minutes. During the whole competition I visualized the trip as if I was climbing a mountain."

" ... It is a fact that, at high altitude, you lose brain cells, but that also happens with boxers and when consuming alcoholic beverages."

................................................................................................

"Can you really enjoy the surroundings, or is it more like with a cyclist during a mountain stage: remaining to stay so focused that you barely notice the beauty at all?

"No, you will be able to enjoy the moments when you can and while you aren't exhausted yet. In the beginning it is pure enjoyment, but pretty soon the target comes to mind again and that is the summit. You will be able to enjoy it when you arrive at a camp, but en route it's continuous suffering or, like Winston Churchill said; "If you're going through hell, keep going."

................................................................................................

"Which exercise at sea level could be compared to the effort of walking at high altitude?

"It's very difficult to compare this effort with anything else. At sea level you will be exercising at near-ideal conditions with 100% oxygen supply, and if you don't feel like you're performing well enough, you can simply step out of the competition and you can begin your recovery, maybe even with some form of assistance. On a mountain that's just not possible. In a situation where there's a serious shortage in oxygen you still have to put in an excellent performance. Try climbing the stairs while breathing through a straw.

"On the one hand, it's an anaerobic effort, because you are trying to put your muscles to work while there is a lack of oxygen. On the other hand it is highly aerobic, because we're not talking about a mere couple of hours, but sometimes for up to 15 or 17 hours above 8000 metres, where there is only one-third of the amount of oxygen compared to sea level.

"Your body is objecting to all of this. You have been sleeping poorly, you only had a little or nothing to eat at all, and you may even suffer from a slight headache. Climbing usually make me feel better again. Once my heart rate increases again, and I can make a serious effort, I feel good at high altitude. That, of course, is a relative thing, because at sea level I really feel that physically I'm stronger. The challenge is to prepare yourself mentally so that you can overcome the physical inconveniences. And then, all of a sudden, the reward is there; the stunning vistas and the proud feeling that you have really achieved something special.

"Acclimatization is a very complex story, especially since every individual is so different. Moreover, the process of acclimatization stops above 7000 metres, and this is the same for everybody. It is not for nothing this is called the "death zone". After 5 to 6 weeks of acclimatization you're ready to make a jump for the summit, but that varies by individual and is not a guarantee for success. Whether or not this has been enough, you will only know when you make it to the summit."

................................................................................................

" ... Furthermore, with the highest scoring students in the field of sustainability, we will go on an expedition to the largest glacier in Europe, the Aletsch in Switzerland."

................................................................................................

" ...  We have had many discussions, for example, about what type of ice axes we should take. Do you go for the extremely light ones (not the best), long ones, short ones, etc. This often depends on your personal preferences, on your climbing skills and level of experience. This also applies to the choice of crampons, helmet, goggles, backpack and shoes. The choice of rope was also an essential one.  At extreme altitude the use of rope is often abandoned, because it's too heavy. We have been trying to find a rope that was light enough and wouldn't freeze, and yet be able to arrest a fall. We knew this rope would not meet all the required criteria, but UIAA-approved ropes failed to meet our demands, simply because they weigh too much."

" ... The very moment your lifelines are torn away, then you are not only facing a mystery, but there is an immense challenge awaiting you. You may have tried to think of all the scenarios in advance, but you would never have imagined this, not even in your wildest dreams. From that moment on the only thing you can do is to act instinctively and do what's good for you, since you are trying to survive. This also applies when you see fallen climbers. You can observe them, but you can't allow emotions to get in the way. Fear and all the other emotions only come afterwards, when you've calmed down. There is no tailor-made survival training.  In "survival mode" you will have to rely on past experience, intuition and primary behaviour. To this day for me it's as if I'm watching a movie and in a way it still feels like it hasn't really happened.

"If and when it goes wrong, you don't have to feel sorry for climbers, because that's the last thing they will be asking for.  That's why we have no need for trauma counselling after a tragedy like this one. ... We are proud of the results achieved after three months of hard work and to reach the summit with one another.  You see and experience the splendour of the world and its nature; the curvature of the Earth, the shadow which rises above the horizon, and the feeling of literally standing between Heaven and Earth."

................................................................................................

"Have I found my own essence? Yes, one of the consequences of climbing, and facing challenges in which you are bound to encounter yourself, has been an accelerated learning curve about the essence of life. And these "lessons learned" bring you self-confidence, peace of mind and happiness. There's nothing that I "should" do; anything goes. I live in the Here and Now, consciously, but always with a dream, an ambition without the mandatory obligation to succeed. Mediocrity is not an option; I aim for the stars, where the top is only a means on the road to true happiness."

................................................................................................

................................................................................................

"In memoriam 

"18 climbers reached the summit of K2. Eight of them did not survive. 

"1. Alberto Zerain (Spain) 

"2. Cecile Skog (Norway) 

"3. Lars Nessa (Norway) 

"4. Dorje Chirring (Nepalese / American team) 

"5. Go Mi Sun (Korea) 

"6. Kim Jae Soo (Korea) 

"7. Park Kyeong Hyo (Korea) † 

"8. Kim Hyo Gyeong (Korea) † 

"9. Hwang Dong Jin (Korea) † 

"10. Pasang Bhote (Nepalese Sherpa/Korean team) † 

"11. Jumic Bhote (Nepalese Sherpa/Korean team) † 

"12. Gerard McDonnell (Ireland) † 

"13. Pemba Gyalje (Nepalese Sherpa/Norit team) 

"14. Cas van the Gevel (The Netherlands) 

"15. Wilco Van Rooijen (The Netherlands) 

"16. Marco Confortola (Italy) 

"17. Hugues d’Aubarede (France) † 18. Karim Mehrban (Pakistan) † "

................................................................................................

"The following climbers died 

"1. Dren Mandic (Serbia) fell during the ascent in the Bottleneck 

"2. Jehan Baig (Pakistan) fell during the descent below the Bottleneck 

"3. Rolf Bae (Norway) fell due to falling ice during the descent 

"4. Hugues d’Aubarede (France) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"5. Park Kyeong Hyo (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"6. Kim Hyo Gyeong (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"7. Hwang Dong Jin (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"8. Pasang Bhote (Nepal) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"9. Jumic Bhote (Nepal) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"10. Gerard McDonnell (Ireland) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"11. Karim Mehrban (Pakistan) fell during the descent"

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................................................................................................

"Wilco van Rooijen is one of the few adventurers of the Netherlands.  He summited some of the highest mountains of the world and crossed the deserts in Africa and Australia. Mountaineering is his trade and passion. As one of the very few climbers, and as the first Dutch national, he conquered the "Three Poles"; he reached the geographic North and South poles and climbed Mount Everest without additional oxygen! He also scaled the "Seven Summit" - the highest peak on each continent - as the first Dutchman to do so "by fair means". In 2008 he summited K2, the notorious "Savage Mountain". During the descent he witnessed and survived one of the worst tragedies in the history of mountaineering when eleven people lost their lives. ... "

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Index 

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................................................................................................

Foreword 

Chapter 1 - It begins 

Chapter 2 - Three times K2 

Chapter 3 - 1995  A dream falls apart 

Chapter 4 - The Return to K2 in 2006 

Chapter 5 - K2 Summit Ascent 2008 

Chapter 6 - Saved 

Chapter 7 - Homecoming 

Chapter 8 - 2012— Life four years later 

Chapter 9 - Medical rehabilitation 

Chapter 10 - The readers' questions 

Word of thanks 

Author’s last thoughts 

About the author 

Biography Wilco van Rooijen

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REVIEW 

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Foreword 

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"For years now some have considered Wilco and I as the Siamese twins of Dutch mountaineering; an inseparable team,  merrily racing through the Alps, sometimes away from home for weeks on end, sometimes on quick hit-and-run missions. The year 1995 was supposed to be ours - the step towards more serious climbing. We were two young Turks playing a part in a team of experienced expedition climbers. Our goal was the 8611-metre K2.

"This expedition was to be the crowning glory after years of alpine work. But things did not go as planned. In the early stages of the expedition Wilco was hit by a rock, which ended any thoughts of summiting for him. I suffered from an uninvited stomach bug that had me more time behind the tent than on the mountain.

"But that 1995 setback on K2 made Wilco the man who he is today. In the years that followed, he became stronger and more motivated. His philosophy was simple – after careful calculation he set himself a goal and then went for it. Many years of climbing in the Alps followed, as well as expeditions to Poland and the Himalayas. But I recollect that the idea of climbing K2 always lurked in his mind, and not always at the back of it. In 2004 he climbed Mount Everest without the use of bottled oxygen. It was only logical that K2 would be the next step.

"The experience of being on a mountain a second or third time is a special one. You don’t always need to succeed the first time, and a first failed attempt is a magnificent motivator for a second visit. You view the mountain from a different perspective and adapt your strategy. There is rather more respect for the beast, and both drive and motivation grow. You tread more skilfully. In 2006 Wilco took part in an international K2 expedition which again proved unsuccessful, he did not summit. But he did meet Irishman Gerard McDonnell and together they planned to return to K2 in 2008.

"Today he has a family and is professionally involved in expedition climbing. 2008 saw Wilco as leader of the Norit K2 Expedition. With an international team Wilco returned to K2 for a third time.

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"Each year K2 makes new victims. No one knew that just as in 1986, the year 2008 would be a disastrous year on the mountain. That season we were the first ones on the mountain. We had a strong team in which everyone was prepared to work towards a common goal, reaching the summit of K2 via the Cesen Route. Wilco is a good expedition leader. He does his utmost  to ensure everyone has a summit attempt. And having to work hard on a mountain is not at all bad if the  atmosphere in the team is good. We take the greatest pleasure in climbing on K2 together.

"The climb proves successful whereby four of our eight-man team reach the summit. An achievement that the whole team is proud of. But the situation takes a dramatic turn during descent. Gerard dies after a heroic feat. It is a tragic blow to the team.

"In dealing with this terrible loss, the strongest support comes from Gerard’s girlfriend and family. They were willing to listen to the true story of Gerard’s descent without reproach. It remains a huge loss. But climbers are climbers. This is what defines who they are. I am proud that Gerard and our expedition members managed a successful climb of K2.

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"As a true professional, Wilco is able to separate expedition, family and the loss of Gerard. He sets out a clear line for his life. His longing for the unknown, higher goals whereby he explores the limits of his abilities , such as during the descent from the summit of K2, where he lost all his toes. Everyone was astonished by his perseverance. He is a well-balanced individual and that is also e his strength  in terms of his rehabilitation. I have doubts he will climb again. There is no way back. But new challenges lie ahead. The longing for new adventure remains.

"Cas van de Gevel Mountaineer, 

"The Netherlands."

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January 29, 2023 - January 30, 2023. 

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Chapter 1 - It begins 

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" ... I look at the notary and he nods: it’s officially our home now. A dream has come true and we feel the deep meaning of the moment. A day later I’ll join the eight-man climbing team as part of the Norit K2 Expedition. We are to climb one of the most dangerous mountains in the world. If everything goes to plan I’ll be back in three months."

" ... My passion for mountains and extreme expeditions always dominated everything and made my life very orderly. But ever since my marriage to Heleen, my son’s birth and purchasing our home the risks that make up such an intricate part of a life as adventurer, are more present than ever. What am I doing to them? I am responsible for them, what will happen to my wife and child if I don’t come back? And let’s face it, that’s a possibility."

" ... I cannot even promise that I’ll give up if this attempt also fails. My head is filled with contradictory  thoughts and emotions at the start of the Norit K2 Expedition."

"It is a déjà vu. Standing next to Cas at Schiphol are two other enthusiastic young team members, Roeland van Oss and Jelle Staleman. Towards the end of 2007 we had placed an ad for two young, ambitious climbers to join us on the 2008 Norit K2 expedition. And here they were. The two who best matched the job description and dared to play high stakes on climbing’s Holy Grail. One needs guts, passion, climbing skills, excellent physical condition and personal maturity in making decisions. In other words: you need to understand the dangers and know exactly what you are doing. Reckless behaviour or overconfidence tends to lead to disaster."

" ... It’s good to have stamina, but what do you do when you are over 8000 metres and faced with the choice of descending or digging a snow hole to survive?

"A die-hard marine who never stops may sound tough, but in the mountains this can leave you dead. When you are in the mountains you must not simply keep on going expending the last of your energy until you reach the summit. The summit is only half way, a fact many have forgotten in the emotional high of summiting.  You must know what you are doing and have yourself completely under control. ... "

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" ... The Norit K2 expedition team also includes three foreigners: a Nepalese, an Irishman and an Australian. I want an eight-man team so we can work on the mountain in two teams of four.

"Over the years I have become closely acquainted with  Gerard McDonnell, an Irishman who lives in Alaska where we have climbed and trained together at length. He is a man after my own heart. Calm, balanced, no beating about the bush, and someone you can take at his word. A climber who understands endurance and perseverance. We unintentionally share near-death experiences on the mountain of our dreams: me in 1995, and Gerard in 2006. I always knew that Gerard would never be daunted by the experience. We are very similar in this way. Maybe our accidents made us more determined. This would never happen to us again, and we would show that back then it was just bad luck.

"In 2003 Gerard climbed Everest with oxygen from the Nepalese south side together with Sherpa Pemba who hailed from the Khumbu region. Sherpas are tireless workers who are extremely well adapted to climbing at high altitudes, and they are born to an impressive and proud culture. Of the entire group, Pemba has the most experience above 8000 metres. Although he had never climbed Everest without oxygen, he stood at the summit six times. Pemba is an absolute professional; he would be very popular with sponsors in Europe - a man of consensus, never seeking out confrontation but not afraid of speaking his mind. It is striking that Pemba doesn’t consider K2 to be the most dangerous mountain, but rather Annapurna’s south face.  Pemba thinks that this mountain is much more dangerous because the avalanches there are very unpredictable. Pemba’s athletic physique makes him a climber who commands respect from everyone.

"Last but not least, the Australian Mark Sheen. In 2006 Mark climbed on Broad Peak with Gerard and myself, and we immediately hit it off. Mark is from Perth and does not have a mountaineering background – a fun laid-back Aussie who is ambitious and eager to learn. During the Broad Peak expedition, he climbed to camp 4 with Gerard and me to just below the col at almost 8000 metres. In the middle of the night Gerard, Mark and I set off for the summit. Mark was quickly forced to give up: he returned to camp 4. His decision not to descend further, but to wait for Gerard and me, proved a serious error of judgement. Upon returning that evening, we found Mark in a delirious condition. We were shocked to find him so depleted and forced him to descend with us. We reached camp 3, the next day continuing on down to base camp. Mark was suffering from frostbite in his fingers. It was a hard lesson but Mark accepted his mistake and didn’t complain. Luckily his fingers fully recovered.

"A year later. Mark is climbing Mount Everest with a team from New Zealand. A strong, cold wind is blowing when he reaches the summit. When I hear about his successful summit attempt, I e-mail him my congratulations. He replies asking me what my plans are and enquires about a place on the team. I am ecstatic, it will be wonderful to have Mark on board. He is a team player. And now the team is complete, a balanced group with ‘winners’ at all positions. I am happy, more than happy."

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" ... Karakoram Highway (whoever came up with this moniker must have had something of a sense of humour) - the old silk route ... Although this is a relatively quiet area where a cease-fire is in place, there are many army posts on the glaciers up to K2. ... "

"We want to drive to Skardu over the coming two days. We leave at 06.00 in two buses. We haven’t even been on the road for an hour when the suspension on one of them gives up. Yet another adventure begins. The driver attempts to drive on but the screeching noises are too much even for him. We switch buses and continue slowly. In the next village, we  look for a new vehicle and driver. Serious negotiating is necessary before a deal is closed. ... "

Were they aware that it might have been deliberate cheating rather than incompetence when the first vehicle broke down? 

" ... We finally continue, the views brightening our mood. We have magnificent views of Nanga Parbat (8125 m) and Rakaposhi (7790 m), just like K2, mountains with characteristic shapes.

"Our driver is amazing. For the past two days he has been driving along narrow, dangerous, unpaved roads. He is positive and optimistic and, in spite of the time lost, he thinks we will reach Skardu on the second day. We are startled as we careen from the road, but it’s not serious. The rush of adrenaline from the near-accident enables our driver to deliver us to our destination quickly, we arrive 23.00. We are standing in the famous K2 hotel in Skardu with its magnificent view of the desert plains and mighty mountain rivers. We quickly take our things to our rooms, shower and sleep.

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"When we wake up, we are in a different world. An oasis of rest, with views that are only possible in the high mountains. ... From now on we only use solar energy and no longer need the 220V plugs."

" ... My heart is in my throat, but I needn’t have worried. We climb the hill at the first elegant attempt."

" ... We are the first expedition of the season and the porters are raring to go. I have brought along 100 Norit K2 Expedition caps. I know from experience how happy porters are to have such headgear. A quality cap is easily worth three day’s wages. The caps are handed out, and all hell breaks loose. We feel like pop stars, there are sadly not enough caps to go round. Happily some of the porters prefer their traditional Hunza headdress.

"On 22 May we begin our seven-day trek. We are tired of sitting, and eager to make active use of our bodies again. Active acclimatisation can begin. We - are still at only 2500 metres, but will quickly ascend to 5000 metres. The trek goes via Korophon to Jhula, Paju where we will have a day of rest, then on to Urdukas, Goro II, Broad Peak base camp and our final goal: K2 base camp. We trek for six to eight hours a day. We start early, around 06.00, before sunrise, and by around 15.00 have done the distance and still have time set up camp. K2 trekking is one of the roughest and heaviest as there are no villages or settlements along the way (unlike Everest), nowhere to buy cola or tea or whatever.  We don't complain. It’s  part of the story. The mountains along the route are also among the highest and most rugged with five of the world’s 14 eight thousanders in handsome view. We have already passed Nanga Parbat (8125 m), and are now walking past Gasherbrum 1 (8068 m), Gasherbrum 2 (8035 m) and Broad Peak (8060 m). The path will end at the foot of K2, mountain of mountains (8611 m). Other famous summits here include the Great Trango Towers, the Cathedrals, Uli Biaho, Paju Peak, Liligo Peak, Masherbrum, Mitre Peak, Muztagh Tower and Chogolisa - a climbers’ Valhalla.

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"From Paju we climb onto the famous Baltoro Glacier, which we follow to Concordia, the ice plateau where some 6 glaciers converge. From here we should be able to see K2 but today the view is obstructed by mist, clouds and snow. In the process of covering distance at high altitude it’s best to keep your mind blank and focus on infinity. We continue trudging through the snow and cold to Broad Peak base camp. Quiet is all around. Tent, food, water and fatigue combine to put us to sleep fast. When we wake up the next day, we are surrounded by powder snow as far as the eye can see. We gaze in delight. A clear blue ceiling on a white white world. And there it is, in the far distance - King of the Karakoram - higher than all the surrounding summits. Humility, pride, wonder, fear, and bravado all have a place in our cocktail of emotions What a simply magnificent view. The area immediately around K2 is called the throne room of the gods of the mountain. It is easy to understand why.

"From Broad Peak base camp we cross the Godwin Austen glacier. We cross moraines, jump melt-water streams and move delicately between the massive boulders. We soon arrive at the K2 base camp. Because we are the first expedition to arrive (there will be many more during the season) we can choose the best spot on the famous moraine strip below the slopes of K2. Somewhere in the middle the porters thrown down their load from their powerful sweating backs. They have worked hard. And now these hard workers are to be paid. A fixed fee was agreed in advance, but they are secretly hoping for a tip. When I announce to the porters, who are gathered together in a large circle, that they will receive 10 days pay instead of the agreed seven applause rings through the camp. We are a popular bunch, and probably spoil things for expeditions to come. After the porters leave, a feeling of tranquillity descends. We can start building our home for the coming two months."

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January 30, 2023 - January 30, 2023. 

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Chapter 2 - Three times K2 

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" ... Although it is the third time, you never get used to the awe-inspiring sight of this mountain. At night it inspires the most fear; it makes me feel small. In the light of day and from the safety of base camp, I have often stared at its flanks and broad shoulders: it doesn’t seem to hide any secrets from me and I can effortlessly find my way along the route and camps to the summit; both with my eyes and in my mind. But now in the dark, in the middle of the night, I have lost all my bearings and with the growing feeling  of disappointment that this attempt will also prove unsuccessful; the mountain appears more cruel than ever. ... "

" ... May, when we arrived. The glacier was still smooth and everything looked different. It was all covered by a beautiful, thick white layer of snow. Setting up camp was simple and there was plenty of room. We were the first expedition on the glacier. We were able to choose the best spot for our base camp at 5000 metres altitude with a fantastic view of K2. We quickly set up our comfortable base camp – in the beginning of the expedition everything seemed to go well. After returning to my tent I quickly squeeze into my warm sleeping bag and reflect on that first day of climbing. The Norit K2 Expedition commenced on 3 June. ... "

"We ascend to around 5500 metres, then return feeling tired but fulfilled. Pemba, Gerard and Mark have not yet joined the expedition. Pemba has asked his lama in Nepal to bless the expedition and has built a stone altar with Tibetan prayer flags. The expedition’s prayer ceremony will take place on 5 June. Pemba does not want to climb or step onto the mountain before then. Gerard and Mark join Pemba out of respect for him. Pemba doesn’t mind that we have already started climbing: with all his experience he understands that you should make the utmost of every good day on the mountain. The images are very vivid in my mind. ... "

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" ... It’s very important to mark the route according to a specific line as it very dangerous to walk to the bottom of the route in too direct a line. You are literally walking through a potential avalanche cone of snow and ice. If these come crashing down (which they do with monotonous regularity) they will instantly bury you."

" ... In a total white-out you must be able to walk from flag to flag; the route to base camp should be clearly marked, especially when returning to base camp after an exhausting climb. At 5.00 we started preparing the route, and at 6.30 we were standing at the bottom of the slope up to the route. We put on our equipment and started climbing. ... We climbed up to 5500 metres, where we ended the previous day and put all the gear that we had left behind in our rucksacks. In addition to this equipment, we were also hauling up new stuff - two tents, two sets of MSR Reactor stoves, gas tanks, breakfast, warm meals, three lengths of 200-metre rope, pitons, ice axes and more. ... After more than six hours we reached camp 1, we were totally exhausted. The weather had deteriorated. At camp 1 everything was shrouded in a dense mist and clouds and it was snowing. Very much in contrast with the conditions when heading out this morning with the sun shining, and sweat pouring down our faces. A few hours later our hands were numb, it was snowing and a cold wind was blowing. Although we were not yet properly acclimatised, we had managed to fix 600 metres of rope up to camp 1. It was an impressive achievement. Even speaking required a great deal of effort. You had to breathe deeply before being able to reply. While climbing, we were constantly out of breath. Just before Camp 1, we ran out of rope. We were 20 metres short to actually reach the camp. Camp 1 is small: a ledge squeezed between two rock towers with two tiny flats for two-person tents, I estimated them to be 2.5 metres by 1.5 metres. Directly next to two massive rock towers is the abyss to the other side down to the glacier and the base camp. We can see the small, coloured specks of our tents. Later on, we hear that Pemba, Mark, Gerard and Court closely follow our movements. We empty our rucksacks, fix everything to a rope and decide to quickly go back down. The weather is getting worse and we decide not to put up our tents as a precaution against the fierce storms. Images of the 2002 Mount Everest expedition, where complete camps blew away, come to mind.

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" ... Climbing simultaneously at different places on a face can be risky, and this often happens of course when different teams are climbing the same mountain. The solution was carefully thought through. The first team would ascend carrying as much equipment from base camp as possible like tents, anchors, route markers and so on. They would carry the gear to camp 2, sleep there and descend the next morning. When they appeared team 2 would go up to camp 2, and the next day they would prepare the route up to camp 3 with the materials brought up by team 1. This should be clever use of shift work. If the weather and the conditions permitted this, the preparation work up to camp 3 would quickly be completed. This was the theory, but would it also work in practice?"

" ... Everybody knows that the hardest part of the expedition is yet to come. If the signs are not betraying us... We are still the only expedition that has reached this far. A lot of the other expeditions have just arrived, or are still on the way to base camp."

"Maturity is noticeable in the decision-making by the group. When asking if anyone is willing to carry up the equipment to camp 3, Mark and Roeland immediately offer help. After Gerard explains that the terrain above camp 2 is a lot steeper and more difficult than we have yet dealt with, Mark doesn’t mind that Roeland will come up with us because he is a more technical climber with more experience in difficult terrain. That’s what I call team spirit. Unselfish and self-assured. It’s time to grit our teeth. We will ascend to camp 2 with our heavy rucksacks (that contain heavy material including tent, stove, food, personal items, down suit, sleeping bag, mat, gloves, thermos flask, photo and video camera). As forecast, the weather on Monday 16 June does not look great; however, on Tuesday conditions should improve. We leave base camp at 04.00, it’s pitch black. Our cooks Hussain and Hassan send us off. By 05.00 we have our crampons on. With our ice axe and jumar in hand, protective cream on our faces, we start climbing the face up to camp 1. Cas, Jelle, Roeland and I ascend at a steady pace. There is no clear line of ascent and at the bottom of the face there is a vast mess of snow, ice and rocks.  The high temperatures over the past days have caused changes. Rocks normally frozen solidly in place come loose and literally whistle past. One of the reasons we ascend so early. Best to be in camp 1 by 08.00 at the latest. In fact the earlier the better. And then continue on to camp 2, which should be reached by around 12.00 noon. The higher the altitude the lower the chance of rocks round your ears. There are also snow avalanches – we estimate some ten a day – but fortunately they are rarely close to us. The ones that are close only miss us narrowly, as happened last night.

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"Roeland and I were sleeping in camp 2 when a loud bang woke us up with a start. For a second I couldn't remember where I was. What was that? The bang was followed by roar. It sounded ominous and for a second I thought to myself that this might be it. Roeland also woke up with a start. We briefly stared at each other, zipped open the tent to see we if would survive. We peered through the tent opening to see a gigantic avalanche roaring through the couloir to the left of camp 2. We felt the strangely reduced air pressure, a terrifying sensation. However, we realised that we were safely below a rock overhang, and the tents are firmly fixed to secure pitons. We went back to sleep, but without feeling entirely at ease.

"Climbing is never without its risks of course. We are in nature’s most threatening environment – the mountains - and as a vulnerable human being you can only outwit but never beat the forces of nature. One day when climbing just below camp 1, a rock fizzes past, seemingly out of nowhere. The treacherous hissing sound is actually rather like a rifle shot, if you hear it and nothing hurts, you know you’ve survived. Out of the corner of my eye the projectile flies past at a metre distance. I shout as loudly as I can to Cas, Jelle and Roeland below me. I cannot see if they have been hit, because I’m climbing out of sight. I hear no screams so I warmly assume everything is OK. After arriving in camp 1 I wait for Cas, Jelle and Roeland. My heart is pounding. It seems they reacted to my shout and nothing happened. This unnerving experience recurs three times that morning. It’s nerve-racking."

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" ... Until now we used free of charge weather forecasts via the Internet, which turns out to be a mistake. At 18.00 I contact Maarten who is manning our ‘mission control’ back in the Netherlands via satellite phone. The first thing I shout to him through the raging storm is: “Maarten, the weather is terrible.” Maarten reassures me by explaining that our weatherman Ab Maas is at his post again, and has just sent new forecasts. They paint a different picture than the internet forecast. According to Ab’s calculations the unstable weather will continue throughout the week, with enormous jet stream winds near the summit and rapidly dropping temperatures! It’s storming and snowing at 6000 metres. We unequivocally confirm that. Even though I am glad to receive Ab’s more reliable forecast, it’s a disappointment. There is no option but to descend. ... At 03.00 Cas and I step out into screaming wind and snowdrift. We have to go down, fast. ... "

"On 18 June there will be a full moon, and we want to seize this opportunity. If there is enough light (also at night) and the weather is stable, then the camps can quickly be in order. If we can set up the logistics and the four camps before the end of June, we could try a summit attempt in July, as originally planned. The next full moon will be 18 July. This is when the summit attempt should take place. We will need to be mentally prepared by 10 July at the latest. This will give us the required four to five weeks to acclimatise. We should work towards this date. Just to be safe, I factor in another five days of bad weather with heavy snowfall. This will not be a problem if we can prepare camps 3 and 4 on time. If not, it will be much harder to set them up after a snowfall and only then make a summit attempt."

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"Climbing at altitude 

"It is impossible to climb an 8611-metre high mountain from base camp (at 5100 metres) in one go. If a human being is taken from sea level directly to 8000 metres, they will die within minutes. Climbing a mountain of this altitude is only possible if the body is allowed to adjust to the altitude. Acclimatisation is as follows: climbing to a high altitude during day, and sleeping at a lower altitude at night. The climbing allows the body to adjust to the altitude, while sleeping at a lower elevation with sufficient oxygen enables the body to recuperate properly. Going up and down on the mountain, a little higher each time, has two benefits. It allows the climber to acclimatise, and simultaneously take up expedition gear such as tents, stoves, food, and climbing equipment. In this way the camps are equipped for future efforts. If conditions allow then the provisioning and positioning of these camps will allow a summit attempt. It takes weeks to set up four camps on such a mountain, and to have all the equipment in the right place. That is why it takes so long to climb an eight-thousander. One also has to factor in lay days and bad weather. The actual summit attempt is only possible after the preparations and logistics around the four camps are complete.

"It all sounds logical, but there is a serious catch. If one spends a lot of time at high altitude he body starts to deteriorate. While the body acclimatises, it is also breaking down. The climber loses weight because the body starts to ‘consume’ itself; not only fat, but muscle. At high altitude the body burns muscle more easily than it does fat, as burning fat at altitude requires more oxygen than is normally available.

"Air pressure at 5000 metres is around 50 percent of that at sea level, and above 8000 metres it is only one third. This effectively means the body is only getting one third the amount of oxygen at 8,000 metres in each breath than at sea level. This requires you to use energy wisely. It is as if the body is an emptying vessel. It is no longer able to absorb sufficient energy via the food consumed, partly because you lose appetite at altitude. Even if you force yourself to consume sufficient food, it is likely it would exit the body almost immediately. The body is in a state of alert and no longer focuses on digestion. It chooses to use the scarce oxygen for ‘more important’ vital functions such as physical movement, heat regulation, thinking and the organs.

"After a week at high altitude the climber must return to a lower altitude to allow their body to recuperate. The longer the time spent and the higher the altitude, the faster the bodily deterioration."

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" ... Tuesday 24 June. We leave at 04.00, just before first light. We are carrying heavy packs with equipment for camp 3. Two tents, four sleeping mats and four sleeping bags, two Reactor stoves (these are great – but slightly heavier than the MSR ‘pocket rockets’, the Reactor works faster and is more efficient), three down suits, snow anchors, pitons, climbing ropes, and food, drink, and so on. The weather on the morning of the 24th isn’t very good, however, we trust the forecast that predicts good weather through Friday. And this appears to be right; the more the cloud cover breaks and the brighter the sun shines, the more optimistic we are. I arrive in camp 1 at 07.20 ... "

" ... In the meantime an expedition led by Frenchman Hugues d’Aubarede is also climbing the Cesen Route. Their team has two high altitude porters (HAPs) who will set up tents. ... We are still preparing ourselves, when the HAPs announce that they are going up ahead. At first I am happy with this decision because it means they will be tracking in the fresh snow. At the same time I have a premonition that things might not go to plan. My suspicions strangely turn out to be right. Less than ninety minutes later we reach the rock passages above camp 2 and see the two HAPs sitting in the snow. They say they are tired and are going back down. This means the two ropes are now lying in the snow 150 metres above camp 2. This does not make us happy. ... We keep climbing, but progress slowly and with difficulty. We are running out of reserves. Where is camp 3? We look up, but cannot see any smooth places on the route where there is not too great a danger of avalanche. We trust the last climbers and briskly continue along the route. Two hours later, at 15.30, Cas, Jelle and I reach 7000 metres. We discover three tents, destroyed by the wind, lying under a thick layer of snow. We decide to make camp 3 by preparing a level area to set up a VE 25 tent. Cas and Jelle start digging and I put on a pot of tea. We are dehydrated. Just before sundown, the tent is up. It is on a very small ledge that doesn’t provide enough space for the tent. Part of it floats in space. But once lying in it with a rucksack in the floating part, things are more or less level. A biting wind is blowing at 7000 metres. We crawl into the tent and try to drink some soup. ... My body also knows it is up at 7000 metres; I cannot keep any food down. Another problem emerges. We only have two lightweight North Face Hightail sleeping bags and two down suits with us. ... We prepare for the night, but know that we won’t get much sleep. Not long after, I cannot feel my feet anymore. The down suit is great, but it does not have ‘slippers’ so my feet are less protected. I have left my second pair of thick Icebreaker socks, of pure Merino wool, back in camp 2. Cas gives me a pair of dry socks and I wrap my feet in two layers. However, cold feet in cold socks remain cold. It’s my own fault. To save on weight I brought up half  a Therm-a-Rest mat. And I need the other half for my back. My rucksack is lying at the head and my feet are lying on cold climbing boots. Cas notices this and shoves his rucksack towards me for my feet. Cas had not made the same mistake and had a long, heavy Therm-a-Rest mat to reduce heat loss from the body. In the middle of the night, after having nightmares about frostbite to my feet, Cas offers to switch. He will exchange his sleeping bag for my down suit. In the sleeping bag, I can  roll up like a foetus and massage my feet. That night we only occasionally manage to doze off. The strong wind is causing the tent cloth to flap, and prevents us from getting any sleep. ... Once again, I am forced to face the facts: different laws apply at this altitude and the human body reacts violently to such hostile conditions. This leaves you constantly feeling bad. you don’t belong here. You are constantly gasping, as if you were breathing through a straw.

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"When it gets light, descent to camp 2 awaits us. We will retrieve the two ropes that were left behind by the HAPs along with Roeland’s gear. We really don’t feel like it and we have to force ourselves. Fortunately, we are still feeling strong. We decide to make breakfast though at this altitude no one is feeling hungry; we know we need the energy. We open a cruesli breakfast that we all three enjoy. But after taking a few bites I can no longer keep the food down. ... Pemba, Gerard, Court and Mark will fix these ropes tomorrow. They cannot take up the gear because they are carrying the equipment for camp 4 in their rucksacks. This includes extremely lightweight TNF tents, two stoves, mats, food, the dynamic rope, and two 200-metre lengths of Enduro for the infamous Bottleneck. At 08.30 Cas and I arrive at the location of the two heavy 11mm ropes; team two is nowhere to be seen. We wait and, finally, at 9.00 we see Pemba appearing around the corner above camp 2. He tells us that Gerard has been throwing up all morning and is feeling weak. Court was coughing all night, and his legs are hurting. The enormous altitude is starting to take its toll. ... The landscape is literally and figuratively breathtaking. Amazing views. We are now high enough to look down on surrounding summits. The view is beyond words and  I cannot imagine any other place in the world that could surpass it. Hundreds of summits. At least fifty over 7000 metres. From K2 to Broad Peak, the Gasherbrums, Muztagh Tower, K6, K12,  and so on. I am too tired to film and take pictures. We climb along awe-inspiring seracs, like tilting high-rise flats. If I stare at them too long, I get light-headed and clenched by fear. I feel small and vulnerable. The weather is perfect, a clear blue sky and searing sun. Today, I’m feeling happy again. The track, and the fact that we know the exact location of camp 3, enables us to progress faster. We arrive at 13.00. ... "

" ... Chasing your dream of climbing K2 may seem great, but you know you’ll need a tremendous amount of stamina, especially if things fail to go according to plan. ... On Saturday morning the team is complete again. Pemba, Gerard and Mark descended early in the morning. The weather has worsened. It is snowing, and it’s cold and wet - not the nicest time to be in base camp. Although we have plenty of time to work out our plans."

" ... Our summit attempt can wait until 18 July, when there will be a full moon. This will give us time to rest and build up the camps. The weather remains an uncertain factor. If it doesn’t hold through the period of the full moon, our plan will fail. To benefit from the coming weather window, the route will need to be fully prepared. Camp 4 has not yet been set up on the shoulder. We can either play it safe by setting up camp 4 and miss our summit attempt, or climb up to camp 4 without all the fixed ropes in place and try a summit attempt. This is exciting and riskier, but the risks are manageable. ... "

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"We know it will be extremely tough. We are early in the season, so it’s extra cold. The wind will be at least 20 km/h. We will be the first team this year. This means we will need to do all the tracking, and in the occasional waist-deep snow that is very hard work. We will place the ropes in the Bottleneck ourselves, and will not rely on anyone else."

" ... A summit attempt means thinking five days ahead, it’s a delicate and painstaking decision. If we suffer any setbacks during that time, things can go horribly wrong. In traditional ‘authoritarian’ expeditions, the expedition leader simply gives instructions to his climbers on the mountain; I refuse to send climbers up the mountain against their will. The thought alone upsets me."

" ... Roeland suffered carbon monoxide poisoning while melting snow, he forgot to ventilate properly and was unconscious for ten minutes. This is bad news. ... He is able to descend to base camp with Mark. Staying in camp 2 is not an option due to lack of space, but mainly the lack of oxygen at this altitude. And Roeland needs oxygen to recuperate. ... "

" ... The afternoon is spent drinking and resting in the sun. The weather is good, with little to no wind, and our confidence is growing. The view is phenomenal and overwhelming. These are small moments that make it all worthwhile: sitting in front of your tent on a small ledge, enjoying a hot cup of tea with a great team. The steep drop below shows how much progress you have made and makes you feel simultaneously small and proud. But the hardest part is yet to come. K2 is immense.

"On Thursday 3 July, at 08.00, the five of us leave for camp 3. We know it will be a heavy day. It will require us to track in knee-deep snow. . The first part of the route goes along rocks, followed by a small traverse, a steep couloir and then by what seems to be an endless snow ridge. This is serious climbing. Fortunately, there was a strong wind last night that blew away much of the powder snow which makes a huge difference, but it is still heavy work. Now and then I need to rest and lean against a rock to raise my blood oxygen. Climbing in terrain like this is a question of measuring your movement and using your limited energy resources wisely. We take turns tracking up the mountain, and arrive in camp 3 at 14.30. We feel content. We still have to set up the second tent and that is no easy effort. This is a heavier tent whose round shape requires a large surface. In spite of our efforts to fasten the tent we keep hitting into rock just below the snow. It is impossible to secure the tent. We decide to let part of it hang free which will at least allow us to sleep on an area that is fairly level. ... The plan is simple: climb up to camp 4 in one go, spend several hours in the bivouac, and on Saturday night at 01.00 start our first summit attempt.

"Just before falling asleep, the Serb Hoselito suddenly arrives. He has taken more than ten hours to get from camp 2 to camp 3. Tomorrow he wants to go up to camp 4 with us to try his summit attempt (with the help of oxygen). I swear inwardly. What a dilemma. He asks if he can set up his small, lightweight tents next to ours. Our  reaction is unanimous: no. If we accept him, we will also be responsible for him. I explain to him that he is not sufficiently acclimatised and should not count on us during the summit attempt. After lengthy bickering, we reach a compromise. He will set up his tent next to ours, on the condition that he will descend the next day."

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" ... The terrain above camp 3 is difficult - very alpine, requiring one’s utmost concentration to find the way through the mixed terrain. The altitude is beginning to take its toll. I still feel good, but not everyone is feeling well."

"A new problem arises: There is not enough rope to secure the last section. We had calculated we only needed another 400 metres. A lot of rope has been used to secure the horizontal sections along the route. The slope appears to be much steeper than expected, and climbing the last section in alpine style (without being attached to the fixed rope) is too high a risk for the descent. ... We ultimately decide to do the only right thing: turn around and go back down. This attempt has failed. Maybe there will be another opportunity. We all swallow hard before we begin the descent.

"We empty our rucksacks and create a hanging depot. In the last light of day we descend to camp 3, disappointed, but remaining alert. We need to be, because night is falling. Before we know it, we are descending along the ropes in darkness. We switch on our headlamps and realise how important the fixed ropes are. They will lead us straight back to our tents. If other expeditions’ ropes had also been hanging here, we may never have found our tents. This strengthens us in our decision. Continuing up the mountain would have been extremely foolish."

"The bad weather persists and spoils our plans."

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January 30, 2023 - January 31, 2023. 

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Chapter 3 - 1995  A dream falls apart 

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" ... We were young, strong and open-minded. Climbing dominated our lives. We were prepared to give it everything we had, and were completely addicted to it. We were always finding an excuse to drop everything and go to the Alps to climb some tough mountain or other. Those were happy times. I remember the exuberant feeling of freedom and the ever closer friendship with Cas as if it were yesterday. We never seemed to get enough. Often, after completing one climb we would already have started planning the next.

"The publication of a full-page article in the Dutch newspaper, the Telegraaf, in which Dutch climber Ronald Naar revealed his plans for an expedition to K2, hit us like a bombshell. Of course, we considered ourselves good enough, so we immediately responded. Although we had never climbed an eight thousander before, we felt we were up to the task. In reality, we never really expected we would make the team as it would include the Dutch climbing elite. But we knew that if we didn’t try we would always regret it."

" ... At 8611 metres, K2 was not just the second highest mountain in the world, it was also technically and strategically the hardest of the fearsome eight thousanders. One in four climbers never returned from the summit. The mountain derives its nickname, ‘Killer Mountain’, from these macabre statistics. No Dutch climber had ever climbed K2."

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" ... The technical climbing level didn’t worry us, but we doubted our experience of climbing at high altitude. We had never been above 5500 metres! And what if Ronald were to choose only one of us? We were both aware of the possibility, but neither of us mentioned it. ... "

" ... We had imagined a job interview, and had properly prepared for any tricky questions. But we hardly had to draw on our knowledge. We talked about our work in the Alps. It appeared that Ronald had followed our climbs, which made us feel good. We glowed. The renowned Dutchman of the mountains Ronald Naar had followed the exploits of a pair of young unknowns. Conversation turned to the Eiger North Face, of which he had his happiest memories. This surprised us. ‘Not Mount Everest?’"

" ... He asked if we knew Thierry Schmitter. No, but of course we knew his climbing stories and were familiar with routes that he had climbed. Thierry was studying at the University of Delft and was a member of Yeti, the Student Alpine Club. Ronald enquired about my filming experience. He knew that I had filmed a lot of our climbs. He wanted a second cameraman for the team. The discussion continued. All of a sudden Ronald said: ‘You can join the expedition!’ The remark overwhelmed us, we could not believe our ears. This was the chance of a lifetime. We would be climbing the mountain of mountains with respected climbers like Naar, Hans van der Meulen and Edmond Öfner. And the two of us had been invited. Nice. Ronald would later call us ‘the Siamese twins’.... He wanted us to gain more experience with high-altitude climbing, and wanted us to climb the Eiger North Face. ... "

"July 1994 we were pumped up for the Eiger North Face. We had done many difficult Alpine routes. A year earlier, in August 1993, we had attempted the Nordwand but had been forced to turn around at Death bivouac. In addition to climbing these technical routes in the Alps, like the north faces of the Matterhorn, the Grandes Jorasses and the Eiger, we would later focus on climbing at higher altitudes. Our intensive training programme had begun, and K2’s image was firmly planted in our minds."

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"Diary fragments by Cas van de Gevel 

"Eiger North Face, July 1994. We are on our way. Tactics as follows: set up tent beneath face, wait for good weather and go! No noisy alarm clocks or irritating buzzers. A sandwich and coffee at 13.00, and then we leave. Relaxed. and this is how it should be. Hopefully the entire climb. Rushing a mountain wall like this is useless. It is much more important to be at the right place at the right time. Strict rules apply to different passages in the route. Don’t be on the Second Ice field, the Flat Iron or in the Spider in the afternoon. … with a bit of luck. Today we will try to reach the Swallow’s Nest. More waterfalls on the face, and the snow fields and ice fields are bigger. We soon pass the first pillar to reach the shattered pillar.

"This is where the difficulties begin. The Difficult Crack, a fifth-degree passage, is equipped with old, fixed ropes. We climb through this section without too much difficulty. It is striking that in the bottom part, multiple passages are equipped with fixed ropes. Until just after the Swallow’s Nest. After that only at the Corti Bivouac high in the face. More and more water is falling. Especially, now that we are here in the overhanging wall, the Rote Fluh. Here a curtain of water, provides a free shower. We try to stay dry, but quickly learn how difficult that is. While belaying, the water simply flows via the rope and your hands along your arms into your jacket. It’s impossible to stay dry. We are standing at the Hinterstoisser Traverse. It is still equipped with fixed ropes which also enable climbers to return along the same route. What would happen if there weren’t any ropes here? You would be trapped ... This was described in the tragedy about Toni Kurz in the book The White Spider. The party of four climbers did not leave a fixed rope, their retreat was cut off, and Toni Kurz died a tragic death just beyond the reach of his rescuers. He was the last survivor of the group."

" ... The ice field is at an angle of some 50 to 60 degrees and must be traversed along a 300-metre long section. The steepness and length are actually not the difficulties here. The Second Ice Field enjoys its fearsome reputation due to the large numbers of rocks dislodged by the warming sun. Two important factors play a part here: speed and luck. We both move together across the ice field on a shortened rope, and quickly pass it. We recognise the right approach to the Flat Iron from last year and find the right entry point. The Flat Iron is directly below the White Spider, and thus also dangerous. If the weather turns, all the rocks and ice collect in the White Spider, a cone-shaped ice field at the top section of the face, and will subsequently be deposited onto the lower-lying Flat Iron. Last year we suffered the consequences."

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" ... We pass below the White Spider on time, and hardly suffer from the gravity fed artillery. Three rope lengths later, we are standing at Death Bivouac. This is the place where last year, after a terrible night, we were forced to abandon the climb and struggle for hours to return safely.

"Now thunder and lightening. So loud and fierce we are unable to hear and see much. Powder snow is blowing all around us. We’re soaked. After this horrible night I can imagine, … now more than ever before… that you could die from misery and cold on a face like this. You could die in your bivouac. It is just a matter of time. It doesn’t require much effort. In 1935 this was what happened to Max Sedlmayer and Karl Mehringer. And Death Bivouac was named after them. Worth a thought."

"The Third Ice Field is not much fun. It is a long section, which is showered with stones and ice. Wilco is hit on his shoulder. His down jacket tears and feathers fly. All efforts to minimise the loss of down prove useless. The Ramp requires four rope lengths, a beautiful section. But the weather and visibility are deteriorating. The mist gives a whole new character to the route. Everything looks bleak. The Ramp is long. More and more water cascades down the steep sidewall that rises vertically to the right of us. We climb through to the next difficult passage that makes us so tense: Waterfall Chimney. The chimney about which such horrible stories abound. We imagine what it will be like. Getting soaked without being able to dry out is something of an off-putting experience. We have almost reached it. We can hear the water splashing. We go around the corner and see the Kamin. We assess the situation. A river at our feet. A twenty metres high waterfall. The mist makes it look macabre, and obstructs all further view."

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" ... It is almost twelve and more and more stones and ice are coming screaming down at us from the face through the exit cracks. They make noise as they fly. And they pass by always at unexpected moments. Not just when you are standing safe at a belay, but when you are concentrating on a difficult thrutch move. You never get used to the rain of rocks and ice coming down the mountain. All the more, because you can never be exactly sure where it is coming from and where it will end up."

" ... Together we hoist up the injured Thomas with the help of an improvised pulley system. Thomas uses his other arm to pull himself up on a fixed rope. Wilco is the last, untying the gear and bringing it up. Thomas’s gear is split among the three other rucksacks. It is all very time-consuming."

" ... Everyone is testing their limits. The weather also makes the environment daunting. Thomas finds appropriate wording: ‘macabre’. After many hours and many more rope lengths later, we arrive at the summit ice field. Evening has fallen. We quickly move on and when all that is left is the summit ridge, we know the top is ours.

"We summit at 20.00. The ropes, rucksacks and equipment are thrown on a heap, all shake hands. Wilco and I give each other a hug. We are happy. And still it hardly sinks in. Particularly Thomas is happy. Hats off to him. To our surprise two Koreans are on the summit. They climbed up via the normal route to meet their climbing buddies coming up the North Face. They have radio equipment which they kindly allow us to use to contact Kleine Scheidegg. The situation is somewhat unclear at first, but finally someone at the other end confirms our emergency call. The helicopter is on its way. It is already 23.00 and pitch black. The dull chop chop of the blades in the distance announces the imminent arrival of the helicopter from the valley. Its lights are clearly visible. The sound falls away and it looks as though it will simply fly on. We send emergency signals from the summit. Suddenly, it appears out of the east. Wind, dust, snow and ice all blow through the air. We have to be careful the gear is not blown away. Search lights are on as it hangs over us. The whole area is illuminated. A rescuer is lowered. He unclips and the helicopter disappears again. Ten minutes later it returns and Thomas and his rescuer are picked up. Thomas waves with his good arm and that’s it. It’s quiet again. ..."

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"First view of K2 

"I will never forget my first view of K2. After a seven-day trek through the Karakorum, already an achievement in itself, it stands before you. The imperturbable and mighty mountain towers high. You feel small next to this giant. A pure, rugged thing of terrifying size and beauty."

" ... At dinner we look out over the Godwin Austen glacier below us, perched in our eagle’s nest. This enormous glacier, where our base camp lies, crosses over into the Baltoro Glacier, that follows its way to Concordia. The glacier is about 70 kilometres long. The 8047 metre Broad Peak (also called K3) which stands across from us is coloured yellow ochre. The fourteen highest summits in the world are here in the Himalayas. Each is over 8000 metres. It’s humbling. You’re looking into the face of giants, and have not a single word to say if they get angry.

"A week ago Jordi Angeles, a young climber on a Spanish expedition, perished after a failed summit attempt. Descending exhausted on the Cesen Route high up on the mountain, he must have stumbled near camp 1 without being attached to a fixed rope. His body has been lying in a body bag for several days now, waiting for a helicopter to take it down. It all seems so far away, and yet it is all  so close. This sort of thing sadly comes with the territory."

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" ... something goes wrong. We are on unstable rocks. A lot of stones are coming loose as we are passing through gullies. They are falling down around us. I put the video camera back in the rucksack. Hans has just passed me, so is out of view. Cas is ten metres below me. I look between my legs and see him moving easily. It is steep and we need to watch carefully how and where we put feet and hands. And then I glance upwards to see what is above. I am concentrated. Just as I am about to make the next swift move, I hear Hans scream: ‘Watch out, rocks!’ As I look up, something the size of a kitchen cabinet hits me half on the head below my helmet, half on my shoulder. The air is squeezed from my lungs, everything goes black. There is no pain, but the blow has drained all energy from my body. Where am I? I lose contact with the mountain, and an ice-cold shiver moves through me. What happened? Time seems to stand still. Suddenly, the brute shock of the rope receiving the weight of my limp body. All is quiet. I am not hanging correctly. I am slanted, upside down, uncomfortable. One moment I am concentrating on climbing, the next I am hanging in the dark, tasting blood, vaguely aware of the cries from my climbing partners. I try to collect my thoughts. This is not good. Where am I, why does everything feel so strange? I slowly regain consciousness, and realise what must have happened. It starts to hit me. This could be difficult.

"From Wilco’s diary 

"I am exhausted. Every five metres, I must sit and regain my strength. Hans and Cas are managing the impossible: for five-and-half hours they pull and push me down the mountain in terrain that is highly exposed to stone falls and avalanches. During the descent, stones fly around our ears. Hans and Cas are constantly ducking and using all their senses to avoid the projectiles. I am blissfully unaware of this tango of theirs. ... One thing that does drift through is that without their help I will not make it off the mountain. If they don’t hold me and catch me every time I fall, I will fall off ... Although I feel I cannot continue, and Hans and Cas are also exhausted, they still force me to descend to the ABC at the foot of the mountain. I am not easily convinced. I debate the issue with Hans. I am desperate and irrational. I hurt. We shout at each other and, finally, I surrender. I am too exhausted to put up further resistance. I don’t care. I’ll do what they say. Just tell me what I should do."

" ... As soon as I am lying in the sledge, I lose consciousness. I am pulled along the glacier to base camp, a one-hour journey. I wake up  in base camp. I slowly regain consciousness, but am confused. My ears sing. Where am I? I can hardly move. For a brief moment I can’t feel the pain. But then I am helped up. Pain shoots all over the damn place. I swear and tears roll down my cheeks. I am carried into the base camp medical tent, placed on an air bed and immediately fall into a deep sleep. I am physically and mentally out for the count."

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" ... I realise how unreasonable I was up the mountain being so impulsive and not accepting my lot. K2 is a difficult and dangerous mountain. But I never thought this would happen to me. I have been climbing the Alps for over ten years. From simple routes to dangerous and technically hard, extreme north faces. Neither Cas nor I had ever suffered a serious accident, not even on the Eiger. ... "

" ... A Dutch doctor and nurse are waiting for me in Skardu. The law prescribes that I am not allowed to travel by myself with injuries like this. They escort me on the long journey back to the Netherlands. They mean well and I am grateful that they are with me, but I do not communicate a lot and remain withdrawn."

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January 31, 2023 - January 31, 2023. 

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Chapter 4 - The Return to K2 in 2006 

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"After my near-fatal accident in 1995 I more than ever realised why the climbing world views K2 as the Holy Grail. The mountain of mountains. Difficult, unpredictable, deadly and beautiful. I was determined to return. Over ten years passed with many expeditions around the world – from North Pole to South Pole – many climbs in the Alps – from the classic four thousanders to extreme north faces – before I would return there. Wonderful routes filled with challenges."

" ... I learned several hard lessons that would later prove useful on other expeditions. Patience, planning and experience in extreme cold were three important ones. Along with safety. I still remember how I passed through the eye of the needle ... "

" ... The world around me was white and familiar. Dangers were out of mind. Suddenly I collapse through the snow and lose control. Gravity does its work and pulls me into the void. With a thud I come to a standstill - hanging with my rucksack caught between two walls of ice above an enormous crevasse. Below me everything was black. I was surrounded by hard blue ice and I was gripped by fear. For a brief instant I panicked. I started shouting for help. I stared upwards. Above me, I could see the layer of snow that I had fallen through and the blue sky above. I regained my confidence and calmly reflected on the situation. Hans and Cas must have heard or seen it happen. They must be on their way, especially after hearing me scream. I hung there in dead silence, but nothing happened. Cold entered my body and I hung there very uncomfortable. Luckily, the loop of the ice axe was still attached to my hand. I tried to free myself with my ice axe and crampons, and to straddle upwards. I shouted at Cas and Hans again, but the sound was smothered by the ice walls. My shouting could barely reach beyond this deep, black chasm, let alone reach Hans or Cas, who were obviously still focused on climbing. It’s bizarre that in a mere fraction of a second you can fall and just disappear. Surely Cas should have seen the hole in the snow by now? He was climbing behind me. But I wasn’t going to wait. The cold and the position I was in, were starting to hurt. I had to escape from here at any cost. If I fell any deeper I would be in real trouble. And hypothermia would only take a matter of minutes. Even with the help of a rope, Cas and Hans would be unable to immediately free me from my precarious situation. Shivers were running down my spine. For the moment I would have to rely on myself. I felt like I had been hanging in this awkward position for minutes. The adrenaline in my body provided a burst of energy. I had to deal with this myself. I used all my effort to crawl up the crevasse. Centimetre by centimetre, and panting heavily I managed to free myself, and now had a bit more room. The enormous chasm still below me. But if the top layer of snow were to cave in, my escape would be blocked. I was extremely frightened. ... Cold shivers were replaced by overheating. Sweat was dripping. I was exhausted. With a final desperate attempt I managed to pull myself over the edge. I had freed myself. And learned another hard, but wise lesson: always rely on your own strength, do things yourself as much as possible.

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" ... The biggest risk that climbers face on K2 is in the five to seven-week acclimatisation period. It is crucial that the body gradually gets used to the altitude. And this requires careful effort. During this period the four camps are built and kilometres of fixed rope are attached to protect the climbers in their supply and practice runs. Climbing from the bottom to the summit of an eight thousander in one go is impossible. The climber has to move up and down the mountain for weeks on end. You ascend to camp 1 and then descend to base camp to rest. This is followed by climbing back up to camp 1, and the next day on to camp 2. And then going down to camp 1 again. This process is continued until all the camps are equipped with sleeping bags, stoves, food, mats and climbing gear, and the physical system has gotten accustomed to the extreme oxygen-thin conditions. Above 8000 metres there is only one third of the oxygen in the air as at sea level. It has been likened to running a marathon while breathing only through a straw. This is not a problem when you are resting. But the moment you make heavier demands of your body’s abilities it is one of mountaineering’s extreme tests. It is however best to spend as little time as possible in the aptly named ‘Death Zone’ above 8000 metres – a rapid ascent, touch the summit and a rapid descent. Always you need to be prepared. This law applies to all eight thousanders and is known to all serious climbers. K2 comes with an extra risk, which I learned the hard way: stone falls. Ground below the Abruzzi Ridge is famous for them. The rocks here whistle past, their sound reflecting their size, shape and speed. They vary in size from nuts to eggs, beer crates and refrigerators, even large bits of furniture. They are typically dislodged by melting snow, wind and erosion. The risks of them rearranging your body geometry can be limited by climbing fast from base camp to the summit in one go. But this is subject to two conditions. Number one is that you are already used to the altitude by acclimatising on another seven or eight thousander. And number two that other climbers fix safety ropes and set up the tents at the right locations. There was something to be said for this tactic. In 1995 I had seen how Alan Hinkes reached K2’s summit in the slipstream of the Dutch, who had equipped the entire route with fixed ropes, after failing his two previous attempts. This time he chose to begin on K2 after acclimatising for a period of three weeks on another mountain. When he arrived in base camp, he encountered a ‘ready-made’ route. And – together with a strong team – this approach gave him success."

"The plan was to spend the first five to six weeks of the climb acclimatising on the relatively safe Broad Peak (8047 metres). If the conditions were good we would then push on to the summit, quickly descend and go straight on to K2 that lies right next to Broad Peak. The two base camps are at three-hour walking distance from each other. Planning is crucial when doing a so-called double header. The actual climbing season only lasts just over two months, from June through early August. The Swiss mountain guide, Josette, had exclusively come to climb K2, and so she and two HAPs would set up the camps and acclimatise. A perfect plan. All the conditions to be able to execute the tactic of the double header had been met.

"Broad Peak may not have the magical ring to it of K2, but it certainly isn’t an easy mountain. Several interesting challenges present themselves at the summit. Once you have climbed the col, you climb the first rock tower that you see. This is the False Summit. This is followed by a long snow ridge to the next rock tower. Once you have this, you see another rock tower, and after this has been climbed the actual summit appears. After this, you are standing at the True Summit. Climbing these ‘gendarme’ rock formations is a very risky undertaking. One mistake and you will be three thousand metres below on the glacier ... "

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"As soon as the camps are up, the team enjoys its first success. Ryan Waters summits the True Summit. This feat creates a rush of optimism, everyone smells an opportunity. We also prepare ourselves for a summit attempt. I form the second team together with Gerard, Mark and Bill. I am the first member of the team to go up from camp 3. No other teams are on the mountain, for the time being we have to rely on ourselves. ... From camp 3 the route rises steeply along an area of glacier filled with seracs and deep crevasses. We have to be very careful. At 11.00 I turn around but cannot see anyone. I don’t understand it, don’t they realise that how heavy it will be today? And by remaining in camp 3, they are only making it harder on themselves. I ascend so fast, that at a certain point I can no longer see camp 3. Suddenly, I feel lonely and vulnerable. The cloud cover has increased and I occasionally find it difficult to follow the route to where camp 4 should be. The snow is very deep, sometimes hip deep; it’s physically and mentally hard. I am constantly looking for hard areas of snow. Now and then I choose to climb over the bergschrund, a crevasse between ice masses that move at different speeds, and risk falling in. It’s dangerous but saves time. No one would find me if I were to fall into a crevasse here. And even if they would find me, there would probably be insufficient rope for a rescue operation. ... "

" ... 15.00 I reach camp 4 after six hours of tracking. The tents are nowhere to be seen. If I cannot find the tents, then we don’t have any sleeping bags, gas canisters or shelter. It’s one thing not to have a bivouac, but not having gas canisters means we won’t be able to melt  snow and have a drink. In other words: no summit attempt! Are the tents buried beneath the snow or did they blow away in a storm? I start digging at what seems the most logical spot and soon uncover the first tent. ... "

" ... I feel good, have had enough to eat and drink, and watch the sun set in the valley. High up on the mountain here, the sun will keep shining until 20.30. What an amazing view. I record it on video, but the lens only captures a tiny part of this indescribable scene. What pure beauty."

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"Mark arrives at 21.00. It is dark and I am already  in my sleeping bag. Mark is upset: several hundred metres before the camp he got caught in a small avalanche. He was scared to death. He even screamed, but we didn’t hear anything. Ending up alone in the dark in an avalanche is terrifying. Once he has recovered, I tell him to drink as much a possible, and that the departure time is 02.00. He nods, and in his tiny tent, he tries to light the stove to melt snow."

"We leave according to plan at 02.00. But ... Mark has no strength left. He turns around, Gerard and I continue climbing without saying a word. Camp 4 stands below an overhanging serac. We turn the corner of the serac and the steep climbing work can begin. The slope is 60 to 70 degrees steep, and I exclaim to Gerard that I cannot remember this section. We focus both  headlamps upwards, but cannot see further than 50 metres. We think we are in the wrong place and need daylight to confirm the route. If we climb in the wrong direction, it will cost us the summit attempt and could lead us into serious danger. I propose to return to the tent while it’s still possible, and try again at first light. But I cannot understand it. During the previous attempt I just went round the corner, followed the glacier and ended up in a large bowl at the bottom of the extension to the col. Now we are standing on the right side of seracs, and the way up is extremely steep. Last time I was using my ski poles, this time I need my ice axe. We decide to go back down. Disappointed. A while later I zip the tent open and find Mark shaking under my sleeping bag. Back already? Yes, we weren’t sure about the route, we want to wait for daylight."

................................................................................................

" ... The Austrians rest up with us. An Argentine has climbed up with them and he continues up the route. We follow the Argentine and can see the route by daylight. We discover we were on the route after all! To reach higher up the col one can choose to climb a steep ice wall to the right of the seracs or, like I did the first time, left of the seracs and then gradually follow the glacier – but this meant you had to start climbing from a much lower point to the col, and with a lot more snow. A missed opportunity. The advantage is that now we can give it our best effort with the help of the Argentine and the three Austrians. ... "

" ... When I finally reach the col, the Argentine is lying exhausted in the snow. I settle down next to him, and what I see is incredible. What a view. I look left and  see Central Summit (8013 m) and much further to the right an even more impressive view of Main Summit (8047 m). I am beat, but can barely wait. On the other side of the col is an endlessly deep abyss ... The other side of Broad Peak is steep and now I understand why Broad Peak’s Main Summit has not yet been climbed from ... What ice formations and what an unbelievably steep wall. We continue, deeply impressed by the views. ... I recognise Gasherbrum I, II, III and IV. Only K2 is still significantly higher. Broad Peak is also referred to as the Breithorn of the Baltoro, because it looks rather like Switzerland’s Breithorn, and also has multiple summits. We follow a razor-sharp ridge and clip onto old ropes that we have found. The rocky ridge is very exposed. As I shuffle along it on my hands and feet, a gigantic chunk of snow breaks off and thunders into the depths. My right backside is still on a rock. I throw my weight to the right and tremble. ... "

"After the summit the route continues along an unstable ridge which first descends a bit and then rises towards the next gendarme, several dozen metres higher. Up and down. Time is short. Because we left late, we did not bring headlamps. We estimate that there is at least another two hours of climbing ahead of us. This means we will lose daylight. We climb on, but we are only delaying the inevitable. On the flank of the second gendarme I say that we should turn back. A hard and difficult decision, but the right one. We are standing in between the two summits. It is magnificent weather on the Broad Peak massif, we can see in all directions. But we realise we also need to get safely back down. In our plan of the double header, Broad Peak primarily served as acclimatisation. Looked at this way, this part of the expedition was very successful."

................................................................................................

" ... Descending the same route is not an option, as this means abseiling down the steep ice wall we climbed this morning. I choose a straight line from the col to camp 4. Gerard follows in my tracks. I am taking my time, determining camp 4’s exact position is also difficult on the way down. The face is steep and the tents are below an overhanging serac. I reach a section of the glacier that descends vertically into the abyss. Not a good idea, the bottom part disappears into a crevasse. I can see an old black rope hanging to my left, unfortunately it is taut and frozen. I refuse to go back up, even though I know that I’ll have to let go and make a fall at the last section, hopefully into soft snow. I am no longer thinking, I’m too tired, and on the rope I let go. But I lose control, I feel my body accelerate and go crashing down. All the fibres in my tired body stiffen and I look at where I will land. What an uncontrolled fall. The snow was harder than I thought, and I have twisted my knee. But a sense of relief prevails and when I get up I’m – oh my god! – at the bottom of the serac at camp 4. ... I quickly start the descent to camp 3 to create a trail and find the route back before dark. I hurry. The route to camp 3 is partly marked with red flags. I reach camp 3 at 20.00. We have managed to return before dark. ... "

"The next day we descend fast. At around 16.00, I am on the final metres from camp 1 to the Concordia Glacier, which is followed by a ninety minute trek across the moraine to Broad Peak’s base camp. You think you are safe on this last section, but this is deceptive. Stones are much likelier to fall in a period of good warm weather, like now, the warmth melting the glue that keeps them normally in place. And I have no helmet. I am still moving fast, and don’t want to be here too long. ... "

"A little further, at the foot of Broad Peak Glacier, I see three people pulling on a rope. I realise that someone has fallen into a crevasse. They are calling for help. I leave my heavy rucksack and go to help them. ... Using all our strength we pull Jorge, a Spaniard, out of the crevasse. He fell at least ten metres to the bottom. He is now drenched and suffering from hypothermia. ... "

" ... It is awful what is happening high up on the mountain. Two climbers are about to face their second night in a snow hole at 8000 metres, without water. We are powerless to help."

"Awful news reaches the camp. The Polish climbers have found the Austrians, and one of them, Markus, the expedition leader, did not survive the second bivouac at over 8000 metres. My stomach turns. The day before yesterday Gerard and I spoke a few words with Markus and his fellow climber, during our descent. The Polish climbers are taking care of the other Austrian and bringing him back to camp 3 today. What a tragedy."

................................................................................................


"K2 Base Camp 2006 

"When we exchange Broad Peak for K2, we have no idea what we will encounter. ... The Russians from another expedition  are waiting for a better weather window, and first want to take up gear to set up camp 3. So be it. This is the plan. During the discussion an enormous avalanche comes crashing down along the route. Anyone caught in it would have had no chance. We know that nobody is on the mountain, and so laugh with that look of ‘there but for the grace of God…’ ... "

" ... A walk of around one hour across the glacier. The memorial was erected in 1953 to commemorate climber Art Gilkey, who was part of the second American K2 expedition. It has become something of a place of pilgrimage for many expedition climbers; I had visited it years ago. I am surprised by the number of names that have been added. ... "

................................................................................................

"On 19 July we leave for ABC at around 16.00. The weather is not great. It has been cloudy for days, and starts snowing just before our departure. The six HAPs are already on their way. They will climb one day in advance to secure the camps, and bring up oxygen for the climbers who will be using it. The plan is simple: when we climb to camp 1, they will climb to camp 2. The next day will be followed by our ascent to camp 2 and their ascent to camp 3. We hope that at least two of the six HAPs will be strong and motivated enough to climb to camp 4, and maybe summit. This would be the ideal scenario. If not, they will descend and take our (Gerard, Mick, Ryan and my) two lightweight tents, 300 metres of rope, gas, ice axes, screws and four oxygen bottles for Ryan and Mick. We will need to track and set out the route to camp 4 ourselves. After a short night in our bivouac we should be able to undertake the summit attempt.

"In our strategy of the ‘double header’ we assumed – and that was also the deal – that preparations would already have been made on K2, during our acclimatisation on Broad Peak. The weather had been great, and we had reason  to be optimistic about what we would find there. The strange thing was that, in the entire season from May onwards, no one had set foot towards camp 4. We had to rely on ourselves on the most crucial part of the route. This fact provoked surprised reactions in our Broad Peak group. For almost the entire month of June the weather had been magnificent. But none of the expeditions (Russian, Italian, French-Canadian, Japanese or Pakistani) had reached camp 4. We had only been here two weeks and were already ahead of the other expeditions. It was inevitable that the different tempos and understanding of duties would get in the way of a good cooperation.

"The intention had been to work closely together. We had laid out our strategy for the summit attempt. Everyone agreed: due to the different climbing strategies and speeds, we would make sure that on 22 July we would be in camp 3. The equipment that everyone would be using on the mountain would be equally divided among all of us. This included several hundred metres of rope, ice screws, ice axes and flags for marking the route. Our objective was to open the track in the deep snow to camp 4, and finally attempt the summit together."

................................................................................................

" ... The people remaining behind watch us over the moraines, before we step onto the enormous Godwin Austen Glacier and gradually begin our ascent. But what seems an innocent-looking glacier, gradually loses its pretty character. The crevasses gradually become larger and deeper, the watercourses in the glacial channels become veritable rivers. Higher up, the ice towers and seracs become more impressive and threatening. The terrain is more ominous, one can ever more easily lose his way here. The Japanese have tried to flag a route, but the swirling rivers flow so hard, and the glacial ice melts so quickly, that the flags did not remain standing for a day. Fortunately, Ryan has already walked this route twice, and points us to a different one. This goes along a large, wild river along the centre of the glacier. We must stay close together and watch for each other. It only takes a moment, an instant for someone to disappear  into a dark chasm, get lost behind an ice tower, and for the team to break up and lose the trail. I understand why we are taking our time and have left in the afternoon instead of early morning. It is best to cross this section during daylight. And the journey to ABC, at 5400 metres, is only  two hours away, so there is no need to rush. This is where the serious climbing work will begin. The route here follows a 45-degree slope that is prone to stone avalanches and leads to camp 1 at 6150 metres. The slope should be ascended early in the morning and not at 10.00 when the sun is beating down. The heat melts the ice, and stones, previously safely frozen into place, rain down unannounced on the vulnerable human teams below. When the atmosphere is warm it is obviously wiser to be past this section and to have reached the relative safety of camp 1. After a short search, we manage to escape the ice valley and reach firm ground: the moraine ridge below the slopes of the Abruzzi Ridge. There are two tents waiting for us here."

" ... Gerard is always the optimist and a level-headed guy. He is convinced that we will cross the area so prone to rock falls unscathed. I think back to my last time here in the ice valley when I had only one functioning eye and no depth perception. I had also an open fracture to my left arm, which was tied firmly to my body and tucked under my jacket. I staggered around, lost one-and-half litres of blood and was blissfully pumped full of morphine. At the time, there seemed to be no end to this ice valley, until I lost consciousness and the other expedition members brought me down on an improvised sled back to base camp. This spot where the tent is located does not hold warm memories for me.

"The next morning, we rise at 04.00 and, 30 minutes later, leave for camp 1 at 6150 metres. It is still pretty cold and we ascend rapidly. We stay as close as possible to the wall, and hide behind the rocks to protect ourselves from falling stones. The stones that fly past fall from somewhere up around 7000 metres. Even the small ones are potentially murderous. The sounds they make are also terrifying. When you hear that fizz, that buzz, all you can do is pray the stones don’t hit. It starts with a humming sound and then vrrmm... vrrmm... vrrmm... an infernal whistle that stays locked in the memory of everyone who has been to the high mountains. It is truly scary. Best not to think about it too much. Just keep small, keep climbing and keep up the pace."

................................................................................................

" ... After three hours I reach camp 1 at 6150 metres. I am pleased. On this section I have only heard one stone flying past. When I arrive in camp 1, I expect to be able to lie in my tent, melt snow, drink tea, eat lots of sugary sources of energy and rest for the morrow. The HAPs, however, have other ideas. Four of them are sitting in one tent drinking, relaxing and chatting. The other two are snoring in the other tent. At first I laugh about it. I realise that I have ascended quickly, and have ‘surprised’ the HAPs with my arrival. According to the agreement they should now be going up to prepare camp 2, and for the moment they show no intention of leaving. When I mention this, they appear to have suddenly changed their mind.  They say the wind is blowing too hard. I wait until Ryan arrives half an hour later and notice that he also has difficulty swallowing his disappointment on the attitude of the HAPs. The plan is under threat. Ryan says it was clearly explained to them in base camp and they should stick to the agreement. At base camp the question had been asked who was motivated enough to work for the expedition. Everyone had responded enthusiastically. But now there is wind and the initial enthusiasm seems to have waned somewhat. Takhi, the responsible HAP, is in a  conundrum. He knows by now that our weather forecasts are reliable and he can believe us when we say the wind will not be blowing hard. But you need to win everyone over. In any case, camp 1 simply does not have enough room for so many people. Two two-person tents have been set up on a small ledge, everyone is crammed together and there is barely room to move. Six HAPs and four climbers on this tiny ledge is not going to work. I am getting cold and want to crawl into one of the tents. Again I explain the wind may seem strong, but this is only the thermal flow up the slopes. In the afternoon the wind will settle, and evening might even be windless. The HAPs do not believe it. I start putting their gear outside the tent. Rucksacks, stoves, sleeping mats, gloves, climbing gear. Luckily, they come round, Takhi and Akbar are in favour of going up. I wonder how this ‘argument’ would have ended if they would not have budged. Finally, five of them leave and promise to return if the wind is too strong. In that case they must take two tents back down, dig a plateau and set them up in camp 1. The sixth HAP is sick and needs to descend. ... The climb was great, but I had not counted on this reluctance. Fortunately, the HAPs do not return and by around 17.00 the wind has died completely."

It never occurs to them that this surprising reluctance, after promises, isn't surprising to the locals, but counted on? 

................................................................................................

" ... During this part of the climb, between camp 1 and 2, you are fully aware you are on the infamous Abruzzi Ridge, from where most of the stones fall. In spite of this permanent danger I fully enjoy the ‘airy’ climb and allow myself the time to soak up the wonderful colours and enormous rock formations. The climb leads higher and higher. We reach House’s Chimney - a rock corner to the left of around 20 metres. Thierry Schmitter, part of our team in 1995, then opened the ‘Schmitter variant’; considering it easier than House’s Chimney. I want to film and let Ryan lead. I recognise the yellow band of rock and the ladder dangling there. Other climbers have told me not to trust the new rope, but to trust the old blue rope. Hats off for the very first climbers on K2, who had to climb this without rope and ladders, and did so much of the pioneering work on this enormously difficult mountain.

"We manage to scale House’s Chimney fairly easily and feel we have entered a new phase in the expedition. Another milestone. Above House’s Chimney we easily reach the always windy location of camp 2. It is a graveyard of tents. Whenever the wind picks up, this place takes a serious beating. The tents and contents of the Pakistani climbers have been blown into the abyss, as well as the tents of the Irishman, Banjo and Polish climber, Jacek. Our two three-person tents are still safe and firmly anchored.

"Déjà vu. After four hours of wonderful climbing, I run into the same thing that occurred in camp 1. The five HAPs are sitting comfortably in the tent, drinking tea and chatting. I try to stay calm."

When does West plan to learn? 

Honour from pakis, unlike climbers from Nepal or Darjeeling et al, is strictly limited to within their own faith, regardless of payments and promises. 

Anyone outside their creed isn't a human on par, just someone to extract from, until he can no longer serve that purpose - and that's about human males! Rest are not even supposed, as per the paki creed, to possess souls, therefore not worthy of consideration any more than animals or furniture. 

Indeed, latter may be valued far more. 

................................................................................................

"A three-person tent is available, but only two thirds of it is anchored down on the snow and ice, while one third hangs in the air as a result of the incline. It’s the same old song, the porters are refusing to climb to the next camp, and once again they are complaining about the strong wind. The wind in camp 2 is more of a rule than an exception, because this area is located beneath an enormous mass of rock, from where the route ascends steeply. This time, the porters are refusing to move and this means that four of us will have to share the three-man tent.  Due to the incline this is effectively only a two-man tent. There is no other option as there is no room to set up the two lightweight tents. Our tents are here, along with the Italians’ broken tent, and Russians’ and Antoine’s tent. Tomorrow Antoine will climb with us to camp 3, along with the five HAPs. We resign ourselves to the situation, and prepare for a restless night."

A Sherpa would have behaved far more honourably, but abrahmic West has blinkers, preferring abrahmics - who do not return the favour of considering them equals, despite being paid for promised services. 

................................................................................................

"The next morning, we awake, all four of us having slept badly due to the lack of space. On the up side, it wasn’t cold. As predicted, the wind settled in the afternoon and remained calm throughout the night. Another confirmation that we can rely on the weather forecasts from the home front. Today we will focus on climbing the ‘Black Pyramid’. Takhi, the leader of the HAPs, is sick and descends. Four other HAPs are climbing to camp 3 and hopefully on to camp 4. The four remaining HAPs leave early and that pleases me. They just want to arrive at camp 3 on time. That is a good sign. I am the first to leave after the HAPs, and ninety minutes later am climbing in the crux. The Black Pyramid is a massive, black pyramid of rock that blocks any further view of K2. You must first pass it in order to see where you are going. It is pure rock climbing, around 1000 metres, with a band of rock that is similar to House’s Chimney. A nice climb. The first passage rises over 30 metres vertically. There are old ropes here and a wobbly, ladder attached to steel cables. Luckily there are no other climbers. Ryan is climbing below me, and Gerard below him. I wait for Ryan so I can also photograph and film this passage. Ryan doesn’t feel like going first, but does anyway. He slowly but competently struggles through the crux on the Black Pyramid, with his heavy pack on. I follow and find out that this passage is a lot harder than House’s Chimney. It is a long day, it’s cloudy and occasionally the view of the route to camp 3 completely disappears from view. I still trust the weather forecasts that say the cloud will disappear higher up and the wind will fall. Once we have passed Black Pyramid, we climb out of the rocks and go onto the ice on the glacier.

"We meet the first two HAPs on their way down. That was quick. We ask how far the climb to camp 3 is, they have dropped their loads – ropes, oxygen bottles and tents. They smile and say it’s another two hours. We climb on finally past the last two HAPs. We reach a narrow extension of the final rock ledge and discover two lengths of each at least 100 metres of rope. Ryan decides to take up one roll and I the other. We climb on, over the ice on the glacier at the bottom of K2’s shoulder. I think I can see the end point where camp 3 should be. Strange, it’s in the middle of a slope that disappears two-and-half kilometres into the depths below. Not the greatest place for a tent. We soon find out what has happened. The HAPs have just dropped their loads in the middle of the flank. Every day the HAPs have another wonderful surprise in store for us. I plump down next to the stocks and wait for the rest. Gerard arrives first, he grunts at this new setback, braces himself, picks up the three-person tent and some ice axes and ties the whole bunch onto his heavy rucksack. I follow his example and take what I can carry. I leave the three oxygen bottles for flowing climbers. I later hear that Ryan and Mick also leave behind the oxygen because they cannot make it. I see Antoine climbing ahead of Gerard. He left earlier, but I can see that he is completely exhausted. He climbs ten metres and then leans on his ice axe. His tongue is hanging from his mouth. But it has to be said, he is tough. He keeps climbing and is the first to reach camp 3. Camp 3 stands at a corner of the glacier, with a view of  the Godwin Austen Glacier, 2.5 kilometres below us. A truly amazing sight. Looking carefully, one can see the pin-head that is our base camp. Above us is the extension of the shoulder of K2, with an enormous serac zone in front. We will leave this task for tomorrow. We will build up our camp first and then rest. It’s fairly late, and it’s been a long day. The last two HAPs arrive with Ryan and Mick. Akbar, one of the porters, is a good guy. We ask him to stay so he can climb with us tomorrow. He agrees.

"Later on we will find out what the real reason was why the two HAPs did not take up the gear to camp 3, but left it 250 metres lower. Apparently, later that day, they did an extra job for the French-Canadian expedition leader. They had double work to do. And apparently the fact that we had already hired them, paid them well and were busy on our summit attempt, did not really interest them. Yes, market forces also apply on K2. The one who pays the most, gets the most done. There goes your good intentions and delicate strategy. A shame, but that’s the way it is. We wonder whether we can call this progress…."

No, it's neither market nor progress, but the unreliability of pakis, completely opposite that of Sherpas. 

The former can cheat for whim, too, not just because someone else paid more. 

................................................................................................

" ... Gerard and I are each carrying up an extra 100-metres of rope, and our rucksacks are really heavy. At base camp we had measured everything up to the gram and made careful choices as to what gear to bring up. And now, we are burdened with these extra ropes, ice screws and ice axes. We will have to manage, because the Bottleneck can only be overcome if we secure it. We made agreements and if everyone would have kept to them, we would not be having these problems. The reality of the situation is different, and can only rely on ourselves. The Italians, Russians and Pakistanis are nowhere to be seen. ... "

" ...  Clouds are gathering, and sometimes we are unable to see much. There is also wind, and Gerard, in particular, does not trust the situation. On a mountain like K2, you can never be careful enough. ... every climber is responsible for their own actions. The climber himself must decide if and when they will turn around. I am not a huge proponent of waiting for each other, deliberating and making new choices at each setback or change in pace. That takes too much time. The train must remain in motion. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work like that. The pace is dropping.

"Gerard spots another problem. He feels it is irresponsible to climb the shoulder without clearly marking the route, because he is uncertain that visibility will be sufficient on the descent. ... It is a large glacier and if you need to turn around and do not have any markings, you risk falling and ending up on the wrong side of the mountain. And there no one will ever find you. I am convinced of my weather forecast. The mist and clouds are only veils and will not get worse, but will burn off. Gerard remains hesitant, but is finally persuaded. We climb on, the train is in motion again. We ascend steadily, gasping for air, but with a clear goal in mind. Camp 4, on the way to the summit of K2.

................................................................................................

"A new obstacle presents itself. In front of us lies the enormous serac zone, which we must cross along the top. It looks appealing to climb across it. It is a slope that leads to the left at around a 40 degree angle; ideal for avalanches. There is snow cover, lying loosely on top, but we don’t trust it. The alternative is not so great either: pass below the gigantic ice towers and enormous crevasses. There is no other option. We choose to climb through the seracs. And hope to get through them quickly. But it’s not easy. They look manageable from a distance, but we are soon up to our hips in snow. We take turns to fight our way through. This train is no longer running  smoothly. Up until now Gerard, Ryan, Antoine and myself have all shared the lead, but now it’s a mess and the situation is deteriorating. We are pleased when we pass the next step. It is extremely heavy going. We continue against our better judgement. I take the lead and am confronted with a crevasse. The snow is metres deep. Snow everywhere, no firm or hard ice anywhere. I dig like a madman. At a certain point, I cannot help but think that I’m not on the route. I turn around and look at my mates, but no one responds. I propose to set up our temporary camp 4 further on, at the edge of the glacier at over 7700 metres. After some deliberation we decide to continue up the shoulder.

"Antoine is leading. With the help of two ice axes he is working his way across a crevasse. Shivers run down my spine: I was unable to find the edge when I tried. Antoine has not even crossed the crevasse when he discovers the next one beneath the snow, it appears even bigger. He has also had enough. We decide to go back down to the dangerous avalanche slope, and make a depot there for our tents, ropes, ice screws and ice axes; and then to return camp 3.

"The six of us, Ryan Waters, Mick Murphy, Gerard McDonnell, Antoine Girrard, Banjo Bannon, who just arrived and me, spend the night in camp 3. We hope to track up to camp 4 the next day, and that has been properly prepared. The weather forecast is becoming clearer and my confidence in the predictions of our weatherman Ab Maas only grows. We are barely able to speak. We are worn out, and have lost a lot time talking and searching for the route."

"The night is spent tossing and turning in the tent. We awake feeling broken. We can feel that we wasted a lot of energy yesterday and last night. And before we realise it, the atmosphere in the group has turned into a negative downwards spiral. Antoine is the first to exclaim that he is ready to pack it in. He decides to go back down, he is sick and weak. Last night Mick had already decided not to go up. I have placed all my hope in Gerard and Ryan; however Gerard has had a bad night. I don’t even need to ask what he plans to do. And Ryan is also having his doubts, he is shocked at how little energy he had left yesterday. He assumed that he would not have his usual strength on K2 after having climbed Broad Peak. Hence his plan to climb K2 with extra oxygen. However, the bottles can only be used above 8000 metres, otherwise the plan will not work. Dragging the bottles up the mountain also proves to be an enormous task. The thought alone tires him out."

" ... The decision is quickly made. We will go back down. Spending another night at 7500 metres while feeling unstable will be a tremendous burden on the body.

................................................................................................

"During the descent all four of us are unscathed by the numerous falling stones. We all pass through the eye of the needle, and are even too tired to realise. On one occasion Gerard warns me from below when he spots a rock. I am preoccupied with abseiling, but fortunately crouch at the right moment. I look at Gerard: I don’t want to look up anymore. Of course it’s like sticking you’re head in the sand. I crouch and say a short prayer when I hear the horrific fizzing sound.. vrrmm... vrrmm... All over in seconds of course. My heart races as I continue the route. Ryan is the only one who is hit. His knee is stiff and swollen, but not broken.

"In camp 2 we hear that Nick has been hit on the chest by a rock several metres in diameter. The accident happened somewhere between ABC and camp 1. We hear via the radio that his arm is broken and he is waiting for us. We pick up the pace and hurry down. It is strange sensation, but this time I am convinced that I will not fall victim to any rock avalanches. An intangible feeling that is not based on any particular logic. When Ryan later tells me that over the years he has encountered the greatest risks on this part of the descent, it hits me that I have just been lucky.

"After two hours we finally reach Nick and learn that his injury is not as bad as we thought. ... Tired, but happy to have survived, we walk back to base camp, where the cook welcomes us with a delicious meal."

"We quickly recover and are not discouraged by the setbacks. Another summit attempt will be undertaken in a few days. The opportunity quickly presents itself. I decide to go back up ... "

................................................................................................

" ...  Stones whizz past every few minutes, but it is no worse than we have experienced over the past days. It is wise to spend as little time here as possible, so you climb at your own speed and try to get out of the danger zone as quickly as possible. Somewhere between camp 1 and 2 disaster strikes, although I initially don't notice anything. Below me, Gerard is hit by a stone. I am not aware of it  and continue towards camp 2.

"Gerard is hit on his head. He has a nasty, deep wound, although he is lucky to be wearing a special experimental Kevlar helmet. This probably saved him. An ordinary helmet would never have withstood the shock. But his situation is extremely precarious and life-threatening. Banjo, Mick and Jacek see the accident happen and immediately go to him. They work together to get him down to the relative safety of the ABC. Gerard  needs to be taken off the mountain and to a hospital as soon as possible.

"In the meantime, without being aware of the drama unfolding beneath me, I wait in camp 2. I wonder where my fellow climbers are. I prepare the camp for their arrival; but there is no sign of Gerard, Mick, Banjo or Jacek. Descending is not an option, it is too late. I cannot communicate with them because I left the satellite phone at the advanced base camp that morning. A night of uncertainty follows. No one comes up. I am alone and wonder what has happened.

"The next day likewise I am hit by doubt. The conditions on the mountain are reasonably good. I decide to climb on to camp 3 by myself. A small window to reach the summit remains, and I decide to grab this opportunity. At some point I must have thought to myself that to continue climbing was against my better judgement. I would never make the run to the summit without the support of my fellow climbers. The longer you remain alone on the dangerous face of K2, the more you are hit by doubt. Danger lurks everywhere.

"Shortly after, Gerard is helped towards base camp and the same day he is taken off the mountain and flown to the hospital on Skardu. After arriving in the safety of  camp 3, I hear the sound of a helicopter. This causes me huge concern. All my alarm bells ring. What has happened? I decide to wait a while and rest after my climb, but I know I won’t be climbing to camp 4. I can be certain of that. I vaguely hope that someone will come up to bring news from below, but nothing happens."

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"In the meantime, Banjo and Jacek have gone back up, from ABC to camp 2 in one go. The next day I begin  my descent – being alone on the mountain is no fun. Below camp 3 I finally run into Jacek and Banjo. I am initially relieved to see two familiar faces, but when they explain what has happened to Gerard, I am ready to give up. The expedition is definitely not blessed. Given the circumstances, Gerard appears to be well, his is not in mortal danger.  Banjo and Jacek plan to climb on and they manage to convince me, but I am no longer feeling confident. Jacek lets me borrow his satellite phone to call home.

"The rest of the climb occurs in a haze. I am timid and the conditions are not improving. There is a lot of snow on the way up to camp 4, visibility is poor and our rucksacks are extremely heavy; this all prevents us from being fully in control. When a total white-out arrives we realise this phase has come to an end. Carrying on would be suicidal. We discuss the situation, but I cannot see any ray of hope. I decide to pull the plug. I have reached my breaking point. This is it. Enough is enough. I descend. Banjo and Jacek continue upwards."

" ... In spite of everything, Banjo Bannon and Jacek Teler risk another summit attempt. They have joined up with the Russian team. An enormous avalanche has occurred above the Bottleneck. This avalanche has carried off four members of the Russian climbing team, and dragged them to their deaths. Banjo and Jacek and the survivors of the Russian team manage to return safely to base camp. When I hear the news, shivers run down my spine. These events have a serious impact on me, I take stock of the situation. Once again, K2 has shown its worst side."

" ... It is remarkable that with the help of modern communication technology I could rely on better and more up-to-date data than many others on the mountain. This has also kept me on the right side of risk. This expedition also yet again demonstrated that the natural laws of the eight-thousanders cannot be bent or broken. ... The difference between life and death, particularly on K2, is a thin elastic band. If you stretch it too far, it snaps."

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January 31, 2023 - February 01, 2023. 

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Chapter 5 - K2 Summit Ascent 2008 

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"Every day K2 presents a slightly different picture. And however paradoxical it may sound, I love it when the jet stream blasts the mountain to create furious white summit plumes. K2 stands proud; it sits there, threatening, immoveable, self confident. Those fierce winds flay its flanks, blowing away everything that doesn’t belong on the mountain. And any climber unlucky enough to be caught up in such a storm faces a serious survival challenge. The climber knows the risks up there, but from a safe distance the graceful plumes look beautiful. They are warning signals; the mountain of mountains is letting you know you may not be welcome today, so perhaps postpone your effort for a gentler moment. Today? don’t even consider trying it. It gives a strange sense of excitement to see how powerful the elements can be up there – where I soon hope to be standing when conditions improve – while still finding myself in the relative safety of base camp. The panorama is sensationally beautiful. Here in base camp we have front row seats in the theatre of weather on show each day. However, this is not why we are here. ... "

"On Sunday 27 July the enormous Korean expedition, together with the Serbs and Americans, will leave for camp 1 on the Abruzzi Ridge. A day later we will set off via the Cesen Route directly towards camp 2 at 6400 metres, together with Hughes and his two HAPs, the American Nick Rice and the Serb Hosolito. All other climbers will ascend via the Abruzzi Ridge. From camp 4 at around 7700 metres the Cesen Route and the route along the Abruzzi Ridge come together and continue as one. Relaxing while waiting in base camp has done our physical abilities a lot of good."

" ... when our turn comes we make it to camp 2 in one push. ... "

" ... after our ‘sprint’ along the Cesen Route, even before arriving in camp 2, we are met with disappointing news. The co-operative effort that we agreed on in base camp now feels like a millstone around our necks. We must wait because Korean expedition leader Kim, and the Serbs on the Abruzzi Ridge feel that the wind is blowing too hard to leave for camp 3. If we don’t match our efforts we won’t reach camp 4 at the same time. A joint summit attempt will probably not be possible. ... "

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"I feel it’s best to put it aside and begin again. A day later on Wednesday 30 July, we leave for camp 3. The weather is perfect. Now let’s hope that it stays perfect for the Koreans, Serbs and Americans so that they can find their way and secure the route up to camp 4. Later on we hear that Hughes and his two HAPs have already left for camp 4, and plan to set up camp 3.5. The idea being that this would halve the distance between camp 3 and camp 4. We could have told them that this plan will probably not work as the terrain is just too steep and rocky. There is simply no place to put up a tent. The weather is fantastic and the forecast for the coming days remains positive. There are barely any clouds thanks to a drop in atmospheric humidity, and the wind is expected to drop further. Our spirits are high and mood good as we prepare to overnight at camp 3. In spite of the lost day we are feeling good. Our patience has been tested to the limit, but our time has come. The situation looks much better than during our first summit attempt, even though we then had the whole mountain to ourselves. Now there are several teams on the mountain, though if we successfully work together we stand a good chance of a win. ... "

"But the night of 30 to 31 July sees hell break loose. We are awoken from sleep by a rapidly strengthening wind, and thundering violence. Scary and horrible. The storm rapidly grows to a level we have never experienced before. ... The tent flaps are frozen, but the tension on the canvas is enormous and the savage wind the tent must endure is something else. I am worried about the canvas. I estimate the wind to be over 100 km/h. The adrenaline courses through our systems. Occasionally we doze off, but then another massive gust hits the tent and has us sitting up straight clutching our nerves. We hardly speak. ... there should never be so much wind - in a radius of 300 kilometres there is no disturbance to be seen on his radar. Ab suspects these are katabatic  winds that rage down the steep slopes from the shoulder, some 700 metres above us. The call does nothing to ease my mind. ... if the tent rips apart we are lost, everything is lying loose in the tent – boots, inners, climbing equipment, helmets, harnesses, jumars, screws, axes, clothes, burner, food, drinks. I feel my throat clinching in fear as I consider the realistic chance that in a couple of seconds we could effectively be lying outside, and blown down the mountain with as much ease as the feathers in our sleeping bags. I try to fool myself by putting earplugs in my ears to ban the wind. But this only works for an instant; the gusts are just too strong. ... "

"The next morning the wind dies down, and we debate the situation. No one trusts the weather forecasts any longer. How can the weather window seem so perfect, and suddenly we are caught in a veritable hurricane? There is no explanation for it. And what is worse, reliance on the weather forecasts has suffered a serious blow. This may mean the end of the expedition. ... "

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" ...  You don’t climb K2 in unstable weather conditions like these. If you were on any other mountain, you might venture a gamble. Like on the adjacent Broad Peak for example. But K2, ‘the savage mountain’? No way. We discuss the situation again, and even Pemba who is always so wise and stable, cannot believe that the weather forecast is correct. I have had it. We have done our best, seized every opportunity. There is nothing more we can do.

"Finally, the storm settles and I call Maarten at 8.00 again to check the weather outlook. He maintains regular contact with Ab. They insist that the weather will be perfect and that the wind will die. I am confused. ... Finally I am convinced, and feel it is now or never. This will be last chance this season before the start of the monsoons. The wind dies down further, and I convince the rest of the group. ... "

"Wonders never cease. The weather turns out beautiful. No wind, sheer blue sky. It is all in the game. Was this our final trial? We climb steadily onwards and after some hours reach the highest fixed ropes. The first part has gone smoothly and I almost forgot about the stormy night. We put all the equipment in the rucksack that was previously left here.

"Gas canisters, three 100 metre lengths of rope, two lengths of lightweight rope of 200 metres each, route marker flags, ice axes, tents. We climb on and fix ropes on the last 200 metres to the shoulder. We climb a rock pyramid via an old rope and finally reach the shoulder. Jelle is ahead of me, Pemba ahead of him, and Gerard and Cas are below me. Camp 3 on the Abruzzi Ridge lies far below us. I inadvertently think back to 2006, when a whiteout and snow prevented Gerard and I from reaching it. This time we manage to reach camp 4 easily. I look around and gasp for air. What a fabulous view, what overwhelming beauty. It is very unrealistic to finally be so close to the Bottleneck. We feel like ants crawling across a white bed sheet, so tiny on this huge mountain. We arrive on the shoulder and it feels like a victory. ... Group 1 is supposed to leave camp 4 at around 01.00. However, there is not much activity in the camp. Finally, the first team leaves at around 01.30. We start melting snow. This is the last time the flasks will be filled. ... I have brought a 150 gram GPS device to retrieve at camp 4 in the event of an emergency. But the weather promises to be good, so I don’t see the need to carry it. I also have a stroboscopic lamp to hang in the tent, just in case we need to find the camp in the dark. I don’t see any point in taking that up. The marker flags are already in place."

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"I look around and can hardly believe where I am. The picturesque sunrise in front of me is wonderful and indescribable. The horizon is slowing changing colour. I realise that only a small handful of people have ever seen this. I am grateful and consider myself fortunate to be one of them. What an amazing view. At the top of the world, where the curvature of the horizon is clearly visible. We are almost leaving earth’s atmosphere and practically in the stratosphere. When I look up, it seems like I’m in space. The sky is pitch black. It is a magical sensation and feels like it would not be possible to get any closer to the divine. It defies description. It can only be experienced by being there. Every moment is different – the colour, the air, the feeling, the ultimate view ... "

"After climbing for around three hours we join the first group with Pemba, the three sherpas and HAPs. The first group did not manage to fix the ropes on time, and I now hear we are out of rope! How can the rope be finished? We took up 500 metres in total. Our team took up 400 metres and the HAPs brought up 100 metres belonging to the two Italians. What has happened? It turns out that ‘trail-breaking’ sherpas and HAPs fixed rope unnecessarily on a relatively easy section of the glacier. And now the rope for the most crucial passage, the Bottleneck, is missing. ... The only solution is to descend, and bring up the rope where it is not needed."

" ... Several hundred metres are collected and taken up. I grab one hundred metres, the Norwegians several hundred metres and sherpa Dorje Chirring also grabs a hundred metres. We have wasted valuable time, but there is nothing else for it. ... Now that we are at over 8300 metres, I climb on without my rucksack. The train gathers speed, I am climbing at the same pace as the climber ahead of me. The Koreans and their sherpas, Pemba and the Serbian. The HAPs are at the front. ... The delay is getting worse and I am getting irritated. I look up to see what is happening."

" ... I finally reach the top of the Bottleneck. Pemba is standing there. I ask him what is going on, and why it’s all going so slow. He apologises and says that it’s because of the Koreans ahead of him going slow. I realise there is nothing we can do to change situation. This is the result of too many climbers in a difficult key passage. The plan to send up a team ahead to prevent this has not worked. I fasten myself back onto the rope above the Bottleneck, and suddenly hear a loud scream. I turn around and see Serb Dren Mandic fall backwards and plummet into the depths. I hear the scream and turn, thinking I can reach my hand to him, but the next moment he has disappeared. ... Dren unfastened himself from the rope to adjust his oxygen bottle, and in a split second disappeared. However awful it sounds, we can do nothing else than look on powerlessly as he falls. He falls almost straight down then, on a slightly less steep section around 400 metres lower, he comes to a standstill on the glacier. ... The next section is a 250-metre diagonal traverse to the left below gigantic seracs. In the Bottleneck you can duck behind rocks, but when on the traverse you are open and exposed. You are vulnerable to the mercy of Mother Nature."

" ... Those seracs are as huge as skyscrapers, cathedrals and they are teetering; no way stable. If any fragments were to collapse we wouldn’t stand a chance."

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" ... I am surrounded by vertical ice walls on my right, whose top I cannot see. To my left, around three metres from me, vertical rocks begin that disappear three kilometres in the abyss below. We manoeuvre ourselves across the steep ice below the shelves of the seracs. The special rope that was taken along for our expedition, hangs here. It is attached with ice screws. In front of me a sherpa from the Korean team hangs up an extra oxygen bottle next to the other two. The pace is still extremely slow, but there is no sign of danger. ... "

" ... At this point, there are no more fixed ropes. We should be near the top of the seracs. This is followed by the summit pyramid, and then the summit. But before reaching the top of the seracs, another obstacle stands in the way. The snow is getting deeper as we ascend along the seracs. An old rope from a previous expedition is here. I am starting to lose my strength. But after the rope, we finally stand at the top of the seracs with a clear view along the summit pyramid. Too much of a view. It is still a long way up. I still cannot make out the outlines of the summit. I follow the rocks that ascend diagonally to the left of me. After them the route crosses over into snow. If I follow the ridge up, it appears to end in a large heap of snow. The snow slope to the right of me goes down. In front of me stands a large snow plateau, it rises and steepens until it reaches another large heap of snow. One thing is clear: it is still a long way up. Maybe another three hours climbing. Or maybe, God forbid, even four, five or six?"

" ... The last part is so steep that I suddenly can no longer see the summit. ... Tears, I cannot believe it, we have made it! ... "

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" ...  I see the shadow of K2’s summit on the horizon. It even seems to extend beyond it. What a spectacular sight from the world’s most difficult summit. Camp 4 below is a pin-head. We look out over hundreds of mountains, all 7000 metres and higher. Even Broad Peak at 8046 metres seems cowed."

" ... The descent from the summit pyramid is not without its dangers. Especially those dangers caused by the euphoria of victory. The terrain is steep and one would plummet with one mistake with either crampons or ice axe. You have to stay focused. Any error will probably receive the extreme sanction. It is tempting to think that you can save yourself by using your ice axe to break your fall. But in reality, if you slip you are gone. You are so exhausted that you no longer have the strength to ram the tip into the snow, and at this altitude you respond much too slowly. I carefully place one foot in front of the other. ... Dusk is setting quickly and we switch on headlamps. An uneasy sensation creeps up, because the 70 metre light beam does not shine on familiar ground. I place my hope on the other lamps that I see in the distance, because the terrain does not offer any visible points of recognition. We descend one behind the other. I am exhausted, and occasionally sit down to rest. Everyone has passed me. ... In the descent everybody goes at their own speed. My buddy Cas, with whom I have such a special bond, is nowhere to be seen. It does not surprise me; this is an extremely hostile environment, and you want descend to the relative safe surroundings below as fast as possible. The contrast is enormous. The blissful feeling on the summit. You switch a button, and the next moment you are back in the hard reality of small ledges, slippery, black rocks, treacherous snow and immense ice masses."

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" ... Marco explains that he saw several lamps disappearing into the abyss several hundred metres in front of him. The meaning of this statement does not get through to me. I can still see lots of lamps below us in the distance. We stand up and try to find the right route together. One of us must be able to recognise something? Why can’t I hear the delighted shout of someone who has found the beginning of the fixed ropes? Just as I start wondering, we are stuck. We are standing in front of a steep chasm of snow and ice and cannot continue. I am now more than disappointed, I am full of fear. How could the situation have taken such an unexpected turn? We briefly deliberate and I explore the terrain on the right and try to climb down. Marco attempts the left side. Gerard waits. But we are unsuccessful. It is too steep and we cannot even see the bottom. As I stare down, the beam of light from my headlamp shines into an unfathomable, dark depth. I still have enough strength, I still feel that my hold is strong enough, but the chance of falling is much too great. It is very risky. However much we want to descend, its just too dangerous. One wrong step on the tips of your crampons and it is over. We search the terrain, but cannot find an exit. It is a cruel sight to see the cheerful snake of headlamps of climbers several hundred metres below, as they descend to camp 4 through simple terrain. ... It is inevitable, we are stuck here tonight. We will need to set up a bivouac. ... We try to protect ourselves against the wind by turning our backs towards it. ... "

"The next morning I rise at first light, at around 5.00. ... The snow is knee-deep and there is a real danger of avalanches. ... But it is much too dangerous to descend unsecured, and a fall here would be over the seracs, down the Bottleneck and into the terrifying abyss, not really an option. The annoying thing is that these setbacks our also causing our strength to be drained from our bodies. ... "

" ... I am a dead man if I become snow-blind. I really need my vision. If I miss a hold, judge a distance wrongly or not see something essential, then I will almost certainly fall. Helicopters cannot reach up here, Gerard and Marco cannot carry a 77 kilo body. ... "

" ... The only thing that gives comfort and a feeling of security is that I am going down facing the mountain. Luckily I hardly need my eyes for this task, so I don’t know whether my vision is improving or deteriorating. I don’t want  to worry about it too much. I am descending, and making reasonable progress. The effort slowly starts to take its toll. I order myself to climb calmly and cautiously. Rushing will be fatal. At the start of the almost vertical descent, I may have taken a greater risk because of the adrenaline surge, but now I have come this far, I am more cautious. I want to get off the mountain alive. Judging speed and progress is difficult, but I am not cold. I just have that terrible thirst."

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" ... Three climbers are hanging less than two metres from me. It is the two Koreans and Sherpa Jumic Bhote. They are entangled in ropes, completely helpless and exhausted. I immediately see it is hopeless. There is no use to shout. Marco and Gerard will not hear me. The distances are too big, I am much lower."

" ... Bringing climbers back to safety requires strength, which I no longer have. Untangling or cutting the ropes loose is out of the question, they will immediately fall. Sherpa Jumic’s words that help is on the way, give me the final push. I swallow and decide to descend further. My vision is still very poor, and my situation is also precarious, if not life-threatening. Life has been reduced to the essence of survival. Nothing more. However hard it may sound. Actually, it was clear from the moment I saw these three helpless climbers. I am hardly thinking, but acting on instinct. I say goodbye and continue down to prevent total snow blindness.

"At that point in time I didn’t realise what had happened. But the night before Marco spoke about lamps suddenly disappearing into the depth. These lamps must have belonged to the Koreans and Sherpa Jumic. They took the rope down in their fall. That is why we could not find the rope. Not even in daylight.

"I continue down in a haze. Thoughts course through my head. I cry without tears. I am shouting on the inside. I am angry and curse the mountain, this hopeless situation. But I also try to remain focused. ... "

"Not much later the rope ends. It doesn’t upset me too much, I am getting used to setbacks. I descend further without rope and know that one wrong step will mean the end, and I will have no story to recount. One slip and it is over and out. I stare into the depth and around me, but can't discover a safe route. I am surrounded by the abyss, hanging rocks, steep, and slippery, white walls of ice."

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"The face is getting steeper and steeper. Suddenly, I am standing in front of vertical rocks that I am unable to go down, simply because I have nowhere to place my foot or hand. I cannot go left or right either. It’s too steep or too slippery. I look around but cannot find a solution. I am dead tired. I can hardly concentrate anymore. And I really need to stay focused. There is only one thing I can still do and that is climb back up. When I think, everything inside me is protesting. I say ‘no’ to myself. I can’t, I am too tired, exhausted. But I must. I am stuck and there is no other way."

"As I climb below the seracs, I suddenly see the ropes again. I am surprised and it immediately boosts my confidence. Finally, a ray of hope. Have I found the route? Am I going to succeed? I clip onto the rope and traverse below the massive seracs. This makes it a lot easier and faster to move along. I smile inwardly. I pass four oxygen bottles that the Koreans’ sherpas left here on the way up. But still no bell rings. I have found a rhythm and busy with one thing only: survival. ... Once I have passed the rocks, the rope ends. I have reached the end of the rope! I clip off the rope, and as I am turning around I bump into a soft object. It plummets into the depths. A rucksack? I had hung up my rucksack at the start of the Bottleneck. But I am hardly aware of this, it no longer matters. I descend the last steep section unsecured and arrive at a steep glacier slope."

"When I sit to find my bearings I nearly lose consciousness. After more than 30 hours above 8000 metres, I am so tired that I hardly feel anything, the signals of exhaustion are not getting through to me. I have a dull pain throughout my whole body, from hunger, thirst and exhaustion. I am almost at a point where I have to remain lying down. I no longer feel my toes. I am slowly losing consciousness, my eyes are closing and I doze off. My body has reached its final stage of life. It has been in the survival phase for too long, and has now chosen to only spare those organs that are vital for survival. I have no awareness of time any more. Minutes and hours pass. When I open my eyes again, I feel so bad, that I have no idea how much time has passed. One minute? One hour? Two hours? No idea."

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" ... I stare at a frightening abyss. Black rocks to my left and right, but no exit, and a fathomless abyss and clouds below me. The decision is simple, because climbing up in this condition is impossible. Fool’s world, I traverse across the dangerously steep rocks and each time I pass them, I hope to see a way out. But it’s getting very hard. I am scared and start hesitating. If the face gets any steeper, I will be trapped and never get out alive. I don’t have the strength to climb up again. If the path is closed, then it’s over. I realise that one small mistake or slip will be fatal."

" ...  I cannot keep this up. I am dead tired, and am bound to slip somewhere. After having descended and traversed a hundred metres, I collapse. The terrain is too dangerous and too difficult. I cannot see a safe escape. I know that I am trapped. No one can help me at this time. I use the satellite phone to make another call, but the batteries are too cold and empty. It cannot make a connection. No one knows where I am, no helicopter can fly at this altitude. God, I feel so alone. ... " 

And yet they fail to realise that Eastern Himaalaya has better survival for a good reason, or that it's a simple matter of perception - that's to begin with, if not all. Of Himaalaya being Abode of Gods, not only of snow that's inherent in the name Himaalaya. And the reverence Himaalaya has in hearts of not only India but all nations contiguous to Himaalaya, whether Tibet or Nepal or Bhutan, has a relevance in this matter. 

Attitude of disdain and worse that abrahmics hold, for everything not explicitly ordered revered in their one book, gets progressively worse from Abrahmic-I to Abrahmic-II to Abrahmic-III, and they still fail to understand why K2 is unforgiving. 

Nor have they learned from the dual horrendous events of tsunami and subsequent landslides in Kashmir. 

And this lack of perception remains through the powerful dawning of a "God, I feel so alone.", so firmly hammered in are the blinkers of the abrahmic creeds. It's only an arrogance that forces them to ignore a fact known yo well over a billion - that India sees Himaalaya as a helper in spiritual attainments, and this includes all creeds purely Indian in source and spirit. 

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" ...  This is the end, it must be. I look around. I see a sloping snow plateau around sixty metres below. I try to concentrate, take a deep breath and look again. The idea to jump is starting to look appealing. If am lucky, I will land in soft snow and may survive the fall. It is not a bad idea. I grunt and hit my fist against my forehead, as if to convince myself that I am awake. But it still seems a good idea. Stay calm. Think it through again. I don’t want to die in my sleep, I know that much. So I need to get out of here. Jumping is an option. But it is the only option, would I survive the jump? Yes, in theory I could. But I don’t trust my own thoughts any more. I wrack my brains and try to think logically. Take it easy, come on, no rash decisions. I make myself more comfortable by leaning against the face and resting my head against a rock. The only solution I can think of is to wait for better weather, it is still so misty. Then I will perhaps be able to see where I am, and maybe climbers in base camp can see where I am sitting and see an exit through easier terrain. Stuck against the rocks, I try to sit as comfortably as possible by making myself as small as possible and to warm myself up like this. I doze. ... Am I imagining there are climbers nearby? That can’t be. The situation seems bad. Could they deliberately not want to help me? When I try to crawl towards them, they disappear. I rage with anger and frustration, but it helps me collect myself. Not for long, soon I doze off again and fall asleep at 7700 metres. Am I in heaven? ..."

"When I wake up, it is late. Several hours have passed, the clouds have cleared slightly and the view has somewhat improved. All of a sudden I can see a big ‘snow duct’ several hundred metres further to the left. New hope surges like a warm tidal wave through my stiff body. If I can reach the gully, I can keep descending. I hardly dare believe it. Once I manage to reach the gully, I know that I will have passed this horrific terrain. I feel withdrawn and scared in these rocks. But still, one wrong move and I will fall hundreds, or thousands of metres. This reality is very much present."

" ... I traverse along a wall which normally I would never do even with ropes. ... The bottom part of the rocks is mixed terrain. Below the snowy slope lie steep rocks. I must be careful not to slip when placing my crampons. Extremely careful, but sometimes sliding on purpose, I end up in the snow below the rocks. Man, that feels good – what a victory. I gasp for air. Finally, I can descend in a straight line in easier terrain and make distance. A voice in the back of my mind tells me to watch out for avalanches. I am in a gully where avalanches will be common currency. But I am so happy I have made progress that I forget about those problems. I move quickly but cautiously so as not to kick loose the snow. A sense of optimism is starting to grow. In two hours I descend from 7700 to 7350. It is growing dark. Over the past hours my eyesight has improved and the extra oxygen also makes a difference. ... the situation no longer seems so desperate.

"At this point in time back in base camp, Chris Klinke, one of the Americans, observes an orange speck moving slowly high up on the mountain to the left of the Cesen Route above camp 3. The news is immediately passed on to base camp in the Netherlands. Maarten has had my geographical position determined using the last telephone conversations via the satellite. From this data and the fact that it is an orange speck, the conclusion is drawn that it must be Wilco. But base camp is not absolutely sure. Are Cas and Wilco the only ones with the characteristic conspicuous orange North Face down suits? Roeland, who manages communications in K2’s base camp, immediately passes on this information to Cas and Pemba in camp 4. Not much later Cas and Pemba leave via the fixed ropes in the direction of camp 3. They had given up the search and returned to camp 4."

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" ... I try to spot the sunrise, but it doesn’t appear. Not for a long time. ... "

" ... At last, after what seems at eternity, I can see a sign of light on the horizon. At around 05.00 in the cold I get up and continue my way down. There is hardly any feeling left in my frozen, stiff body. ... I reached 7100. Where the rock ledge ends and crosses over in the glacier, I bend off to the left and traverse below the ridge. I no longer have any idea of place or distance. And then suddenly my phone rings. I pick it up surprised. It is Heleen. Heleen is also surprised to get me on the line. The phone is normally switched off to save the battery. But because it no longer worked last night, I unintentionally left it on. It must have switched on due to the increase in temperature."

" ... I climb on. As I move around the corner and below the ledge, I can see two tiny yellow tents in the distance. My heart starts beating faster. And a while later I see two climbers! I don’t recognise the tents and the climbers, and still don’t dare to trust what I see. I have been disappointed too often. The only thing I think about is water and safety. I climb on through the snow towards the tents and see one climber in an orange and one in a blue down suit. But still it doesn’t ring a bell. I really want to surrender to my exhaustion, to settle down in the snow and wait to be rescued. But I don’t. I keep going. When I am a hundred metres from the climber in the orange suit, it starts to dawn on me. To my amazement I see it is Cas, my friend, my soul mate. I can hardly believe my eyes. We fall into each other’s arms and cry. Cas tells me that he expected he would never see me again. After two bivouacs and more than 30 hours at above 8000 metres, we know our chances of survival were minimal. The other climber must be Pemba; strong, loyal Pemba. We stop our blubbering and continue towards the tents. It appears to be our camp on the Cesen Route. Cas says it is camp 3, and I nearly fall over in amazement. ‘Camp 3!’ I yell. I thought this was camp 1– my feelings and judgement were completely off the mark! If I hadn’t found camp 3 I would clearly still have had a long way to go. ... "

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February 01, 2023 - February 02, 2023. 

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Chapter 6 - Saved 

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"The blissful feeling of being saved only lasts briefly. Cas tells me that they were able to rescue Marco but that Gerard is probably dead. The words hit me like a hammer. I am deeply shocked and seek support from Cas. Questions fly through my head, but I don’t get any answers. Cas is still speaking and there seems to be no end to the horror story that he tells. It is so unreal, his words slowly reach me. Gerard! and Hugues and Karim and... I cannot comprehend it. It is all too overwhelming. I am perplexed and disillusioned at the same time. How could this have happened? I survived my tormenting situation and did not get wiped away by avalanches or falling stones. It is beyond my comprehension. I think back to the accident that I witnessed with my own eyes: Dren Mandic and Jehan Baig fell to their deaths. I am able to place this. Not the rest. I am hit by disbelief."

" ... I decide to concentrate on something more simple. Maybe, I should check my feet. They don’t hurt, but I cannot feel them either. My outer boots come off and nothing seems to be wrong. But when I undo my inner boots, I can see I have a problem. The entire front side, including all the toes, are light-blue and glassy looking. It’s clearly frostbite, but the significance doesn’t get through to me. I observe it, I establish that they are rock-hard and frozen. I feel no pain and no emotion. It is what it is."

" ... Eric advises using the oxygen as soon as possible and to drink as much as possible, and to descend to base camp as quickly as possible There he will treat us. ... "

" ... we begin the descent along our own safety ropes. I feel weak, but the oxygen helps enormously. What a difference! The first section from camp 3 to camp 2 is steep and goes fast, but is followed by a snow ridge, and is very tiring. Cas is suffering, and going excruciatingly slowly. I wait for him on the snow ridge, and he says he wants to sleep in camp 2 tonight. I want to do the same – I am also exhausted – but the wonderful oxygen-rich air and the doctor’s advice help motivate me: down as fast as possible. It would also be better for Cas, because his hands have second-degree frostbite. But Cas is completely exhausted. I convince him by giving him the oxygen bottle, and immediately the roles are reversed. Unbelievable, what a difference the use of oxygen makes. Cas is going down in front of me and I will never keep up with him now. I immediately feel miserable. I walk, rest and walk again. We finally reach camp 2. The oxygen bottle is empty. But Pemba’s silent strength creates optimism. He has gone ahead to melt snow. We both collapse in front of the tent and Pemba takes care of us. He really is as hard as nails. After having drunk at least two litres, and had two hours of rest, we get ready to leave for camp 1. God, I am really dreading this, it is so tempting to give yourself over to the exhaustion. We decide to leave the rucksack behind; we have almost reached the end of our strength. Pemba takes the lead and leaves. I carefully get up. Everything but everything hurts. Cas wants to lie there a bit longer but I urge him to come with me. We slowly rise to our feet. We wait for our muscles to show a sign of life and start descending on our ropes to traverse from camp 2 to camp 1. Fortunately, the weather is good and there is little wind. We force our way down to camp 1. The sun is down and we won’t be at our destination before dark. We continue on auto pilot, ... "

"After resting for an hour we continue our journey across the glacier to base camp. My feet are hurting. I am supported and at 21.30 we stumble in. We zip open the mess tent where a surprise awaits us. The Americans have transformed our mess tent into a hospital. An enormous two-person air mattress awaits us. ... The whole tent is full of people helping us. Lars, the Norwegian, is also here. We offer our condolences for the terrible loss of his team mate, Rolf Bae. He says that Cecile is extremely shaken. Eric and Chris watch over us the entire night. ... "

" ... Because of the thin air, two helicopters are needed. One passenger next to the two pilots is the maximum weight that the helicopter can handle at this altitude. One of the helicopters tries to fly to camp 2 on the Abruzzi Ridge to get Marco down, but this operation proves impossible. The helicopter does not have a winch to lower a cable, as is usually done in the Alps. It cannot land."

" ... In 1995 my injuries were so bad that I was unable to enjoy the flight, but this one ends up being my most rewarding flight ever. ... "

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"Marco and Gerard’s story. 

" ... Pemba climbs on and discovers Marco who is unconscious. Pemba has brought drinks and oxygen, and for the moment Marco is saved. While Pemba is helping Marco, a radio conversation takes place with Sherpa Pasang, who is busy with his rescue operation. Pasang has reached the top of the Bottleneck and to his amazement he finds the two Koreans and Jumic alive. He can hardly believe it. Is it a miracle? Gerard must have succeeded in freeing them. There is no other way. It is incredible. What a will power, this beyond any ‘records’.

"When Pemba hears the good news, he immediately asks if there is fourth person. Pasang responds with a no, but says that the last climber has been hit by falling ice and swept off the mountain. When Pemba enquires about the colour of the down suit, he knows the truth. The down suit was red and black. Pemba realises that this must be Gerard. Soon after this emotional radio conversation fate strikes again for the second time, an avalanche of ice that destroys everything in its path roars down the mountain. It appears out of the blue. One moment it is calm and quiet, and the next… suddenly an infernal noise and ice-chilling rumbling. Pemba needs to get Marco and himself to safety, he drags Marco away from the path of the ice masses. But he cannot prevent Marco from being hit on the head by a block of ice. He was lucky, the big pieces of ice miss him. He only suffers a light head wound.

"The enormous ice avalanche sweeps away the sherpas Jumic and Pasang, and the two Koreans in a deafening roar, like a game board being swept clean in one wild movement. They are all killed, except for Sherpa Tsering. He was standing some hundred metres below Pasang, who apparently climbed faster than he did. Tsering just manages to avoid the falling ice.

"When the avalanche has passed, Pemba finds four bodies, Pasang Bhote and Jumic Bhote are still tied together. It is terrible how these extremely strong, proud men died as a result of this indescribable climbing drama, and as if that is not enough, Sherpa Jumic’s wife later gives birth to a daughter. Sherpa Jumic called her from the summit of K2 to reassure her and tell her that everything had gone well. In one go the Tsering family loses a father, brother, nephew and friend. Terribly unnerving and fatefully unjust when one realises that there is no life insurance or any other form of compensation for sherpas’ widows. The wives and their children are simply left to fend for themselves."

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February 02, 2023 - February 02, 2023. 

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Chapter 7 - Homecoming 

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"At almost 30,000 feet I look out the aircraft window. I can see the Karakorum mountains beneath. Cas, Pemba, Gerard and I stood on one of those summits. Four members of the Norit K2 expedition team, who reached the summit through the tireless effort of other strong team members Roeland, Jelle, Mark and Court. We did this on our own strength, without using bottled oxygen. ‘By fair means’, a conviction that binds us. We enjoyed the spectacular views. The world lay at our feet, we were privileged to experience all we experienced, especially the views.  Never was the setting sun coloured more beautifully than at that one moment."

" ... A year ago, all of us were sitting in a bar. After climbing Mount McKinley in Alaska, I stayed with Gerard and Annie, a wonderful woman. A runner who is not afraid of doing a hundred kilometres. And when asked if she did special training programmes to accomplish this, she responded by saying she didn’t know any and just ran to empty her head. She also worked with children with learning disabilities. She would help to come up with solutions for children with a handicap who were unable or had great difficulty learning. Annie is pure, independent, honest and beautiful.

"Cas used his sketches to explain what probably happened. In between our tears, he tried to create a clear picture, but at the time, the details on Gerard’s fateful accident still contained a number of blank spots. What had happened to Gerard after Marco had left him in the traverse, was something we could only guess."

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"After my emotional reunion with Heleen and Teun, I dry my eyes and the press conference begins, which also occurs behind closed doors. The entire team is given the chance to speak and everyone undergoes the required interview. At around midnight, we drive home, totally exhausted. I spend one day alone with Heleen and Teun. The next day we fly to Ireland, where Gerard’s funeral will be held. Together with Heleen, Cas and his girlfriend Carmen, I meet the rest of the Gerard’s family for the first time. This time at his mother’s home. He grew up on his grandfather’s farm in a small village named Kilcornan, near Limerick. Later on in life Gerard would live together with Annie. During the K2 Expedition Gerard’s mother had a new kitchen fitted for them in their house.

"At the kitchen table we meet Gerard’s mother for the first time. She is in mourning but quietly asks how Gerard was during his last weeks. Was he happy? And what was it like on the summit? We try to find words to express the joy that we felt as a team. But it is not easy. Talking about mountains, dreams, passions and happiness without being at the centre of it is clinical and remote. We tell anecdotes about Gerard. We tell stories that he told us about his living on the farm, and working hard. About the camaraderie with his brother. His school period. University. His adventure on the motorcycle through America, and finally ending up in Alaska where he met Annie. His ICT work in the north of Alaska, where he specialised in making pipeline corrosion calculations. His outdoor life in Alaska where he made many climbs and encountered grizzly bears. But he spoke so passionately about his Irish origins, more than anything else. He was proud to be able to sing in Gaelic. As a tribute to his Irish roots he even took up a ‘hurley and sliotar’ to the summit of Everest in 2003. From the summit, he hit the puck as far as he could in the direction of his beloved snow-capped summits."

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"I deeply admire the way the family and the Irish community treat us. We feel like we will forever be part of this special family. No blame, no guilt, no envy, no jealousy because we came out alive. I stand holding his mother, and Annie, his sisters and brother. We commemorate Gerard, the man who gave his life to save men like himself."

" ... Irish media are not interested in mistakes or blame. Of course, they want to know what happened, and rightly so. But they speak of Gerard with respect and awe. A minister issues a statement that the Irish have the right to be proud of Gerard. He was the first Irishman to stand on the summit of K2. Gerard took his Irish culture and background to the highest summits in the world and risked his life for others.

" ... We know that the Irish people were interested in the K2 climb. More than a million watched the programme, in a country with a population of just over three million. ... "

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February 02, 2023 - February 02, 2023. 

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Chapter 8 - 2012— Life four years later 

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"It is 2012 and almost four years have passed.  Now much more is known about what happened in these fatal hours on K2 in 2008.  But it is also certain that we will never know about all facts in detail.  The mighty mountain will always have its secrets and mysteries."

" ... Now, after four years, I have received confirmation that my book does not contain gross errors or mistaken perceptions.  This was not entirely inconceivable: on the mountain everything was happening in many different places at the same time and my thought process wasn't always as clear as I would have wanted it to be in the "death zone".  Some parts have disappeared completely.  That the real story is as I have described gives me great satisfaction.  To know that it complies with other versions and descriptions confirms that my book is a piece that fits well into the puzzle.  I find this particularly comforting for the bereaved, who were left with so many questions about their deceased loved ones that they lost in this terrible tragedy."

" ... It is striking that some books appear to have been written quite hastily and carelessly.  You could almost suspect that, with these volumes, truthful representation was not the first priority.  That's a shame.  Especially when they are from writers who aren't climbers themselves.  Writers who feel compelled to explain the intricacies of "the insane climber's world" to the general audience, all from behind the safety of their desks.  They end up delivering sensationalist depictions and many impressive but unverified rumours.  However, sometimes it is all very detached from what really took place on the mountain.  Though it will undoubtedly be good for sales, it does taint the drama.  So be it.  I think it's particularly admirable how Gerard McDonnell's family has dealt with these, sometimes downright hurtful, half-truths.

"After 2008 I managed to complete the Explorer's Grand Slam: the Seven Summits (the highest mountain on each continent) and the two Poles (the North and South Poles) so I'm now officially— according to the general audience— a real adventurer. ... "

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February 02, 2023 - February 02, 2023. 

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Chapter 9 - Medical rehabilitation 

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" ... In the broader context of the tragedy the loss of my toes means nothing, absolutely nothing.  I think I've been extremely lucky that I "only" lost my toes. ... "

" ... In recent years, however, it has become clear that this particular tragedy was caused by a rather unique combination of bad luck and uncontrollable, unpredictable conditions. Never before have I experienced an accident of such magnitude on a mountain.  It is one of the greatest disasters in the recorded history of mountaineering.  Nevertheless, I still consider (expedition) climbing to be a safe sport which can be practiced without insurmountable risks, as long as one is well prepared, well trained and has access to good resources and equipment.  That was my opinion and I still think it's valid.  Therefore, I have never considered quitting. ... "

" ... In the past the gold rule amongst trauma surgeons was to amputate as quickly as possible. They have now reversed their decision because tissue and parts were sometimes removed that could have healed by itself.   Now the policy is to wait as long as possible before performing an amputation until the point where, in the open, rather bloody wound surrounding the line of demarcation, an infection will occur. It's not a pleasant situation and you certainly have to get used to it, but the damage has already been done. In my specific case the tissue and the toes were already dead and the only thing I could hope for was to gain a couple of millimetres of tissue that might recover."

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" ... From the moment I had returned from the mountain my toes and feet began to swell.  The 45 degree Celsius temperatures in Islamabad undoubtedly contributed to this.  I thought it was a bothersome sight because my toes were as big and as thick as eggplants.  It was painful as well because the skin around my inflated toes put a tremendous strain and tension on the healthy skin of the rest of my feet.  I was fortunate that Cas managed to arrange a wheelchair somewhere in Islamabad so I could sit with them at breakfast at the hotel.  Every morning Cas would wash my feet with iodine to protect against infections and bandaged them with ten layers of fat cotton and bandages to prevent that I would accidentally puncture these blisters.  It's absolutely unbelievable what Cas has done for me.  Unsolicited and selfless.  I owe him many thanks and am highly indebted to him."

" ... One advantage of this was that I was allowed to fly home in business class.  I'll never forget the look of the steward's face when he came to serve me a three-course menu and he was suddenly confronted with a rather distasteful little scene, when the bandages accidentally slid off my feet.  His eyes rolled in their sockets in amazement.  Back home in Utrecht the waiting for the amputation began.  Meanwhile, the toes continued to dry more and more and the demarcation line became increasingly clear.

"During a visit to the UMC Utrecht a trauma doctor advised me to book a holiday at a sea resort and stick my feet into the salt water of the North Sea.  The concentration of salt and the composition of the sea water would ensure that my toes would dry even faster and would mummify.  One week later I was already crawling on my hands and knees towards the sea, somewhere in the province of Zeeland.  And sure enough it worked; within a week my toes had become wooden sticks. ... "

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" ... My friend and physiotherapist Emile van Bruggen drew my attention to the RKZ in Beverwijk which is a hospital specializing in the treatment of burns.  They have a specialized team of different surgeons who were willing to have a look at my feet.  My trauma doctor at the UMC, however, was very firm and clear; if I were to go for a second opinion he would stop treating me.  In his opinion there are as many opinions as there are surgeons.  I suggested that an MRI-scan could offer some additional security as to how far my feet and should be amputated.  Again, his answer was a firm "no".  He said that he had removed tumours that hadn't been visible on an MRI.  In his opinion an MRI was primarily used because of commercial considerations as a lot of money can be made.  In any case his position was very clear; put up or shut up.

"After extensive research by Ronald Hulsebosch, who also collected advice from sources in Chamonix, France and even from Alaska, he advised me to have the trauma doctor at the UMC perform amputation.  He was known to be very knowledgeable and had gained a lot of experience by performing amputations on military personnel."

" ... I talk to the doctor who is examining my feet.  He starts laughing and tells me that this is a good sign.  These maggots, in fact, do a very useful job, as they consume the excess dead skin and tissue, and in this way the wound is cleaned in a very natural way.  It's bizarre.  But who's going to remove them?  He tells me that when their food runs out they'll die.  The doctor says that in some patients a culture of maggots is implanted directly onto a wound.  With a wink he adds, "You have grown these yourself".

"Eventually I surrender to the doctor at the UMC.  With a spinal block I undergo surgery. ... "

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" ... In spite of a whole slew of medication— MS Contin, Oxynorm, Oxycontin, Diclofenac, Paracetamol and Morphine— I could hardly bear the pain. The annoying thing about this procedure was that the pain would build up and reach a record-level in a couple of hours. During that time I was usually at home, upstairs in my bed, trying to endure the pain, crying and howling until I couldn't bear it any more. Heleen would then attempt to soften the pain by firmly massaging my legs. Usually the pain would then drop to a more tolerable level, and the next day I would be able to move around normally.

"Despite my intensive medical rehabilitation I tried to pick up the thread again, almost like "business as usual". Part of this was by giving of lectures to companies. After all, that was my only source of income. I remember presenting lectures whilst sitting in a wheelchair on a large stage, but also at a couple of smaller venues where I would be chatting with people from the audience. I was moving about in a clumsy kind of way amongst the audience, but what I did not realize was that the smell of rotting flesh came through all the bandages. Only months later did I hear that the terrible stench had made a lasting impression upon them."

" ... a trainee doctor thought it was a smart move to do it swiftly. Instead of quietly cutting open the plastic casing and gently soaking and loosening the sponge, he tore everything off in one expeditious move. The primordial scream that I howled must have been audible throughout the whole hospital, as I almost fainted from the excruciating pain. I cursed the man with a full set of four letter expletives and with a reflex of my knee I knocked down the operating table. All sterile dressings and instruments were on the ground. The doctor was quite shocked and offered his apologies."

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" ... As soon as possible I wanted to start with sports rehabilitation, but that was not to be.  The transplant doctor did not want to refer me as he didn't want to take any chances because he intended to carefully work on a cautious recovery.  We would carefully proceed and slowly but steadily work on taxing the foot bit by bit.  The only sport that I was allowed to do was some tentative training rounds on an exercise bike.  I insisted that I sensed I was becoming stronger and was convinced that I was ready for a more serious taxation of my feet.  However, even the physiotherapist at the hospital didn't dare to go any further and restricted me to exercises that I had to perform by lying on the ground in order to keep my ankles loose.

"A few weeks later, the doctor finally loosened the reins and I was allowed to go to the sports rehabilitation department at the hospital.  There I came under the guidance of a sports doctor and right from the start I did not like the program.  I didn't feel that I could make any progress and so I repeatedly asked him for a specific rehabilitation program.  Finally he admitted that he hadn't been able to find me an adequate program.  Apparently my case was an exceptional one."

"The main advice that the sports doctor gave me was to rest, and that I should forget about ever being able to run again.  It really hit me hard when he said that I had to take into account that I would never be climbing again.  It was something I could not face.  To be honest, from the beginning I hadn't even considered resigning to such a verdict.  When I told him a few months later that I intended to climb Mount Toubkal (4167m) in Morocco he said I was crazy.  The absence of any feeling in my left foot would ensure that I would not be able to feel the cold.  Moreover, he could not predict what would happen to the transplanted tissue if you would suddenly start walking hours on end with hiking boots.  He estimated that the chances were good that the tissue at the front of my foot would simply fall off.  My foot would not be able to handle it.

"My world collapsed.  Could this really be true?  No more running and climbing?  I refused to believe it.  And again I started calling and consulting with people who could possibly help me.  Via Emile van Bruggen I eventually found out that the military rehabilitation centre Aardenburg in Doorn might be an option.  During the intake interview a captain of the armed forces told me that I could come for rehabilitation.  He warned me, however, that no instant solution would exist for me.  But his idea appealed very much to me; "We are not sure either, but we are convinced that where there is a will, there is a way".  From such a simple, focused and positive attitude I always get very happy.  And so I was immediately motivated from head to toe— that is, if I still had any.

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" ... With a very simple solution in the form of a flexible carbon-fibre sole inside my running shoes, I literally rebounded.  The insoles took over the flexible spring functionality that my toes used to provide.  Different types of carbon soles with variable spring characteristics were available in Germany.  It was all a matter of being stubborn, of searching and trying them out and evaluating them.  The world looked like a much more positive place now.  I could go running again and climbing suddenly seemed to lie within my grasp.

"And indeed, after a second small operation a couple of months later, I'm on the summit of Mount Toubkal, a physical victory, but especially a psychological one.  I have found the way back up again to the highest mountains of the Himalayas!"

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February 02, 2023 - February 02, 2023. 

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Chapter 10 - The readers' questions 

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"What is your opinion about the fact that, in some books, climbers are being characterised as "not being normal", including yourself?

"Some things should be taken with a pinch of salt.  It is often somewhat exaggerated to make a point.  But when it is a deliberate attempt to try and bring climbers into disrepute I have objections.  In one of the books— which indeed was written by a non-climber— I was portrayed as a "spoilt corporate expedition leader".  I shrug my shoulders when I read that.  But then, to continue and say that I am a self-centered person is one step too far.  Yes, climbers in general are outspoken and have a clear opinion on things, but that is something different than being self-centered.  This word would be more applicable to other climbers, those who— on purpose— arrive later in the season to take advantage of all the preparatory work that has been done by others.  After which they then start blogging to the outside world about the quick progress that they're making.  As a responsible expedition leader I clearly forewarned these climbers that they should not take advantage of the efforts and hard work of my team.  You take care of your own equipment and make sure you do not endanger yourself or my team.  With some imagination you can interpret this warning as egocentric, but I have a different view.  My first priority is my responsibility for the members of my team and I will always stand up for them.  I will not accept the irresponsible behaviour of others when it brings danger to my team.  This shows the major difference in the books that I just mentioned.  This characterization of "selfishness" appeared in the book written by the non climber.  However, an author like Freddie Wilkinson, who's a climber himself, understands how these things work out and he knows that success and destiny are very close to each other.  That's the thin line on which you have to balance.  The results of one's actions in the mountains don't have many shades of grey; they are predominantly black and white.  Every climber knows that."

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"How is Heleen doing?  What does she think of the tragedy?  Has anything changed between the two of you?  Or in your relationship with Teun?

"Heleen is doing fine.  She has started her own company "In The Wild", which is a design and training agency for adventurous, green outdoor spaces for children.  When we moved from the city to a farmhouse in the countryside this has all accelerated.

"Did something change?  Well, just recently I explained to her that from the outside it might look like nothing changed with me, but that a tragedy like this one of course has made a big impact.  I'm still approaching life like I did before, but lately I find myself thinking back to it more and more often. To the outside world I might appear to be very positive.  And I also want my story to be a positive one, but on these quiet moments I am really sad inside.  That was suddenly apparent after the presentation of the book about Ger.  Afterwards I was standing there, talking with his older brother JJ and I knew how dearly he loved Ger.  While I was talking I suddenly burst in to tears.  Not dramatic, but on the inside I do scream out loud.  Why?  Why him and not me?  Whenever I feel down, these questions and the tragedy return in an instant.  I do not always share this with Heleen.  I try to deal with it in a spiritual kind of way, by which I don't mean that I'm going to meditate, but I'm thinking about it when I train, when I lie in bed or when I'm alone.  I just realize that tomorrow everything may be over.  I also realize that, right now, we have to try to live at the pinnacle of our lives.  Life can not be more beautiful than it is now and that fills me with gratitude.  In my relationship with Teun there is more awareness that a father and son relationship should not just be taken for granted, especially if you're an expedition climber.  After the experiences that I've been through on K2 I feel an even stronger bond with him because I could've just as easily not been here with him any more."

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" ... We all sit at the kitchen table at Ger's mum's place and just talk about our daily lives. Of course, there's a lot of talk about Ger and all in a positive way. They always manage to come up with new anecdotes and JJ is especially good at this. Hanging above the kitchen table is a drawing that shows a broadly smiling Ger with K2 the background.  In the window frame there is a photograph of Ger on the summit of K2, with a text that so belonged to him; "That's it for now my friends. The time has come.""

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" ... Of course non-climbers have a different way of responding to certain situations than climbers do.  Particularly in emergencies it is all or nothing.  There's often not sufficient enough time for rational thinking or taking action.  In situations of life-and-death, choices and decisions often need to be made in a split-second.  These decisions are often made, in part, based on knowledge, but particularly based on experience.  And even if it doesn't depend on a single decision, then you will still see a dramatic worsening of the situation due to the facts on which inexperienced people base their decisions.  As an organizer or expedition leader you will then have to intervene and sometimes need to make unpleasant decisions.  The most obvious one that can be easily understood, for example, is the turn-around time.  Before you set off everyone understands the importance of starting the descent when faced with the onset of bad weather approaching.  But from my own experience I do know how difficult it is to actually turn around, as often you have been going up already for a considerable time and feel like you have almost made the top.  These are "unpopular" decisions that people will often continue to talk about.  But emotions and reason should be clearly separated in the mountains.

"The big challenge in mountaineering is that the summit is only a halfway point.  Inexperienced people do not see it this way and consider it as being a match that finishes on the top.  The way down is a part that one tends to forget about and in a kind of "tunnel vision"— which increases with the height one attains, as there is less oxygen for the brain and muscles to function normally— one wants to reach the top of the world at all cost!  All energy and forces are being spent on the way up, but in this blind ambition one easily tends to forget about the descent.  Only by increasing your level of experience you'll be able to correctly assess your strength and from that point onward you can try, step by step, to go a little higher.  But what is it that often happens?  People buy into a Himalayan expedition and immediately try to attempt Mount Everest.  Bottled supplemental oxygen is being relied upon for the ascent and it is all too often suggested that with oxygen it is no problem to scale the peak, because the height of the summit will be lowered to approximately 6000 meters.  Acclimatization is said to be not as important as it used to be, and the logistics for ropes, oxygen bottles, tents, food, stoves, fuel and the rest, has all been taken care of.  When an inexperienced climber hears that he is progressing too slowly, but that he has only a few hundred meters more to go to the top, this person will absolutely not acknowledge the fact that he really should descend.  On the way down he will be confronted with a shortage of oxygen, as well as with the extreme decrease in temperature once the sun dips behind the horizon.  This is not an inconceivable scenario as, unfortunately, it is happening all too often.

"From the perception and emotions from the side of the customer, in a way, it is understandable; he invested in this with his training, his time and his money.  But, rationally speaking, the only correct decision is to turn around in time and to start the descent.  One can only hope that there will always be expedition leaders who have the courage to make this decision.  Even when this would mean that you will often be called a heartless person afterwards."

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"Every day there were difficult decisions that had to be made.  This would usually start at 7:00 a.m. in base camp.  I would boot up the laptop and make a connection via the satellite to receive the newest weather reports, after which I had to adjust the schedules.  Often this would not just be for that day, but for the next five days, and in the beginning sometimes even for the weeks ahead.  This would also apply to the choice of materials: who will be carrying this or that to the next camp, who will bring what food, what rope, which tents, drills, what quantity of gas, how many pitons, the radio, the telephone, and lots more.  But there were also decisions to be made on the formation of the teams; who's going to climb with who and why?  And the most difficult decision of all: when will we make a summit bid and who's going to be in the first team and who'll be in the second one?

"The one error of judgement that I have made during this expedition was that I put too much faith in the other teams.  During the preparations for the summit day we had divided the necessary tasks amongst all teams.  Working together appeared to make some sense in order to conserve energy and to be able to ascend in a more efficient way.  The necessary agreements were made by the expedition leaders and their separate teams and had even been put down in writing.  What I did not properly assess was the fact that, the longer the chain, the greater the chance that a link is likely to fail. ... I should've relied more on our own strength, solely based on the power of our own team.  You know exactly what you can expect from your own people because you have carefully selected them yourself.  This has been a psychological trap.  Maybe it feels like it is less difficult, and much safer, when you have to jump across a deep ravine if you do so with more people, but the gorge itself will not be any narrower or shallower."

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"No one could have suspected that, after having reached the summit with eighteen people, it would go so horribly wrong on the descent.  There was not a single cloud in the sky], the weather was perfect and it seemed like a routine job; back to the fixed ropes, clip-in and just follow the lines down to Camp 4.  That was what it looked like from an objective perspective but, all of a sudden, this scenario had been changed and the carefully built construction collapsed like a house of cards."

"Yes, the mountains really put someone in their place.  In the mountains we experienced how insignificant we are and I think that's the right perspective.  We think we can achieve a lot, but nature is so much more powerful.  You can feel that in the mountains.  Because of that magnificence and splendour, the overwhelming vistas, the heights, the different dimensions and proportions, the primeval forces, these all make you humble and ensure that you'll see it in the right perspective and respect the bigger scheme of things.  I do believe there is more to it than can be explained by the laws of Isaac Newton, because they aren't sufficient enough to explain the world around us.  I do believe that there must be something more powerful and grander than just our puny creatures."

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"What role has the tragedy played in your decision to complete the Seven Summits?  Was that something that you've always wanted to do and did K2 play no part in that, or has it inspired you to go climb these last peaks?  Or did it create a barrier that you first had to overcome before you could continue climbing again?  Do you have any ambitions to eventually climb all 14 eight-thousanders?  Did the Norit K2 Expedition bring about any change in this?

"Yes, the K2 tragedy has affected me.  Frankly speaking, the Seven Summits have never really been that important to me.  For a professional climber they are more some kind of allurement than an outstanding achievement.  Let's face it; once you have climbed Everest, the rest is a walk in the park.  My dream has always been to climb Everest under my own steam; put in the purest possible performance by fair means.  The question was whether it would be possible for me to climb the highest mountain in the world without supplemental oxygen.  That is the best possible achievement, like winning a gold medal without the use of doping.  I finally succeeded in 2004.  Then I started completing the Seven Summits, especially since it is also very nice to travel all the continents.  In 2007 I had two more summits to go, and after Everest these were the two most costly ones; Carstensz Pyramid (4884m) in Papua New Guinea and Mount Vinson (4897m) on Antarctica.

"After K2 I had to work on my recovery and had to learn how to walk and climb all over again.  First to Mount Toubkal (4167m) in Morocco, a mountain in a warm country, then to Papua New Guinea and lastly to the cold Mount Vinson on Antarctica.  It was all part of my medical rehabilitation program and was the start of my new big project: Mission Antarctica 2048, in order to drive a solar-powered vehicle to the South Pole.  This we do to inspire the youth to opt more often for sustainable clean-tech solutions and to draw attention to the fact that the Antarctic Treaty will come up for review in 2048, which protects this pristine continent from military missions, oil exploration and other tests."

"Obviously, completing the Seven Summits was a goal of minor importance, because I would have never allowed myself to miss out on a chance to climb a "real mountain" in the Himalaya for them.  Yet, it feels pretty good that I managed to complete the Seven Summits during my rehabilitation, while I secretly dreamt of the Himalayas.  In that respect the tragedy on K2 hasn't brought about any change in my ambitions.  Just like Reinhold Messner, I am indeed no longer able to climb rock at a technically advanced level but that has never been my main interest.  Expedition climbing, that's what I've always liked best and in that respect no change has taken place.

"To complete the fourteen eight-thousanders has never been my goal, I try to avoid being an addict of my own ambitions, but first and foremost I try to enjoy, and live in, the present.  That's what I've learned from the events on K2.  Tomorrow may never come, so I do not plan ahead for more than three years.

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" ... Running is very good for your physical condition, but too limited for the rest of the groups of muscles.  The combination of running, cycling, swimming and corresponding length of time is an ideal one.  You develop yourself broadly and it builds stamina.  I think that triathlons are an effective training, because a full-length triathlon will approximately take me 11 hours to complete, and a summit bid usually takes around 15 hours.  In 2000 I took part in the mountain triathlon of Embrun, France, in which, apart from the distance that had to be covered, also close to 9000 vertical metres had to be overcome.  I clocked a time of 13 hours and 50 minutes.  During the whole competition I visualized the trip as if I was climbing a mountain."

" ... It is a fact that, at high altitude, you lose brain cells, but that also happens with boxers and when consuming alcoholic beverages."

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"Can you really enjoy the surroundings, or is it more like with a cyclist during a mountain stage: remaining to stay so focused that you barely notice the beauty at all?

"No, you will be able to enjoy the moments when you can and while you aren't exhausted yet.  In the beginning it is pure enjoyment, but pretty soon the target comes to mind again and that is the summit.  You will be able to enjoy it when you arrive at a camp, but en route it's continuous suffering or, like Winston Churchill said; "If you're going through hell, keep going."

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"Which exercise at sea level could be compared to the effort of walking at high altitude?

"It's very difficult to compare this effort with anything else.  At sea level you will be exercising at near-ideal conditions with 100% oxygen supply, and if you don't feel like you're performing well enough, you can simply step out of the competition and you can begin your recovery, maybe even with some form of assistance.  On a mountain that's just not possible.  In a situation where there's a serious shortage in oxygen you still have to put in an excellent performance.  Try climbing the stairs while breathing through a straw.

"On the one hand, it's an anaerobic effort, because you are trying to put your muscles to work while there is a lack of oxygen.  On the other hand it is highly aerobic, because we're not talking about a mere couple of hours, but sometimes for up to 15 or 17 hours above 8000 metres, where there is only one-third of the amount of oxygen compared to sea level.

"Your body is objecting to all of this.  You have been sleeping poorly, you only had a little or nothing to eat at all, and you may even suffer from a slight headache.  Climbing usually make me feel better again.  Once my heart rate increases again, and I can make a serious effort, I feel good at high altitude.  That, of course, is a relative thing, because at sea level I really feel that physically I'm stronger.  The challenge is to prepare yourself mentally so that you can overcome the physical inconveniences.  And then, all of a sudden, the reward is there; the stunning vistas and the proud feeling that you have really achieved something special.

"Acclimatization is a very complex story, especially since every individual is so different.  Moreover, the process of acclimatization stops above 7000 metres, and this is the same for everybody.  It is not for nothing this is called the "death zone".  After 5 to 6 weeks of acclimatization you're ready to make a jump for the summit, but that varies by individual and is not a guarantee for success.  Whether or not this has been enough, you will only know when you make it to the summit."

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" ... Furthermore, with the highest scoring students in the field of sustainability, we will go on an expedition to the largest glacier in Europe, the Aletsch in Switzerland."

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" ...  We have had many discussions, for example, about what type of ice axes we should take. Do you go for the extremely light ones (not the best), long ones, short ones, etc. This often depends on your personal preferences, on your climbing skills and level of experience. This also applies to the choice of crampons, helmet, goggles, backpack and shoes. The choice of rope was also an essential one.  At extreme altitude the use of rope is often abandoned, because it's too heavy. We have been trying to find a rope that was light enough and wouldn't freeze, and yet be able to arrest a fall. We knew this rope would not meet all the required criteria, but UIAA-approved ropes failed to meet our demands, simply because they weigh too much."

" ... The very moment your lifelines are torn away, then you are not only facing a mystery, but there is an immense challenge awaiting you. You may have tried to think of all the scenarios in advance, but you would never have imagined this, not even in your wildest dreams. From that moment on the only thing you can do is to act instinctively and do what's good for you, since you are trying to survive. This also applies when you see fallen climbers. You can observe them, but you can't allow emotions to get in the way. Fear and all the other emotions only come afterwards, when you've calmed down. There is no tailor-made survival training.  In "survival mode" you will have to rely on past experience, intuition and primary behaviour. To this day for me it's as if I'm watching a movie and in a way it still feels like it hasn't really happened.

"If and when it goes wrong, you don't have to feel sorry for climbers, because that's the last thing they will be asking for.  That's why we have no need for trauma counselling after a tragedy like this one. ... We are proud of the results achieved after three months of hard work and to reach the summit with one another.  You see and experience the splendour of the world and its nature; the curvature of the Earth, the shadow which rises above the horizon, and the feeling of literally standing between Heaven and Earth."

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"Have I found my own essence?  Yes, one of the consequences of climbing, and facing challenges in which you are bound to encounter yourself, has been an accelerated learning curve about the essence of life.  And these "lessons learned" bring you self-confidence, peace of mind and happiness.  There's nothing that I "should" do; anything goes.  I live in the Here and Now, consciously, but always with a dream, an ambition without the mandatory obligation to succeed.  Mediocrity is not an option; I aim for the stars, where the top is only a means on the road to true happiness."

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February 02, 2023 - February 03, 2023. 

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Word of thanks 

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"My fellow climbers, for their enormous effort. Cas van the Gevel, Roeland van Oss, Jelle Staleman, Court Haegens, Mark Sheen, Pemba Gyalje Sherpa and Gerard McDonnell."

"Ab Maas, our personal and committed meteorologist. We could not have managed a single day without his professional and essential weather information.

"Ronald Hulsebosch, our expedition doctor. He provided all the supplies and know-how. Also during the expedition, we would never have managed without his advice."

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February 03, 2023 - February 03, 2023. 

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Author’s last thoughts 

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"In memoriam 

"18 climbers reached the summit of K2. Eight of them did not survive. 

"1. Alberto Zerain (Spain) 

"2. Cecile Skog (Norway) 

"3. Lars Nessa (Norway) 

"4. Dorje Chirring (Nepalese / American team) 

"5. Go Mi Sun (Korea) 

"6. Kim Jae Soo (Korea) 

"7. Park Kyeong Hyo (Korea) † 

"8. Kim Hyo Gyeong (Korea) † 

"9. Hwang Dong Jin (Korea) † 

"10. Pasang Bhote (Nepalese Sherpa/Korean team) † 

"11. Jumic Bhote (Nepalese Sherpa/Korean team) † 

"12. Gerard McDonnell (Ireland) † 

"13. Pemba Gyalje (Nepalese Sherpa/Norit team) 

"14. Cas van the Gevel (The Netherlands) 

"15. Wilco Van Rooijen (The Netherlands) 

"16. Marco Confortola (Italy) 

"17. Hugues d’Aubarede (France) † 18. Karim Mehrban (Pakistan) † "

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"The following climbers died 

"1. Dren Mandic (Serbia) fell during the ascent in the Bottleneck 

"2. Jehan Baig (Pakistan) fell during the descent below the Bottleneck 

"3. Rolf Bae (Norway) fell due to falling ice during the descent 

"4. Hugues d’Aubarede (France) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"5. Park Kyeong Hyo (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"6. Kim Hyo Gyeong (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"7. Hwang Dong Jin (Korea) fell during the descent in the Bottleneck 

"8. Pasang Bhote (Nepal) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"9. Jumic Bhote (Nepal) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"10. Gerard McDonnell (Ireland) fell due to falling ice in the Bottleneck 

"11. Karim Mehrban (Pakistan) fell during the descent"

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February 03, 2023 - February 03, 2023. 

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About the author 

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"Wilco van Rooijen is one of the few adventurers of the Netherlands.  He summited some of the highest mountains of the world and crossed the deserts in Africa and Australia. Mountaineering is his trade and passion. As one of the very few climbers, and as the first Dutch national, he conquered the "Three Poles"; he reached the geographic North and South poles and climbed Mount Everest without additional oxygen! He also scaled the "Seven Summit" - the highest peak on each continent - as the first Dutchman to do so "by fair means". In 2008 he summited K2, the notorious "Savage Mountain". During the descent he witnessed and survived one of the worst tragedies in the history of mountaineering when eleven people lost their lives. ... "

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February 03, 2023 - February 03, 2023. 

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BIOGRAPHY WILCO VAN ROOIJEN  

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"Name: 

"Willem Jacob Hendrik van Rooijen 

"Date of Birth: 

"25 November 1967 

"Place of Birth: 

"De Meern (Utrecht) 

"Education: 

"Bachelor in Electrical Engineering 

"2 years Technical University Eindhoven 

"Occupation: 

"Adventurer/ Mountaineer 

"Keynote Motivational Speaker"

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"Mountaineering Experiences: 

"1985: Independent Alpine Climbs in the Alps 

"1986/87: Mountaineering Training in Rock and Ice with Mountaineering Association 

"1988/ 89: Mountaineering Instructor Education for the Mountaineering Association 

"1990/92: Climbing many North Faces and Winter climbs in the Alps such as: North Face Grandes Jorasses (F), North Face Matterhorn (CH), Northeast Face Eiger (CH) 

"1992/93: Trans-Africa expedition 4x4 overland: Utrecht - Cape Town (35.000 km) and also the ascent of Mount Kenia, the ‘Diamond Couloir’ 

"1994: Successful Ascent North Face Eiger 1994: Lobuche Peak Expedition, 6119 m Nepal 

"1995: Dutch K2 Seven-Up Expedition, 8611 m (almost fatal accident)

"1996: Namibia Camel Adventure Expedition (to the ‘Himba’ people community) 

"1997: Dutch Nomad North Pole Expedition (First Dutch at the geographic North Pole) 

"1998: Dutch Shisha Pangma Expedition, 8035 m, central summit 

"1998: Holland Almere Triathlon (4,2 km swimming/ 180 km cycling/ 42,195 km running) 

"1998: Through the Outback of Australia by 4x4 (15.000km) 

"1999: Dutch Peru Expedition (extreme alpine ascents till almost 7000 m) 

"1999: Liege - Bastenaken- Liege, Classic Race Cycling of 240 km 

"1999: Training Finland for the unsupported Antarctica Ski Expedition in 2000 

"2000: Training across the ice cap of Greenland 

"2000: In the South of France, the Embrun Ironman Triathlon 

"2000: Dutch Holland Almere Triathlon

"2000/ 2001: Dutch Origin Antarctica Expedition (first Dutchman, unsupported to the South Pole and back again, 2300 km) 

"2002: Dutch ENECO Two Men Everest 2002 Expedition. No Summit, Wilco turned around at 8000 m. 

"2004: Dutch Friesche Vlag Everest Expedition. Wilco summited without supplementary oxygen. 

"2006: Broad Peak - K2 Expedition 

"2006. Wilco tried to climb a Double Header (2x 8000 meter peaks) in an international team. 

"2007: May Mt McKinley (6194 m), Aug Mt Elbrus (5642 m), in Dec Mt Kilimanjaro (5895 m), Jan 2008 Aconcagua (6962 m) 

"2008: Norit K2 Expedition, 8611 m (third time) in Pakistan. 

"2009: Mount Toubcal, 4167 m, Highest Mountain Morocco 

"2010: Mount Carstensz, 4884 m, Highest Mountain Oceania 

"2010: Mount Ararat, 5165 m, Highest Mountain Turkey

"2011: Mount Damavand, 5671 m Highest Mountain Iran 

"2011: Mount Vinson, 5140 m, Highest Mountain Antarctica 

"2012: Peak Lenin, 7134 m, Kyrgyzstan 

"2013: Khan Tengri, 7010 m, Kyrgyzstan 

"2014: Cho Oyu, 8201 m, No Summit, Avalanche 

"2015: Mission South Pole, Solar South"

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February 04, 2023 - February 04, 2023. 

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SURVIVING K2

SURVIVING THREE DAYS IN THE DEATH ZONE 

by WILCO VAN ROOIJEN

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January 29, 2023 - February 03, 2023 

- February 04, 2023. 

Purchased October 23, 2022. 

ASIN:- B007TKATSM

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https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5088235303

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