K2_ Life and Death on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain - Ed Viesturs [151]
Some of the French press went so far as to blame Michel Parmentier for abandoning Maurice and Liliane Barrard, even though he almost lost his own life by waiting for them as long as he did at Camp III. In the German-language press, Bauer and Diemberger, both of whom lost frostbitten digits to amputation, feuded bitterly, with the public taking one side or another. Even the Koreans were scapegoated for climbing too slowly, in too old-fashioned a style.
On the last page of K2: Triumph and Tragedy, Curran stepped back from all the accusations to editorialize:
Exploring and pushing the limits has always been the name of the game, whether in rock climbing, alpinism, or Himalayan mountaineering. But the disastrous summer of K2 must remain a salutary reminder that the limits are still there: pushing them is one thing, ignoring them another. Mountaineering will never be a safe activity and would not be worth doing if it were.
That last line is a credo by which all climbers live. When I look back on the summer of 1986 on K2, I can see all kinds of small mistakes that led to fatal outcomes. But the scenario that most haunts me is the picture of those seven climbers stranded at Camp IV waiting, day after day, when they must have known that their only hope of getting off K2 alive was to head down at once. It reminds me of a very wise saying about mountaineering that my wife, Paula, repeats often: “Just when you think you’ve got it figured out, you don’t.” No wonder the mantra that kept running through my head on K2 in 1992 was “Remember ‘86!”
In the summer of 1987, not one climber reached the top of K2. But a Japanese-Pakistani expedition pushing up the Abruzzi Ridge came upon Mrufka’s body between Camps II and III. She was frozen in place on a steep slope, her Sticht plate still clipped to a fixed rope, which was also wrapped around her wrist. In a remarkable operation, the team carried her body down to the foot of the Abruzzi Ridge and buried her there.
That summer, several Japanese and several Spaniards reached the Shoulder and climbed into the Bottleneck couloir before being turned back by bad weather. They found no trace of Alfred Imitzer, Hannes Wieser, Julie Tullis, or Alan Rouse. The two Austrians may have been avalanched off the ridge between August 1986 and July 1987. Tullis and Rouse were most likely entombed by the winter snows. As is true for so many victims of K2, the bodies of those four climbers have never been found.
K2 from Windy Gap—the 1909 photo, shot by the Duke of the Abruzzi, inspired several generations of mountaineers to attempt the peak.
Vittorio Sella’s classic view of K2 from the Godwin-Austen glacier, taken in 1909. © Vittorio Sella, Fritz Wiessner Collection
Charles Houston, leader of the 1938 and 1953 American expeditions to K2. © Charles Houston, expedition photograph
Bob Bates crosses the Braldu River on a rope bridge near Askole, 1938. © Charles Houston, expedition photograph
Fritz Wiessner, leader of the 1939 American K2 expedition. © Fritz Wiessner Collection
The ice traverse just below Camp VII, 1938. © Charles Houston, expedition photograph
Pasang Kikuli climbing toward Camp V, 1939. © Fritz Wiessner Collection
BELOW: Pasang Kikuli at Camp VI, 1939. © Fritz Wiessner Collection
The route led by Fritz Wiessner on his astounding first attempt on the summit pyramid in 1939. © Fritz Wiessner Collection
One of the most remarkable photos in climbing history. Carrying a huge pack, Pasang Lama uses a shoulder belay to secure Wiessner on the steep and difficult rock-and-ice band at 27,000 feet, 1939. © Fritz Wiessner Collection
ABOVE: Team members and Baltis cross the Braldu River on a zok, a raft made of inflated goatskin bladders covered with a framework of poplar poles, 1953. © Charles Houston, expedition photograph
Hauling loads up House’s Chimney with Pete Schoening’s A-frame tripod, 1953. © Charles Houston, expedition photograph