K2_ Life and Death on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain - Ed Viesturs [23]
We’d been anticipating this moment since long before we’d left Seattle. Now Scott and I drew straws to see who would get the “sharp end.” I won and led the pitch. My diary sounds almost nonchalant about the climbing: “It was a narrow, vertical snow & ice-choked crack. Fun climbing up and stemming.” I remember, however, being quite impressed with the lead Bill House had pulled off fifty-four years earlier.
We’d been on K2 for only two weeks, but already, scattered around the Baltoro, other expeditions were throwing in the towel and going home. From my diary:
Many failures so far in the Karakoram area. The Swiss tried to climb K2 in just 4 wks. From a very low C II they tried alpine style to go for it. They encountered deep snow on the Black Pyramid. Too early in the season? IE still too much snow yet?
Germans & Koreans just gave up yesterday on Broad Peak also. [Steve] Swenson & company gave up on GIV [Gasherbrum IV] due to deep snow also. Now they’re on GII we believe.
It’s only early in the season yet. We’ve still got lots of time.
By July 8, we were on the verge of establishing Camp III at 24,000 feet. I’d had one bad day at Camp II; I’d felt lightheaded after breakfast, then unusually tired going up the hill. “Not quite acclimatized I can tell,” I wrote in my diary. By the next day, however, I felt as good as new, and I was raring to go. Because of the weather, though, we descended to base camp, at 16,800 feet, to rest for several days. “Climb high, sleep low” has become a formula for success on the 8,000ers, overturning the earlier notion that the longer you stayed high, the better you acclimatized. The truth of the matter is that above 20,000 feet or so, the body slowly deteriorates, no matter what kind of shape you’re in. Those rest days down low are vital to regenerating for the summit push.
I still felt vexed by the unequal efforts some of our teammates were putting out. On July 11, I complained to my diary, “No real ‘power-carriers’ on this trip. 10# [pound] loads are about max. I’m used to climbing with guys from RMI that carry 50# no sweat & don’t even bat an eye. Scott carries big like me, but that’s the exception.” Despite this disappointment, I was feeling increasingly positive about our chances, and I sketched out possible scenarios for the upcoming days. The most optimistic had us establishing Camp IV on the Shoulder at 26,000 feet only four days hence. From that camp, we hoped eventually to reach the summit in a single day. “If it all works out,” I scribbled, “come down rest 4–5 days, wait for good weather & go for it!”
Fat chance. K2 wasn’t going to give up that easily. On July 12, we suffered our first real setback. At the time, it felt like a huge one.
Scott and I had set off from base camp that morning at 5:00 A.M., hoping to climb all the way to Camp II in one day. Just before you reach the base of the Abruzzi Ridge, you have to wend your way through a funky little icefall. It’s technically trivial but potentially dangerous. We always roped up going through the icefall, even though most of the others, including the Russians, didn’t bother.
That morning, Scott was leading as he wound his way through the maze of cracks and ice towers. He stepped on a chunk of ice that was wedged across the mouth of a small crevasse. The chunk shifted under his weight, and he fell. There was no danger that he’d fall very far into the crevasse, as I held him on a tight rope. Instinctively, Scott stuck out his arms to catch the fall. And as he hit the glacial surface, he screamed in pain. “Shit!” he yelled. “I’ve dislocated my shoulder again!”
It turned out that Scott had dislocated the same shoulder in a fall about twelve years before. “We got him slung up and left his