Broad Peak 2004: The summit push
Our story so far...After the rescue of Fabien and Yannik, we sat around base for almost a week waiting for the snow to stop falling and wind to stop blowing on the mountain. Weather forecasters kept predicting a good weather window, but it was always 4-5 days away. We were scheduled to leave base camp for home on about July 28, so time became a precious commodity. For several days we went to bed thinking we'd start up the mountain, only to change our minds in the morning due to bad weather. On July 19, we decide to head up the hill...
July 19. Ok, we're finally moving. We fuss about in the morning, counting on clouds to keep the snow hard. I take off about 9:40, winding through the maze of glacial pinnacles. It takes the usual 90 minutes to reach the base of the fixed ropes. As we start up the ropes we meet the Iranians, dejected and tired, on their way down. Why they tried to summit in the face of the bad weather (all predicted by the forecasts) is beyond me. We tell them to spend a couple of days in BC and come back up behind us. They shake their heads and go down.
Unfortunately the snow is soft and mushy. Jamie and I plod up to Half Camp (5300m/17,400ft). The French (Olivier, Pierot, Denis) come up behind in our tracks. The slopes up to C1 are soft and unpleasant. Temperatures have been warm during the stormy weather and the new snow is getting its first taste of sun. As I approched C1 I kicked down a chunk of snow which cartwheeled down the slope. Just like in the cartoons, this triggered other rolling snowballs and eventually the whole slope was rolling in a semi-avalanche which just missed the French. I saw none of this-Jamie told me about it later.
To Camp 1 (click)
I arrived at C1 (5600m/18,400ft) about 3:10pm, quite tired from slopping through the wet snow. Jamie and the French arrived a few minutes later. I was in a bit of a pickle. I had counted on getting to C2 that day, but the late start and bad snow meant that I'd have a hard time getting there before dark even if I wasn't tired. Problem is that my sleeping bag and down jacket were up there. So I borrowed Olivier's down jacket, put on my down pants, wrapped my feet in my polarguard pants. and went to bed at C1. In the end, I was too hot. Jamie and I both lacked silverware (at C2 again) so we improvise there as well. I eat my usual freeze dried stuff while Jamie cooks noodles and sausage, which smells real good. Amazingly, this is the only night on the mountain that I slept in the same tent with another person!
July 20. Jamie and I wake slowly-there's no hurry as we're only going to C2. Jamie passes gas that smells exactly like the sausage he ate last night, a rude wakeup. A bit of breakfast leads to some more lounging until 8:15, when I begin packing. Jamie forgot his harness, so he'll wait for it to be brought up by Malte (who's doing the BC-C2 run today). Ibrahim, Amanda's porter, shows up, a good effort from BC.
The route from C1 to C2 (click)
Thirty minutes later the wind drops a bit and I repitch the tent. I clean out the snow. At dusk, it's calm and cold. I write in my diary and drift off to sleep.
July 21. Will this terrible weather never end? We've had strong winds, spindrift, snow, and fog since 5 am. Every bit of new snow will make conditions even worse up above. The sun peaks through occasionally, teasing us. I spend most of the day in the tent, paring down my pack to essentials only. Every ounce I save may make the difference between success and failure. I decide to take 3 days of food (plus a bit extra). At 6pm it's snowing steadily with little wind. The extra day probably helps my acclimitization; I haven't been any higher on the mountain than this. Gordon and Haruki come up, and the game of musical tents continues. Since there is no room at the inn, Jamie heads up into the mist for C2.5, but stays in another team's tent just above C2. It's lonely in my little tent, but at least I have a guaranteed place to stay.
July 22. Taqui (our high-altitude porter), Malte and I saddle up and head for C2.5 at 6700m (22,000 ft). The standard C3 is at 7000+m, and given the conditions and our acclimitazation we don't want to go that high in one day. Malte labors as we head up the slope above C2. Taqui and I pass him and Malte eventually heads back to C2. Taqui and I don't really benefit from the tracks of the False Canadian team and Jamie, who moved up ahead of us this morning. The route skirts a number of pinnacles, with a number of fixed ropes. Taqui and I each share the chores of going first. I can feel the altitude as we work to make steps that will hold our weight. Finally Taqui takes off up the hill (he's got to get back to C2). I find a rocky flat spot about the size of a coffee table and empty my bowels. The False Canadians descend out of the mist and we chat. They warn me about snow conditions on the slope above and head down the fixed rope.
The whiteout at 6500m (click)
I was expecting to see a number of tents; instead, I see Jamie digging a hole. The tents have all been buried in an avalanche. Chris and Jurgen (the Austrian team in our base camp) have a crushed VE-25 tent under about 3 feet of snow and ice. The poles have been snapped like matchsticks. Jamie has spent 2 hours digging out the main body of the tent. Once I arrive, Jamie quickly excuses himself and scurries back to C2. I've lugged all of my summit gear up here, so I either lug it all back down or stay here in crappy weather. I opt to stay, even though there is obviously an avalanche slope lurking above. I figure that windslab has formed on the slope and that it would remain stable for the moment. I dig for another 2+ hours trying to rescue the tent, but finally give up and extract most of the gear, then pitch my tent on top. The hole should provide some protection in case of an avalanche. It snows and storms all night, with the strong southerly wind continuing to howl. I'm snug in my tent, cut into the slope.
July 23. Alone at Camp 2.5 at 22,000 ft. There is nobody higher on the hill, and the stormy weather continues. Late in the afternoon I look out and see a solitary figure approaching. Good, I'll have somebody to talk to. It turns out to be a single Russian. This fellow and his partner have become shadowy legends in just a few days. They are supposed to be climbing K2; it's unclear if they have permission to climb Broad Peak. They wander up and down the mountain, using whatever tents are handy. We were very worried that they were using our gas and/or food (didn't seem to be the case). Anyway, this guy shows up at C2.5 after Jamie explains that there are no open tents. He asks if he can sleep with me and I decline the honor (my tent is way too tiny). Finally he heads back down to C2 and I'm alone again for another night. The weather begins to clear that evening and it's finally calm and quiet as I drift to sleep.
Camp 3 (click)
July 24. Good weather has finally arrived. I really can't go up until I get some company, as the slope above looks a bit dangerous. Well after noon, I see the first members of our group slowly working their way up to my tent. About 2:30 Jamie starts upwards, trailing 175m of rope to fix on the slope above. I wait until the others have started, then catch a few of them. Near the top of the slope, the steps take a sharp right-hand turn to surmount the steep section. I stick in a couple of snow stakes as a directional to allow Amanda and Muhdi (Iranian) to use the rope. Just below me, Amanda's crampon comes off so I try and stick it back on for her. It turns out that her crampons are almost impossible to get on properly and I spend ten minutes before I figure out the problem. Finally, after spending over an hour being altruistic, I get to finish up the slope and gain the ridge above. Again, tent space is tight so I'm forced to pitch my tent after climbing 100m higher to find a site. I'm likely at the standard 7000m (23,000ft) campsite, as there are 5-6 ruined tents in the rocks in buried in the ice and snow. I get my tent up just as darkness falls, but I'm rewarded with great views of Gasherbrum IV and Chogolisa as the sun sets.
July 25. This should be a short day. We have to climb only about 1000 ft. to our high camp at 7250m (23,800 ft). The sun is shining and it appears we have timed our ascent quite well. The first group of the False Canadian team joins us and we trudge up to Camp 3. Reaching camp, we have good news and bad news. The good news is that our tents have survived. The bad news is that they are virtually covered in hard snow and a lot of digging will be needed. We expend a lot of energy on the digging; tempers flare, as there are clear some who dig and those who have other things to do (like not dig). As usual, I'm in my own tent but clearing the tents is a group job, so many of us spend a good 2 hours altogether freeing the tents. Unfortunately, one of our members falls on a tent and collapses it. These are fake Chinese VE-25s; a real North Face would likely not have collapsed. Finally the tents are dug out and I can melt some snow, as I'm parched.
We finally have a chance to discuss our individual strategies for the summit. The weather is great, and will be for at least two days. One strategy is to attempt the summit quickly-tomorrow-before the effects of altitude have a chance to kick in. The drawback is that there are no steps in the snow, so tomorrow's climbers will need to expend extra energy setting trail. The other strategy is to wait a day, rest, let others do the trailbreaking, and go for the top. The drawback is that the weather could change and you would lose your chance at the summit.
The previous two years I had missed my chance at a summit by following the second strategy. On Kangchenjunga in 2002, our only successful summit climbers left high camp the day before I was going to go-they got good weather, I got snow and a ticket back down the hill. Last year I sat through a weeklong storm on Denali, skipping the first day of a good weather window for the reasons above and awoke the next morning to 70 mph winds. So I feel some historical pressure to go for the top tomorrow.
It appears that most of our group (3 French, Gordon, Malte, Muhdi, and myself) plan to attempt the summit tomorrow. Jamie, Haruki, and Amanda want to wait a day. The False Canadians (Roland, Mick, Deb, and Paul) are also going to wait a day. As I lay in the tent after dinner, a little voice in my head keeps saying, "you'd be better off waiting a day..." On the other hand, I feel like I've committed to the others in our group who are breaking trail. If we work together, we can put the trail in without exhausting any one person. I fill up my thermos and roll over to sleep soundly for three hours. We leave for the summit at 1 am.
On the traverse (7500m) (click)
July 26. Clear and very cold outside. My stove sputters and goes out as I eat a little and drink some tea. As we assemble outside the tents, I notice that two of the French are missing (they are going to follow along later). I ask if anyone has a partial gas canister, since I want to take a stove along to melt water if needed. Everyone says "no" and I leave the stove behind. Little did I know that I'd just doomed my summit attempt. But I did know better, and should have insisted on getting some fuel.
Due to our concentration on digging yesterday we really hadn't scoped the route very well. We needed to reach a col (saddle) at 7800m (25,600 ft), which involved nearly 2000 ft of climb plus a long traverse off to the left. We blundered our way up the hill in the dark (with our headlamps on, obviously). About 20 m above camp was the biggest crevasse I saw all day, which we skirted to the right after somebody broke through the first snow bridge. While the loose snow didn't seem too deep in spots, it was tiring and very cold work. Some areas were obvious windslab, up to thigh deep, and we just had to turn off our brains and climb. Olivier and Gordon did the majority of the trailbreaking, with Malte and I rotating in as we could (the first two were moving a bit faster). Muhdi studiously stayed 20 yards behind, using the trail but not really helping make it.
As dawn came we prayed for warmth, but when you climb a west face you don't get the sun very early. As we approached the slope below the col, streaks of sunlight painted the other side of this slope. By this time I was worried about my feet (frostbite), so I delayed the ascent to cross over the slope and sit in the sun for a few minutes. It really didn't help. At the same time, Denis, Pierot, and the Austrian Chris came up the trail making good time. The steeper slope to the col was protected by fixed rope, but the footing was terrible and the col itself was a true maelstrom of snow blowing in every direction imaginable. Twenty feet from the col, the wind was calm.
As I turned up the summit ridge I was surprised to see a group of climbers huddled on a flat spot. Why weren't they climbing? It turns out that everyone was freezing. I was too! No wind to speak of, clear blue sky-and we were laying around. Except for the French, who had gone ahead to look at some apparently tricky rock pinnacles on a narrow section of the ridge. At this point I realize that I'm parched. We've been going for 9-10 hours and I've sucked down my only quart of water. Dehydration increases your susceptibility to cold and my toes and fingers have been numb (but not frozen) for hours. With a stove, we could all have drunk a quart, refilled our bottles, and probably several of us would have reached the summit. As it was, Malte and Muhdi got no higher. I was pretty certain that I couldn't reach the top but wanted to see how far I could get, so I followed the French, who were now on the easier climbing beyond the pinnacle.
There were good fixed ropes on the rock, but it still required hand and foot climbing over the 'dreaded abyss'. Chris passed me, then Gordon caught up. At this point I was so dry that I could only go 5-10 yards before sitting down to eat some snow. The others had disappeared over the top and (I presumed) were on their way to the true summit. Finally I decided that I was moving too slow and it was time to go down and regroup for a second attempt. Gordon went on ahead.
Broad peak has a false summit (known as the rocky summit) which then leads to the true summit over a half mile further on. I knew if I reached the false summit that I wouldn't have the mental fortitude to come back and try for the real summit. So at about 7900m (25, 900 ft) I turned around and very slowly made my way back down the ridge.
Nearing my high point at 7900m (click)
The remainder of the descent was for me, very slow. After I reached about 7600m (25,000ft), I found myself sitting down and falling to sleep everying few minutes. I would dream vividly for a couple of minutes, then get up and walk a few more minutes. It wasn't cold-I had on my liner gloves- but it seemed like a very long way back to the tents, which I reached about dark (!) I immediately found some gas and melted a quart of water, drank it, and fell into a deep sleep.
It turned out that nobody reached the true summit that day. I think with a stove (for water) and with everyone working together to break trail, the results would have been quite different. Olivier, Denis, Peirot, and Chris reached the rocky summit, and Gordon got within spitting distance of it. During the day, Amanda and Jamie moved their camp up to 7500m or so.
July 27. I'm whupped. Jamie, Medhi (Iranian) and Paul and Mick (False Canadians) reach the true summit. Others come and go, but I'm staying for a couple of days to make another attempt. Drink, drink, drink. I barely leave the tent. Malte, Gordon, Olivier, Denis, and Pierot head back to base camp.
July 28. Ditto the previous day. Amanda and Jamie come down-the porters are arriving so we have to leave BC tomorrow. I decide to stay on, with the generous invitation of the False Canadians to join them in their Base Camp. At this point the summit seems very close, and I'm scheduled to attempt the summit with Frits and Roze tomorrow. I'm very lethargic, still recovering from the first attempt. I'm hoping against hope that I'll regain energy in the next 12 hours to make the second attempt.
Two of the False Canadians (Roland and Bob) have to head down due to possible cerebral edema. Dr. Deb goes down as well, trying to catch Roland as he jets downhill. The three of us attempting the summit tomorrow are all that's left of the horde here two days ago.
July 29. It began snowing the previous evening. Frits is out of the tent before 1am, and it's obvious that we aren't going uphill. In fact it's snowed a bunch and we need to get our butts off of the hill. So we pack up and the three of us head off into the snow and fog (sound familiar?)
It's déjà vu all over again as visibility gets lower and lower. Only a few wands mark the trail, and Roze and Frits's tracks are filling in a fast as they are made. Again I'm forced to sit for a while until a break in the clouds reveals the way down. At times the whiteout is complete- snow and cloud join seamlessly, and I only know where the ground is by feel. This doesn't last long, and the track is more or less visible after we get below 6900m (22,600 ft). I catch Roze and Frits at the top fixed rope.
Descending to C2 (click)
Now I think I have a good excuse or two; I was going back to a different base camp and the glacier had melted considerably in the ten days I'd been on the mountain. The route is literally a maze that passes through a series of glacial ridges. In a straight line, base camp was only about 200 yards away, but it takes an hour normally to wind through and over the many rows of pinnacles. The maddening thing is that you can see the base camps, but you can't get there quickly unless you stay on the marked trail. I lost the trail fairly quickly (marker flags melt out and fall down). I ended up wandering around in the dark for a couple of hours until I reached a known landmark. From there I had to walk far out of my way to cross two major streams running along the glacier. These streams are quite dangerous and at least one summiteer has drowned here in previous years. Finally I gain our old base camp site and I'm met by Abbas and Mick from the False Canadian camp. By 9pm I'm eating dinner and drinking Tang and Sprite.
July 30- August 4. All teams are gone except for a Swiss team and my adopted team. We sit around hoping for good weather, and eat a lot. The good weather never comes. I'm amazed at the amount and variety of food, much of which was brought by the Dutch contingent in this team (Roze, Frits, Menno, and Bob). Finally we give up and arrange for porters to get us back to civilization.
August 5. Thirty-odd porters are supposed to arrive--maybe a half dozen actually show up. We head out anyway and get to Concordia in about 3-4 hours. After some discussion, we eat and sleep at Concordia for a few hours before a midnight start.
Crossing the Ghondogoro La (click)
August 7. The last day of trekking. We walk from about 8am until 5:30, when I reach Hushe, the town at the beginning of the road. We eventually get in jeeps and head for Kande, the home of our cook. The jeep ride is interrupted by the need to cross two torrents on slick log bridges in the dark -- the road has been covered by a landslide and we have to transfer to new jeeps on the other side of the rivers. We finally eat supper about 10pm.
August 8. An enforced rest day in Kande. We go for a walk (there's potential for about 500 rock climbs within an hour's walk), eat, and lay around, wishing we were in Skardu.
August 9. We arrive in Skardu early afternoon after a 5 hour jeep ride from Kande. We're in heaven- shower, shave, Coke, real beds, etc. I retrieve my passport and gear transported to Skardu by my other group. About 9pm I become violently ill (projectile vomiting and bad diarrhea), which lasts all night.
August 10. I spend the whole day in bed, rehydrating and sleeping. Finally head downstairs for dinner.
August 11. An 8 hour bus ride from Skardu down the Skardu road and the Karakoram Highway. All mountains, all the time.
August 12. We spend 14 hours on the bus to get back to Islamabad. Arrive at the hotel at 8pm. Went to eat at the Texas Steakhouse (!), then back to hotel to pack bags for flight. Finally to bed about 12:30 AM.
August 13. Arrive at airport in Islamabad at 4am to make ticket changes for flight at 8am. Wait for 3 hours by ticket counter to see if I can change my ticket. Finally get on plane for 9 hour flight to London. Arrive in London, and have to claim my bags and go to ticket counter for more ticket hijinks. I get that ironed out and am told I have 5 minutes to get my bags checked. I get to the airplane at the last minute, but the good news is that I'm bumped up to business class (huge seats, great food and wine) for the seven hour flight. Arrive Chicago late, run through airport, and after a long stop in security I'm the last one on the plane for Minneapolis. Call Kathy, who asks "Where are you?". I haven't had the opportunity to call her for the 28 hours I've been traveling.