K2: The Climb to C1 – Reality Hits

Friday started like Thursday, heavy snow coated K2 Base Camp muting any noise of gas stoves, doctor or social talk but the avalanches still dominated one of the five senses for everyone.

All of the ten climbers who are climbing K2 without supplemental oxygen had spent at least one night at Camp 3 were now back at base camp. Most people have completed their acclimatization rotations and are enjoying a break, even with the heavy snow. The current weather forecast calls of a break soon, that combined with a few days to let the new snow settle and consolidate, implies summit pushes beginning in a week or so, maybe sooner.

Our team is ready after our rotation to above Camp 2. Yesterday I took you to ABC so now it is time to move to Camp 1.

Camp 1

Waking up on Sunday, July 13, 2014 at ABC at 17,300’, it was time to move to Camp 1 at 20,000’ – a big move. We had a good breakfast of cereal and hash browns, packed our packs with clothing layers, food, sleeping bags, down suits and other gear needed as we moved towards the summit.

Once again we moved from the rocks of ABC to the snow field and put on our crampons. The previous day we had climbed about 500’ on an active rest day so we knew this part of the route. A tiny bite of a huge pie. One by one by we settled into our individual rhythms and made progress higher. It didn’t take long before the altitude showed me who was stronger. I slowed down to get into a pace that was steady yet didn’t stress my cardio.

Steep and Steeper

As we climbed toward C1, the steep angles became real. It was one step, four breaths. The snow was soft in spots, seldom hard packed making each foot placement a challenge, a struggle. I began to think about commitment, my goal, my purpose. But the overriding emotion was fatigue. We made it half way to C1 in 2 hours covering 1000’. Not bad really for the first time at real altitude.

I looked over at the slope we were following and could see avalanche debris everywhere. We hugged the rock walls for a false sense of security. Mind you, this was two hours into the real climb of K2. The immediacy, danger, risk, commitment slapped me in the face. It hurt. It left a mark.

Rocks

We left the snow slope and got into the rocks. I always tell people that climbing Everest from the North is hard because of crampons of rock, well I was about to live it on K2. Each step scrapped the rock. Where there were larger rocks with smooth surfaces, they tricked you into stepping on the flat surface only to slide, fighting gravity. My old knees hurt. My bad knee twinged with strained ligaments, my calves cried when I front pointed, my thighs said enough. And this was hour three.

The fixed ropes hosted our jumars, the mechanical device with teeth attached to the rope that stop a fall. Our carabiners served as a safety placed in front of the jumar. I pulled or jugged on the lines like never before as the angle increased to 60 degrees. Another moment of truth as I looked behind me to see some of my teammates dotting the black and golden rocks searching for that next secure foot placement.

I looked up. All I could see was vertical rock walls with an occasional weakness that held the thin white fixed line. The line was secured into the rock with decades old pitons, small sharp slivers of steel hammered into any available crack in the rocks. New rope was tied into two pitons, equalizing the load. The pitons were rusted, the line looked shredded in places. K2 was a mountain preferred to be climbed without aid, but the truth is, you have no choice. The angles are too steep, the rock is too vertical.

Transitions

I found a spot to pass my jumar and ‘biner past the anchor, a transition point, and quickly made the swap. It became second nature, unclipping my ‘biner from the rope and moving it above the anchor, unclipping the jumar with an efficient sweep of my thumb and grabbing a new bite of rope with my free hand then quickly placing it into the jumar while letting the spring loaded teeth grab the rope thus securing me to the mountain. This binding was the only thing keeping my on route, and alive if I fell.

The closer we got to C1, the steeper the angle, now at 70 degrees. The rock was merciless, the few flat spots held loose fragments. The frantic call of “ROCK” was ever-present. You did not look up, but you do, to see what was coming.

After 4 or was it 5 hours, we reached the tents of Camp 1. The clouds had cleared and the temps were pleasant, the views of the Karakorum, glaciers and beyond – thought provoking. I had reached C1 on K2.

Reality

As I left an audio message, I had to let it sink in as I said the words, “Hello this is Alan at Camp 1 on K2, about 20,000 feet”.

As I disconnected the sat phone, I wondered if some of my followers really understood what I was trying to accomplish other than a mountain climb. I know in this world, only the unusual stand out.

I also know from emails and comments that many understand and relate as they are going through their own journeys as I was now and did with my mom. I could only hope what I was doing was considered worthy. The cause compelling, urgent.

As I unpacked my sleeping bag, I settled into my new home. Oddly enough there were now extra tents from the other climbers not showing up as expected so I had a 3 man tent all to myself. We had permission to use the tent.

That night was good, I slept OK but tossed as the altitude began to introduce itself. The next morning as we said goodbye to Rick, who had a head cold and decided to return to base camp, I looked up at the route to C2. It was steep, rocky and intimidating. I had been told this was the technical crux on the Abruzzi route on K2. The proof was before my eyes. The snow route was to our right, avalanches simply too prevalent to risk as a route.

My first steps towards Camp 2, 22,000 feet began the next phase of climbing K2. The climb to C1 was not bad, yet it stressed my systems. I slept confident but my inner voice said what I had just done was child’s play in the world of climbing K2. Apprehension, trepidation, simple fear; however it could be described, I knew the real tests were yet to come.

Climb On!
Alan
Memories are Everything

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