Thieves, Liars and Mountaineers

by Mark Horrell

Another beautiful morning, and I wonder how long the good weather will last. At breakfast Phil outlines our plans for this morning. By tradition the Sherpas won't put foot on any big mountain before they've conducted a puja, or blessing ceremony, for our success and safety on the mountain.

  Sympathetic as always, Phil says: “It's bulls—t really, but if we bring five superstar Sherpas with us to help us climb the mountain, we've got to let them have their way.” Then he adds: “After the puja, anyone who wants to can put their climbing kit on and we'll head up onto the ice for a couple of hours.”

  The puja is due to take place at 9am, which means we probably won't get started till 10, by which time the sun will be high and warming the ice, creating a risk of serac towers in the icefall collapsing.

  “Will the icefall be safe this late in the morning?” I ask Phil.

  “Icefall?” he replies. “This ain't a f------ icefall, buddy. This is a snowdrift.”

  I smile. It reminds me of a conversation I overheard between Phil and Arian a couple of days ago about the high altitude drug Diamox.

  “Is Diamox safe, Phil?” Arian asked.

  “What do mean is it safe?” Phil replied. “Do you think it's going to give you herpes or something? Course it's f------ safe!”

  In the absence of a lama, or Buddhist monk, Serap Jangbu conducts the puja for us. The Sherpas have erected a cairn with a flagpole at the highest point among the moraine ridges of our campsite. Our ice axes and crampons have been piled around it along with various foodstuffs: potatoes, cereal, Tibetan bread, etc. For about ten minutes Serap kneels in front of the cairn and chants while the rest of us sit behind in a wide arc. When he finishes chanting the other Sherpas unroll prayer flags from the flagpole and extend them outwards to attach to smaller cairns around the campsite, like spokes of a wheel. We're given handfuls of rice and tsampa, which we toss into the air with a cry of lakalu , which means “victory to the gods” in Tibetan. This is to acknowledge that the fate of our expedition – whether we reach the summits or merely survive to climb another day – is in the hands of the mountain gods. As Phil said, it's bulls—t, but for sure we're more likely to succeed with a happy and confident Sherpa team, so the puja certainly serves a useful purpose in that respect

  Ascending the icefall with Gasherbrum I up ahead

  After a day of rest our short walk up into the icefield fills me with anticipation for the next few weeks and the climb ahead of us. As we weave around and over crevasses and seracs, Gasherbrum I all the while ahead of us, we gradually round a corner which brings Gasherbrum II into view. We can see all the route above Camp 2 up a snow shoulder and then in front of a prominent triangular rock face which forms the summit pyramid. The final climb to the summit is up the right hand side of the triangle.

  At 11 o'clock we turn around and head back down again before we enter too deeply into the serac towers of the icefall. It's late to be in here, and the trail we've followed is already turning to slush. The route has been well tramped already, though, and this has helped us considerably. We had been half-expecting to spend a few days enforced rest at Base Camp while our Sherpas look for a route through the icefall to Camp 1. The fact that somebody's done this already and marked the trail with bamboo wands may have saved us several days.

  Back at Base Camp for lunch Phil hands out some of his mountaineering tips.

  “Make sure you don't leave any food in the porch of your tents in any of the higher camps. The crows here are a menace and will sniff it out, and rip through the side of the tent, if necessary. If you're leaving any sleeping bags and s—t up at Camp 1 when you're down in Base Camp for some rest, make sure you put them back in their stuff sacks and tie everything together in one bundle. If there's a storm on the mountain which destroys the tents, a single sleeping bag unrolled is much more likely to end up in China.”

  13. Trekkers leave; final team member arrives

  Tuesday 23 June, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  It's another clear morning and the good weather seems to be holding, though there is quite a plume of cloud rising off the summit of Gasherbrum I, indicating very strong winds up there. Gorgan walks into the dining tent and vents his opinion about the climbing conditions.

  “I think if this was your summit day on G1 you would have to go for it. That's why you need a f------ big dick.”

  I'm not sure I agree with him that these are suitable conditions for launching a summit attempt on G1, but by his criteria I'd be stuffed anyway.

  We say goodbye to our trekkers, Bob, Anna and Cassidy, after breakfast, who head back down the Baltoro Glacier this morning and will be back in Askole in five days' time. We also say goodbye to our liaison officer Major Kiani of the Pakistan Army, who goes with them, and has been a thoroughly nice chap. From now on, we are just climbers.

  After lunch we're joined by the final member of our party, Michael Odell, who has been lucky with flights and made good time on the trail, arriving in Base Camp just three days after us, despite leaving the UK more than a week later. Ian and I pitch his tent while Ashad our cook brews him some tea. Afterwards we sit in the dining tent talking about his intended partner-in-crime Mark Dickson, who is no longer joining the expedition after breaking his ankle in Nepal last month. This was to be Mark's fourth attempt at an 8000 metre peak, though we suspect two months in a country where alcohol is very difficult to obtain may have influenced his decision. We conclude that he will surely climb an 8000er one day, though by that time there will probably be a cable car or stair lift up K2.

  Later in the afternoon Ian and I wander over to the Jagged Globe tent belonging to a neighbouring expedition team whom Ian and I know several of the team members, leaders and guides of. They are very welcoming and treat us to some real coffee. They also claim to have supplies of booze, though I'm not sure if this is a wind-up. Since we're members of a rival team, their leader David Hamilton, whom I climbed Muztag Ata with a couple of years ago, says they will not try and rescue us if we fall down a crevasse, but will merely dangle a bottle of whiskey down on a length of rope to annoy us. Personally I don't believe there's a better way of getting me out of a crevasse.

  14. Up to Camp 1

  Wednesday 24 June, 2009 – Camp 1, Gasherbrum Cwm, Pakistan

  Today is our first walk through the icefall of the South Gasherbrum Glacier to Camp 1. Arian wants to leave at 3am, but Tarke, the superstar, say it's much too early and we agree to leave at 5.

  Although there was snow last night the fine weather appears to be holding, and we wake up to still winds and no snow. The disadvantage of the later start is there is now pressure on us to get through the icefall before the sun gets too high and starts melting the seracs and snow bridges.

  I share a rope with Phil and Ian, and they're miles quicker than I am. The climb to Camp 1 is supposed to take up to eight hours but Phil, who is leading our rope, manages to get us there in just six. As we weave between seracs and crevasses Gasherbrums II, III and IV all hove into view one by one and the scenery is stunning, but my concentration is on putting one foot in front of the other and mouthing obscenities towards the top of the climb as I struggle more and more.

  Phil crouches with Gasherbrum II behind

  We reach Camp 1, underneath the south face of Gasherbrum II, at 11am. I'm absolutely exhausted, and lie down in the snow in front of our tents, already erected by the Sherpa team, doing my Darth Vader impression. It probably takes about an hour before I'm breathing normally again. The others all seem to be alright, which is a good sign. For them, at least. Fortunately I'm sharing a tent with Ian, and he's quite happy to brew up copious quantities of coffee while I recover. I unpack my Thermarest, sleeping bag and the bag of food that I've carried up, and spend the majority of the afternoon crashed out in the tent, though I do make a short foray outside to admire the view, which is one of the most spectacular I've ever seen.

  The Gasherbrum Cwm is a high horseshoe surrounded by the seven Gasherbrum peaks, ranging in height between 7000 a
nd 8000 metres. Every single one of them is spectacular, and our first objective, G2, now rises a little over 2000 metres above us. The first half of it looks steep and daunting up a steep snow ridge, though higher up the final summit section looks a little easier. Thankfully we have our fantastic Sherpa team with us, who head up towards Camp 2 in the afternoon to fix the route with ropes while we vedge in our tents.

  15. An unfortunate and unusual case of frostbite

  Thursday 25 June, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  I wake up at 5am this morning with a bit of a headache, probably caused by dehydration rather than altitude. Camp 1 is at 5910m, and as well as having spent several nights at 5000m in Base Camp, I've also been higher than this in the last month and a half while climbing in Nepal, so my acclimatisation should be good.

  Rather than waking up an hour earlier to begin the time-consuming process of boiling water for breakfast, we agreed last night that we'd simply wake up this morning, pack our things and descend straight back to Base Camp for breakfast. We left the gas canister in the porch of our tent overnight, so it would probably be too frozen up to light in any case.

  We leave Camp 1 at 6am, and the descent takes just 2½ hours. Going down is easy, but I'd forgotten how much up and down there was over the ridges and folds of the icefall just above Base Camp, and it's frustrating having to do so much climbing when I'm still tired after yesterday's ascent. I keep feeling the rope slacken behind me, and can tell Ian's itching to descend faster, so I shout to Phil in front that he can quicken the pace if he wants. It's a relief to find that he's also a little tired, however, and he keeps up a regular pace all the way down.

  Back at Base Camp, our kitchen crew of Ashad, Ehshan and Shezad have waited for our arrival before preparing breakfast, and it's good to get down eggs and chapattis after the freeze dried and snack foods we've been chomping on at Camp 1.

  At lunch Arian tells us an extraordinary story about Ali, an Iranian climber who trekked in with us from Askole.

  “I passed him yesterday on the way up to Camp 1 and asked how he was. ‘I don't feel so good,' he said, pointing to his abdomen. ‘You have stomach ache?' I asked, but he pointed lower down. Eventually I realise that he's pointing at his dick, and he tells me that it's frozen.”

  Most people around the table are laughing, but a few of us are wincing. Personally I find the story pretty amazing.

  “How on earth did he manage to freeze his dick?” I ask. “I've heard of frostbite in the fingers and toes, but never in your penis. Surely it just doesn't get cold enough for that?”

  I look at Phil. If anyone's heard of other cases of frozen members it's likely to be him.

  “Dude, on Denali it's so cold you have to pee through a sock,” he replies.

  “How cold?”

  “Minus fifty. It's easily cold enough to freeze you dick off having a piss.”

  It's not anything like as cold here, however. Last night in the tent at Camp 1, the temperature didn't get any lower than -15º C.

  “Surely you can't get frostbite having a piss here,” I persist. “Your dick's not out for long enough?”

  Phil agrees. “Ali G's been doing something perverted with his dick, that's for sure.”

  We all agree that Arian, as the base camp networker on our team, should be tasked with finding out how Ali obtained his unfortunate injury.

  Just before dinner, Gombu, Pasang and Temba return from their rope fixing above Camp 1. The route is now fixed all the way to Camp 2, and the workload was shared between our Sherpas and the Pakistani high altitude porters on the Jagged Globe team. Although our sirdar Gombu was keen to fix the route all the way to Camp 3, David Hamilton, leader of the Jagged Globe expedition, wants to ask all the other teams in Base Camp who are planning on using our fixed ropes for $300 a head before any more of the route is fixed. If nobody pays up, then the ropes will only be fixed just before our two teams need to use it, and then pulled down straight afterwards. Another consideration is that if the route to Camp 3 is fixed too early, fresh snowfall may bury the ropes before we get round to using them.

  16. Injury fears

  Friday 26 June, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  We have a full day's rest at Base Camp today. I spend most of this morning lying in my tent reading. I'm concerned about the wound on my left ankle, caused by my boots rubbing. One layer of skin has been pulled off completely and the boot began rubbing on the second layer as I came down yesterday. I can't afford to have two layers of skin getting pulled off every time I wear the boots, so I dress the wound and hobble around in my boots on the moraine outside my tent trying to figure out the problem and make them more comfortable. The right boot was rubbing in Nepal last month, but now seems to be OK, but the left boot remains a problem. Of course, if I can't fix it I'll just have to climb through the pain and discomfort, but my ill-fitting boots remain my biggest concern to summit success.

  Phil is going to let the Sherpas decide which day we go back up the mountain. Our next foray will take us up to Camp 2 to spend the night before returning to Base Camp to rest. We need the Sherpas to establish the camp for us, and it's important they're well rested before they go back up again. When he was told he couldn't fix the route to Camp 3, a bored Gombu, the sirdar and ultimate decision-maker for the Sherpa team, spent the afternoon digging a posh toilet in the snow at Camp 1. This morning I hear shouts and laughter outside my tent and peer out to see all five of them dragging a barrel of glacier water up the ice slope beside our camp. They do this three times to provide our kitchen crew with plenty of water for cooking, and seem to be enjoying themselves – so much for letting them get rested!

  In the afternoon while I'm playing cards in the dining tent with Gorgan, Gordon and Michael, Phil comes in to say they've decided to take another rest day tomorrow, and we'll set off early again up the mountain on Sunday. Although he only arrived in Base Camp three days ago, Michael will be coming with us, which means he will have caught up with us and be on the same climbing schedule. Providing he is sufficiently acclimatised this won't be a problem – he's a good deal younger and fitter than most of us, after all.

  17. Base Camp politics

  Saturday 27 June, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  Another day of patiently waiting down in Base Camp, and another day of fine weather. It surely can't last. We've received news that a weather front will arrive across the Karakoram on July 1 st . This will give us time to make another foray up the mountain, to Camp 2 this time, before returning to Base Camp to sit out any bad weather it may bring. This means a night start tonight. Given the last time, the majority favour a 3am start up the icefall, and this has been agreed.

  I pass the time today reading a little bit, doing some washing, and playing cards in the dining tent with Ian, Michael, Arian and Gordon, interrupted by a little bit of Base Camp politics, when a small Canadian group arrives and tries pitching their tents on the moraine just below us. An argument kicks off which is witnessed by our cook Ashad.

  “I give you f---ers five minutes to move your f------ tents,” a member of the international team they have tried to camp beside is reported as saying.

  This is the same team, containing members from the UK, Canada, New Zealand, Sweden and Brazil, who complained that Gordon's tent was pitched too close to their water source. This team is intending to climb the less popular mountains G3 and G4, and the general feeling around Base Camp is that there may be an element of snobbery at play here. The team feels themselves separate from the rest of the teams here to climb the more commercial peaks of G1 and G2, who are all cooperating towards the same objective. It all seems very petty: after all, this is only a very narrow section of moraine on a glacier, and no one expedition team can claim ownership of any particular patch. The new arrivals come and ask Phil if they can camp beside us. They're only a small team with two clients, a leader and a couple of high altitude porters, and Phil is more than happy. After all, we're expecting a huge group of 20 Ira
nian climbers to arrive any day who need to find a space in Base Camp alongside the rest of us, and we would all far rather have this much smaller team camping next to us instead. Even so, the Canadian team still has to trudge up to the army camp beyond us to obtain permission from the Pakistan Army before they camp here.

  Gasherbrums IV (7925m), III (7952m) and II (8035m)

  On a sorrier note, his frozen penis combined with a spot of stomach trouble has meant that Ali the Iranian who trekked in with us has decided to go home after just 7 days at Base Camp, and having climbed no higher than Camp 1. We're all very sorry for him, though when the survival of ones frozen member is at stake, it is always well to remember that the mountain will still be here next year while the appendage may not. I'm sure Ali has made the right decision.

  18. Knackered again on the climb to Camp 1

  Sunday 28 June, 2009 – Camp 1, Gasherbrum Cwm, Pakistan

  At 1.30am I hear snow pattering on the roof of my tent, but by 2am it's finished. This is good news; if the weather forecast is correct and there's a storm coming over on July 1 st , we can't afford another rest day at Base Camp if we're to make our foray up to Camp 2 and back down again before it hits us.

  By 3am seven of us are on our way back up the icefall: myself, Ian, Phil, Michael, Arian, Gordon and Tarke. In fact, it's incredibly mild, and this causes problems in the early part of the climb. Streams of meltwater are flowing off the glacier and Phil ends up freezing his leg by putting his foot through thin ice into one of them. Crevasses are widening and snow bridges melting. I'm glad Phil is leading as there would be a high chance of ending up in a crevasse. We start unroped because the route is extremely fiddly up and down pressure ridges and around seracs. Phil nearly goes through a snow bridge and Ian and I have to hold onto him while he modifies the route around a huge crevasse. Later, when we are roped, I have to do the same after I try to leap a crevasse only to find snow on the lip I'm jumping onto give way beneath me. Fortunately I'm able to recover, and then have to prod away with my ice axe to find an alternative safe route around the crevasse. On another occasion my right leg disappears a metre into deep snow, and in yanking it out again I pull my crampon off my boot. Fortunately Michael, who is walking behind me, spots it straight away and I'm able to stop and put it back on again before walking any distance cramponless.