Thieves, Liars and Mountaineers

by Mark Horrell

  All this is done during darkness under the light of our head torches. Phil is rushing us as it's more dangerous than normal, and the rapid pace coupled with no stops for a breather mean that, again, I'm exhausted before the climb has really got going. I'm thinking to myself if I have to maintain this pace on summit day, it's going to kill me.

  Once through the more intensive crevasse section at the bottom of the icefall, the remainder of the climb is straightforward, and we reach Camp 1 at 8am. This time it has taken us just 5 hours. For some reason most of my crazy companions want to continue to Camp 2, but I'm more than happy to spend a night here and continue on to Camp 2 tomorrow. Michael also stays at Camp 1 because he's spent less time acclimatising than the rest of us, and Tarke also stays to keep us company. It's clear to me that I'm the least fit member of the team, though I feel I'm quite capable of climbing this mountain if I'm able to take things a little easier and complete the climb at a pace that's comfortable for me. The question is whether I'm going to be allowed to do that.

  The others set off for Camp 2 at 9 o'clock. Shortly afterwards it begins to snow, but at 11.30 a break in the cloud allows us to see seven tiny figures on the snow face above us on a feature called the Banana Ridge. It looks horrendously steep from where we are, looking at the route head on.

  We give the matter no further thought and fall asleep for a couple of hours. When I wake up the sun is pounding on the tent and it's sweltering inside, so I go out to have another look out across the Gasherbrum Cwm, one of the most amazing mountain settings anywhere, surrounded by six Gasherbrum Peaks, every one of them spectacular. The afternoon is restful as we listen to avalanches blasting the slopes of the mountains all around us.

  In the evening we cook one of those disgusting Backpacker meals which involve adding water to a packet of freeze-dried ingredients and letting it simmer. This time we have some sort of Thai noodle soup. I pour a fairly watery soup into Michael's mug, but when I come to pour mine, a fist-sized chunk of glued-together noodle lands in my mug. There's clearly a technique to cooking these simple meals I've not grasped yet. Neither of us find the food at all tasty, and we end up burying the remainder we're quite unable to finish under snow in the porch of our tent, and agree not to tell Arian the environmental warrior.

  19. Up to Camp 2 by the Banana Ridge

  Monday 29 June, 2009 – Camp 2, Gasherbrum II, Pakistan

  Undeterred by last night's culinary disaster, Michael and I wake up at 5am to boil water for breakfast. We decide to have a Backpacker breakfast of granola with bananas and milk. Same method as yesterday – pour hot water into the mix and stir it up – but this time it's actually quite nice, though I suppose as this one's only muesli with dried banana and powder milk, there's less either we or the manufacturers can do wrong.

  At 7am Michael, Tarke and I set off for Camp 2 and the fabled Banana Ridge. It depressed me looking at this feature yesterday afternoon as we watched stationary figures hardly moving on what looked like an almost sheer snow face, but in the end it doesn't turn out to be too bad. A short walk across flat snow brings us to the point where Gasherbrum II rises abruptly above the Gasherbrum Cwm. The climb begins with a gentle zigzag up steep snow, and for once I don't find myself trying to keep up with a crazy pace as Tarke leads with a gentle, comfortable plod, stopping frequently for a few seconds to enable us to take a few deep breaths.

  When we get to the start of the fixed ropes, we don't consider the first section steep enough to warrant jumars, and we clip in with our safety carabiners and continue plodding up slowly. About halfway up, the trail passes to the right underneath an ice cliff and then to the left back over it. The sky is completely clear and we have great views of all the mountains surrounding the Cwm, most notably Gasherbrum I and Gasherbrum II above us. Just before reaching the Banana Ridge we meet Phil, Gordon, Arian and Ian coming back down.

  “Man, they were f---ed yesterday afternoon,” Phil says, arriving ahead of the others. “Gordon f---ed; Ian f---ed.”

  “Does that mean we can switch to a more sensible schedule for our summit push?” I ask. “Base Camp to Camp 1, 1 to 2, 2 to 3, and then the summit.”

  Phil nods. “It's looking like it, dude. Just ‘cos I decided to go all the way up to Camp 2 myself, it didn't mean the others had to follow me.”

  This is a relief. Back in Base Camp a couple of days ago someone asked whether we'd be skipping Camp 1 on our summit push, like the others did yesterday, and Phil had said if you can't go straight from Base Camp to Camp 2 in a single push then you shouldn't be on the mountain. Notwithstanding his far greater experience than mine, I can't help thinking an important consideration is lost here. The main purpose of the days prior to summit day is to ensure you're rested enough and acclimatised enough to ensure that you're in the best possible shape for summit day. By climbing 1350m from Base Camp to Camp 2, followed by 800m from Camp 2 to Camp 3, it doesn't seem to me you're going to be in the best shape to launch a 900m summit day above 7000m straight afterwards.

  I know I'm capable of climbing this mountain, but the biggest risk for me is killing myself by being forced into keeping the punishing pace and schedule the others seem to be setting themselves. I wouldn't like to say “I told you so” or be pleased that my companions arrived at Camp 2 yesterday “f---ed”, but for me their push straight from Base Camp to Camp 2 was completely pointless. Michael and I have had two comfortable days' climbing with plenty of rest, and have had an extra night at 5900m to help us acclimatise. The weather has been an added bonus: instead of climbing in a snow storm like the others did yesterday, we've had perfect skies and have stopped frequently for photos.

  At the bottom of the Banana Ridge

  The Banana Ridge curves gradually to the left and climbs 200 metres to the campsite behind a prominent rock buttress which can be seen from Camp 1. There is a short drop into camp, and we arrive there shortly after 10.30, after just 3½ hours' climbing. I don't need to remind myself that Ian, normally much quicker than me, took 5 hours and arrived “f---ed”, by I do anyway. The rock buttress hides most of the Gasherbrum Cwm from us, but Gasherbrum I is still visible across the Gasherbrum La, and G2's summit is now much closer above us.

  We're at 6420m, and this morning's ascent has made me feel a great deal better about the whole climb. We've surmounted the steepest feature on the mountain with no real difficulty, Tarke's pace today has been just right, and I've had the first intimation from Phil that my slower pace and desire for shorter days can be accommodated – it may even be recommended to some of the others. I also seem to be acclimatising well and am sleeping well at high camps – so far, though for tonight we will have to see.

  Michael seems to be a bit under the weather this afternoon, however. He enjoyed the climb and got plenty of liquid down him when he arrived in camp, but since lying down to rest he seems to have picked up a severe headache, probably as a result of the more compressed acclimatisation schedule he's been running on. We go back to Base Camp tomorrow morning, so he will have plenty of time to recover. I boil up coffee, soup and chicken casserole for dinner, but the soup is too much for Michael, and he has to crawl outside the tent to throw it back up again. During our 6pm radio call to Base Camp Phil recommends a Diamox to help him recover.

  20. Hair-raising descent of the Banana Ridge in a blizzard

  Tuesday 30 June, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  It's snowing when I wake up this morning. We know that a storm is on the way, and we have to get down from Camp 2 to Base Camp for a few days' rest and to wait out the bad weather. It's -9º C in the tent when I wake up, and my fingers are cold as I perform the morning routine of putting on my harness and crampons. I know ropework is required this morning, however, so put on my thinner gloves which allow me some manual dexterity, rather than my nice warm down mitts.

  At 7.45, while Tarke is collapsing the tents at Camp 2 and marking them with bamboo wands in preparation for the storm which is sure to bury them, I slowly move on up the short sn
ow slope which leads into Camp 2. At the top of the slope is a narrow ridge leading to the rock buttress overlooking the top of the Banana Ridge. This morning this horizontal ridge is barely discernible among the sea of white that envelops my vision. The footprints of yesterday have been obliterated by fresh snow, and all I have to guide me along it is the thin dark line of fixed rope which I clip into with my safety carabiner. Although this will be sufficient to protect me in the event of a slip, even so I have no wish to find myself dangling on my harness above the 500 metre drop to the Gasherbrum Cwm which exists on either side of me, so I make my way very slowly along it, making certain every step I take lands on a bed of solid snow.

  After two rope lengths I reach the top of the Banana Ridge and look down it. This is where the serious climbing starts, and it looks like I'm going to have to descend this formidable 200 metre feature in a howling blizzard. I begin by facing outwards, looking down the ridge and carefully descending yesterday's steps while clutching the fixed rope with one hand and digging into the snow with the prong of my ice axe in the other. The steps are disappearing fast, however, and as fresh snow slides beneath my feet it quickly becomes clear this is not a safe way to descend. I turn around and face into the slope. I now have a third point of contact with the slope as I look behind and down, searching for the remains of steps, and carefully lower myself down using the front points of my crampons to dig into the snow. My only safety precaution beyond these three points of contact – my crampons, my ice axe, and my gloved hand on the fixed rope – is a carabiner clipped into the fixed rope and attached to my harness. Although this will save my life by preventing me tumbling 500 metres to the Gasherbrum Cwm, I will still fall all the way down to the next anchor point, which could be an entire rope length if I happen to be at the top of one when I slip. This would certainly put the willies up me for the rest of the descent, and I'm determined not to let it happen.

  I make painstaking progress and my fingers become numb with cold, causing my grip on the fixed rope to weaken. Even so, as drifting snow howls across my face, I know I have to forget about the cold and the rate of progress and continue down step by step – it will take as long as it takes, and there's little I can do about it.

  I've descended a little more than one rope length when I notice Tarke and Michael appear at the top of the Banana Ridge above me and begin following me down. The front-pointing is tiring on my calves, and every so often, when I reach a step big enough to accommodate my whole foot, I stop and rest. Then I hear Tarke shout something down to me. I look up and Michael repeats the instruction.

  “Mark, try abseiling.”

  Until now I'd believed fixed ropes to be too tight to abseil off, but I see Michael descending quickly towards me. I reach behind my back to unclip my figure-of-eight loop from my harness. I'm at the top of the third fixed rope, but when I try to snatch a bite out of it to attach the figure-of-eight I find it too tight and struggle to grab enough. Michael is much closer to me now, and I resume front-pointing, but this time much more quickly, almost recklessly. After I've descended another ten metres I look down the ridge and see how much further I have to descend in this painstaking fashion. It's disheartening and it feels like it's going to take hours this way. I try to attach the abseil device again. This time the weight of my descent on the fixed rope has stretched it a little, and I'm able to attach the device without difficulty. This is a massive relief – not only is abseiling much quicker, but also much safer and less tiring as I lean back and let the rope slip through my figure-of-eight loop.

  It takes about ten to twelve abseils to reach the bottom of the Banana Ridge, but now I can enjoy myself, and when I turn the corner to reach its base and wait for Tarke and Michael to catch up, I even find my fingers have warmed up again. We have a straightforward, if somewhat frustrating, descent to Camp 1 from here. The slope is now covered in fresh snow a few inches thick, obliterating most of the old tracks and making for a tedious descent, with ending up on your backside in the snow a constant hazard. As the snow continues to fall we pass a lone nutcase on his way up. With a storm forecast for the next few days it seems inevitable he will be stranded at Camp 2 in dangerous conditions for several days – if he doesn't reach the Banana Ridge, look up it and have the good sense to turn around.

  At last we reach the bottom of the face and trudge across the Gasherbrum Cwm to Camp 1. Here we pause only to drop off our sleeping bags and mats before roping up and continuing our descent. It's 10.20 when we leave, and this time our descent to Base Camp is slower. The wind continues to blow spindrift across our faces, and although the continued cold weather ensures snow bridges and ice towers in the South Gasherbrum Icefall remain intact, fresh snow begins to cover old tracks and brings the new risk of hidden crevasses getting covered in snow. We stay roped up all the way down and are tired when we trudge into the safety of Base Camp at 1.30. The bottom section of the icefall is a very dispiriting obstacle for tired feet, as there are almost as many ascents as descents as snow ridges and ice seracs need to be surmounted. The snow becomes quite slushy towards the bottom, and I have a problem with my crampons balling up with fresh snow. I have to keep asking Tarke and Michael to stop so that I can bash the snow off with my ice axe.

  As we walk into Base Camp, Michael has a more serious problem when he looks down at his feet and notices one of his crampons has disappeared. Behind him on the rope I didn't notice it fall off, but I do remember being surprised to see a single crampon lying in the snow at a new campsite a big group of Iranian climbers who have just arrived in Base Camp were pitching on the moraine beyond ours. Michael rushes back and is relieved to discover it's his crampon. A missing crampon would have meant the end of his expedition. Ehshan, one of the kitchen assistants, brings over a pot of orange juice, and sweet and sour with rice is ready for us in the dining tent. Phil tells us we now have four or five days of rest ahead of us at Base Camp before our summit push.

  I seem to be becoming prudish in my old age. At dinner this evening, fed up with the amount of unnecessary swearing bashing across my ears across the table, I suggest introducing a swear box to pay for alcohol.

  “F--- you, c—ksucker,” says Gordon. “That's a f---ing bulls—t idea. They did that where I worked once, and it ended up costing me 200 bucks. I wasn't allowed to make any sexist comments either, and all the girls in the office turned up to work showing cleavage and bending over to open bottom drawers. It drove me mad!”

  Poor Gordon.

  21. Day 1 of doing nothing

  Wednesday 1 July, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  Day 1 of doing nothing, and for most of the day it's easy. As I lie in my tent and listen to the snow pounding on the roof, it's clear nobody's going anywhere for a while. I finish reading my book Shogun , all 1243 pages of it, and am glad of it. It's full of death, people having their heads chopped off with samurai swords, and people committing suicide by slicing their own bellies open and watching the entrails spill out onto the floor. I prefer reading books with sympathetic, likable characters, and am looking forward to returning to my classics.

  Gazing up at Gasherbrum I

  At about 5pm, after snowing non-stop all day, the sun comes out and everyone emerges from their tents to look out upon a fantastic winter mountain scene. Michael takes down his tent and re-erects it on a flatter platform. Phil, whose attempts to charge the big battery he's brought along from various solar panel's he's erected outside his tent has become something of a comical Keystone Kops-style theme over the last week or so, is absolutely delighted. Several of us take the opportunity to photograph this very different looking landscape. Since the whole team is here in one place for the first time in a few days, we also have a group photograph on the puja platform with Gasherbrum I in the background.

  22. Tea with the mountaineering elite

  Thursday 2 July, 2009 – Gasherbrum Base Camp, Pakistan

  Day 2 of doing nothing. It's fine weather for most of today, but due to the fresh dump of snow over
the last couple of days, we still can't go up the mountain until the snow's consolidated due to the risk of avalanches.

  After washing some clothes I go for a wander up the moraine finger beyond the army camp with Ian and Michael to try and get an alternative view of Gasherbrum II, which can't be seen from where we're camped on the moraine. Unfortunately, although it's predominantly sunny there is a small amount of cloud in the Gasherbrum Cwm which obscures most of the mountains, including G2. Back in my tent it's absolutely sweltering. I try to read some of my latest book Tom Jones , but it's uncomfortably hot, so I spend most of the afternoon playing cards with Gordon, Gorgan, Ian and Michael in the dining tent. After Gordon spots me taking a sneaky peek at Gorgan's cards everybody spends the rest of the game trying to stitch me up. Thankfully they fail, and somehow I still manage to win the game.