surviving k2

I dedicate this book to Gerard McDonnell

colofon

Surviving K2

By Wilco van Rooijen

Copyright © 2010 Wilco van Rooijen. All rights reserved

Published by G+J Publishing CV, Dalsteindreef 82-92, 1112 XC Diemen, Netherlands

Publisher: Ignas van Schaick: Ignas.van.schaick@genj.nl

Productmanager: Susanne van Leeuwen, Susanne.van.leeuwen@genj.nl

Editor: Rob van Bruggen, Q-marq communicatie-adviesbureau

English translation: Roger Thurman, Martijn Goudsmit, English Text Company

Designer cover and interior: Studio Harnas

Printed in Germany

Special thanks: Gerard McDonnell, Pemba, Gyalje, Cas van de Gevel, Jelle Staleman, Roeland van Oss, Ronald Naar and Chris Klinke.

ISBN 9789089270467

No part of this book be be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher execpt for the quotation of brief passages in reviews.

www.expeditienet.nl

inhoud

Chapter 1 It begins 9

Chapter 2 Three times K2 19

Chapter 3 1995 - A dream falls apart 45

Chapter 4 The return to k2 in 2006 65

Chapter 5 K2 summit ascent 2008 99

Chapter 6 Saved 143

Chapter 7 Epilogue 151

Chapter 8 Word of thanks 157

foreword

For years now some have considered Wilco and I as the Siamese twins of Dutch mountaineering; an inseparable team, merrily racing through the Alps, sometimes away from home for weeks on end, sometimes on quick hit-and-run missions. The year 1995 was supposed to be ours - the step towards more serious climbing. We were two young Turks playing a part in a team of experi-enced expedition climbers. Our goal was the 8611-metre high K2.

This expedition was to be the crowning glory after years of alpine work. But things did not go as planned. In the early stages of the expedition Wilco was hit by a rock, which ended any thoughts of summiting for him. I suffered from an uninvited stomach bug that had me more time behind the tent than on the mountain.

But that 1995 setback on K2 made Wilco the man who he is today. In the years that followed, he became stronger and more motivated. His philoso-phy was simple – after careful calculation he set himself a goal and then went for it. Many years of climbing in the Alps followed, as well as expedi-tions to the North and South Pole and the Himalayas. But I recollect that the idea of climbing K2 always lurked in his mind, and not always at the back of it. In 2004 he climbed Mount Everest without the use of bottled oxygen. It was only logical that K2 would be the next step.

The experience of being on a mountain a second or third time is a special one. You don’t always need to succeed the first time, and a first failed at-tempt is a magnificent motivator for a second visit. You view the mountain from a different perspective and adapt your strategy. There is rather more respect for the beast, and both drive and motivation grow. You tread more skilfully. In 2006 Wilco took part in an international K2 expedition which again proved unsuccessful, he did not summit. But he did meet Irishman Gerard McDonnell and together they planned to return to K2 in 2008.

Today he has a family and is professionally involved in expedition climbing.

2008 saw Wilco as leader of the Norit K2 Expedition. With an interna-tional team Wilco returned to K2 for a third time.

Each year new victims fall on K2. No one knew that just as in 1986, the year 2008 would be a disastrous year. That season we were the first ones on the mountain. We had a strong team in which everyone was prepared to work towards a common goal, reaching the summit of K2 via the Cesen Route. Wilco is a good expedition leader. He does his utmost to ensure everyone has a summit attempt. And having to work hard is not at all bad if the atmosphere in the team is good. We take the greatest pleasure in climbing on K2 together.

The climb proves successful whereby four of our eight-man team reach the summit. An achievement that the whole team is proud of. But the situa-tion takes a dramatic turn during descent. Gerard dies after a heroic rescue attempt. It is a tragic blow to the team.

In dealing with this terrible loss, the strongest support comes from Ger-ard’s girlfriend and family. They were willing to listen to the true story of Gerard’s descent without reproach. It remains a huge loss. But climbers are climbers. This is what defines who they are. I am proud that Gerard and our expedition members managed a successful climb of K2.

As a true professional, Wilco is able to separate expedition, family and the loss of Gerard. He sets out a clear line for his life. He is longing for un-known and higher goals whereby he explores the limits of his abilities such as during the descent from the summit of K2, where he lost all his toes. Everyone was astonished by his perseverance. He is a well-balanced indi-vidual and that is also his strength in terms of his rehabilitation. I have no doubt that he will climb again. There is no way back. But new challenges lie ahead. The longing for new adventure remains.

Cas van de GevelMalaga, March 2009

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it begins

IT BEGINS

Chapter 1

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it begins

The tip of the pen flows over the paper. I had always imagined creating a smooth signature for this milestone in our lives, and I can see that I’ll manage it. It’s my signature next to Heleen’s on the purchase contract of our converted farmhouse in the Dutch province of Gelderland. We smile nervously; our young son Teun is on my lap and doesn’t have a clue as to what this transaction actually entails, but he smiles all the same. I look at the notary and he nods: it’s officially our home now. A dream has come true and we feel the deep meaning of the moment. A day later I’ll join the eight-man climbing team as part of the Norit K2 Expedition. We are to climb one of the most dangerous mountains in the world. If everything goes to plan I’ll be back in three months.

People sometimes ask me what possesses me. I always answer: “Because I want to feel alive.” However, I have seldom suffered such ambivalent feelings as when I signed the purchase contract to our house. My passion for mountains and extreme expeditions always dominated everything and made my life very orderly. But ever since my marriage to Heleen, my son’s birth and purchasing our home the risks that make up such an intricate part of a life as an adventurer are more present than ever. What am I doing to them? I am responsible for them, what will happen to my wife and child if I don’t come back? And let’s face it, that’s a possibility.

We spoke extensively with each other about it. Heleen understands that I have ‘a history’ with the other love of my life, K2. We have had many heated debates on the issue, whereby the unfulfilled desire in me ultimate-ly won. I have to do this. I need to return to K2 for what will perhaps be a last try. I cannot even promise that I’ll give up if this attempt also fails. My head is filled with contradictory thoughts and emotions at the start of the Norit K2 Expedition.

Before driving to Schiphol Airport, I pick up Cas van de Gevel in Utrecht. I am welcomed with a broad smile on the face of my faithful climbing partner and friend with whom I share everything. Back in 1995 we were

two inexperienced rookies who managed to enter the premier league of Dutch mountaineering by earning a place on the K2 expedition led by Ronald Naar. Cas wanted to return to K2 one day, and this makes it his moment just as much as it is mine. A better and more reliable climbing partner with experience and commitment I feel cannot exist.

It is déjà vu. Standing next to Cas at Schiphol are two other enthusiastic young team members, Roeland van Oss and Jelle Staleman. Towards the end of 2007 we had placed an ad for two competent, ambitious climbers to join us on the 2008 Norit K2 expedition. And here they were. The two who best matched the job description and dared to play high stakes on climbing’s Holy Grail. One needs guts, passion, climbing skills, excellent physical condition and personal maturity in making decisions. In other words: you need to understand the dangers and know exactly what you are doing. Reckless behaviour or overconfidence tends to lead to disaster.

Roeland van Oss is a quiet, reliable and very technical climber. He looks self-assured and makes a solid impression. Roeland is training to become a mountain guide and we don’t doubt that he has his heart in the right place. No tall stories, he knows what he can do, what he can’t, and what he wants.

Jelle is completely different. I got to know him via my triathlon organisa-tion Hellas in Utrecht, where he trained sporadically. He had spent most of his time with the marines abroad. I admit to having reservations about marines. A natural prejudice, his letter of ‘motivation’ confirmed my feel-ings. Green Berets, nights without sleep, constantly pushing on - that kind of thing. It’s good to have stamina, but what do you do when you are over 8000 metres and faced with the choice of descending or digging a snow hole to survive?

A die-hard marine who never stops may sound tough, but in the moun-tains this can leave you dead. When you are in the mountains you must not simply keep on going, expending the last of your energy until you

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reach the summit. The summit is only half way, a fact many have forgotten in the emotional high of summiting. You must know what you are doing and have yourself completely under control. And yet while we know that Jelle has not yet mastered severe, technical climbs and has only been in-volved in serious mountaineering for several years, we still chose him. We know that he is fit, think that he will respond well to coaching and hear that he is a good laugh. This is important. We also know that he won’t be afraid when the going gets tough.

Court Haegens, the last Dutchman on the team, will fly in a week later. He is an Alpine climber with long experience in technical rock climbing and a rich history as an instructor for the Royal Dutch Climbing Association, the NKBV. In 2006 he climbed his first 8000-metre peak with relative ease. He plays things safe and is a welcome addition to the team. Court is an honest and reliable guy, and if you want to know about the risks it’s best to speak to him. The Norit K2 expedition team also includes three foreigners: a Nepalese, an Irishman and an Australian.

I want an eight-man team so we can work on the mountain in two groups of four.

Over the years I have become closely acquainted with Gerard McDon-nell, an Irishman who lives in Alaska where we have climbed and trained together at length. He is a man after my own heart. Calm, balanced, no beating about the bush, and someone you can take at his word. A climber who understands endurance and perseverance. We unintentionally share near-death experiences on the mountain of our dreams: me in 1995, and Gerard in 2006. I always knew that Gerard would never be daunted by the experience. We are very similar in this way. Maybe our accidents made us more determined. This would never happen to us again, and we would show that back then it was just bad luck.

In 2003 Gerard climbed Everest with oxygen from the Nepalese south

side together with Sherpa Pemba who hailed from the Khumbu region. Sherpas are tireless workers who are extremely well adapted to climbing at high altitudes, and they are born to an impressive and proud culture. Of the entire group, Pemba has the most experience above 8000 metres. Although he had never climbed Everest without oxygen, he stood at the summit six times. Pemba is an absolute professional - a man of consensus, never seeking out confrontation but not afraid of speaking his mind. It is striking that Pemba doesn’t consider K2 to be the most dangerous moun-tain, but rather Annapurna’s south face. Pemba thinks that this mountain is much more dangerous because the avalanches there are very unpredict-able. Pemba’s athletic physique makes him a climber who commands re-spect from everyone.

Last but not least, the Australian Mark Sheen. In 2006 Mark climbed on Broad Peak with Gerard and myself, and we immediately hit it off. Mark is from Perth and does not have a mountaineering background – a fun laid-back Aussie who is ambitious and eager to learn. During the Broad Peak expedition, he climbed to camp 4 with Gerard and me to just below the col at almost 8000 metres. In the middle of the night Gerard, Mark and I set off for the summit. Mark was quickly forced to give up: he returned to camp 4. His decision not to descend further, but to wait for Gerard and me, proved a serious error of judgement. Upon returning that evening, we found Mark in a delirious condition. We were shocked to find him so depleted and forced him to descend with us. We reached camp 3, the next day continuing on down to base camp. Mark was suffering from frostbite in his fingers. It was a hard lesson but Mark accepted his mistake and didn’t complain. Luckily his fingers fully recovered.

A year later, Mark is climbing Mount Everest with a team from New Zea-land. A strong, cold wind is blowing when he reaches the summit. When I hear about his successful summit attempt, I e-mail him my congratula-tions. He replies asking me what my plans are and enquires about a place on the team. I am ecstatic, it will be wonderful to have Mark on board.

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it begins

He is a team player. And now the team is complete, a balanced group with ‘winners’ at all positions. I am happy, more than happy.

We also receive support from our base camp in the Netherlands, which is manned by our organisational wonder Maarten van Eck. Good commu-nications are extremely important. On the mountain we are completely dependent on meteorological information from Ab Maas that we receive through mission control. There is also a medical hotline to our expedition doctor Ronald Hulsebosch. Maarten and Michel Schuurman serve as press officers, our link to the outside world. The base camp in the Netherlands, always on standby, is our life line.

On this expedition we have found a sponsor who is also active as a fully-fledged team member. Norit, and in particular Menno Holterman, have been involved in the expedition from the start. Not only financially but also with other contributions such as a small technological wonder that should be a must-have on every expedition: a mobile water purifier that spared us a lot of physical discomfort. It’s always hard to say goodbye, but with all faith in a positive outcome, it’s easier.

The journey out of the country and on to higher ground progresses smoothly and before we know it the first real challenge presents itself; the infamous Karakoram Highway (whoever came up with this moniker must have had something of a sense of humour) - the old silk route between Pa-kistan and China running through the northern state of Baltistan. There is very little actual highway: the road is mostly narrow, partially unpaved and sometimes so steep that vehicles need help to make the climb. It extends through the Indus Valley where at certain places the river runs hundreds of metres below through an inhospitable landscape. The fact that there is even a road here is a miracle in its own right. A heavy toll was paid to build it; construction cost many people’s lives; an estimated one per kilometre. The Karakoram Highway was completed in the 1970s. It is the only road that connects Baltistan with the five lower basins in the Punjab

in Pakistan. Baltistan borders on China in the north and Kashmir in India to the east. This area has long been the ‘playing field’ of tensions between India and Pakistan as both countries claim Kashmir. Although this is a relatively quiet area where a cease-fire is in place, there are many army posts on the glaciers up to K2. More Pakistani and Indian soldiers die from high-altitude disease than from bullets.

We want to drive to Skardu over the coming two days. We leave at 06.00 in two buses. We haven’t even been on the road for an hour when the suspension on one of them gives up. Yet another adventure begins. The driver attempts to drive on but the screeching noises are too much even for him. We switch buses and continue slowly. In the next village, we look for a new vehicle and driver. Serious negotiating is necessary before a deal is closed. We finally continue, the views brightening our mood. We have magnificent views of Nanga Parbat (8125m) and Rakaposhi (7790m), just like K2, mountains with characteristic shapes.

Our driver is amazing. For the past two days he has been driving along narrow, dangerous, unpaved roads. He is positive and optimistic and, in spite of the time lost, he thinks we will reach Skardu on the second day. We are startled as we careen from the road, but it’s not serious. The rush of adrenaline from the near-accident enables our driver to deliver us to our destination quickly, we arrive at 23.00. We are standing in the famous K2 hotel in Skardu with its magnificent view of the desert plains and mighty mountain rivers. We quickly take our things to our rooms, shower and sleep.

When we wake up, we are in a different world. An oasis of rest, with views that are only possible in the high mountains. We have breakfast and rearrange all baggage barrels and duffel bags. We buy groceries. All the communication equipment - the laptops, modems, satellite phones, solar panels, batteries and converters are given a final check. From now on we only use solar energy and no longer need the 220V plugs.

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it begins

On 21 May, at 06.00 in the morning, we leave in the jeeps in the direction of Askole. From Skardu it is over 110 kilometres along dangerous off-road paths that are sometimes impassable due to landslides, falling rocks or riv-ers that have burst their banks. We pass many suspension bridges that only allow one vehicle to pass at a time. These seemingly frail wobbly obstacles are crossed at no more than walking speed. Even though this is an adven-turous journey through amazing landscapes, there is little time to enjoy it. We are constantly avoiding rocks, and on the lookout for places where the road has been washed away, landslides or broken-down vehicles. I know that just outside Askole there is a steep incline that can only be climbed with 4x4s and in low gears. It also demands a skilled driver as the road has several treacherously sharp hairpin bends. In 2006 several jeeps got into trouble: they had to be unloaded and only made it after several repeated attempts. My heart is in my throat, but I needn’t have worried. We climb the hill at the first elegant attempt.

Askole is a real expedition village. As the road ends here it is a gathering point for porters seeking work which brings foreign wealth to a very poor part of the world. The next morning, the atmosphere is especially pleasant. We are recruiting. We are the first expedition of the season and the porters are raring to go. I have brought along 100 Norit K2 Expedition caps. I know from experience how happy porters are to have such headgear. A quality cap is easily worth three days’ wages. The caps are handed out, and all hell breaks loose. We feel like pop stars, there are sadly not enough caps to go round. Happily some of the porters prefer their traditional Hunza headdress.

On 22 May we begin our seven-day trek. We are tired of sitting, and eager to make active use of our bodies again. Active acclimatisation can begin. We are still at only 2500 metres, but will quickly ascend to 5000 metres. The trek goes via Korophonenaar Jhula, Paiju where we will have a day of rest, then on to Urdukas, Goro II, Broad Peak base camp and our final goal: K2 base camp. We trek for six to eight hours a day. We start early,

around 06.00, before sunrise, and by around 15.00 have done the distance and still have time set up camp. K2 trekking is one of the roughest and heaviest as there are no villages or settlements along the way (unlike Ever-est), nowhere to buy cola or tea or whatever. We don’t complain. It’s part of the story. The mountains along the route are also among the highest and most rugged with five of the world’s 14 eight thousanders in handsome view. We have already passed Nanga Parbat (8125m), and are now walk-ing past Gasherbrum 1 (8068m), Gasherbrum 2 (8035m) and Broad Peak (8047m). The path will end at the foot of K2, mountain of mountains (8611m). Other famous summits here include the Great Trango Towers, the Cathedrals, Uli Biaho, Paju Peak, Liligo Peak, Masherbrum, Mitre Peak, Mustagh Tower and Chogolisa - a climbers’ Valhalla.

From Paiju we climb onto the famous Baltoro Glacier, which we follow to Concordia, the ice plateau where some 60 glaciers converge. From here we should be able to see K2 but today the view is obstructed by mist, clouds and snow. In the process of covering distance at high altitude it’s best to keep your mind blank and focus on infinity. We continue trudging through the snow and cold to Broad Peak base camp. Quiet is all around. Tent, food, water and fatigue combine to put us to sleep fast. When we wake up the next day, we are surrounded by powder snow as far as the eye can see. We gaze in delight. A clear blue ceiling on a white white world. And there it is, in the far distance - King of the Karakoram - higher than all the surrounding summits. Humility, pride, wonder, fear, and bravado all have a place in our cocktail of emotions. What a simply magnificent view. The area immediately around K2 is called the throne room of the mountain gods. It is easy to understand why.

From Broad Peak base camp we cross the Godwin Austen glacier. We cross moraines, jump melt-water streams and move delicately between the mas-sive boulders. We soon arrive at the K2 base camp. Because we are the first expedition to arrive (there will be many more during the season) we can choose the best spot on the famous moraine strip below the slopes of K2.

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Somewhere in the middle the porters have thrown down their load from their powerful sweating backs. They have worked hard. And now these hard workers are to be paid. A fixed fee was agreed in advance, but they are secretly hoping for a tip. When I announce to the porters, who are gath-ered together in a large circle, that they will receive ten days’ pay instead of the agreed seven applause rings through the camp. After the porters leave, a feeling of tranquillity descends. We can start building our home for the coming two months.

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three times k2

THREE TIMES K2

Chapter 2

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three times k2

Another problem. Because our base camp is moving on the glacier, every structure ends up collapsing, however strong it may be. Even our base camp will not withstand the long wait, I think to myself cynically.

My thoughts go back to the end of May, when we arrived. The glacier was still smooth and everything looked different. It was all covered by a beauti-ful, thick white layer of snow. Setting up camp was simple and there was plenty of room. We were the first expedition on the glacier. We were able to choose the best spot for our base camp at 5000 metres altitude with a fantastic view of K2. We quickly set up our comfortable base camp – in the beginning of the expedition everything seemed to go well. After returning to my tent I quickly squeeze into my warm sleeping bag and reflect on that first day of climbing. The Norit K2 Expedition commenced on 3 June. Roeland, Jelle, Cas and I start fixing the first 600 metres of fixed ropes on the route to camp 1. We all feel the youthful excitement, this is the real thing. We are finally allowed to get going, after a long, tiring journey and months of intensive preparation. Cas leads the way as he looks for the right route, Jelle follows with the rope. I climb in between to film and Roeland prevents the 200-metre-long rope from twisting and snagging. The condi-tions may not be perfect, but we are moving along rapidly. During the first day we fix three lengths of rope with the help of pitons.

We ascend to around 5500 metres, then return feeling tired but fulfilled. Pemba, Gerard and Mark have not yet joined the expedition. Pemba has asked his lama in Nepal to bless the expedition and has built a stone alter with Tibetan prayer flags. The expedition’s prayer ceremony will take place on 5 June. Pemba does not want to climb or step onto the mountain before then. Gerard and Mark join Pemba out of respect for him. Pemba doesn’t mind that we have already started climbing: with all his experience he under-stands that you should make the utmost of every good day on the mountain. The images are very vivid in my mind. And now I can’t sleep any longer. I search for my headlamp, switch it on, search through my things and dig out my diary, crawl deeper into my sleeping bag and start to read.

It’s the third time. I carefully open my eyes after a wonderful, deep sleep and stare at the dark tent cloth above me. It is the middle of the night. I wonder what woke me - my thoughts or the natural urge I feel. The third time, I repeat to myself. A restless voice inside me starts nagging some-where close. Our expedition started so well, but now we’re sitting here and can do nothing but wait. It is mid-July, our first serious summit attempt was two weeks ago. Unfortunately, unsuccessful.

The longer we wait the less likely it is that we can make a new summit at-tempt. Very frustrating. I crawl out of my sleeping bag and into my long sleeved underwear, outer pants and fleece vest, and anorak. It’s freezing cold at night. I would have preferred to stay in the tent, but nature calls. I drag myself through the cold towards the toilet tent. My headlight shines across the rocks as I clump along on my ‘moon boots’. For hygienic rea-sons the tent has been placed at the other side of the camp, far from the mess tents. Fortunately, all international expeditions have agreed to place their toilet tents here. At the other end of the camp the glacial river flows from where we get our water supply. Even though our expedition now has a novelty that has saved us a lot of physical discomfort – a mobile water purifier that Norit has provided – we don’t take any chances.

It is deathly quiet in base camp. I can make out the contours of the mighty K2 and a shiver runs down my spine. Although it is the third time, you never get used to the awe-inspiring sight of this mountain. At night it inspires the most fear; it makes me feel small. In the light of day and from the safety of base camp, I have often stared at its flanks and broad shoul-ders: it doesn’t seem to hide any secrets from me and I can effortlessly find my way along the route and camps to the summit; both with my eyes and in my mind. But now in the dark, in the middle of the night, I have lost all my bearings and with the growing feeling of disappointment that this at-tempt will also prove unsuccessful; the mountain appears more cruel than ever. I look under the thin tent cloth above the pile of rocks and notice that we need to move the toilet today or tomorrow otherwise it will collapse.

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The weather had deteriorated. At camp 1 everything was shrouded in a dense mist and clouds and it was snowing. Very much in contrast with the conditions when heading out this morning with the sun shining, and sweat pouring down our faces. A few hours later our hands were numb, it was snowing and a cold wind was blowing. Although we were not yet properly acclimatised, we had managed to fix 600 metres of rope up to camp 1. It was an impressive achievement. Even speaking required a great deal of effort. You had to breathe deeply before being able to reply. While climbing, we were constantly out of breath. Just before camp 1, we ran out of rope. We were 20 metres short to actually reach the camp. Camp 1 is small: a ledge squeezed between two rock towers with two tiny flats for two-person tents, I estimated them to be 2.5 metres by 1.5 metres. Di-rectly next to two massive rock towers is the abyss to the other side down to the glacier and the base camp. We can see the small, coloured specks of our tents. Later on, we hear that Pemba, Mark, Gerard and Court closely follow our movements. We empty our rucksacks, fix everything to a rope and decide to quickly go back down. The weather is getting worse and we decide not to put up our tents as a precaution against the fierce storms. Im-ages of the 2002 Mount Everest expedition, where complete camps blew away, come to mind.

What a prelude to the expedition. Reached camp 1, we should be proud! We descend rapidly along the fixed ropes and reach the glacier at 13.00. We establish radio contact with base camp and report that we will be back at 14.00 to have lunch. When we reach base camp we are exhausted, and take a rest. We explain the geography of the route up to camp 1, what things look like and the conditions. Tomorrow, after the ceremony of the Puja, Pemba will go up with Mark, Gerard and Court. Cas, Jelle, Roeland and I explain that it is not very smart to go up after the Puja. It will be 09.00 before you are actually in the route, and the snow will be soft, mak-ing it difficult. Would it not be smarter to load the rucksacks with rope, tents, stoves, gas and food, and start very early the next day? But Pemba, Mark, Gerard and Court want to explore part of the route tomorrow, to

Got up at 4.00 this morning to finish the job of fixing the route to camp 1 at 5800 metres. Yesterday we fixed three two-hundred-metre lengths of rope and got up to around 5500 metres. When I left my tent Cas walked by and said: “Wake Jelle up, it’s very quiet in his tent.’ He was still sleeping. After breakfast Cas, Roeland and I departed, Jelle would catch us up on the glacier. We used red flags to mark a route . But the route was still un-clear, and so we wanted to mark it more clearly today. It’s very important to mark the route according to a specific line as it very dangerous to walk to the bottom of the route in too direct a line. You are literally walking through a potential avalanche cone of snow and ice. If these come crashing down (which they do with monotonous regularity) they will instantly bury you. It is best to avoid them. Over the past days Cas, Jelle and Roeland have also placed many flags, but you would not be able to find your way across the glacier in a ‘white-out’, and that is why we decided to further improve the route. In a total white-out you must be able to walk from flag to flag; the route to base camp should be clearly marked, especially when returning to base camp after an exhausting climb. At 5.00 we started preparing the route, and at 6.30 we were standing at the bottom of the slope up to the route. We put on our equipment and started climbing. Cas leading the way, followed by Jelle, then me and Roeland as the last climber. Roeland was suffering and when I asked if he was alright, he said he wasn’t. His throat was hurting and he was short of breath. I told him not to risk it all just to be able to climb today. But he wanted to come up, albeit at his own pace. We climbed up to 5500 metres, where we ended the previous day and put all the gear that we had left behind in our rucksacks. In addi-tion to this equipment, we were also hauling up new stuff - two tents, two sets of MSR Reactor stoves, gas tanks, breakfast, warm meals, three lengths of 200-metre rope, pitons, ice axes and more. Cas tracked the route up, Jelle climbing behind with the first 200-metre rope, I reeling in the rope at the belay, until Roeland caught up. Roeland then took over from me as I climbed with a new length and climbing materials up to Cas and Jelle. In the meantime the rope was being fixed with pitons at strategic places on the route. After more than six hours we reached camp 1, we were exhausted.

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By fair means or not, various incidents occurred that gave us pause for thought. Mark experienced some scary moments on the traverse between camp 1 and 2 where he was almost hit by falling stones. We quickly saw that these were being caused by work being done above camp 2. Pemba and Gerard were already exploring the route to camp 3, accidentally dislodging stones that then fell several hundred metres down to the traverse we were making. Extremely dangerous. Climbing simultaneously at different places on a face can be risky, and this often happens of course when different teams are climbing the same mountain. The solution was carefully thought through. The first team would ascend carrying as much equipment from base camp as possible like tents, anchors, route markers and so on. They would carry the gear to camp 2, sleep there and descend the next morning. When they appeared team 2 would go up to camp 2, and the next day they would prepare the route up to camp 3 with the materials brought up by team 1. This should be clever use of shift work. If the weather and the con-ditions permitted this, the preparation work up to camp 3 would quickly be completed. This was the theory, but would it also work in practice?

We decide to execute our plan on 11 June. I ascend with Jelle, Roeland, Mark and Court; we are wearing heavy packs. The gear includes two North Face Mountain 25 tents that need to be properly secured to with-stand storms. I am sharing a tent with Mark, and Jelle is sharing a tent with Roeland. Court will sleep in camp 1. The next day we descend and are relieved by Pemba, Cas and Gerard, who will climb with Court to camp 2. They will sleep there in the tents that we set up, and the next day Pemba, Cas and Gerard will prepare the route to camp 3. Our plans work. We are pleased that the climbing strategy has worked well. And we have managed another success, it’s all going as we would like. If things keep up, the more serious part of the climb may begin earlier than we thought. The successes create a sense of euphoria. Everybody knows that the hardest part of the expedition is yet to come. If the signs are not betraying us... We are still the only expedition that has reached this far. A lot of the other expeditions have just arrived, or are still on the way to base camp.

put their bodies to work. If they can’t make it, they will come back down. According to plan, they will leave early Friday morning to take up equip-ment to camp 1. They will return and we will assess which of the climbers is fit enough to climb to camp 1 in four to five hours, and then fix part of the route up to camp 2. We choose not to sleep in camp 1, as this will mean burning precious gas and consuming food, but to descend to base camp instead. First we must fix the ropes up to camp 2 and 3. We will only sleep in camp 1 if necessary. It’s a good plan and everyone agrees. After Friday we will mix up the teams. The Dutch may have got here first, but this does not mean they should decide the composition of the teams. Everyone agrees, and surely we will learn from each other. Hopefully the weather will be OK; the snowfalls are making it hard work on the moun-tain. Today we lay a trail up to camp 1, but with the snow the tracks will be gone within an hour. All in all, I am pleased: it’s great working on the route with this team, everyone is raring to go and every effort is construc-tive and aimed at the joint goal. We had planned to reach K2’s base camp before 1 June. We easily manage this. We made to it camp 1, and fixed 1200 metres of rope by 4 June; another success. Some say the first blow is half the battle. No other expeditions have arrived yet, and we already have camp 1 in our pocket.

I can still clearly remember living in something of a dream during the suc-ceeding days while working hard and reaching higher and higher up the mountain. In the meantime our physical condition improved and we be-came a close team. The atmosphere was positive, and we grew into our roles. I had given a lot of thought to the make-up of the team. Making headway on the mountain almost has the effect of a drug. It is a great feeling if you can climb by fair means, in other words without extra bottled oxygen. I am a strong supporter of climbing without the use of extra oxygen. Climbing on the basis of your own strengths is the most natural form and gives most climbers the greatest satisfaction. It is also safer. I am convinced of that. Then there is the added bonus of doing it with a team of diverse characters who share the rock-solid belief that this is how to climb a mountain.

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ascend to camp 2 with our heavy rucksacks (that contain heavy material including tent, stove, food, personal items, down suit, sleeping bag, mat, gloves, thermos flask, photo and video camera). As forecast, the weather on Monday 16 June does not look great; however, on Tuesday conditions should improve. We leave base camp at 04.00, it’s pitch black. Our cooks Hussain and Hassan send us off. By 05.00 we have our crampons on. With our ice axe and ascendeur in hand, protective cream on our faces, we start climbing the face up to camp 1. Cas, Jelle, Roeland and I climb at a steady pace. There is no clear line of ascent and at the bottom of the face there is a vast mess of snow, ice and rocks. The high temperatures over the past days have caused changes. Rocks normally frozen solidly in place come loose and literally whistle past. One of the reasons we ascend so early. Best to be in camp 1 by 08.00 at the latest. In fact the earlier the better. And then continue on to camp 2, which should be reached by around 12.00 noon. The higher the altitude the lower the chance of rocks round your ears. There are also snow avalanches – we estimate some ten a day – but fortunately they are rarely close to us. The ones that are close only miss us narrowly, as happened last night.

Roeland and I were sleeping in camp 2 when a loud bang woke us up with a start. For a second I couldn’t remember where I was. What was that? The bang was followed by a roar. It sounded ominous and for a second I thought to myself that this might be it. Roeland also woke up with a start. We briefly stared at each other, zipped open the tent to see if would sur-vive. We peered through the tent opening to see a gigantic avalanche roar-ing through the couloir to the left of camp 2. We felt the strangely reduced air pressure, a terrifying sensation. However, we realised that we were safely below a rock overhang, and the tents are firmly fixed to secure pitons. We went back to sleep, but without feeling entirely at ease.

Climbing is never without its risks of course. We are in nature’s most threatening environment – the mountains - and as a vulnerable human being you can only outwit but never beat the forces of nature. One day

Four days later on 15 June 2008. I am wriggling about in my tent and wide awake, it’s the middle of the night. I am thinking about tomorrow. The weather forecast predicts for today a mild depression and maybe some precipitation on Monday, followed by stable weather until next weekend. Various scenarios pass through my mind, as I weigh the different possibili-ties. We have managed to make headway on the mountain. The situation is looking good, we have a strong team and the mountain awaits us. I am unable to sleep, so I grab a book, The Boys of Everest by Clint Willis (on the self-confident expedition leader Chris Bonington, and the generation of climbers like Don Whillans, Ian Clough, Dougal Haston, Nick Est-court, Martin Boysen, Mick Burke, Doug Scott, Joe Tasker, Peter Board-man and Al Rouse). After reading a chapter I doze off, and am awakened at 7.30 by the warm sun on my tent.

I immediately notice that the atmosphere in the group has changed: eve-ryone feels we are progressing comfortably, and that the actual summit attempt may start earlier than we thought. This is the general feeling, but it remains unsaid. One notices this in the little details, such as fewer jokes being made. I unfold the plans. On Monday 16 June I want to leave for camp 2, together with Cas, Jelle and a porter. We will sleep there, and on Tuesday 17 June, Jelle and I want to finish preparing the route up to camp 3 by fixing the last 250 metres of rope. Cas and the porter will come up later with the two North Face tents, once we have reached camp 3. Jelle and I will lead, carrying up the ropes, pitons and other equipment. It’s a solid plan.

Maturity is noticeable in the decision-making by the group. When asking if anyone is willing to carry up the equipment to camp 3, Mark and Roe-land immediately offer help. After Gerard explains that the terrain above camp 2 is a lot steeper and more difficult than we have yet dealt with, Mark doesn’t mind that Roeland will come up with us because he is a more tech-nical climber with more experience in difficult terrain. That’s what I call team spirit. Unselfish and self-assured. It’s time to grit our teeth. We will

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thing I shout to him through the raging storm is: “Maarten, the weather is terrible.” Maarten reassures me by explaining that our weatherman Ab Maas is at his post again, and has just sent new forecasts. They paint a different picture than the internet forecast. According to Ab’s calculations the unstable weather will continue throughout the week, with enormous jet stream winds near the summit and rapidly dropping temperatures! It’s storming and snowing at 6000 metres. We unequivocally confirm that. Even though I am glad to receive Ab’s more reliable forecast, it’s a disap-pointment. There is no option but to descend. We contact base camp via the radio and get Gerard on the line. “Base camp, Base camp here Camp Two do you receive?” Gerard: “Hey Wilco Yep, we receive loud and clear. Go ahead!” I explain what I just heard and that we will probably turn around. We agree to have further contact at 03.30. If Cas and I feel that the weather will be acceptable we may continue according to plan. But it’s against our better judgement. At 03.00 Cas and I step out into screaming wind and snowdrift. We have to go down, fast. At 03.30 I re-establish contact with Gerard and tell him that we will go back down at 05.00, and hopefully be able to sit down for breakfast at 08.30. “Roger, be safe on descent and see you round breakfast time.”

I say to myself that the expedition was progressing rather too smoothly. Hopefully it’s only a minor setback, but we will need to adjust our plans. On the plus side, at least we have Ab’s weather forecasts, a reassuring feel-ing. We all hope to be down before the weekend, and to have time to recuperate. A pleasant prospect for the short term, and I also have a clear idea of our strategy for the long term.

On 18 June there will be a full moon, and we want to seize this opportu-nity. If there is enough light (also at night) and the weather is stable, then the camps can quickly be in order. If we can set up the logistics and the four camps before the end of June, we could try a summit attempt in July, as originally planned. The next full moon will be 18 July. This is when the summit attempt should take place. We will need to be mentally prepared

when climbing just below camp 1, a rock fizzes past, seemingly out of nowhere. The treacherous hissing sound is actually rather like a rifle shot, if you hear it and nothing hurts, you know you’ve survived. Out of the cor-ner of my eye the projectile flies past at a metre distance. I shout as loudly as I can to Cas, Jelle and Roeland below me. I cannot see if they have been hit, because I’m climbing out of sight. I hear no screams so I warmly assume everything is OK. After arriving in camp 1 I wait for Cas, Jelle and Roeland. My heart is pounding. It seems they reacted to my shout and nothing happened. This unnerving experience recurs three times that morning. It’s nerve-racking. Jelle leads the climb to camp 2 using the fixed ropes across the traverse and I capture some pretty shots with the Canon HDV camera on my helmet. Cas is climbing behind me, followed by Roe-land. At 11.30 we arrive in camp 2, after Jelle has dislodged the last couple of hundred metres of rope out of the ice using his ice axe. In addition to the 5mm white rope, we also have the 8mm blue static Enduro rope for heavier and steeper sections. It feels a lot more comfortable to climb with a thicker rope than with what we call the guitar string (although while we know it can take the strain of us all it seems oh so thin and vulnerable.) The drawback to the blue rope is that when the temperature rises above freezing point it melts faster into the snow and ice than the white rope. This means that when it refreezes at night it requires a lot more effort to dislodge from the ice.

Cas and Jelle crawl into the first tent, I get into the second, hang Pemba and Gerard’s equipment outside, fire up the stove to melt snow and make soup. An hour later, Roeland appears. He is fed up because he is so slow. However, he feels he is making progress; his body is getting acclimatised. But now the weather is deteriorating. Cas, Jelle and I arrived dry; Roeland arrives in a storm of snow and hail. I remain confident the wind will die down and the weather will clear up overnight. At least that’s the forecast. Until now we used free of charge weather forecasts via the Internet, which turns out to be a mistake. At 18.00 I contact Maarten who is manning our ‘mission control’ back in the Netherlands via satellite phone. The first

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burns muscle more easily than it does fat, as burning fat at altitude requires more oxygen than is normally available.

Air pressure at 5000 metres is around 50 percent of that at sea level, and above 8000 metres it is only one third. This effectively means the body is only getting one third the amount of oxygen at 8000 metres in each breath than at sea level. This requires you to use energy wisely. It is as if the body is an emptying vessel. It is no longer able to absorb sufficient energy via the food consumed, partly because you lose appetite at altitude. Even if you force yourself to consume sufficient food, it is likely it would exit the body almost immediately. The body is in a state of alert and no longer focuses on digestion. It chooses to use the scarce oxygen for ‘more important’ vital func-tions such as physical movement, heat regulation, thinking and the organs.

After a week at high altitude the climber must return to a lower altitude to allow their body to recuperate. The longer the time spent and the higher the altitude, the faster the bodily deterioration.

This plays through my mind as Cas, Roeland, Jelle and I ascend to camp 2 on Tuesday 24 June. We leave at 04.00, just before first light. We are carry-ing heavy packs with equipment for camp 3. Two tents, four sleeping mats and four sleeping bags, two Reactor stoves (these are great – but slightly heavier than the MSR ‘pocket rockets’, the Reactor works faster and is more efficient), three down suits, snow anchors, pitons, climbing ropes, and food, drink, and so on. The weather on the morning of the 24th isn’t very good, however, we trust the forecast that predicts good weather through Friday. And this appears to be right; the more the cloud cover breaks and the brighter the sun shines, the more optimistic we are. I arrive in camp 1 at 07.20 and wait for Cas, Jelle and Roeland. I want to shoot some more footage, so Jelle leads up to the traverse at camp 2. I go up second, followed by Cas and Roeland. This enables me to film Jelle above me, and Cas and Roeland below me. Cas has been given a microphone to record his heavy breathing sounds on film.

by 10 July at the latest. This will give us the required four to five weeks to acclimatise. We should work towards this date. Just to be safe, I factor in another five days of bad weather with heavy snowfall. This will not be a problem if we can prepare camps 3 and 4 on time. If not, it will be much harder to set them up after a snowfall and only then make a summit at-tempt.

climbing at altitude

It is impossible to climb an 8611-metre high mountain from base camp (at 5100 metres) in one go. If a human being is taken from sea level directly to 8000 metres, they will die within minutes. Climbing a mountain of this altitude is only possible if the body is allowed to adjust to the altitude. Ac-climatisation is as follows: climbing to a high altitude during day, and sleeping at a lower altitude at night. The climbing allows the body to ad-just to the altitude, while sleeping at a lower elevation with sufficient oxy-gen enables the body to recuperate properly. Going up and down on the mountain, a little higher each time, has two benefits. It allows the climber to acclimatise, and simultaneously take up expedition gear such as tents, stoves, food, and climbing equipment. In this way the camps are equipped for future efforts. If conditions allow then the provisioning and position-ing of these camps will allow a summit attempt. It takes weeks to set up four camps on such a mountain, and to have all the equipment in the right place. That is why it takes so long to climb an eight-thousander. One also has to factor in lay days and bad weather. The actual summit attempt is only possible after the preparations and logistics around the four camps are complete.

It all sounds logical, but there is a serious catch. If one spends a lot of time at high altitude the body starts to deteriorate. While the body acclimatises, it is also breaking down. The climber loses weight because the body starts to ‘consume’ itself; not only fat, but muscle. At high altitude the body

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destroyed by the wind, lying under a thick layer of snow. We decide to make camp 3 by preparing a level area to set up a VE 25 tent. Cas and Jelle start digging and I put on a pot of tea. We are dehydrated. Just before sun-down, the tent is up. It is on a very small ledge that doesn’t provide enough space for the tent. Part of it floats in space. But once lying in it with a rucksack in the floating part, things are more or less level. A biting wind is blowing at 7000 metres. We crawl into the tent and try to drink some soup. Roeland has not made it to camp 3, because he is having trouble breathing. He has turned around half way along the route. He left behind his gear – a tent, stove, mat, down suit and sleeping bag by tying it down in the route. Roeland arrives in camp 2, where Pemba, Gerard, Court and Mark have arrived. Although there is not really enough space for him and he should descend further, Pemba and Gerard manage to make room in their narrow two-man tent.

In camp 3, Cas and I are lying on the outside. We allow Jelle, the youngest member of the team, to have the best spot. He is suffering from altitude sickness and has a pounding headache. My body also knows it is up at 7000 metres; I cannot keep any food down. Another problem emerges. We only have two lightweight North Face Hightail sleeping bags and two down suits with us. Cas crawls into his lightweight sleeping bag with all his clothes on, and I crawl into my down suit. Jelle keeps on all his clothes and crawls into his down suit and then into the other sleeping bag. He is still cold and feeling bad. We prepare for the night, but know that we won’t get much sleep. Not long after, I cannot feel my feet anymore. The down suit is great, but it does not have ‘slippers’ so my feet are less protected. I have left my second pair of thick Icebreaker socks, of pure Merino wool, back in camp 2. Cas gives me a pair of dry socks and I wrap my feet in two layers. However, cold feet in cold socks remain cold. It’s my own fault. To save on weight I brought up half a Therm-a-Rest mat. And I need the other half for my back. My rucksack is lying at the head and my feet are lying on cold climbing boots. Cas notices this and shoves his rucksack to-wards me for my feet. Cas has not made the same mistake and has a long,

We arrive in camp 2, at around 13.00. In the meantime an expedition led by Frenchman Hugues d’Aubarede is also climbing the Cesen Route. Their team has two high altitude porters (haps) who will set up tents. The next day they want to go up with us to camp 3 carrying two 200 metre lengths of rope for us to compensate the work we have done in preparing the route. We have eaten and slept well, and feel fit. Jelle and I will fix the rest of the route to camp 3. Cas and Roeland will follow and carry up the heavier rucksacks. The haps will each bring up a rope. We are still prepar-ing ourselves, when the haps announce that they are going up ahead. At first I am happy with this decision because it means they will be track-ing in the fresh snow. At the same time I have a premonition that things might not go to plan. My suspicions strangely turn out to be right. Less than ninety minutes later we reach the rock passages above camp 2 and see the two haps sitting in the snow. They say they are tired and are go-ing back down. This means the two ropes are now lying in the snow 150 metres above camp 2. This does not make us happy. I ‘thank’ the haps and continue tracking through the deep, fresh snow. Fortunately the weather is good and we try to enjoy it. The route from camp 2 (6200m) to camp 3 (7000m) is long and heavy. After the rocks above camp 2, comes a long snow ridge which seems endless (especially if you are tracking and carry-ing a heavy rucksack). We are climbing at a distance of around 250 metres from each other, each at our own pace. When I reach the location that Pemba reached when last fixing the ropes, at around 6800 metres, I pre-sume I will quickly be able to finish the last 200 to 250 metres. At 12.30 I will make radio contact with Pemba or Gerard in camp 2. Pemba has just arrived, and I explain to him that I’m just below camp 3. This turns out to be a huge mistake. I can see a big rock overhang, which I presume to be camp 3. I examine my GPS and discover we are only at 6845 metres. We keep climbing, but progress slowly and with difficulty. We are running out of reserves. Where is camp 3? We look up, but cannot see any smooth places on the route where there is not too great a danger of avalanche. We trust the last climbers and briskly continue along the route. Two hours later, at 15.30, Cas, Jelle and I reach 7000 metres. We discover three tents,

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weak. Court was coughing all night, and his legs are hurting. The altitude is starting to take its toll. He and Roeland have gone down to base camp. Mark is doing well and is strong today. Fortunately, half the team is able to set up camp 3 and to make full use of this brief period of good weather. We are fighting our way up again. Jelle has also recovered and the track is still there. This time Cas leads the way and I follow. Jelle climbs close to Pemba. Mark and Gerard, who are also fighting their way up, are far behind. The landscape is literally and figuratively breathtaking.

Amazing views. We are now high enough to look down on surrounding summits. The view is beyond words and I cannot imagine any other place in the world that could surpass it. Hundreds of summits. At least fifty over 7000 metres. From K2 to Broad Peak, the Gasherbrums, Mustagh Tower, K6, K12, and so on. I am too tired to film and take pictures. We climb along awe-inspiring seracs, like tilting high-rise flats. If I stare at them too long, I get light-headed and clenched by fear. I feel small and vulnerable. The weather is perfect, a clear blue sky and searing sun. Today, I’m feel-ing happy again. The track, and the fact that we know the exact location of camp 3, enables us to progress faster. We arrive at 13.00. When Pemba arrives he proposes to start fixing the ropes, after an hour’s break. What determination that man has. The problem is who will help him? Mark is tired, Gerard does not have any strength left, and one of us will have to spend the night in camp 3. Without hesitation, Cas offers to help. It is impressive how Cas has contributed until now. He barely seems to be suf-fering from the altitude. Jelle and I descend to camp 2. Cas and Pemba will fix the ropes, and Mark and Gerard will dig a space for the second TNF VE 25 tent. Then we hear that the VE 25’s tent poles are missing. Suppos-edly, Jelle took them from Roeland and gave them to Pemba when he was not feeling too well. He then took them back and now they are gone. This means that Gerard, Mark, Cas and Pemba will have to sleep together in one tent – probably Cas’s second night with no sleep. Fortunately, there are enough sleeping bags, but it is impossible to sleep. Even when lying head to foot, you get irritated by the other person’s breathing and movement.

heavy Therm-a-Rest mat to reduce heat loss from the body. In the middle of the night, after having nightmares about frostbite to my feet, Cas of-fers to switch. He will exchange his sleeping bag for my down suit. In the sleeping bag, I can roll up like a foetus and massage my feet. That night we only occasionally manage to doze off. The strong wind is causing the tent cloth to flap, and prevents us from getting any sleep. I make the mistake of taking a bite of beef jerky – this gives a revolting taste in my mouth and makes me heave. Once again, I am forced to face the facts: different laws apply at this altitude and the human body reacts violently to such hostile conditions. This leaves you constantly feeling bad, you don’t belong here. You are constantly gasping, as if you were breathing through a straw.

When it gets light, the descent to camp 2 awaits us. We will retrieve the two ropes that were left behind by the haps along with Roeland’s gear. We re-ally don’t feel like it and we have to force ourselves. Fortunately, we are still feeling strong. We decide to make breakfast though at this altitude no one is feeling hungry; we know we need the energy. We open a cruesli breakfast that we all three enjoy. But after taking a few bites I can no longer keep the food down. Luckily, I am lying near the exit and quickly manage to find the zip. The cruesli and tea end up in the snow. A waste of valuable fluids. It doesn’t even bother me. I’ll skip breakfast and tea. We fill three thermos flasks and descend with almost empty rucksacks to collect the ropes and tents. We leave at 07.00 and reach the gear at 08.30. Jelle stays higher up with Roeland’s gear and tries to eat some power bars. He is feeling empty. Cas and I descend further to retrieve the ropes. They need to be taken up be-cause Pemba, Gerard, Court and Mark will fix these ropes tomorrow. They cannot take up the ropes because they are carrying the equipment for camp 4 in their rucksacks. This includes extremely lightweight North Face tents, two stoves, mats, food, the dynamic rope, and two 200-metre lengths of En-duro rope for the infamous Bottleneck. At 08.30 Cas and I arrive at the loca-tion of the two heavy 11mm ropes; team two is nowhere to be seen. We wait and, finally, at 09.00 we see Pemba appearing around the corner above camp 2. He tells us that Gerard has been throwing up all morning and is feeling

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On Saturday 28 June, at 18.00 local time, I make the usual call to Maarten. I don’t have much to say. Another day of wet snow behind us, and it’s still snowing. There is little else we can do but wait for another weather window. The last one was used to set up camp 3. I am feeling downcast, it’s taking too long. But then suddenly, Maarten says that he has the new weather forecast and that there is light on the horizon! From Tuesday on-wards the weather will improve. No more snowfalls, the wind will settle and the good weather is expected to last at least until Friday. The news im-mediately cheers me up. I study the new weather forecast, and make plans. This might just be our first real chance.

On Sunday 29 June I get up at 07.00 and check the weather forecast, the wind and the likelihood of precipitation. The night’s rest has done me well, and the strategies that I came up with yesterday, still appear to be valid. That is a good sign. Our summit attempt can wait until 18 July, when there will be a full moon. This will give us time to rest and build up the camps. The weather remains an uncertain factor. If it doesn’t hold through the period of the full moon, our plan will fail. To benefit from the coming weather window, the route will need to be fully prepared. Camp 4 has not yet been set up on the shoulder. We can either play it safe by setting up camp 4 and miss our summit attempt, or climb up to camp 4 without all the fixed ropes in place and try a summit attempt. This is exciting and riskier, but the risks are manageable. I prefer the second op-tion. After breakfast, I explain the situation. I explain that I have carefully studied the weather and that it will improve after Tuesday. The wind will die down, and on Friday wind will be around 20 kilometres per hour. This means the first team must leave quickly to prepare the route to camp 4 by fixing 400 metres of rope. The first summit team will leave a day later and arrive in camp 4 to start their summit attempt at 01.00.

The moment of truth is nearing. I look round the group and ask if every-one agrees with this strategy. Court doesn’t hesitate and says he wants to be on the first team to climb up to camp 3. Roeland wants to climb with

Jelle and I spend the night like kings, each in our own tent in camp 2. In spite of this Jelle does not manage to sleep, while I enjoy a wonder-ful night’s rest. We get up at 05.00 and descend to base camp at 06.00. I hope that Pemba and Cas will manage to fix the rope to camp 4, in spite of the wind that has been predicted for this afternoon. When I see Pemba descending, before Jelle and I have even descended along the first rope towards camp 1, I realise the hope is in vain. The wind appears to be too strong. What hard luck.

On the descent, I race down the mountain. We leave without breakfast, and I want to enjoy breakfast back in base camp. While going down it becomes clear just how much the terrain has changed over the past three days; loose rocks are starting to appear. Back on the glacier I notice just how sunburnt I have gotten over the past days. I forgot to apply sun cream while fixing the ropes. I remember thinking, I’ll do it when one of the guys gets here. To save time, I just kept going.

Now, one day later, I look like a raisin, skin is hanging from my face. So stu-pid, and every expedition the experience repeats itself. When will I ever learn?

At 08.20 I stumble into base camp where Hussain and Hassan are waiting for us. Roeland and Court are doing fine. Chasing your dream of climbing K2 may seem great, but you know you’ll need a tremendous amount of stamina, especially if things fail to go according to plan. I have respect for Roeland, how he handles disappointment and is able to operate at high altitude. In spite of disappointing results he remains positive. He is a huge asset to the team. Later that morning, Jelle and Cas reach base camp while Pemba, Gerard and Mark decide to spend another night in camp 2. They feel this will help them to acclimatise further. On Saturday morning the team is complete again. Pemba, Gerard and Mark descended early in the morning. The weather has worsened. It is snowing, and it’s cold and wet - not the nicest time to be in base camp. Although we have plenty of time to work out our plans.

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has received his weather forecast from a French meteorologist, and we have received our forecast from our meteorologist. I look outside and cannot believe that we will be leaving tomorrow. It is still snowing... but at least I have learned to trust our weather forecasts. Hugues’ meteorologist sees things differently, it’s snowing and, over the coming days, will continue to do so. There are also other obvious reasons why Hugues is not going up, but I don’t want to worry about it. We will alter our plans and take up the extra 400 metres of rope and attach it ourselves. That’s the way it will be. On Wednesday 2 July Pemba, Cas, Jelle, Gerard and I start climbing. A summit attempt means thinking five days ahead, it’s a delicate and pains-taking decision. If we suffer any setbacks during that time, things can go horribly wrong. In traditional ‘authoritarian’ expeditions, the expedition leader simply gives instructions to his climbers on the mountain; I refuse to send climbers up the mountain against their will. The thought alone upsets me.

On Tuesday evening 1 July we make radio contact with the preparatory team in camp 2, and hear that everything is going according to plan. This afternoon there was a brief moment of doubt when base camp was in contact with camp 1. There was a lot of wind, spindrift, it was cold and very cloudy. Fortunately the team decided to continue. The next morn-ing Roeland, Mark and Court would track up to camp 3 and take up some gear, including a sleeping bag, gas, and ropes. In the early morning of Wednesday 2 July the summit team will prepare to climb. The mood is tense but pleasant, we check our gear again, look intently into each other’s faces as the headlamps cast their light. In the dark each is alone with their own thoughts. Will this be the last time I climb K2, oh mountain of mountains? At 04.00 we say goodbye to Hussain and Hassan.

The ascent to camp 1 goes well. We climb in a concentrated frame of mind. We know the route like the back of our hand. We manage to keep the pace. But before we are halfway to camp 2, we see Court descending. Something is wrong. We wait for him. He immediately asks us to establish

Court to haul up the gear and offer support. Two more lengths of rope need to be taken up. We are forced to request the loan of two haps from Hugues’ team to help carry up the ropes and fix them above 7200 metres. Mark is not yet ready for a summit attempt and does not feel comfortable without ropes on the steep section from camp 3 to camp 4. I can under-stand him. He thinks the situation through carefully.

Pemba, Cas, Gerard and I will divide the two lightweight tents and the two ropes for the Bottleneck; along with the stoves, food, mats and so on. Jelle asks if he can join us on the summit attempt, and immediately says he will also accept a refusal. I agree to let him climb, as long as he realises that there is not enough room for five people in the tents. Camp 2 only has enough room for four, as does camp 4. One person too many in the tent means not enough sleep, which you really do not want at this altitude. Pemba says that in camp 2 he can sleep with the haps. They speak almost the same language, Urdu. We will just have to make do in camp 4. A five-man strong team also offers better chances of a successful summit attempt. Our young climber Jelle has been accepted into the summit team. If things turn out differently, then at least camp 4 will be prepared. We will return to base camp to rest for a minimum of ten days and undertake another summit attempt on 18 July.

We know it will be extremely tough. We are early in the season, so it’s extra cold. The wind will be at least 20 km/h. We will be the first team this year. This means we will need to do all the tracking, and in the occasional waist-deep snow that is very hard work. We will place the ropes in the Bottleneck ourselves, and will not rely on anyone else.

I discuss the situation with Frenchman Hugues d’Aubarede. Another 400 metres of rope needs to be taken up to secure the route above camp 3 to camp 4. We have already laid 3500 metres of rope, so now it’s the turn of the two haps to transport the rope to camp 3, and to secure it above camp 3, together with our team. The only obstacle could be the weather. Hugues

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climbing. Fortunately, there was a strong wind last night that blew away much of the powder snow which makes a huge difference, but it is still heavy work. Now and then I need to rest and lean against a rock to raise my blood oxygen. Climbing in terrain like this is a question of measuring your movement and using your limited energy resources wisely. We take turns tracking up the mountain, and arrive in camp 3 at 14.30. We feel content. We still have to set up the second tent and that is no easy effort. This is a heavier tent whose round shape requires a large surface. In spite of our efforts to fasten the tent we keep hitting into rock just below the snow. It is impossible to secure the tent. We decide to let part of it hang free which will at least allow us to sleep on an area that is fairly level. Pemba de-cides on who will sleep together. The two longest climbers, Cas and I will sleep in the tent that was already standing. We are one sleeping bag short, the preparatory team should have brought it up. This is annoying, but not worth getting worried about. We already know what it is like to sleep in a down suit. We are ready for the night. The daily telephone call to Maarten brings some optimism. Tomorrow the weather will improve. We feel good, we are fit and K2 seems to be looking favourably on us. But our nerves are getting edgy. Will we succeed? Of all the expeditions on the mountain, we are the furthest; miles ahead of the competition. Tomorrow is the day. The plan is simple: climb up to camp 4 in one go, spend several hours in the bivouac, and on Saturday night at 01.00 start our first summit attempt.

Just before falling asleep, the Serb Hoselito suddenly arrives. He has taken more than ten hours to get from camp 2 to camp 3. Tomorrow he wants to go up to camp 4 with us to try his summit attempt (with the help of oxygen). I swear inwardly. What a dilemma. He asks if he can set up his small, lightweight tents next to ours. Our reaction is unanimous: no. If we accept him, we will also be responsible for him. I explain to him that he is not sufficiently acclimatised and should not count on us during the sum-mit attempt. After lengthy bickering, we reach a compromise. He will set up his tent next to ours, on the condition that he will descend the next day.

radio contact with camp 2, where he has left Roeland and Mark. He wants to know if they are alright. He has some alarming news:

Roeland suffered carbon monoxide poisoning while melting snow, he for-got to ventilate properly and was unconscious for ten minutes. This is bad news. No one answers our radio call. I assume their radio is not switched on. This is the first real setback the expedition suffers. Of course we are happy that it was discovered on time, and something worse was prevented from happening. What would have happened if Roeland had remained unconscious for more than ten minutes? There would have been a life-threatening situation and possibly the end of the expedition. Everyone understands the preparatory team has been eliminated. We quickly climb on towards camp 2 and arrive four hours after the accident. Roeland is sitting there, and still feeling a bit groggy. He is able to descend to base camp with Mark. Staying in camp 2 is not an option due to lack of space, but mainly the lack of oxygen at this altitude. And Roeland needs oxygen to recuperate. We watch Mark and Roeland, and are relieved that nothing serious happened. Roeland seems to be himself again.

We concentrate on the climb, a serious mission that still lies ahead of us. We have actually only just begun. The afternoon is spent drinking and resting in the sun. The weather is good, with little to no wind, and our confidence is growing. The view is phenomenal and overwhelming. These are small moments that make it all worthwhile: sitting in front of your tent on a small ledge, enjoying a hot cup of tea with a great team. The steep drop below shows how much progress you have made and makes you feel simultaneously small and proud. But the hardest part is yet to come. K2 is immense.

On Thursday 3 July, at 08.00, the five of us leave for camp 3. We know it will be a heavy day. It will require us to track in knee-deep snow. The first part of the route goes along rocks, followed by a small traverse, a steep couloir and then by what seems to be an endless snow ridge. This is serious

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dropping, but we are still moving forward. I wonder if we will make it to the shoulder. On the positive side, the higher we get the lighter our ruck-sacks become; after we manage to fix yet another length of rope. The Bot-tleneck with its gigantic seracs is getting closer. We estimate another two to three hours and then we will be able to set up the tents on the shoulder. It cannot be far away, or so we think. Our altimeters show it is 700 to 800 metres from camp 3, but we know it is going to be a lot further.

A new problem arises: There is not enough rope to secure the last section. We had calculated we only needed another 400 metres. A lot of rope has been used to secure the horizontal sections along the route. The slope ap-pears to be much steeper than expected, and climbing the last section in alpine style (without being attached to the fixed rope) is too high a risk for the descent. Should we climb the entire route safely fixed to a rope, and then forget about this essential section? No, that’s not an option. If we continue to climb we will reach the shoulder by around 21.00. But this means the route back down will be dangerous because of the unsecured section. Pessimism raises its threatening head. We also know that we will have to rest in the bivouac on the shoulder. We will need time to recuper-ate if we want to attempt the summit at 01.00. It will be in no way easy at this altitude. At 7600 metres, we discuss the scene. We ultimately decide to do the only right thing: turn around and go back down. This attempt has failed. Maybe there will be another opportunity. We all swallow hard before we begin the descent.

We empty our rucksacks and create a hanging depot. In the last light of day we descend to camp 3, disappointed, but remaining alert. We need to be, because night is falling. Before we know it, we are descending along the ropes in darkness. We switch on our headlamps and realise how important the fixed ropes are. They will lead us straight back to our tents. If other ex-peditions’ ropes had also been hanging here, we may never have found our tents. This strengthens us in our decision. Continuing up the mountain would have been extremely foolish.

The next morning, the alarm rings at 07.00. Cas and I have slept well. We want to leave in an hour. A strong wind is still blowing, and causing snow to pile up against our tents, also on the inside. But I am convinced that the wind will drop and that the conditions will improve. We melt snow for our breakfast. It is taking longer than usual, the flame has gone out. The MSR Reactor is a wonderful stove, but you cannot see the flame. And when the wind is howling around the tent, you cannot hear it either. At 08.30 we are standing outside and dividing up the gear. Two lightweight tents need to be taken up, plus two more two-hundred metre rope lengths for the Bottleneck, 400 metres of lightweight rope and two dynamic 60-metre ropes. Almost a kilometre of rope. On top of that, two stoves and extra gas, food, climbing gear and personal items. No one thought it would be easy, but this...

The wind is blowing strongly as we start. Tucked safely inside our down suits, we start first via the 200 metres of ropes that Cas and Pemba have fixed. The route then further ascends through a mixed terrain of rocks and snow. We have just passed the fixed ropes when we get stuck. The rock barrier that we need to climb over, appears more difficult than we thought. After several attempts we notice a route around the rocks. This costs us at least an hour. To make matters worse, the rope that we left behind the last time appears to be tangled. Cas and I each grab an end and start unravel-ling it. We are crouched down on a small ledge, over a 2500-metre drop. It’s windy, and we are trying to untangle a spaghetti of rope. Should one of us stumble, our end will be certain. Frustration reigns, oh to be able to cut the damn thing into tiny pieces and tie them together again. But we just manage to keep our patience, and in an hour are able to continue the route. The terrain above camp 3 is difficult - very alpine, requiring one’s utmost concentration to find the way through the mixed terrain. The altitude is beginning to take its toll. I still feel good, but not everyone is feeling well.

Jelle and Gerard are unable to track, and Cas’s back is starting to hurt. Pemba and I do all we can, but we’re also getting tired. The pace is

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We see flashes of light kilometres lower. It’s almost certainly Roeland, Mark and Court trying to contact us. Over the past hours we have been so focused on one thing that we have not had any radio contact. Not that we have forgotten, during the climb we hoped to reach camp 4 on the shoul-der and tell the good news from there. At 21.30 back in camp 3 we decide to contact ‘mission control’ in the Netherlands to announce that we failed. We were too slow, the rucksacks were too heavy, there was not enough rope and only two people were able to track up the mountain. A hard conclu-sion. But we look at it positively, a huge breach in safety has been exposed. We play with the idea to go back up the next day, grab the gear and reach the shoulder to set up camp 4. The idea is quickly set aside. It would be reckless to climb the last section to the shoulder without a fixed rope. This goes against all our safety rules. And why should we take absurd risks? We are all tired. We have to descend. After an uneasy night we begin the long descent. Cold comfort: on the way down we receive a message from our meteorologist, the wind will be picking up by early morning. And indeed, when we look up over our shoulders we see white plumes around the sum-mit. This gives us a sense of relief. So far so good. We will descend safely first, then rest, eat, drink and sleep before making new plans.

The bad weather persists and spoils our plans. During the long break, doubt emerges from its lair. Court, in particular, is having a tough time. He is not feeling well, and is not performing as he would like and knows he can. This is mainly due to his situation at home. He recently moved house, changed jobs, has a new girlfriend, and suffered injuries already while preparing for the expedition. On 13 July, after closely consulting with the team, Court decides to say farewell to the expedition.