The archive is under
construction. We intend it to reflect our last 20 years of Himalayan climbing
history. Thank you for your patience as the archive unfolds. Please do let
us know how we can make it better, what suggestions you might have, and please
send us any relevant information, photos, or sources. Thank you.
The below story and photos have been shamelessly
stolen from Andrew Brash.
CHINESE KARAKORAM 1999
Three years had passed since my last
big mountain trip when I was invited by John Climaco to the Shaksgam
valley on the Chinese side of the Karakoram range. After Alaska I had
returned to University and was just
finishing
my BA degree at the University of Calgary when the invite came in -
absolutely beautiful timing. I had previously been to the Pakstani side
of the Karakoram, but here was a special and rare opportunity to explore
the quiet and very remote Chinese side. John had assembled a very
interesting team, fuelled by the funding of the upstart web company
quokka.com. The cornerstone of the trip was a Cholatse
mini-reunion
of John, Chris Breemer and myself. We then brainstormed over many a
phone session on who should fill the remaining positions. John needed to
include some celebrity fire-power, and this led to invitations to Kurt
Diemberger, Dan Mazur and Greg Child. Carlos Buhler turned the trip down
due to his involvement in a Menlungtse expedition. That is another
story. This trip was a major undertaking,
especially
with the web-media involved. We had such complicated and specialized
satellite and web gear that we needed a technician to come with us. This
position was filled by Quokka employee Mark Dwyer, a very strong and
capable Aussie. Also involved were Paula Quenemoen, a
speaker
of some Chinese and three Nepalis there to help with potential grunt
work in the Shaksgam.After a briefing with most of the team at Quokka
headquarters in SanFrancisco, we headed to Beijing. From there we
traversed China by vehicle, all the way to Mazar near the Pakistani
border, some 5,000 km from Beijing. After a 100km approach on foot,
supported by camel train, and crossing the Aghil pass en route,
we
established
a base camp near the snout of the North Gasherbrun Glacier. The intial
goal of the expedition was a scoping of and a faint hope at an attempt
on one of the unclimbed East faces of Gasherbrum I or II (both 8000m+
peaks). I eventually grabbed the
picture
on the left of these mega faces during the first ascent of a 6250m
mountain (on right) made by Dan Mazur and myself, located about 40km up
the Shaksgam from our North Gasherbrum Glacier base camp. The team had
decided against any attempts on the big peaks, exploration of the area
being more to people's liking. Admittedly there were too many different
views within the team for us to be able to attempt any climbing
objective of major significance. A
team
needs to be in solid agreement on the goal and we were not. Therefore we
split into three sub-groups: Kurt, Greg, Mark, Paula, Kaji and Phurba
went to explore the upper Shaksgam; Chris, John and Krishna set off to
explore
uncharted
passes and peaks; and finally Dan and myself went to the small group of
peaks between the Gasherbrums and the Siachen group. The ascent of what
we called Lao Ding Shan was certainly the highlight of the trip for me
and I think for Dan too. We were able to experience some beautiful and
some tough conditions, which made summiting on this mountain so
rewarding. For the remainder of the expedition other ambitions were
thwarted by bad weather, although Dan and I did manage to scope the East
side of Skyang Kangri (7500m) from directly under the impressive and
virgin East Ridge. Kurt et al traversed the Singhi Glacier,
another great moment of many for him. John and Chris were stumped on
their pass, but did make the first ascent of a 5,700m peak along the
Urdok Glacier which they named Mt. Desio. In all we managed some
moderate successes and in general were pleased. There were certainly
some low points on this trip as well, but it must always be remembered
how stressful things can be in such isolated and cramped quarters and
how much one can overblow things in the heat of the moment. I for one
have left my bad feelings behind, and hope that everyone else has too.
View from the top of Lao Ding
Shan
The above story and photos have been shamelessly
stolen from Andrew Brash.
Layout courtesy of EverestNews.com:
Of
Friends and Romans: An Ascent of Everest, by Daniel
Mazur
signed team pennant
Many dream of climbing Everest. Others spend
years planning for it. In September and October
of 1991, I climbed it by accident with a group
of Soviets and Americans. Daniel Mazur
Click on the pictures for the full sized
versions.
Dan Mazur
After
6 weeks of scaling 7,000 meter peaks during July and
August in the Soviet Central Asian Pamirs with some
of the USSR's strongest climbers, I traveled to
Nepal. In early September while visiting a Kathmandu
climbing shop I met a 53 year old Russian climber
named Roman Giutashvili. Roman had the "Soviet"
look; a clean shaven weathered face, white T-shirt,
and tight jeans. In halting Russian I asked where he
was going and he said: "To Everest". I had come to
Kathmandu hoping to climb a peak so I asked about
joining his team. He said it might be possible.
Anatoli Boukreev and Vladimir Balyberdin at Basecamp
20
days later Roman and I stood on the summit in high
winds watching the sun set on the surrounding peaks
far below and wondered if we would return to the
South Col alive. I was allowed to join the team in
Kathmandu after one day of frantic negotiation with
the team leader Vladimir Balyberdin and team
members, including Anatoli Boukreev, and numerous
bureaucrats. My name was placed on the official
permit, bringing the trip roster to 10 members; 7
Soviets and 3 Americans. We set off for Basecamp and
arrived after 4 days of hard hiking behind 30 yaks
and 21 porters.
Dan on
South Col of Everest
Upon
arrival, the Nepalese/French expedition told us
there was a US$300 per person charge for access to
the ropes and ladders in the Khumbu icefall. Being
short of cash we decided to fix a route along the
northern perimeter of the glacier and had the task
completed in two days. On September 30th at 6:15 am
an explosion thundered from the hanging glacier
above our "Russian Route". I popped out of the tent
just in time to see a massive avalanche obliterate
the path. Fortunately, we had been late waking up
and no one was on the route. From this point onward,
our party used the standard trail as we established
camps 1 through 4, though some members chose not to
pay the fee.
For
the final assault we split into two groups. On
October 5 Anatoli Boukreev and Vladimir Balyberdin
summited without oxygen while Kevin Cooney made it
to the south peak. After a sleepless night on the
South Col, at 5:15 am October 10th, Roman and I
exited a snow plastered tent and went for the top in
high winds and good visibility. Roman was slow, but
we stopped often and I made him eat chocolate bars
and drink water throughout the day. The breeze
mellowed by midday, but became an icy blast on the
arduous Hillary Step, making the final rock-snow
pitch doubly difficult. It was so cold on top at 5
pm that we did not remove our stiffened oxygen masks
while lingering to absorb an incredible panorama of
the Himalaya stretching in all directions.
View
from the Summit
Perhaps we stayed too long because on the descent
Roman collapsed at 8:00pm in total darkness. We were
in a ground blizzard, still about 1 hour above the
South Col. I tried to carry and even drag him, but I
was not able to summon enough strength. I dug a snow
hole and put my partner in it with all of our oxygen
and a ski pole for a flag. I promised to return or
find help. Roman cried, and I worried as I left. My
head was spinning but I knew I could not stay in the
hole or I would die.
Roman
coming down from summit
I
stumbled and crawled through darkness in a howling
ground blizzard, with wind blown ice grains
sandblasting my now unmasked cheeks, down a never
ending ice field toward a flickering distant light
with hands covering my face and a dead headlamp.
When I came to the tent I collapsed on hard icy snow
and cried out. The door zipped open and I rolled in,
crampons and all. Inside were two very surprised
Russian teammates, Aleksey Klimin and Gennady
Copieka. After pouring warm tea down me and trying
to understand my nearly incoherent Russian-English
babble, Aleksey went to look for Roman and came back
in two hours alone. I wept, knowing my friend was
dead. Gennady went next, this time with a very
bright headlamp. In three hours Roman was in the
tent, alive and uninjured. Gennady, being well
rested and an incredibly strong climber, had somehow
managed to find, carry, and lead/drag Roman back.
Gennady Copieka the man who ultimately saved Roman's
life at Lukla
Roman
at the 8,400 meter mark
During
the next two days, Roman and I made our way down to
Basecamp glad to be alive and stunned at making the
summit. Back in Kathmandu the group was celebrating
at a hotel banquet when Gennady pulled me aside to
say Roman was the first Soviet Georgian and the
second oldest climber ever to reach the top. He also
said that because of childhood tuberculosis, Roman
had the use of only one lung since age 10. Roman and
our team doctor had kept this a secret from me, and
now I understood one reason why the leader and
Boukreev had put Roman and I together, because they
thought our chances to succeed were minimal. They
had been very surprised when we reached the top. I
later went on to form lasting relationships and
climb again with Anatoli Boukreev and expedition
leader Vladimir Balyberdin (the first Russian to
climb Everest and K2), although both are now dead. I
never heard from Roman again, however, sometimes
when I am climbing in the Himalaya, I meet
Georgians, and when I introduce myself, they all
seem to know my name already! They tell me that
Roman has moved to Moscow, to be near his son, and
that Roman works in the travel business there.
Roman
making the traverse from the south summit to the
Hillary step
Roman
on the Hillary step
Roman
under the south summit
In
retrospect I find it hard to believe that this
"accidental" climb occurred. Mostly, I am in awe of
Roman Giutashvili's courage. To attempt such a
difficult peak at his age under such circumstances
takes real guts. He is an inspiration to us all.
Thank
you, Daniel Mazur
Dan on
the Summit of Everest
Layout courtesy of EverestNews.com:
Mustagh Ata New Route
(7546 metres) East Ridge
(3 members summit) We climbed an exciting new route on the east ridge.
Thanks to our sponsors,
who provided the equipment you see in these photos.
Mustagh Ata, with the East
Ridge marked. Photographer and Copyright:
Dan Waugh
An enticing view: On 24 June, while standing atop the 7546 metre
summit of Mustagh Ata, after climbing it from the normal route, Walter Keller,
representing Pittsburgh, USA, dangled Jon Otto, representing Chengdu, China, and
Bellingham, Washington, from the summit,
down onto the east ridge on a rope, but the view was obscured. On 27 June,
Daniel Mazur, representing Bristol, England, and Montana, USA, Walter Frehner,
representing Zurich, and Mathijs van der Plas, representing Brussels, found
their way to the top on a windy clear day, where they were able to see a 360
degree view of mountains in all directions, and get a good look down the east
ridge. The new route looked possible.
Looking down from the summit
onto the new route on the east ridge. Our basecamp on the other side of the
Kuksay Glacier, the Waugh Plateau, and the Potterfield Glacier are clearly
visible in the photo. Photographer: D.L. Mazur, Copyright,
www.mountainzone.com
Trekking around to new route basecamp: On 26 June, our East Ridge climb began in earnest with the
arrival of Anne Ramzy from Portland, Oregon, and Yang Li Qun, from Urumqi, China.
On 27 June the two took off with Walter Keller to make the quest to locate a
decent basecamp for the new route up the Torbulung river. On 30 June, after
clearing the camps and rubbish, Lakpa, Dan, and Jon followed, while the “normal
routers” boarded a bus bound for Pakistan and home. However, before departing,
Mathijs enjoyed himself immensely and amused all of us by galloping around
Subashi village on one of the local’s sturdy, small, and speedy stallions.
Anne Ramzy, our Manager.
Mathijs van der Plas, riding a stallion in Subashi ( Mustagh Ata behind). Photographer:
D.L. Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
By 4 June, we reached the basecamp established by Walter,
Ann, and Yang. It was high on a gorgeous grassy-mossy moor on the east side of
the head of the Kuksay Glacier at 4600 metres. We were able to observe our
objective, the east ridge, in detail, as it was directly across the head of the
glacier from where we were located.
Lakpa Tamang and Daniel
Mazur, carrying solar panel, on the way to new route basecamp. Photographer:
Jon Otto, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com. Yang Li Qun,
after carrying 5 loads into advanced base camp. That is our
new route, the east ridge, just behind his head, and a bit to the left, in the
photo. Photographer: D. L. Mazur, Copyright:
www.mountainzone.com.
Research background: We had studied the route carefully for five
years, and tried to establish if it had been climbed or not. We are as certain
as can be, that this route was unclimbed. Since 1995, when Dan Waugh hiked up
the Kuksay Glacier, near to the route, we had been researching the possibility
of climbing it. We wrote to members of the Japanese Alpine Club who were said to
be active in exploring the area, and received confirmation that they had
attempted the route, and climbed to 6000 metres. In 1998 Dan Mazur climbed
Mustagh Ata together with one Japanese man who had attempted it: Masanori
Suzuki. Mr. Suzuki had said that the climbing was hard, so his group turned
around. In July of 1998, Jon Otto, Dan Mazur, Olivier Raimond, and Richard
Bothwell attempted an expedition to climb the new route, and spent three days
near the base of the ridge, but they ran out of time, due to bad weather and
permit problems, climbing 6150 metre Tokoruk instead.
Tokoruk, seen from 6400
metres on the east ridge of Mustagh Ata. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur. Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
During our climb of the
new route in July of 2000, we saw no sign of any other teams having been there,
such as pitons, screws, or slings. Also, the outrage expressed by certain
members of the Chinese establishment that other bureaucrats had given us
permission to climb seemed to indicate that this was indeed virgin ground.
Establishing the camps: By July 7th, we had established our 4700 metre
advanced basecamp in the midst of a flat ice-rock glacier at the base of the
east ridge. On the 8th of July, during a foggy snow storm, we had moved into our
5350 metre camp 1, at the top of the Waugh plateau. Along the way, we traversed
along the Potterfield Glacier via a long snaking moraine and then we scrambled
through 30-40 degree cliffs and snow gullies.
Dan climbing in the
Arrowhead. Photographer: Jon Otto. Copyright:
www.mountainzone.com
On July 9, we climbed through very exposed
mixed ice snow, and rock, some approaching 80 degrees, through the
"Arrowhead". The climbing was challenging, with our heavy rucksacks.
But the temperature remained warm, and we were able to recover when Jon Otto
dropped both ice axes down a 50 degree snow slope (he recovered them with a
dangling ski pole wrist strap technique), nor when Walter climbed into a
vertical rock chimney and got his rucksack stuck (he took the sack off and
hauled it up after). Our camp 2 was located during a snow storm in
darkness, on a tiny icy-snowy shelf on the east ridge proper at 5850 metres. We
were finally on the ridge!
Jon leading an extremely
dicey pitch into camp 3, and the final approach into Dragon camp. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur. Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
On July 10, we set up our tent in camp 3, on a
snowy, but flattish ridge, at 6000 metres. We had struggled all day through hip
deep snow, on slopes approaching 50 degrees. At times, the snowpack was
frightening, but remained stable. We decided to name this section of the ridge
"the dragon" because it was very winding, with many ascents and
descents, like the tail of a serpent.
Topping the last rise before
Avalanche camp. Photographer: D. L. Mazur, Copyright:
www.mountainzone.com
On July 11th, we established camp 4, which we
named: "avalanche camp" at 6400 metres, at the base of a large slope
littered with monstrous fracture lines and avalanche debris. The going had been
difficult that day, with snow-wading through over-the-knee snow the norm. We had
chosen, for some odd reason, not to bring snow shoes on this part of the climb.
Jon struggling in the wind
and deep snow on the way to camp 5. Photographer: D. L. Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
On July 12th, we climbed through the debris
and over the fractures, with one memorable avalanche slab being over 2 metres
high. It was somewhat terrifying, climbing through this recently slid
battleground, but once again, we were blessed with a stable snow pack. That
afternoon, the weather turned on us and the wind howled in, accompanied by
snow-laden clouds, and we hastily made camp 5 at 6700 metres, under a protective
cornice. We huddled in our single-wall tent, trying to sleep with the sounds of
avalanches rumbling around us, somewhat comforted by the knowledge that we were
anchored to the slope with pickets and ice-screws.
Walter standing, and Jon
poking his head out of the tent at camp 6. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
The following morning, July 13th, we climbed
through clear weather and stunning views to the base of the east face at 6850
metres. We were finally through with the dragon ridge! A storm blew in at 1:00
pm and we put up the tent (camp 6) to rest and brew warm drinks. Our fuel was
nearly consumed, and there was'nt much food either, so we resolved to carry on
through the night, hoping to climb continuously.
Walter belays, Jon leads hard
ice at 7100 metres, and a blizzard rages. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
Our plans were thwarted, however, as the
evening storm intensified, and we awoke early on the morning of July 14th, in
medium visibility, to a light snow storm and strong winds. We pushed our way up
through the deepest snow yet, then the terrain turned to 30 - 60 degree ice. At
7200 metres, we found a safe looking crevasse and dug in for the night, at camp
7. All of us were chilled to the bone, from the lack of food, lack of water,
being nearly out of fuel, out in the blowing snow all day, arriving in twilight,
and having to carve our tent platform out of very deep and cold snow- wind slab.
It was difficult to get up the following
morning, then we were warmed by the sun, and anticipated that today might be
the day we made it to the summit and we could get off of the mountain. However, that
day, the 15th of July, our plans were dashed when we encountered further high
winds and very deep, steep snow. Jon completed an impressive series of ice
leads, and as the afternoon turned to evening, we were still about 100 metres
below the summit. We could see it looming above us, and saw the rays of the
sunset streaming over the top, but where we were it was freezing and dark. We
knew that if a large snowfall hit here we would stand a good chance of being
pulped by an avalanche, so we looked for a safe place to camp. Not finding
anything, we cut a small flat spot into a patch of snow at 7450 metres, and
piled into the tent (camp 8). We were somewhat encouraged by the sight of the
afternoon's clouds blowing away, to the east. Perhaps this evening would bring
better weather.
Dan's Cerebral Edema: The following morning, July 16th, Dan woke up
early, but was not able to speak clearly, nor move his limbs with much
coordination. He said he thought he had suffered a stroke and might die. There
was less than one fuel canister left, and almost no food, so there was no choice
but to go over the top, rather than descending through the deep snow and
winding, undulating ridge from whence we had come. After a breakfast of cold
water and uncooked porridge, Jon and Walter divided Dan's satellite
communication gear, and the three set off up slope. With an apparent
aplomb, and no protection, Jon climbed the final 15 metre, 85 degree rock and ice
face. He tried to place a few pitons and ice screws, but the cracks were thin,
the ice hard, and all of the gear rattled down the face, disappearing into the
oblivion below.
Walter and Jon, 15 metres
below the summit, preparing the anchors for Jon's lead. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
Dan falls from near the summit: Dan was able to talk again, and said he was
feeling better, so Walter followed Jon to the summit, where the rope was
anchored with a snow picket. The three had removed their rucksacks and left them
tied to a piton pounded at the bottom of the 15 metre ice-rock face. Dan called
up to them, saying he would tie in the sacks and the other two should haul. Not
thinking 100% clearly, he untied the three bags and himself, and readied to
ascend and haul. The others began hauling the rope. Dan, untied, grabbed for the
rope, which was no longer where it had been a few seconds before. Suddenly, he
saw Jon's rucksack slipping downhill, and he grabbed for it quickly, and was
thrown off balance. Dan felt himself falling, together with two rucksacks, one
tied to his back, the other he clutched tightly, resolving not
to let go, lest it plunge into the abyss, the way the pitons and ice screws had
gone, when Jon was leading the pitch.
Jon pulling onto the summit. Photographer: D. L.
Mazur, Copyright: www.mountainzone.com
Dan tumbled, with the two bags, cartwheeling
over some rocks and landing on a 15 degree snow plateau, after falling about 50
metres down the steep rock, ice, and snow slope. Surprisingly, he was unscathed, and untangling himself from the straps of
the rucksacks, he walked around the slope and picked up his hat, Walter's
mitten, and Jon's water bottle, which they had dropped earlier, in their final
ascent of the pitch. Jon came down to help, and the two climbed up to the summit
once again. Dan said he felt better, that the fall had done him well, and that
he had apparently been in need of a good "shaking up". After a bit of
climbing, and hauling of bags (tied in this time), the three reunited on
the summit, in sunshine and howling wind.
Dan ascending the final
near-vertical mixed section to the summit, which he had fallen down a few
minutes earlier. Dan and Walter on top. The summit
flag is visible just to the left of Dan. Photographer and
Copyright: Jon Otto.
The summit and the dead Slovenian: We snapped a few summit photos, then descended
immediately, and made our 9th camp at 7150 metres, that night of the 16th,
sleeping in an empty and small grey two person tent, which we were surprised to
find at his altitude. We were thirsty and hungry but warm,
all piled into the confined space together. The following evening, July 17th,
after a long descent of post-holing without snowshoes, we reached basecamp, to
discover that the tent we had slept in on the night of the 16th had belonged to
a Slovenian expedition, whose leader inquired if the three of us exhausted
new-routers had seen a missing companion who had disappeared from the tent, and
was apparently dead. We had not, and the missing climber was never located. Finally, very late
in the middle of that night, after much walking, and a motorcycle accident that
nearly claimed Walter's life, all (Anne, Yang, Lakpa, Walter, Jon, and Dan) were reunited at Karakuli Lake.
Leaving the mountain: During July 18th and 19th, our group drove to
Kashgar, rested, said their goodbyes, then Lakpa, Walter, and Daniel headed for
the Pakistan border early on the morning of the 20th. Later that night, after
some rows with the Chinese customs officers about walkie-talkies that were being
shipped to Lhasa rather than brought out through the Khunjerab border, the three
of us crossed into Pakistan and slept in Gilgit. On the 21st of June, we boarded
a public bus, and arrived in Rawalpindi early in the morning of the 22nd. Walter
split off to meet his girlfriend Amy Rice, and stay in Pakistan for more
climbing, while Lakpa and Dan were hauled off to the police station for
questioning by an overzealous officer acting on an anonymous tip. Released from
the clutches of the authorities, Lakpa and Dan flew to Kathmandu three hours
later. If you would like to read about the expedition which followed this one,
please "click" the following link: Mount
Kailash News.
July 2000, First Ascent of the East Ridge of Mustagata, 7546
metres, located in the Chinese Pamirs.Walter Keller's account of summit day:
Walter and Jon set anchors just before the accident. Thanks to
Patagonia for the clothing.
We awoke early on July 16, 2000, to make drinks and eat
some food with our little remaining fuel. By this time we were almost
out of fuel and were basically committed to the summit. Our only way
down was to go over the top and follow the standard route down. Without
an extremely dangerous descent down one of the faces of our ascent
route, a retreat was out of the question the way we had come. Following
our long route of ascent was out of the question.
Setting up our tiny highcamp.
As the grogginess of sleeping at almost 7500m (24,600 ft) was wearing
off, our worst nightmares were realized. As Jon and I prepared water,
Dan began babbling incoherently unable to put two recognizable words
together. Finally, we interpreted his babbling to be something about our
snow bag and the morning's drinks. I immediately said "cerebral edema"
as Jon tried to rationalize a little less problematic explanation, but
finally agreeing my explanation was probably correct.
Grabbing the medical bag, I pulled out some Diamox and Dexamethazone.
I gave Dan two Diamox and prayed it would have some effect. We were
climbing as a team and were all dependant on each member's ability to
complete some of the most technical climbing of the expedition on that
day. Fortunately, as the Diamox took effect Dan became somewhat
coherent. Then he stretched his hand out in front of him, sitting in his
sleeping bag, and said, "Wow, my arms are so weird, they aren't working
right."
Jon and I, looking at one another, said nothing, but a deep profound
understanding of the criticalness of our situation was apparent.
Jon Otto
Jon suggested the Dexamethazone, but I deferred its use until it was
absolutely necessary. Its use as an absolute last resort has saved
lives. I gave Dan another Diamox as we continued cooking and preparing
to leave the tent. The cooking was finished and most of the packing
completed when Dan seemingly became coherent and began complaining of an
extreme headache. He seemed reasonably functional and I prayed, scared
to death, that he would be able to function well enough to climb. After
all, there really was no choice in the matter.
Packing the tent in extreme cold that still is felt in my fingers, we
left for the summit. It was 8am and Jon suggested I lead. Surprisingly,
Dan kept up as I forged through the sometimes deep, sometimes crusted,
lower headwall slopes. Dan's experience in the high mountains was
serving us well as the upward movement was second nature. Almost in a
daze, he continued higher in his debilitated state. I was tired in the
thin air and exhausted by the effort, but struggled forward setting up a
belay at what I thought at the time to be about two-thirds of the way to
the top of the headwall from our camp. The remaining climbing was more
technical and I was leaving it for Jon. I was hoping he'd be fresh
enough for the more technical section. When he arrived he suggested I
might have climbed the first technical section also, but I was tired and
told him so.
Dan Climbing
Dan followed up to the belay I had set up as Jon continued upward. I
kept tying Dan off onto the short rope, but he was not truly belayed on
the less steep terrain as he came toward me. Dan seemed to be
functioning reasonably, if a little slow and, in my own altitude
debilitated state, I was not as aware of his condition as I might have
been. Jon finished a pitch and I followed up, quickly helping Jon sort
gear for the final headwall pitch as he belayed Dan up the slope.
Dan Mazur
Somehow there, above 24,000ft, in the sub-zero cold, I dropped my
glove. Away it went down the slope — my bare fingers exposed to the
cold. I grabbed my extra liner glove and shell to shield my fingers from
the cold as Jon rummaged through his bag and supplied a wool mitten. It
was enough as I still have my fingers. So there we all stood, poised for
the summit. All that remained was a very difficult section of 40 feet of
very technical mixed rock and ice climbing. Jon asked if I wanted the
lead. I said, "I would a little lower, but why don't you take this one."
Jon, on belay, began climbing with a thin snow cave on his right and
very difficult near-vertical rock on the left. Dry tooling up the rock
and stemming occasionally on the precarious ice cave he made his way up
the difficult pitch at over 24,000ft. I was impressed as he mounted the
rock, planting a piton that came out immediately as he made the next
move. He complained that the piton was a size off, as an ice screw and
piton came my way, having slipped from Jon's frozen hands. Finally, he
passed the difficult rock and quickly surmounted a snowy section at the
top, reaching the flat terrain just below the summit. We'd done it. Now
all we needed to do is get the bags to the top and ascend the in-place
rope. It was a terrific lead at any altitude, but was especially
impressive on the summit of a 7546m (24,750 ft) peak. There really
wasn't an easier way and I was profoundly glad Jon was on our team at
this moment.
Walter belaying Jon
Jon suggested I come up to help him pull up bags since Dan was still
a little debilitated. It made sense at the time, but in retrospect
leaving Dan alone to surmount the face and tie on three bags was a bad
choice. When Dan said to "pull up the rope" and that he was putting all
three bags on the rope at the same time, Jon and I knew there was a
problem. As I was helping set up a pully system, he uttered the
terrifying words, "We just lost Dan."
I hurried to the edge of the cliff to see Dan go over a steep
ice/snow cliff, cartwheeling with one bag in each arm. Head over heels
he went, disappearing briefly before reappearing on the steep snow slope
below, spinning about a center axis with one bag still wrapped around
each arm. Stopping 300 feet below his highpoint, he did not move. Terror
filled every bone in my body as Jon said, "Let's get him."
I said, "OK, single-rope rappel," and as Jon readied his rappel
device to descend, I backed up the existing anchor.
I watched as Jon descended and Dan finally began to move. As Jon
approached, Dan got up and began to wander off to the right, seemingly
dazed. "Oh no," I thought, "Dan is hurt and out of it." In actuality, he
was walking over to get my glove I had previously dropped. Miraculously,
he was unhurt.
Hoping to find other Normal Route climbers who might help, I hurried
across the summit plateau. No one was there despite a beautiful day. I
hurried back to the scene to see Jon and Dan standing together. Jon
said, "Come down and get Dan's bag."
As I readied for the rappel, he said, "Just go get your bag and Dan
and I will climb up slowly."
I lowered and, tying on my bag, unbelievably, dropped another glove.
Jon tried to grab it as it flew past, but was not successful.
Fortunately, I still had Jon's extra wool inner glove and and a shell
and quickly put them on. The dropped item had been an insulated down
shell this time. I ascended and waited at the top of the rope, my hand
in my pocket as they ascended. Strangely, I usually am meticulous about
having my gloves tied to my wrists. For the 48 hours we were close to
the summit, I never followed this safety practice.
Jon and Dan finally reached the top and we hauled up the bags.
Standing on the summit, it was now 4pm. We lingered shortly before
leaving. Initially, I started in the lead and our pace was fairly fast
as we descended the flat plateau at the top of Mustagh Ata. Dan, still
feeling the effects of altitude, would seem to degrade to where he would
stop and sit down every few seconds at the back of the rope. I would
think, "Oh no, he is degrading," but each time he would gather his
strength for another round of movement down the mountain.
Dan and Walter on summit
Initially, I felt strong as we descended, breaking trail in front,
but at some point my strength began to wane and fortunately Jon was
there to pick up the slack. Eventually, even when Dan was moving well, I
could not keep up with Jon's pace and would stop the rope team to catch
my breath. We finally ascended a steeper slope to a small gray tent. Jon
suggested we sleep in the tent if no one was there. Arriving at about
7:30pm, we found a very small tent with no occupants, a few sleeping
mats and a thin sleeping bag.
It was strange that there were skis nearby, but no occupant. Moving
into the tent, we made a drink from our limited fuel and snuggled next
to each other for the night. Jon suggested 6500m as our altitude. Dan
suggested 7100m, which turned out to be a close estimate. It was
bitterly cold so Jon went out into the cold and retrieved his sleeping
bag. We were cold all night long, but survived. Our arduous descent the
following day ended at Base Camp where, adding another twist to the
story, we learned the tent had been vacated recently by a lost Slovenian
climber who we had not seen.
It was an exciting summit day filled with excitement, terror, and
relief. Dan Mazur — our most experienced high-altitude climber, who has
climbed Everest, K2, Lhotse, Makalu and Gasherbrum I, all peaks over
8000m — came down with cerebral edema. Somehow, on automatic pilot, he
was able to keep moving upward in his debilitated state. Would Jon or I
been able to function in the same state? Why had Dan, who was well
acclimatized, come down with this affliction while Jon and I remained
unaffected? These are difficult questions to answer, but in the end
there was a happy ending and I'm glad it worked out as it did.
Fortunately, we're all safe at low altitude, reliving the experiences
recently shared high on the East Ridge of Mustagh Ata.
Best Regards from the warm lowlands of Western China,
— Walter Keller
Walter Keller
Anne Ramzy and Lakpa Sherpa were invaluable in helping us get
to the base of the route.
finishing
my BA degree at the University of Calgary when the invite came in -
absolutely beautiful timing. I had previously been to the Pakstani side
of the Karakoram, but here was a special and rare opportunity to explore
the quiet and very remote Chinese side. John had assembled a very
interesting team, fuelled by the funding of the upstart web company
quokka.com. The cornerstone of the trip was a Cholatse
mini-reunion
of John, Chris Breemer and myself. We then brainstormed over many a
phone session on who should fill the remaining positions. John needed to
include some celebrity fire-power, and this led to invitations to Kurt
Diemberger, Dan Mazur and Greg Child. Carlos Buhler turned the trip down
due to his involvement in a Menlungtse expedition. That is another
story. This trip was a major undertaking,
especially
with the web-media involved. We had such complicated and specialized
satellite and web gear that we needed a technician to come with us. This
position was filled by Quokka employee Mark Dwyer, a very strong and
capable Aussie. Also involved were Paula Quenemoen, a
speaker
of some Chinese and three Nepalis there to help with potential grunt
work in the Shaksgam.After a briefing with most of the team at Quokka
headquarters in SanFrancisco, we headed to Beijing. From there we
traversed China by vehicle, all the way to Mazar near the Pakistani
border, some 5,000 km from Beijing. After a 100km approach on foot,
supported by camel train, and crossing the Aghil pass en route,
we
established
a base camp near the snout of the North Gasherbrun Glacier. The intial
goal of the expedition was a scoping of and a faint hope at an attempt
on one of the unclimbed East faces of Gasherbrum I or II (both 8000m+
peaks). I eventually grabbed the
picture
on the left of these mega faces during the first ascent of a 6250m
mountain (on right) made by Dan Mazur and myself, located about 40km up
the Shaksgam from our North Gasherbrum Glacier base camp. The team had
decided against any attempts on the big peaks, exploration of the area
being more to people's liking. Admittedly there were too many different
views within the team for us to be able to attempt any climbing
objective of major significance. A
team
needs to be in solid agreement on the goal and we were not. Therefore we
split into three sub-groups: Kurt, Greg, Mark, Paula, Kaji and Phurba
went to explore the upper Shaksgam; Chris, John and Krishna set off to
explore
uncharted
passes and peaks; and finally Dan and myself went to the small group of
peaks between the Gasherbrums and the Siachen group. The ascent of what
we called Lao Ding Shan was certainly the highlight of the trip for me
and I think for Dan too. We were able to experience some beautiful and
some tough conditions, which made summiting on this mountain so
rewarding. For the remainder of the expedition other ambitions were
thwarted by bad weather, although Dan and I did manage to scope the East
side of Skyang Kangri (7500m) from directly under the impressive and
virgin East Ridge. Kurt et al traversed the Singhi Glacier,
another great moment of many for him. John and Chris were stumped on
their pass, but did make the first ascent of a 5,700m peak along the
Urdok Glacier which they named Mt. Desio. In all we managed some
moderate successes and in general were pleased. There were certainly
some low points on this trip as well, but it must always be remembered
how stressful things can be in such isolated and cramped quarters and
how much one can overblow things in the heat of the moment. I for one
have left my bad feelings behind, and hope that everyone else has too.
