Thieves, Liars and Mountaineers: On the 8000 Metre Peak Circus in Pakistan's Karakoram Mountains (14 page)

“I am pissed,” says Dirk the German when he comes to our dining tent with Paulo and Daniela for their daily visit to get the weather forecast.

“Have you been to see the Czech team then?” I ask. “I gather they've sneaked some peach schnapps into Pakistan hidden in tonic water bottles.”

But it turns out he means he's annoyed, not drunk. “No,” he replies. “I've been told that Polish Jack has taken a week's supply of my food from Camp 1 and has gone up to Camp 2 on G1 to join the Bulgarian team.”

Despite his transgressions, I have to own up to a sprinkling of admiration for Polish Jack. Notwithstanding the fact that he's been surviving by stealing everyone else's food and staying in their tents while they're away from them, he's certainly been the most determined of any of the amateur climbers here in the face of atrocious weather. I don't think he's been down to Base Camp for three weeks, and has been sleeping at Camp 1 or higher (5910m) throughout that period. He joined the Iranian team in what has proved to be the only concerted attempt to summit Gasherbrum II this season (leaving aside Ueli Steck's solo ascent on July 8 th , but we're talking mere mortals here), and got to within 50 metres of the summit in desperate weather conditions. Now he's switched to Gasherbrum I and is joining the Bulgarian team, and the Finn Veikka Gustafsson and his Japanese cameraman, on what may well prove to be the only concerted attempt to summit G1 as well. He may be a thief, but the man's got some stamina and determination.

Prayer flags and tents at Base Camp

As for us, although the Sherpas were intending to go up to Camp 2 on G2 today, to pull our camp down, we had more snow overnight and they decided to delay. There may be a possible weather window on G1 this weekend, although wind speeds are still looking extremely high on the summit. Whatever, because we were concentrating on G2, we've missed it, and are now probably going to stay in Base Camp till Monday in the hope of getting a better forecast. Fat chance of this, however. Gombu pretty much summed up our experience of the Karakoram over the last couple of months when he said, when it's not windy it snows, and when it's not snowing it's too windy. The forecast for the next five days is high winds and snow.

Eventually Gombu and the other Sherpas decide to leave after dinner this evening to go and pull the tents down at Camp 2. Three Spanish climbers come to our camp to see if they're prepared to bring two tents and three sleeping bags left at Camp 2 down for them as well. Gombu decides to keep them waiting outside our dining tent while we have dinner.

“I hope you're going to charge them for it,” says Phil.

“Oh yes, two tent and three sleeping bag will be about … six hundred dollar,” replies Serap.

“Six hundred dollars – you're joking!”

“Is no joke, is mountain,” says Temba. Everyone roars with laughter.

Eventually Gombu offers to do it for four hundred dollars but, understandably, the Spanish climbers decline. I remember a muleteer on Muztag Ata offering to carry my 30 kilos of kit down from Camp 1 after I'd summited for just 30 dollars. I thought that was a bit steep and ended up staggering down with it myself. Any price to carry two tents and three sleeping bags between four superstar Sherpas is pretty much money for old rope, but our friends obviously don't need the money. The Spanish climbers end up going back up themselves to fetch it.

At 8pm, as I brush my teeth outside my tent, I watch four little black silhouettes belonging to Gombu, Tarke, Temba and Pasang make their way through the icefall at a speed that would floor me after a few hundred metres. They expect to be in Camp 1 at about 10 o'clock.

This morning we have another typical conversation about the weather forecast. Phil comes to the dining tent clutching a piece of paper containing wind speeds and precipitation for the next few days.

Phil: “I've got the latest weather forecast from Meteotest. If you want a realistic chance of summiting G1 then you should go to Camp 3 tomorrow.”

Camp 3 is 2000 metres above us.

Me: “Did you say ‘realistic chance'? You're saying we should go all the way to Camp 3 in one go?”

Phil: “Well, there's going to be a weather window.”

He reads out the wind speeds and precipitation for the next five days. Wind speeds are in excess of 50 kmh and there's a chance of snow on all days.

Michael: “Which day is the window?”

Phil: “I wouldn't go on any of them. If you want my advice, I'd go after Wednesday. Wind speeds are going to drop off.”

Me: “So why don't we start out on Monday and make Thursday our summit day. What are the speeds on Thursday?”

Phil: “We don't know. The forecast only goes up to Wednesday. You can go up if you want, but I would advise waiting for the weather forecast.”

Michael: “Why don't we wait for the weather forecast on Monday. If it's good we go up on Tuesday, and if it's s—t we wait.”

Me: “If we leave Tuesday then that's Camp 1 on the 28 th , Camp 2 on the 29 th , Camp 3 on 30 th , summit and back to Camp 3 on the 31 st , and back to Base Camp on the 1 st . Our porters are arriving on the 6 th . If we leave it any later then we're into the realms of last gasp effort. We might as well go up anyway, regardless of the weather forecast. If the weather's s—t, we turn back, but we've nothing to lose. It's better than sitting on our arses in Base Camp till the porters show up on the 6 th .”

Phil: “I'm not sending my Sherpas up in a whiteout, and if there's any more snow then I wouldn't recommend going up to Camp 1 any more, either. It was dangerous the other day. I'm staying here, but you can go.”

Me: “So if the weather forecast on Monday says it's going to snow all week, we may as well pack up and leave straight away.”

Arian: “I'm staying.”

Phil: “Gordon, what are your thoughts?”

Gordon: “Well, my visa expired two weeks ago, so I'm just waiting for the Pakistani authorities to show up and throw me in prison.”

And so on. I'm thoroughly confused every time we have one of these conversations, which is most days. Things are usually clearer on the days we don't get a weather forecast.

The funny thing is, every time I mention going up anyway regardless of the weather forecast, Phil seems to think I'm one of those crazy fools who wants to reach the summit at all costs. But I've reached the conclusion I'm almost certainly the most conservative and nervous climber out of all of us. I'm always the first to ask about how much of the route is going to be fixed, and have been quite explicit about turning round above Camp 3 if I think I'm in danger of falling on steep slopes with no fixed ropes to protect me.

At one point yesterday Phil approached me and said: “Mark, if you do decide to go up in bad weather, then I'm going to insist you take a Sherpa with you.”

As though I might consider tackling G1 solo while everyone else, including the Sherpas, decide to stay in Base Camp and wait out the weather! The idea's quite ludicrous. I might as well climb it naked as well, for good measure.

At 8.30am, immediately after breakfast, Serap looks up the icefall and shouts down to us: “I see Gombu.”

“What are you talking about? You can't see Camp 2 from here,” says Phil.

Thirty seconds later Gombu, Tarke, Temba and Pasang stroll into Base Camp, having been up to Camp 2 overnight, packed up all our tents and food, carried them down to Camp 1 then returned here, without having slept. They don't even look tired.

In the evening Gorgan and Serap both decide they're going to have one last-ditch attempt at G1 before they go home. They take with them Dirk the German and Tunch the Turk, but we think they've missed the weather window that Veikka and the Bulgarians are climbing in, and decide to wait until the end of next week instead. Arian is tempted to go with them, but Phil talks him out of it.

“By Tuesday you've got 50K winds again on the summit,” he says. “That's not a weather window. If you're desperate and want to risk frostbite, then go for it. But this is your first 8000 metre peak and there will be other chances.”

This time, I agree wholeheartedly.

The Finnish mountaineer Veikka Gustafsson is attempting to reach the summit of Gasherbrum I today, his fourteenth and last 8000 metre peak, and we spend much of the morning watching the clouds on the summit and speculating on whether he's going to make it. The Bulgarian team assisted him by breaking trail through waist deep snow beneath the Japanese Couloir yesterday, and are also trying for the summit today. Veikka was due to set off for the summit at midnight, and it will probably take him at least 8 hours. I get up for breakfast at 8am, and there is a large lenticular cloud over the summit which looks like it will turn him round, but calmer weather follows until 11am, when the clouds return. If he's timed his ascent to arrive at the summit within this short three-hour period then he may well have found the only tiny summit window in a month. I hope he makes it. He seemed a decent chap when we had tea with him earlier in the month, and he's been patient enough. Last year he turned around just 50 metres from the top, so he deserves a break.

But we hear no news of Veikka all day. This is odd, and leads us to conclude that perhaps he didn't make it up – most people have satellite phones, and normally when summits are reached, word gets spread around pretty quickly. Veikka has been contacting his wife by satellite phone, who arranges for any news to go on his website pretty soon. We usually find out about things like this when Phil's wife sends him a text message after browsing the internet. Today there is nothing from this source, although Phil is chuffed when his wife tells him there's a blog on another site saying, “The most sensible team on Gasherbrum at the moment appears to be Altitude Junkies, who are waiting at Base Camp for calmer weather.” This statement appears to be based on the evidence that Phil hasn't posted a dispatch to the Altitude Junkies website for a few days.

Later in the afternoon Phil goes down to Canada West's camp to get hold of their battery. They're all going home today and don't need it any more. While he's away Michael and Arian, bored and looking for something new to occupy themselves with, decide to chip away at the ice around his orange Mountain Hardware dome tent to perch it even more precariously on its mushroom of ice. Phil doesn't notice any difference when he returns, and hopefully he'll see the funny side when he watches the video of them at work on YouTube.

Arian and Michael have plans for Phil's tent

It's certainly true that maturity at Base Camp appears to be inversely proportional to boredom. For a few days now Phil has been threatening to abandon the expedition if anyone puts jelly or blancmange on his crampons again. Apparently it's very difficult to scrape off in the morning after freezing overnight. If this happens then I would be interested to see how he reports it on his expedition dispatches, and how it will square with the assertion that Altitude Junkies are “the most sensible team on Gasherbrum.”

At 8pm Phil gets on the radio to Gorgan and Serap at Camp 2 on G1, and learns that Veikka and his Japanese cameraman are also there, having summited earlier today. The four Bulgarian climbers are up at Camp 3, also having reached the top. It's great news, and let's hope it's the harbinger of a new phase of summits.

It looks like another clear day on the summit of Gasherbrum I, although it's windy down here at Base Camp. Phil has heard reports from Veikka that there is now a technical rock section on the Japanese Couloir, and Gombu says it's going to be too cold for the Sherpas to fix ropes above Camp 3. Phil is now talking about switching back to Gasherbrum II, as he thinks parts of the route on G1 may be too technical for some of us. He's also getting itchy feet now that the weather down at Base Camp has improved very slightly.

“Who's up for going up to Camp 2 tomorrow?” he asks after breakfast.

“Why don't we wait for today's weather forecast first, like we said we would on Friday?” says Michael.

“Dude, we're running out of time,” Phil replies. “And the weather forecasts aren't always accurate. We may as well try using chicken bones.”

“Or tea leaves,” I add, looking into the bottom of my mug.

“What do they tell you?” asks Gordon. “You will meet a tall dark stranger who looks like Sergeant Bilko and keeps changing his mind?”

This is a little unfair – Phil only keeps changing his mind because circumstances keep changing, and this is part and parcel of mountaineering, but we all laugh anyway.

The forecast comes through at 4pm and we have a meeting outside Phil's tent. Stormy weather is predicted for two days, but then the winds die down towards the end of the week. No more snow is forecast after that, and there is a glimmer of hope again, although the summit wind speeds for Friday, 30 kmh, are right on the fringes of do-able. The Sherpas don't want to go back up G2 again, so our minds are now focussed on G1.

We're now one of the few remaining teams at Base Camp. The Iranian team leaves tomorrow, and tonight they have a bit of a sing-song and take down the Iranian flag from the pole on the moraine hill which divides our two camps. There are rather a lot of them , and they're making quite a bit of noise. After the garbage incident last week we joke that they have a little effigy of Arian up there which they're sticking pins into.