No Way Down_ Life And Death On K2 Part 10

He crashed painfully into the ice a little way below them and stopped. He was sprawled against a tiny horizontal ledge, held on the mountain by the rope and his harness.

If it had been an icefall that had caused the rope collapse, it had moved on and the lower screws holding the lines in place had held. Two other climbers were dangling above him.

Bhote was able to sit upright but it was a painful struggle to move: his legs and arms ached from the fall and he was tangled in a welter of rope.

Of the two South Korean climbers hanging above him, the one at the top was suspended headfirst against the ice face. His arms reached out toward Bhote. Bhote wasn't sure who it was, though he could see his b.l.o.o.d.y face.

The second one also lay head-down against the ice but at a less steep angle. Both of the climbers, he saw, were still clipped onto the rope and hanging in their harnesses, which were supporting them.

Bhote felt that if he struggled he could perhaps have gone on. But he wasn't sure if he could stand, and these men were his clients; he had a duty to stay with them. He was, however, confused. He could not see the third Korean climber. Perhaps he had escaped the rope collapse and had gone on; or perhaps the fall had knocked him completely off the mountain; or perhaps Bhote was mistaken and he was never on the rope and was now somewhere up behind above the serac.

Bhote knew he and the other two men couldn't stay where they were for long. He shouted out, calling for help at first, and then out of sheer panic, but he grew tired. The two trapped Koreans also occasionally shouted for help and moaned. Bhote wanted to rea.s.sure them, but the cold crept over him and soon he found he had no strength to speak.

He started to cry. He couldn't feel his hands, and that scared him most, since they were his livelihood. He thought of Dawa Sangmu and Jen Jen in Kathmandu. If he died, he thought, there would be insurance money, wouldn't there? More than $5,000.

But Bhote didn't want to die. He didn't want his family to be mourners, walking to the puja at the Boudha stupa, carrying corn nuts for the monkeys and birds as offerings in his honor.

He imagined them stopping on the way to give one-rupee notes to the beggars at Pashupatinath, most of them grateful but some complaining when the notes were old and wrinkled. He imagined his family bringing fruit for the monks in the stupa circle, jingling money into the monks' pockets and lighting candles, before his brother fell prostrate, wailing Jumik's name. His mother screaming in anguish because she believed his death could have been avoided if only she had been a better mother.

Bhote's mind was wandering. His only hope was that rescuers would climb up from Camp Four-or that other teams were still making their way down from the summit and would find them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

3 a.m.

Marco Confortola had waded alone along the sloping snowfield from the top of K2. After more than an hour, he had seen headlamps in a line a few dozen yards below him and had followed behind them. He thought they belonged to the Korean team but their faces were obscured by the bright spotlights of their headlamps, which cast hazy penumbrae in the dark twilight.

Near the steep slope before the lip of the glacier, Confortola drew closer to the other mountaineers. He saw they were from the Korean team, though there was another climber with them who turned out to be the Irishman Gerard McDonnell.

Where are the ropes?

McDonnell shrugged.

The group of climbers searched for the route that would lead them around the crusted edge of the giant serac onto the Traverse but to their mounting frustration they could not find any sign of the ropes.

The end of the snowfield curved down abruptly in front of them, a slope of 30 or 40 degrees. Confortola dragged his tired body to the left and then back to the right on the top of the steep slope, willing himself to find the ropes. The fixed lines had to be down there somewhere, though neither he nor McDonnell felt sure that they were on the same path they had followed on the way up onto the snowfield.

And then, when the Flying Jump team lurched ahead toward the lip of the glacier and one after the other went over the top, Confortola held McDonnell back. There was something about the look of the snow that made him uneasy.

Both men knew the risks of staying out overnight. It was ten o'clock. They were exhausted. The night was big and black around them. There was no moon and it was fiercely cold, minus 20, easy. Confortola's altimeter wrist.w.a.tch said they were at 27,500 feet. They had no tent or sleeping bags, no extra food or oxygen. They knew their lives probably depended on descending quickly through the cold to Camp Four.

But they were on a steep slope and they had no idea where they were or where they were going. The lamp at Camp Four winked about half a mile below them, clearly but beyond their reach. Confortola's instinct told him it was no use looking for a way down anymore. They were better off waiting for daylight, when they could see where they were climbing.

"Let's stay here," he said.

He wanted to be certain that what lay beneath their boots was firm snow and not a creva.s.se. In addition, there were constant avalanches from these heavy snowfields, big, powerful falls that would crush them if they got caught up in one. Sure enough, minutes later Confortola heard a roll of thunder coming from the serac in front of them, then distant cries and shouts from beneath it. Then silence.

What was that?

I don't know.

Confortola wasn't entirely sure that what he had heard was an avalanche or ice collapsing from the serac but now he felt convinced they were right to stay where they were. They were going to have to bivouac, the term for staying outside without proper shelter under the night sky.

The two climbers sprawled on the steep balcony of snow. McDonnell was wearing his red climbing suit, gray balaclava, and climbing goggles. He was tired, Confortola could see. Confortola wanted to make sure he was making the right decision for them both. He wanted a second opinion, so he took out his satellite phone and called Agostino da Polenza, the president of the Italian Everest-K2 committee, and a friend and mentor. Da Polenza was in Courmayeur, Italy. Confortola explained that he felt uncomfortable about the direction they were taking and that they could not find the ropes. He said he had heard what was probably part of the serac falling.

Photographic Insert

Photographs by Mike Farris (top) and Bruce Normand, courtesy of SharedSummits.com The two main approaches to the summit of K2, the Abruzzi and Cesen routes, converge at the Shoulder. From there, climbers must navigate the Bottleneck and the Balcony Serac, an overhanging glacier, before reaching the top. (The New York Times/Michael Farris/Bruce Normand) (The New York Times/Michael Farris/Bruce Normand)

On the morning of August 1, 2008, two mountaineers, Marco Confortola and Gerard McDonnell, climb up the Shoulder toward the Bottleneck. In the background is Camp Four, the last camp before the summit. Within a few hours, the crush of climbers at the top of the Bottleneck would lead to the first death. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

Climbers grip fixed ropes to ascend the Bottleneck, a steep and dangerous gully, and then rest before crossing over toward the Traverse. At over 26,000 feet, the expeditions enter the so-called Death Zone, where balance, concentration, vision, and other human body functions break down rapidly under the searing effects of alt.i.tude. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

Jahan Baig, a Pakistani high-alt.i.tude porter. The HAPs, drawn from northern villages in Pakistan, were employed by foreign expeditions as guides and carriers on the mountain. They were often cheaper alternatives to Nepalese Sherpas. (Hasil Shah) (Hasil Shah)

The Bottleneck and the steep ice face of the Traverse lead the climbers beneath the overhanging serac, which glistens ominously in the midday sun. In past years, serac collapses sent huge chunks of ice hurtling onto the Traverse and down the Bottleneck. Climbers did not like to imagine what would happen if they got in the way. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

The Serbian climber Dren Mandic, shown in foreground at right in one of the mess tents at K2 Base Camp in 2008. Mandic fell to his death among the crowds at the top of the Bottleneck on the morning of August 1. (Predrag Zagorak) (Predrag Zagorak)

After the first two deaths, the line of climbers continues on the diagonal ascent beneath the serac toward the summit snowfields. The Basque mountaineer Alberto Zerain, the first to summit and the only climber to descend in daylight, is visible at top left. (Chris Klinke) (Chris Klinke)

Two South Korean climbers struggle to climb the last ice lip from the route beneath the serac onto the summit snowfield. Three members of the South Korean expedition and one of their Nepalese Sherpas would die on the descent; another Sherpa would lose his life trying to rescue them. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

Climbers arrive at the summit of K2 in the late afternoon of August 1. After fifteen hours or more of continuous climbing, the descent is one of the most dangerous parts of any attempt on K2-of the nearly 70 men and women killed on K2 over the course of its history before 2008, more than a third died on the way down after having successfully reached the summit. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

Frenchman Hugues d'Aubarede pictured at K2 Base Camp with Qudrat Ali (left), the American climber Nick Rice (right), and Karim Meherban. Most climbers work as members of a larger expedition. D'Aubarede traveled to K2 as an independent climber, though he employed three Pakistani high-alt.i.tude porters and joined forces with Rice at Base Camp. (Raphaele Vernay) (Raphaele Vernay)

Cecilie Skog and her teammate Lars Flato Nessa stand together on the summit of K2. Skog was the first woman to summit the tallest peaks on all seven continents, and reach both the North and South Poles. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

The Basque climber Alberto Zerain gazes up toward the serac. On his way down from the summit, Zerain pa.s.sed the line of climbers still ascending. He warned them the ascent was going to be difficult. (Alberto Zerain) (Alberto Zerain)

Representatives from different expeditions pose for a team photograph after one of the cooperation meetings at Base Camp. Wilco van Rooijen, the Dutch leader, kneels in the front row, fourth from right. The American Eric Meyer is middle row third from left; Chhiring Dorje stands to his left. Go Mi-sun kneels front row, third from left. Rolf Bae of Norway stands on the back row at far right. After the meeting, Bae commented to Lars Nessa that he had a feeling something was bound to go wrong. (Lars Flato Nessa) (Lars Flato Nessa)

Early evening, August 1: from left to right, Hugues d'Aubarede, Karim Meherban, Gerard McDonnell, and Wilco van Rooijen celebrate at the summit. Only one of the four would survive. (Wilco van Rooijen) (Wilco van Rooijen)