Somewhere near 7000
meters on the SE Ridge of Makalu
The temps dipped well below Zero (F). The winds tore across
the face, the ropes twisting in the air. Marty and I were tied to
opposite ends
of the skinny rope, the distance between us slowly growing. Mentally, it
was
probably hardest on the belayer. The cold clawed its way into his bones.
He could
barely move, maybe not even shuffle, since he was tied to a single piton
or ice
screw, slumped onto a sloping ledge, feeding out the tiniest bits of
slack
rope. That's all the belayer did, hour after hour: feed tiny bits of
slack to
the climber, sway side to side to shake the pain out of his harnessed
hips and
fight a losing battle with the cold.
In the distance, popping in and out of the swirling clouds,
the lead climber inched upwards.
"Have you found an anchor," the lead climber's radio would
crackle, disturbing the purposefully meditative state he was in. While leading
we shift into this "zone", building an impenetrable wall to keep out the fear:
falling rocks, frostbitten toes, and hundred foot falls. It is a survival
tactic that allows us to bridge the hundreds of feet of danger that separates
us from safety. The leaders' job is to keep moving. If he stops, the belayer
may freeze and the danger will never end. "Why," the leader swears under his
steaming breath, "did you have to call me just now? Just when my ice axe
placements are suspect, my calves are cramping, and my numb fingers are
reminding me that my toes were once numb too. Why did you call when I am most
afraid?" But of course the climber would never say that. Any admission of fear
opens the flood gates. A tidal wave of self doubt would rush in.
The stress redlines as you take your hand off an ice axe to
push the microphone button. "It's right ahead.....fifty feet.....black rock.....need
slack.....just ahead." And the leader's hand grips the ice axe again.
Hyperventilation settles into heavy breathing: the normal challenge of altitude
replacing the power of fear. It is time to swing the ice axes into a new
section of ice. Then kick the crampons in a bit higher and drive the body upward.
Forty-nine more feet to go.
Why we're on the SE
Ridge, risking frostbite, terrible falls, and a nearly complete assortment of
mountaineering dangers?
After our near death experience trying to establish a new
route up the South Face, we decided the next best adventure available to us is
to head to the SE Ridge. We don't want to scale the whole thing: a British
Expedition is attempting that objective for the third time. Their big team,
complete with Sherpas, bottled oxygen, etc is well on its way to realizing this
hard earned dream. We want to have the smallest possible impact on their
experience. And we want them to have the smallest possible impact on our dream,
too.
We are going to have to share about 2000 feet of climbing
with them. Our plan demands that we climb to the col (saddle) on the SE Ridge
(6700 meters). Here we join the ridge, placing a camp at 7200 meters. At 7500
meters or so, we drop off the SE Ridge and into the Eastern Cwm (pronounced
"coom") the world's highest and most remote valley. (Cwm is a Scottish word
meaning a closed ended alpine valley. The English word is "cirque", which is
probably French anyway. But ever since the term cwm was applied to Everest by
some romantic Brit, it is now fair game to name all sorts of remote alpine
valleys in the Himalaya as cwms.)
The Eastern Cwm has been visited a handful of times:
Japanese in 1970, Doug Scott and friends on two expeditions, Koreans and their
Sherpas, a gang of Americans, some Spaniards, an international group, and most
recently (2004) three French climbers. Less than half of those teams were able
to get to the summit after dropping into the Cwm.
We hope to follow some variation of the successful Korean
and French teams. The plan is simple, if measured in camps: ABC (5400m), mid
Camp (6200 m), Col Camp (6550 m), 7200 m Camp on the SE Ridge and 7700 m Camp
in the Eastern CWM. From there we will head to the summit.
Our last goal: unmet.
This last time on the mountain, Marty and I left Base Camp
with the goal of establishing ourselves at 7200 meters on the SE Ridge of
Makalu. We never made it. The cold stopped us at 7000 meters. With more bad
weather on the way, we had to stop fixing ropes up the ever steeping ridge and
retreat to our tent. We tried to wait out the weather in our Col Camp (which we
placed in a crevasse, because it is the only sheltered place on the mountain) but
it was futile. We spent four nights cowering in the tent, as winds gusting to
70 mph tried to tear us from the mountain. Luckily our tent is built like a
tank and designed specifically for Himalayan mountaineering (after K2, I met with the designers of Sierra Designs to talk
tents. They then developed the Convert 3, the lightest, strongest 3 person
mountaineering tent on the market. After
a year of testing the prototype on smaller expeditions, we've chosen this tent
for Makalu. It is the best tent I've ever used
in the mountains: strong, light, easy to set up and comfortable to live in.)
We weren't the only ones being tortured by the extreme
weather on Makalu. The large, well organized Ukrainian
team has been fighting for every meter on the SW Face. They, too, reported
huddling inside their tents, gripping the poles to keep their shelter from
being torn from the mountain. Meanwhile the Brits are still trying to reach the
Col. They established C1 and C2 on the SE Ridge, where there is no shelter from
the winds. We envy them the scenic nature of their route (an undulating ridge,
draped in cornices) but not their total exposure. The challenges they've faced
have them a hundred meters below the high
point Marty and I have reached. Once the weather
breaks, they should catch us somewhere on the ridge.
Makalu's Normal Route.
While we were on the mountain, a steady stream of
expeditions marched up the Barun
Valley towards the normal
route (pioneered in 1954 by a French Expedition). There are 6 or 7 expeditions
on that route, with a lot of old friends scattered among the teams. Sadly every
time a team comes up the Valley, Marty and I are on the mountain. We've missed
seeing everyone. Hopefully we'll celebrate a re-union after reaching the
summit.
With friends scattered around the mountain, you would think Makalu
would seem a little less intimidating. But after a week of sub zero temps and
70 mph gusts, Makalu seems bigger, colder and wilder than almost every other
8000 meter peak (it may not be as deadly as K2,
but it is colder).
Makalu has already taught
us a lot. Back in Base Camp, we can better prepare for the next round, which
promises to start in a few days. We'll rest up while some snow falls. Then on
Saturday, if we are lucky, we'll start our exploration of the Eastern Cwm.
