Some thoughts on Alison Hargreaves and K2, the Savage Mountain
By Greg Child, special to Outside Online This spring I had the privilege of getting to know Alison Hargreaves, being part of an expedition to Tibet on which she made her now-famous oxygenless and unsupported climb of the North Ridge of Everest. On her summit day I spoke with her by radio as she made the last steps to the top. She was momentarily overcome with happiness as she reached the summit, but quickly she composed herself into the analytical professional climber that has made her so successful. She commented that this was the "best day of my life." She also extended her thoughts to her children back in Britain. I told her on the radio she was "my new hero in climbing," and she quipped back with a laugh that I was a "sarcastic Aussie bastard." I was, however, being serious. Her ascent of Everest was pulled off in beautiful style. She used no bottled oxygen, had no sherpas carry any of her gear, and she did not use fixed ropes. It was pretty close to a perfect ascent. She also was totally clear-headed up there, and when I met her at the foot of the mountain two days later and handed her a bunch of plastic flowers and, along with expedition leader Russell Brice, gave her a big hug, I could see that she had hardly lost any weight--showing that she was physically a climbing animal and well adapted to big mountains. I am, consequently, stunned to know that somehow she died on K2. I felt she would live to a ripe old age as a climber and would enjoy many successes. But then, climbing is full of uncertainties. I venture to guess that Alison, and the others who died up there too, were attracted to the mountain in part because of the uncertainty, as well as for the adventure. I would also guess that they fought hard to survive, but in a savage place like K2, survival cannot always be guaranteed. As a past summiter of K2, it is difficult to fully convey to anyone a sense of what drives climbers to attempt a mountain on which, statistically, there is a considerable chance of death. What attracts an ambitious and highly skilled few to try K2 is perhaps the same thing that compels a person to sail a yacht across a great ocean. It is a dangerous undertaking, but an exhilarating one. On such a journey one might confront the enormity of nature and the reality of oneself in ways that are not accessible to us in day-to-day life. Though we play in a dangerous environment, we do not have a death wish. To the contrary, we gain a greater appreciation of life through what we experience in these wild places. The main factors behind K2's notorious reputation for taking human life are its steep terrain, its high altitude, and its--at times--extreme cold, wind, and heavy snowfall. Unlike Everest, which though higher is not particularly steep, K2 is consistently steep from every side. Steepness gives K2 its elegant stature, a kind of diamond-like shape, and perhaps that is the main appeal to climbers. At 28,250 feet, it is the second-highest peak on earth, just 600 or so feet lower than Everest (29,028 feet). The human body can only tolerate such heights for a very short time before it deteriorates. Physical performance and clarity of mind are quickly lost if a climber is trapped by a storm up high. Many climbers were unable to rouse themselves and get down K2 after a multi-day storm in 1986; they just laid in their tents or collapsed in the snow and died. Weather on K2 can be horrific, too, changing from clear and sunny and windless to hurricane-force jet stream winds overnight. All these conditions played a factor in the most recent, and the previous catastrophes on K2. |
