Читать книгу Edge of the Map - Johanna Garton - Страница 14

TUCKED INTO THE BORDER BETWEEN Pakistan and China, 26,401-foot Broad Peak ranks high on the list of 8,000-meter peaks for those in the game of summiting all fourteen. Though steep in sections, the mountain lacks any sheer vertical walls, and there’s little technical climbing required. Broad Peak’s wide summit stretches a mile long, offering stunning views of nearby K2 and both Gasherbrum I and II.

Accessing Broad Peak requires a trek of a week or more from Askole, the last village in Pakistan connecting climbers to the rest of the world. The hike to base camp funnels expeditions directly along the top of the Baltoro Glacier, a thirty-five-mile-long, three-mile-wide expanse of breathtaking beauty. Dividing the Indian subcontinent from Tibet, this part of the Karakoram Range packs in a few 8,000-meter peaks along with many just below that height, like younger siblings but nearly as formidable. An intoxicating stretch of rock and ice reaches a pinnacle at the convergence of the Baltoro with the Godwin-Austen Glacier. Known as Concordia, the intersection gives climbers their first views of K2 and Broad Peak. The sight has been known to stun and shock mountaineers in such a way that some climbers immediately wither, surrendering any hope of making it to the top.

IN JULY 1995, KEITH AND Chris took leave from their Atlanta jobs to climb Broad Peak. It would be the first attempt at this altitude for both of them. After years of partnering with Keith, Chris was going to get the chance to test her fortitude with others, including Scott Fischer. Scott had gathered a team of friends suited to the challenges of the mountain. He’d also hired Lopsang Jangbu Sherpa, a high-altitude guide, who had become a trusted team member after summiting Everest with Scott. This climbing season bridged the gap between Scott’s 1994 clean-up expedition to Everest and the Everest expedition he was planning with clients for the next year.

When they arrived, Broad Peak Base Camp bustled with activity. Its proximity to K2 meant that climbers attempting that lofty peak need only take an easy hike of an hour to visit with those on Broad Peak. The Mountain Madness camp welcomed climbers both established and unknown. Among the more famous was Peter Hillary, the son of legendary alpinist Sir Edmund Hillary. He’d be attempting K2 with British mountaineer Alison Hargreaves, who just months earlier had reached the summit of Mount Everest without the assistance of Sherpas, fixed ropes, or bottled oxygen.

Unlike Chris, Alison had climbed for decades before arriving at K2 in 1995. But like Chris, she’d risen without much initial notice in the sport of mountain climbing. In a field packed with men, the women in Europe who’d gained notoriety had often been heralded more because of their gender than their accomplishments. This move ran counter to Alison’s core, just as it did with Chris, who thought of herself as a climber and not as a “female climber.” Following her recent success on Everest, Alison knew that her passion for climbing raised eyebrows. The reason: she was the mother of two young children. The press and critics within mountaineering communities created a narrative that accused her of “acting like a man” and attempting to “have it all.” As a leading professor of sport sociology at Brunel University in London put it: Alison’s “heroism was conditional upon her safe return to her children. No such demand is placed upon men: their deaths are the purest symbols of heroism.”

Nevertheless, she carried forth with a life dedicated to both climbing and her children. Writing in her journal at K2 Base Camp, Alison said, “It eats away at me—wanting the children and wanting K2. I feel like I’m being pulled in two.” Being a father to young children and a mountaineer himself, Scott respected Alison in a way others didn’t. At Broad Peak Base Camp, he and Alison chatted about kids and Everest. High-end coffee and booze flowed while satellite phones stayed busy as the K2 alpinists checked in with the outside world.

Chris and Keith watched at a distance, setting up their tent and planning to move higher onto the mountain. They’d come to Broad Peak at the same time as Scott’s team but planned to climb independently. Nonetheless, they couldn’t help noticing the staging going on all around. The Mountain Madness camp buzzed with life, and the expedition members and high-altitude support team looked comfortable with their surroundings and their leader. Scott’s energy radiated to those around him. Though they’d heard of his accomplishments, the Boskoffs felt secure in their own. They busied themselves preparing gear while absorbing the fact that they’d finally made it to the foot of an 8,000-meter peak. Camp itself was a mess of tents, each one serving a purpose for cooking, sleeping, or getting medical attention. Chris couldn’t get enough of taking in the scene and the divergent personalities of the climbers and support staff.

Scott seemed the antithesis of Chris but also a potential match. His charisma allowed him to easily navigate a multitude of personalities, while Chris guarded her privacy. She and Keith kept to themselves, focusing on their goal of summiting. In a sport that required patience and calculation, Chris worked to find the balance. Her determination was an asset but also a danger as she longed for a summit. Her hunger for the top meant she was prepared to persevere, but she was still apt to overlook small details that more seasoned climbers noticed. Meanwhile, Scott felt a symbiotic relationship with the mountains and was content to wait as long as it took for the perfect weather window to move higher.

During a day of rest, Scott invited Chris and Keith over to his camp nearby. “You’re pretty new at this, I hear?” he asked the couple as they pulled up camp chairs.

“Compared to you? Big time,” said Keith, with a laugh. His broad smile put Scott at ease. Both men were from the East Coast, animated as they spoke.

“I can tell you, the big peaks—there’s nothing like it,” Scott said. “I did Everest last year and am hoping to go back again next year.”

“You think you’ll stick with it?” Chris asked as she reached for the mug of coffee Scott offered her.

He’d been on expeditions with women before, but Chris’s aura was more purposeful. It was less about the trappings and more about the experience. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s what I do and I do it well. I’ve got a company to run and it helps to get publicity for these big peaks, but there are plenty of other things I’d like to get done. I’ve got a couple of kids at home. They’d like to see more of their dad, and I’d love to be around for them more than I have been.”

“You know, Chris is going places,” Keith said. He looked at his wife, amazed at his good fortune. “We’ve got solid business experience between us. Wonder if we could help out somehow?”

“Oh yeah?” Scott waved to his guides who were organizing gear just beyond the tents, then focused on Chris. “You’ve not done any of the big peaks, but you’re a decent athlete and you feel okay up here at fifteen thousand feet?”

Chris shrugged. “Truth be told,” she said, “I suck at sea level. But I’ve got the right genes. I feel good, the altitude doesn’t bother me, and I’m fast.”

“You’ve got this,” Scott said, grinning. “Stick with us for the climb and then let’s talk about ways I can get you involved in Mountain Madness. I think I’d be decent at running a business if there weren’t other things I’d rather be doing.”

Raising her eyebrows, Chris glanced at Keith as he leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Sounds good,” she said. “We’re gonna make a push for the summit tomorrow and see what happens.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott cautioned, “You see those weather reports calling for wind and snow up top? Avalanche danger is real up there. Just chill down here for a bit. You’ve got oxygen for the final summit bid, yes?” He’d stopped paying attention to the guides, now compelled to understand the logic in Chris and Keith’s pushing for the top in the face of a possible storm.

“Yes to the weather reports and no to the Os,” Keith said.

“Suit yourself,” Scott said, “but take it easy up there. You don’t want your first to be your last.”

The Boskoffs thanked Scott for the coffee and returned to their tent to prepare for the next day. Their decision concerned Scott, but their resolve—especially hers—reminded Scott of himself.

WATCHING THEM LEAVE BASE CAMP the next day, Scott turned to another climber on his team.

“I don’t know, man,” he said. “The mountain doesn’t feel ready. The slopes are loaded—primed for avalanches. I’m not convinced they should be out there.”

“She’s strong, Scott,” observed the other climber. “Look at Alison. She just summited Everest less than three freaking months ago. No Sherpas. No oxygen.”

But Scott wasn’t worried about Chris. “It’s him,” he said grimly about Keith. “He loves that woman. I can tell. He’ll do anything for her, including going beyond where he’s capable of going.” Scott walked to the expedition’s high-powered telescope. Wrestling with it, he fixed the tripod securely between rocks and trained it on the steep cliff leading out of camp.

LEAVING BASE CAMP, CLIMBERS HAD options as to where they’d lay their heads each night. A series of camps, each consisting of no more than a few tents, led up the mountain. At roughly 6,000 meters sat Camp 1. A second camp was set up at 6,500 meters. Camp 3 was located at 7,100 meters. A fourth camp just above that, referred to as High Camp, was the last stop before the summit. In preparation for reaching the top of any high peak, climbers spend weeks on rotations going up and down the mountain between the various camps. Each rotation brings them to a higher camp until the final push to the top, known as the summit bid. This lengthy process helps the body gradually acclimatize. By spending days pushing their bodies to higher altitudes, then returning to a lower altitude to rest for several days, mountaineers adjust properly and more safely than a straight shot up the mountain which would result in almost certain death.

Keith and Chris had done their rotations and were prepared for their summit bid. They targeted Camp 2 for the first night. What looked like decent weather when they’d started the climb from base camp became gloomy. Night painted the mountain and with it, winds. As they huddled in their sleeping bags, the sounds of the storm grew. By morning, the fate of the couple for the next four days was solidified. Locked in, Chris and Keith were battered in their tent by 100-mile-an-hour winds. Combined with snow, the blizzard proved survivable yet kept the pair captive inside day after day.

Finally able to descend on the fifth day, Chris and Keith recounted the experience to Alison and Scott, who couldn’t believe they’d survived.

“She only hit me once!” Keith joked.

“I couldn’t help it!” Chris said. “Holy crap, I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. The tent flattened on our faces. We had to hold it up with our ski poles. I was sure the tent would rip or the poles would bust.”

A few days later they made a second attempt, much to the shock of the others who watched the couple leave and trudge through waist-deep snow. This time, as they got closer to the summit, Keith’s eyes became blurry and he got a painful headache. They turned back and returned to base camp. Scott’s group had not yet tried for the top, but when they did, Chris intended to be ready.

Despite the deep blackness of the night sky, Keith’s sunglasses covered his eyes as he lay in the tent a couple of days later. He’d been diagnosed with a high-altitude retinal hemorrhage. The lack of oxygen had caused dilation of blood vessels in his retinas, rendering him temporarily unable to see clearly.

Keith had accompanied Chris back up to Camp 2, but his days trying to summit Broad Peak on this expedition were over. At the opposite end of their tent, Chris strapped rope onto the outside of her pack. The steaming cup of sweet tea she was drinking sat next to her. She made sure to take in each sip, eager for the liquid before she started the ascent. Though she knew Scott’s team was capable of leading her to the top, leaving Keith felt foreign. They’d always climbed together. Chris knew he was disappointed, but she had trouble reining in her enthusiasm for a third chance to the top. Keith reached out a gloved hand, pulling her to him and held tight, the gap in their experiences about to widen.

CHRIS CAUGHT UP WITH THE departing climbers, stepping in behind the small group from Scott’s expedition. A stream of headlamps lit the way as the group pushed for the summit well before dawn. At a pitch of fifty degrees, the sharp angle of the mountain surprised her, even on this third attempt. It was the equivalent of climbing a double black diamond ski run. The team was making good time, their bodies rested, while Chris’s legs felt heavy from the two previous attempts. With Scott in the lead, they made it to Camp 3 within a few hours, assessed, and moved on. Chris was thirty minutes behind, each step now requiring several breaths.

Crampons digging into snow and ice, the last stretch of the ascent tested each of them. Snowpack from recent days required breaking more trail than they’d expected. As they cleared the final hundred feet, a hypoxic fog covered Chris’s brain in a way new to her. Channeling Keith, she willed herself forward.

By 10:00 a.m., the climbers stood atop the wide apex of Broad Peak. Chris had summited her first 8,000-meter peak. She looked across at the swath of mountains, which included K2, where Alison Hargreaves and Peter Hillary were climbing at that exact moment. The view also included Gasherbrum I and II, favorites of Keith. Glancing down at the Baltoro Glacier and then to base camp, she hoped Keith was recovered enough to look up at her with the telescope.

“Congrats, Chris!” A member of the expedition offered his hand and she shook it.

“Hell yes, you did it!” Scott added. “How does it feel?”

“It feels awesome, and you were right—there’s nothing like it.”

Scott grinned at her, then checked with the members of his group. “Ready to go down? The weather’s held, but it looks like it might change.” The landscape of the Karakoram could be placid one moment, volatile the next. Competing air masses could strike each other at any time with no regard for who was on these mountains, nor the victories they’d achieved. Chris had suceeded on her first 8,000-meter summit, but all she could think about was how cold she was and getting back to Keith.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

Descending Broad Peak, Chris’s legs ached for rest. Normally fast when moving down, this time she lagged an hour behind the others. High camp had consisted of only a couple of tents, and all of those had been collected by the time she reached that point. The team had decided to retreat all the way to Camp 3. The decision was no doubt a nod to the weather. From the north, the storm Scott had seen gathering was coming to life. Winds gusting up to a hundred miles an hour from China pounded the slopes. Snow kicked up, blinding Chris’s view and covering the tracks she’d been using as a guide.

Though she was relatively new to high-altitude mountaineering, Chris was an expert in engineering and specifically in analyzing data. With a keen eye for following scientific observations, she plotted the contours of the mountain, although she was barely able to see. Remembering the angles of the path the team had taken up the mountain, she knew that if things got desperate, she had a sleeping bag and could hunker down for the night.

With each movement, Chris longed to be lower. The lessons of the past few weeks played in a loop, her mind reciting each one. Patience. Deference to the weather. Listening to those with more experience but finding space to follow one’s inner voice.

As daylight began to fade, her anxiety increased. The path to Camp 3 had been obliterated by wind and snowdrifts. Then a break in the clouds yielded a few seconds of sunlight. Chris scanned her surroundings, terrified to realize she was heading right off an ice cliff. Black spots marked an area far ahead, which she recognized as Camp 3. Chris stumbled forward, darkness and crippling cold engulfing her. Two hours passed until the black spots became the intoxicating sight of tents. Crawling into her tent at Camp 3, she heard the winds screaming. She had made it to safety, as had Scott’s group. Broad Peak’s position had sheltered it from the worst of the storm.

Nearby, the team on K2 wasn’t as lucky, however. Peter Hillary had sensed the danger and retreated, leaving a band of climbers to proceed upward to the summit earlier in the day. At higher altitudes, the unsteady air and winds had initially seemed tame. Lower, the intensity of the storm trapped climbers in their tents. The catastrophic winds raced up the slopes of K2, hitting those still on the mountain’s highest points late in the day.

THE NEXT MORNING, THE SKIES were clear. The weary Mountain Madness climbers arrived at Broad Peak Base Camp, and Chris was reunited with a relieved Keith. There, surrounded by warmth, the climbers tracked the progress of their friends descending K2. By radio, the group listened as Canadian climber Jeff Lakes made his way down from Camp 3, buoyed by the encouragement of his waiting teammates. “You’re almost there, Jeff. You’re almost there,” they called over their radios. After stumbling into his tent at Camp 2 at 1:30 a.m., Lakes died a few hours later, a victim of a combination of altitude sickness and hypothermia.

Scott’s telescope was positioned for a scan of the mountainside, hoping to see signs of life. Alison and several other climbers were still unaccounted for. “I’m looking at something that looks like a slide path,” he said. His sunglasses were off, giving him better vision as he looked through the scope. Lopsang inched forward, then Chris and Keith, who’d walked the short distance from their tent to join the vigil.

“It’s . . . I’m looking at about a fifteen-hundred-foot slide path, and I see something at the very end of it,” said Scott. “Oh god, I think it’s a body.” He stepped away from the telescope, giving others a turn to confirm. One by one, the group verified what they saw. A body was lying in a snowfield, most likely having been picked off the summit of K2 in high winds and tossed down the slope. Another day would pass until the body’s distinctive clothing would be identified by teammates as that of Alison Hargreaves.

Chris squinted into the telescope at two figures digging in the snow at a point lower on the mountain. Her gaze stayed fixed, hoping it was only an illusion. She stepped away, horrified. The climbers were digging a grave for another teammate, further driving home the danger of this sport.

As their Broad Peak expedition closed out, Chris knew several things to be true. Her skills as a climber were exceeding Keith’s, as she noted in journal entries referencing her conflicted desire to begin climbing routes she knew he was incapable of. She realized that, unlike Alison, she was limited in her ability to climb and be a parent, later telling a reporter she couldn’t envision having children at that moment in time—“I don’t even own a plant!” she’d said. As for her own family, Chris’s parents were ever-present in her mind.

I dream about my mom and dad quite a bit now. The older I get and they get, the more I miss them. I realize I have the best parents in the world!

THE FOLLOWING MORNING AS THE Broad Peak group made plans to trek out, they were met by climbers returning from K2, including Peter Hillary. Scott led them to the telescope, where they lingered, looking for any indication that other remaining teammates might have survived. Finding none, they turned to the task of alerting the world. Peter Hillary placed a sat phone call to his father, Sir Edmund. Scott reported the news of Alison’s death via Outside Online, the newly launched web version of Outside magazine.

The days and months following saw a rash of criticism about Alison’s “selfishness” in choosing mountains over motherhood. Chris ignored those opinions, focusing on Alison’s fortitude and her own future on alpine slopes.