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It's 4:30 p.m., August 1st, 2008. Cecilia Skoug stands on a vast snow field staring up at the summit ridge of the second tallest mountain in the world. She's been climbing non-stop for almost 20 hours, except for a short nap at Camp 4. But for a moment, she forgets her aching muscles. The sight is breathtaking.
The snow sparkles in the brilliant sunshine and the top of the mountain is finally visible, silhouetted against the immaculate blue sky. The most dangerous parts of the climb are behind her for now: the icy traverse and the steep, narrow bottleneck. Now she just needs to put one foot in front of the other and dig in. As she makes the slow trek up the 30-degree slope through the deep snow, her breathing is labored in the thin air.
At 28,000 feet, many of the climbers on the mountain are using supplementary oxygen, but Cecilia left her bottle below with her husband Rolf. Without oxygen, it feels like breathing through a straw with a 10-pound sack of potatoes on her stomach. But she tries to keep her mind on the goal. She turns to her teammate, Lars Nessa. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? I've never seen anything like K2.
Lars is 28 years old and the most junior member of the four-person Norwegian team. He's not a full-time climber like Cecilia and Rolf. Back at home, he's a nurse. When he agreed to the trip, he never imagined he would make it this far. If they reach the top, he'll be one of an elite group of mountaineers who summited K2. Cecilia looks up to see a climber coming their way. He has a confident, easy walk, and he doesn't wear an oxygen mask.
When he gets close, Cecilia sees it's Alberto Zeran. She remembers him from Camp 2 on the way up. He's a solo climber from the Basque Country in Spain. She saw him helping Pemba Sherpa earlier that morning, laying rope across the traverse. His face is ruddy from the fresh air. Velar is his first to speak. "Wow, no one would guess you just summited the second highest mountain in the world. You're in really good shape."
Suddenly, Cecilia feels a strong urge to move. How much further is it? She sees Alberto hesitate, but she can't read his face. Finally, he says, "At least two hours, maybe a bit more." Cecilia nods and continues walking. She needs to hurry if she's going to keep her promise to Rolf and get back to him before sunset.
Alberto watches Cecilia as she heads towards the peak, thinking of how strong and beautiful she looks in the sun. She's full of life. He wasn't sure how to answer when she asked how far. It could take two hours, maybe four. What he wanted to say was, it's getting late. Turn back. It's not worth the risk. But he saw the excitement in her eyes and didn't have the heart to discourage her. He's worried about all of the climbers now making their way to the top.
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On August 1st, 2008, a group of climbers from eight countries set out to climb the world's second tallest mountain, K2. They were buoyed by hope and optimism. They had spent months at base camp, waiting out bad weather, but a window of opportunity had finally opened. Their goal? To make it up the steep face of the mountain by 2pm and descend before nightfall, the most difficult part of the climb.
But delays in laying rope on the trail for the climbers to hold on to have set them behind, and another climber's fall has unsettled the group. Now, the summit is so close, but so is nightfall. This is Episode 2, The Death Zone. Cecilia Skoug brushes by the Korean climbing team and steps onto the summit. It's 5.30 p.m., and the day is perfect. Not a single gust of wind. The sky is vibrant blue.
She's the fourth climber of the day to reach the top, just behind her teammate Lars. "Congratulations, Cecilia! Wow, we did it!" Cecilia grins back with pure joy, and she looks around.
The summit is small, about 150 square feet, the size of a small bedroom. But the view? It's glorious. Mountain as far as the eye can see, leading to China, Pakistan, and India. Far below, the glaciers carve soft billowy designs through the snow. Cecilia turns in circles, drinking it all in. Rolf would love this, she thinks. Lars, let's take some photos.
Lars pulls the Norwegian flag from his pack while Cecilia takes out a banner from her hometown soccer team. "Lars, get the hat!" Before Cecilia left Rolf on the snow field, he gave his pink bunny hat to Lars. It has long droopy ears. Lars puts it on his head.
From the corner of her eye, Cecilia sees the Korean climbers pulling themselves over the top. They are the largest team on the mountain. Its leader is a highly experienced climber known around the camp as Mr. Kim. But the real star of the Korean team is Go Mi-sun, better known at base camp as Ms. Go.
She's a stocky woman with apple-red cheeks buffed by the elements. In her home country of Korea, she's famous, a household name, and a seven-time champion at the Asian Games. Now she's halfway through her quest to become the first woman to climb all 14 of the world's highest peaks. Cecilia holds up her camera. "Miss Ko, we should get a picture." They are only the ninth and tenth women to have climbed the top of K2. It's a moment to celebrate.
But Cecilia can't shake the nagging thought that the sun will set soon. Lars, we should head down. It's getting really late. Lars nods. He's thinking the same thing. Cecilia takes one last look at the beautiful panorama, a sight not many people get to see. Then the two begin the long trek down the slope.
Pemba Gilje Sherpa steps onto the summit at 6:30pm. He's the first member of the Dutch NORET team to arrive. Even without oxygen, Pemba feels strong. Now he's standing on what feels like the top of the world, the home of the gods. Pemba watches as more climbers arrive. They look wildly happy, but exhausted.
As he waits for the NORIT team, he offers to take pictures for the others. One of the French climbers hands him a camera. His name is Hugh D'Oberade. He's 61 years old and the second oldest person to ever climb K2. "It's so beautiful Pemba, my life's ambition. This is my last climb and what a glorious one it is." When they're done with the photos, Hugh offers Pemba his satellite phone. "Call your family, tell them about the glorious view.
Pemba shakes his head. "We need to go down. I can tell them in person soon enough." As Pemba watches the sun slowly arch down across the western horizon, cheering Dorje joins him. Cheering is the Sherpa from the American team and the second to arrive. The two hug and congratulate one another. It's the first time on K2 for them both, and they both summited without supplemental oxygen.
But under their smiles, Pemba and Turing are worried. It's nearly 7 p.m. It's unavoidable. Now all of the climbers will be heading back down in the dark. Yet none of them seem to be concerned.
After a 20-hour climb in this altitude, people are physically and mentally drained. The adrenaline used to get up the mountain is now gone. The thin air and lack of oxygen to the brain leads to slowed reactions. The mind is confused. Physical coordination becomes difficult. Hallucinations set in, and no one wants to be hallucinating in the dark at 28,000 feet up.
Pemba looks at the sun. It's 7:00 PM. There's maybe one hour left of light before dust covers the mountain in haze. And his team still isn't here. Wilco von Ruyen hadn't imagined the climb up to the summit would be this hard. Without supplemental oxygen, it's even harder. He takes a few steps at a time and then rests on his ice axe. 10 steps, rest, another 10 steps, then rest.
When that wears him out, he falls to his hands and knees and crawls. Keep going. Dig in. When he reaches the top of the ridge, he stands up for the last few steps to the top. He made it. He raises his arms over his head, reaching into the sky, and begins to cry. K2! Four members of the Norit team reach the peak one after the next. Jer McDonald, Pemba Sherpa, and Cass Vonderhevel.
They gathered together in a group hug, laughing and weeping. "We did it! We did it!" The view of the mountain range from the top is so bright and clear, Wilco almost feels dizzy. Wilco calls back to Holland on his satellite phone. "Martin! Martin, are you there? We're standing on top of K2!" The news of their triumph will be instantly relayed around the world.
Jer MacDonald wipes his eyes. When he summited Denali, he played an Irish drum known as a bodran. He joked that it sounded like a pair of sneakers in a tumble dryer. Today, he pulls the green, white, and orange flag of the Republic of Ireland out of his jacket pocket. He unfurls the flag and extends it with both hands towards the sky. Jer is the first Irishman to conquer K2.
On the way up, he had taught some of the other climbers an old Irish phrase, which means, our time will come. Now, it has. Wilco hands him his satellite phone. Call your family. Jur pulls off his gloves and dials home to Ireland. Annie picks up the phone on the first ring. Annie, you're not going to believe where I am.
Cecilia and Lars make their way back down the snowfield towards the traverse. It's 7:30 PM. It's getting cold fast, and Cecilia is eager to find Rolf. The setting sun bathes the mountain in a soft, dusty light. Cecilia stops for a picture. "I think we'll just make it back to the ropes by nightfall." The thin air makes Cecilia feel weaker. She left her spare oxygen bottle down below for her husband.
They walk for an hour. Cecilia squints into the distance, looking for Rolf's familiar coat. Rolf! Rolf! Cecilia's voice carries across the silent snowfields. Then she sees him. He's sitting on a small hill of snow, as if he has all the time in the world. As soon as he spots her, he jumps to his feet and he gives her a hug. Congratulations! You did it! We did, but we missed you.
Cecilia is proud of her husband. It took courage to give up so close to the summit. It just shows what she always knew about him. He's more interested in the spirit of adventure and the experience than risking his health for the end goal. "How are you feeling now?" "Better, but my oxygen is almost out. We need to get back down to the ropes." Cecilia hands him the tubes from Lars' oxygen. Then the three of them head down the snow field to the traverse.
It's nearing 8pm when the Dutch team starts down from the summit. They are the last ones to leave. Wilco can feel the exhaustion in every part of his body after the 20-hour climb on almost no sleep.
The adrenaline and joy from reaching the top has been replaced by an overpowering need to sleep. He looks over at Irishman Jer McDonald. "Hey Jer, do we have any energy bars left?" But he knows the answer. The team ran out of water and snacks hours ago. Now is the time he'll need to dig deep and find buried reserves of physical and mental strength. But as he lumbers forward, his legs feel heavy. He's so tired.
Maybe if he sits down just for a minute. Besides, his teammate Cass is still up at the top with an Italian climber, taking a few last final pictures. He'll just rest for five minutes and then get up when he comes.
He plops down in the snow. Jer falls beside him. Neither say a word. Only Pemba Sherpa remains standing, looking down the slope. A puzzled expression on his face. Is that the Korean team down there? They left an hour ago. They should be much farther. Wilco squints, but he can't think straight. I don't know, Pemba.
Pemba looks back at the summit. The final member of the Dutch Norrt team is making his way down, followed by the Italian climber. Pemba looks at Wilco and Jur. They're strong. He'd seen Jur on Everest. He's climbed many peaks. Listen, I'm going to go down to the Koreans to help. We need to make sure the rope is laid to get down the traverse. They nod, but it's not clear if they heard him.
Pemba turns around to shout to Cass and the Italian. "Hurry down after me!" he motions to Jer and Wilco. "And make sure they come with you!" And then, Pemba begins the long trek across the snowfield, down the mountain. When the Norwegian team reaches the rope leading down to the traverse, it's almost dark, but Cecilia feels hopeful. Rolf wanted to get to the rope before nightfall, and they did. Barely.
Cecilia looks at her teammates and grins. So, who's going first? Lars volunteers. Cecilia watches him clip onto the rope and drop down. She follows behind. Rolf is last in the line. It's an easy rappel, about 120 feet. The giant column of glacial ice looms above them, ghostly in the night.
When they get to the ledge, they stop to regroup, listening to the creaks and groans as the melted ice water inside the mountain's crevices expand and contract. Ahead of them is the top of the traverse, a path of ice and snow that wraps around the mountain. In the dark, it will be slippery, dangerous, and if they fall off the edge, they will drop down thousands of feet.
Lars offers to lead the way again, but Rolf says he'll go. Let's put Cecilia in the middle. Cecilia watches as her husband slides his carabiner down the length of rope and maneuvers onto the steep, icy slope. She follows the light from his lamp as it gets smaller and smaller, and then disappears. She peers into the darkness and follows behind. She can hear her breath in her ears.
It's hard to tell how far the bottleneck is, and after an hour, she figures there may be halfway there. The night is quiet, except for the occasional creak of the glacier and the sound of her boots on the ice. At first, she hardly notices when she hears the rumble. But then, it grows louder, and the mountain starts to shake.
Cecilia is thrown off balance and crashes into the wall of ice. The rope holding her in pulls tight, then releases. Everything is jolting around her. It feels like the entire mountain might collapse. Shards of ice shower down on her head. She tries to hold onto the wall, but there's nowhere to grab. What's happening? She hears a whoosh of ice falling. A piece of the serac must have dislodged. But where? And then it stops.
Rolf? Rolf! Rolf!
Cecilia jumps at the sound of a voice behind her. It's Lars. "Lars, where's Rolf? What happened? I want to see Rolf!" Lars looks at the panic on Cecilia's face and realizes he has to be calm. "Wait here." He moves along the traverse, feeling for the ice screw that holds in the rope. But when he finds it, something is wrong. Hanging from the screw is an empty oxygen bottle.
Lars looks down below the screw and sees... nothing. The rope line just ends, cut cleanly as if it was severed by a knife. His mind scrambles quickly. The icefall must have sliced through the rope, taking Rolf with it. There's no way he survived. He's gone.
He has to get back to Cecilia. He can hear her calling for Rolf again. He quickly makes his way back up the rope. Think. Focus. He has to get Cecilia down. When he reaches her, she is clinging to the ice wall, shivering. Do you think there's still hope? Lars shakes his head. No. Cecilia won't believe it. No! We have to find him! Cecilia, we have to go!
He reaches into his pack and pulls out a rope and quickly fixes it to an anchor. Maybe if they're lucky, they'll have just enough to make it the rest of the way down the bottleneck. Cecilia, I'm going to go down. I'll find a way out. You wait here for me, okay? Her eyes are wide, but she nods. Then he slips down into the depths.
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She shakes her head. He must be here somewhere. Maybe he's hurt, waiting for them. And then she hears a voice from below. Cecilia, it's Lars. Cecilia, rappel down. It's okay. Just hurry. She reaches forward in the dark and feels for the rope. She gives it a tug and then slides down into the darkness. As she rappels, her headlamp flickers on and off, casting eerie shadows on the ice and rock.
Maybe Lars found Rolf, she thinks. He'll be standing at the bottom, waiting for her. They can all go home together. When she gets to the bottom, she looks around. No Rolf, only Lars. Where is he? She feels cheated, like Lars tricked her into coming down. But then she sees Lars' face in the soft glow of his headlamp. It's gentle, and it's soft. Cecilia, listen. He's gone. We have to go.
We can look for him tomorrow when it's light, okay? Cecilia stands frozen, trying to comprehend it all. Just this morning, the sun was shining and she was looking down into her husband's smiling face. Now it's dark and he's gone. She puts one foot in front of the other and continues down the mountain.
Pemba Sherpa looks over the edge of the icy slope above the traverse. It's 10pm. He made good time down the snow field and quickly found the top of the traverse. But there's a problem. There's no rope leading down. The Korean team took it after they descended. The only thing left behind was the ice axe they used to anchor the rope.
Now the Koreans are seated down below, quiet and exhausted. This means the remaining climbers on the mountain will need to get down the 150-foot wall without the aid of a rope, a drop that's roughly the height of a 12-story building. He walks back a few paces and confers with Sherpa Cheering Dorje from the American team. They decide to descend and wait for the others at the bottom. Maybe they can help to guide them down.
While they wait, Pemba watches the Korean team. They are disoriented and their movements slow. It takes some of them 15 minutes to put on their headlamps, a task that would normally only take two. At last, he hears the voices of his teammates from above the ridge. "There's no rope!" he shouts. "Be careful! Go very slowly!" The men kick their crampons and axes into the ice for support and slowly, carefully lower themselves down.
Pemba is glad to see them, along with the climber from Italy. When they get to firm ground, they stand quietly against the wall, staring into the shadowy darkness around them. One of them mumbles, "How will we find the rope? Everything just looks the same." They're in even worse shape than the last Pemba saw them. The altitude and the climb up have decimated all of them. The Korean team leader, Mr. Kim, sits in the snow, panting for breath.
No one is leading the way, or moving at all. If someone doesn't do something, they will all die here on the mountain. Pemba quickly calls the small group of Sherpas together. The four of them are the only ones still in good shape. Listen, the climbers need our help to get down the traverse. We're going to need to rope them together. Does anybody have a rope? One of the Sherpas rustles through his pack. I have one. I saved it in case of emergency. That's great.
We'll stand two at the front and two at the end. We'll hold onto the rope and the climbers can clip on. That way, we can help them get to the traverse." Everyone nods. Then they begin shouting directions at the climbers. "Clip on! Here, fix your harnesses to this rope!" But everyone is moving so slowly. One of the climbers just lays there in the snow, unresponsive, gazing blankly up at the sky.
Pemba crouches down and wraps his arms around the man's torso, hauling him up. Another Sherpa helps, clipping the climber's harness onto the rope line. "Get up! You have to stand now! There could be an avalanche at any time!" He's relieved to see two of the climbers now appear alert. Cass, his teammate from the Nord team, and Marco Confortola, the only Italian climber to make it up to the summit from the Italian team.
Marco was an experienced climber and a guide, having summited six of the tallest mountains in the world. Pemba is glad to have his help. Pemba checks the line and turns to the climbers. "Let's go, please! We need to walk!" But walking is hard for everyone. With each step, the climbers' feet sink into the snow, making them think they are on a steeper climb than they are. One climber takes two steps forward, then plops back down into the snow, exhausted, pulling others down with him.
Some of them fall asleep. "Get up please! You have to keep moving together!" But none of them can see the trail. When they do walk, they wander left and right, bumping into each other. Pemba worries a disoriented climber will stray too close to the edge and they'll fall off, dragging everyone else with them. At points, even the Sherpas also aren't completely sure which way to go. In the dark, it's hard to see anything.
But the ropes must be here, somewhere. All at once, the line of climbers stops, and one by one, they sink to the ground in relief. Then, a few unclip from the line and begin to wander off. Pemba sighs. This isn't working. He gathers the Sherpas again. This is impossible. We need to find the start of the fixed rope. Pasang, you come with me. We'll go ahead. When we find the rope, you signal back to the others, and you come with your headlamp. Okay? Okay.
Pasang Lama is the Sherpa from the Korean team. He nods. He and Pemba move quickly up the snow until they find the ridge of the Serak. Down below, Pemba sees the first anchor glinting in the headlamp. "Okay Pasang, this is it. You signal to the others and wait for them here. I'll rappel down to check the rest of the anchors and make sure the rope is securely fixed."
When Pemba gets to the first anchor, he sees it solid. The second isn't as secure, and the rope line is buried beneath ice and snow. He pulls it out and fixes a second screw next to it. He doesn't get to the third anchor, because a few feet past the second, he can see something's not quite right. The rope is hanging loose. It's not tied to an anchor. It's not tied to anything. It looks like it's been cut by something. But what?
Pemba aims his light around the bottleneck. The light casts shadows on the craggy rock. Then, he aims his headlamp straight up. A huge chunk of the Serac is simply gone. It's collapsed. There must have been an avalanche. He points his headlamp down the bottleneck below, and his heart starts to race. The avalanche washed away everything, including the rope. Now, he has no idea how the climbers are going to get down.
It's almost midnight, and Cecilia Skug feels like a sleepwalker. She still can't believe all the rope in the bottleneck is just gone. It's been completely swept away by the avalanche. The gully is littered with shards of ice and loose rock. She and Lars have to move slowly, step by careful step.
Lars climbs ahead, using his ice axe and crampons to cut footholds in the ice. Every few yards, he stops and shines his headlamp upwards to help guide Cecilia. She isn't sure if she will make it, but then she hears Lars' encouraging voice. "Almost there. A few more steps. Just keep going." After 30 minutes, the ground feels more steady, flatter, and she's able to stand up straight and walk slowly using her ice axe to steady her progress.
And then, Cecilia's boot catches on one of the rocks and she's tumbling down the mountain. She screams for Lars, but there's nothing he can do. She's starting to pick up speed. She grabs her ice axe and lifts it over her head and slams it into the snow with all of her might. She comes to a jittering halt. Lars rushes down. "Cecilia, are you okay?" She pats her hands over her body. Her pants are ripped, but nothing else is broken.
Lars pulls Cecilia to her feet, and they keep going. But Cecilia is shaken and cold. What's the point? She's so tired. But then she hears a voice. You must go on. Go over to the rope. Clip on. It's Rolf. Wait, but he's not here. But he is. She wonders if she's hallucinating. But the voice sounds so clear.
They're nearing the end of the bottleneck, and there in the snow is the rope laid by the Sherpas earlier in the day. She and Lars both clip on. You got the rope? Okay, good. Now check your equipment. In the distance, they see a flashing strobe light. Someone in Camp 4 must have put it out for the climbers. It's like a lighthouse signaling to a stricken ship on a storm-tossed sea. As she gets closer, she starts to think Rolf will be waiting for her. Of course he will.
He's always so safety conscious. He'll be there. She has to hurry. He might be worried. When they reach Camp 4 and she crawls into the tent they shared, she sees that it's empty. This season, Instacart has your back-to-school. As in, they've got your back-to-school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back-to-school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.
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Her mind is fuzzy, like her brain is wrapped with a blanket of cotton wool. She's still holding onto the rope the Sherpas had them clip onto so they wouldn't get lost. Mr. Kim looks over his shoulder and unclips from the line. "Misko, please listen. We have to go on ahead. We can't wait here anymore. We need to find the fixed rope to help us get down." Mr. Kim is not only Korea's team leader, he's Misko's closest climbing companion.
Last year, they conquered three 26,000-foot peaks together. He's always looked out for her, like a mother hen guarding a chick. But right now, she's not sure what he means. She can't think straight. But we have to wait here. The Sherpas went on ahead. They told us to wait. Ms. Goh, I'm afraid I'm getting frostbite. I can't feel my feet at all. We need to go down.
Mizuko shakes her head. But we can't leave the rest of the team. Jumik is with them. They'll be fine. And if we can find the anchor and rope, we can bring the others there. Yes, that's right. Jumik is here. Jumik Bote is Mizuko's favorite Sherpa. She thinks of him almost like her own son. They can trust Jumik. He will make sure nothing goes wrong. Okay, yes. Let's go.
The two surge forward, past the rest of the team. Then, they veer off, searching for the traverse.
Marco Confortola tries to pierce the darkness with his headlamp. He sees a few members of the Korean team up ahead, and Jer McDonald. He's up there too. He agreed with Pemba and the other Sherpas when they suggested clipping everyone to a moving rope line to look for the traverse. But now, the Sherpas have left, and some of the climbers have unclipped. Others are inching forward or to the side with no clear direction. They are zigzagging like a crocodile with no idea where they're going.
This is madness. Marco unclips from the rope and scrambles up next to Jur. He thinks of Jur as a friend. They spent long nights talking at base camp.
He's even given him a nickname, Jesus, because of Jur's long hair and beard. He needs to convince him that this is a bad idea. Walking around in the dark could cost them their lives. "Jur, I don't think we can find the rope line tonight. I think we should just wait until the sun comes up, you know?" Jur stares at him blankly. The lack of oxygen is affecting him badly.
So, you mean spend the night in the death zone? Both climbers know neither option is great. I just have a bad feeling, Jer. I mean, there are crevasses all over the place. We could walk off the edge and never even know it. If we dig in here, I think we might have a better chance. Okay, maybe you're right. Marco helps Jer unclip from the line. They walk a few yards away and find a spot to sit down.
Together, they start to dig out two holes. "See Jer, look. One for us to sit in together to keep warm, and one for us to put our feet in. It's great. It's perfect." They both sink into the snow. It's quiet, except for their breathing. "What's that?" Suddenly, a sound pierces the air. It sounds like a rocket ship crashing into the earth. And then, it's gone. It's quiet again. Jer and Marco look at each other.
Was that an avalanche? Or maybe an icefall? From the distance, Marco hears people yelling. It sounds like they are shouting from beneath the serac. But Marco can't tell. Then suddenly, silence falls again. Jur moans a little and gestures as if he wants to get up. Marco tries to soothe him. "No, no. We have to stay here. Anything else right now is foolish."
Marco sits up and looks around. In the distance, there's a light. He points at it and turns to juror. See, Jesus, look. That's camp. It's not so far away. We'll get there in the morning. But Marco wants to be comforted too. He digs into a pocket of his own downed suit and pulls out his satellite phone. His teammate at camp four picks up.
Stay awake. Listen to me. You sleep and you die. Keep your hands and feet moving. Marco knows he's right, but it's so hard. He's been climbing for 24 hours. His body is heavy. And then there's the silence. He's never wished more for the sound of a Saturday night in Rome. The shouting, the music, the people, the quiet is enough to drive a man crazy. Jerk, you awake?
He can see the Irishman nodding off. He has to do something. Hey, Jur, you know this song? La super le montagne, tra boschi a valido. It's a song called La Montanara, an Italian tune Marco's father taught him as a child. Jur begins to hum along.
That's it, Jur. That's it. But the rhythm of the song is too soothing. Marco sees Jur start to doze off again. Jur, stay up. Keep moving. Clap your hands and feet together. Don't stop. Keep clapping. Marco coaches Jur like a preschool teacher. That's how they'll live through the night.
Wilco von Ruyen stumbles forward in the snow. He has no idea where he is. He's gotten turned around so many times. For all he knows, he's on the other side of the mountain on his way to China instead of Pakistan, which means he'll probably be dead in an hour. He has to find the rope line. During the daylight, it would be easy, but in the darkness, nothing about the landscape looks anything like he's ever seen before. He can't believe this is happening.
He had planned the expedition down to every last detail. The Dutch team was here early. They are some of the best climbers in the camp, and the most prepared. Now all four members who made it to the top are separated and who knows where. Pemba, Cas, and Schur. His mind feels like it's unraveling. He wonders if he is hallucinating. It's the sound of someone singing. The tune echoes around him.
He gets to his knees and inches forward, and then he stands. Then 20 feet, or 50 feet, or 200, who knows? He finds Jur and Marco huddled together in the snow, in the brooding shadow of the mountain. It's a brief moment of grace. Jur, Marco, I got turned around. You've been here the whole time?
Marco is so tired, but he knows Wilco is right. If they stay here much longer, Jer will fall asleep. Then the three climbers set off again.
Wilco is obsessed. This mountain is not going to beat him. He's stronger than that. He just needs to dig in. Keep looking. He finds himself at the edge of the ridge. He feels the emptiness below him. He leans over, trying to see down below. Then he hears Marco yelling. Wilco, this is suicide. Please stop. We have to stop for the night. Okay, okay.
Marco starts digging another set of holes in the snow for him and Gér, while Wilco builds his own 100 feet away. They only need to make it through the next five hours, he thinks. Then the sun will come up. It's 2:00 a.m. and Jumik Bote sits waiting for a signal from Pemba Sherpa. Jumik has been hired as the Sherpa for the Korean team, and he feels it's his responsibility to make sure the Korean climbers make it down safely.
Joomik met the Korean team when he acted as Sherpa for them on Everest. It was Ms. Goh who convinced him to come to K2. He wasn't so sure, but he and his wife are having a baby and the money will go a long way to their future. He never imagined he'd find himself here, 28,000 feet up in the dark trying to lead people to safety. And then Pemba Sherpa went off to find the rope line.
And now Mr. Kim, the team leader, and Ms. Goh are both gone. They must have unclipped from the rope and set off on their own. But he can't leave the three other Korean team climbers behind. He wishes he would have listened to his instincts. K2 was too dangerous. Maybe the mountain doesn't want them here.
Right now, he could be warm at home in Nepal, drinking tea with his wife, the smell of dinner on the stove. His mind begins to drift off, when suddenly, a loud crack pierces the air and a white wave of snow pours down the mountain. Jumik is hurled off his feet and sweeps past the Koreans down the mountain in a tsunami of ice and rock.
The next thing he knows, he is hanging in a tangle of ropes somewhere over the ledge. He can't feel his limbs. When he looks up, he sees two of the Korean climbers dangling from the ropes in the rocks above him. Both are hanging from their legs, upside down, clamped in from their harnesses.
Jumek panics. This can't be happening. This isn't where he's meant to die. He's only 32 years old. What about his parents? What about his wife? They will blame themselves for his death, for letting him take these risks. He can't let that happen. He takes a deep breath. His whole body aches. But for a moment, his mind is calm. I am strong. I can hike down the mountain on my own.
But no, he can't leave the other climbers. It's his duty to help them down to safety. He must get down to help them. But as he struggles to free himself from the rope, pain shoots through his legs. He realizes even if he is able to free himself, there's still no way he'll be able to stand, much less walk. He goes limp, tangled in the ropes like a marionette. His only hope is that someone will make it back down to Camp 4 and send up a rescue mission in the morning.
He shivers. It's going to be a very cold night.
This is the second episode of our three-part series, K2, The Savage Mountain. If you like our show, please give us a five-star rating and a review. And a quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the book, The Summit, How Triumph Turned to Tragedy on K2's Deadliest Days by Pat Falvey and Pemba Giljay-Sherpa.
And No Way Down by Graham Bowley. We also recommend the documentary The Summit, directed by Nick Ryan. I'm your host, Mike Corey. Simon Worrell wrote this episode. Our editor is Maura Wallace. Brian White is our associate producer. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Vocal edit and sound design by Joe Richardson. And original music by Francesco Quadrilopolo. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jentz and Marshall Louis. For Wondery...
One, two, three.
