G is for Gasherbrum
G is for Gasherbrum.
The thin air steals our breath. Camped at 7000 metres, Aleš and I stare at the summit of one of the peaks in the Gasherbrum group. We’re hypnotised by the clouds which race across the sky and crash into the mountain. ‘It’s basically 8000 metres,’ says Aleš. Alpine climbing doesn’t get much more hardcore. The winds are a sickening, constant roar. What would life be like up there? I suspect you’d be numb within minutes, chasing slings around your harness, soon blown into China.
We shout short words to each other between heaving lungs. I really want to be gunning for the summit, 1000 metres higher… but I also want to keep my toes and fingers from frostbite - and avoid dying from hypothermia. We duck inside the tent and tightly close the zip, but snow still spits inside.
The previous three days and 2000 metres of climbing from Base Camp were long and heavy, but we’re only just at the start of our intended route.
Our bivy around 7600m. Photo: Aleš Česen
Aleš in the tent.
We’ve chosen this objective because it looks good; the rock is a reassuringly featured granite, orange in colour and firm in texture. The wind has sculpted and scooped the rounded buttresses like a potters’ hands. The rest of the rock in the Gasherbrum group is white, and junk. It’s a kind of marble or limestone which I’ve never seen before. I pull off a large block with my hands, crumble it, and look at the space left on the mountain. It’s somehow compact and without cracks. It’s for this reason we’ve discounted the west face of Gasherbrum 4, and been drawn to our ridge.
The line we’d like to climb points straight into the prevailing winds. We decide our only option is to seek shelter from the wind, which means moving to the north face of the mountain.
In the morning we pack up the tent and start climbing. Snow slopes and mixed steps lead breathlessly to a bivy around 7600 metres. Wearing all our clothes, we use a few words to decide: we will sleep here tonight; I’ll chop the snow and you cut the ice; and yes, the big tower above looks like the crux, but hopefully we can pass it on the left tomorrow.
Aleš, the snow, sun and wind.
The wind.
The wind
One of the reasons we’re here is because both Aleš and I share a goal, a curiosity: can you climb a technical route at high altitude? I’ve always wanted more: two pitches of UK trad led to harder Scottish winter routes; then to the Alps, and bigger routes around the world. I’ve always been intrigued to see if I can climb a technically interesting route to around 8000 metres. Imagine super-charging an alpine route to 8000 metres, going as hard and as high as you can. Would even tying your laces be desperate at that altitude, or can you climb?
Thankfully, Aleš and I feel ‘ok.’ We exist. We’re not going to run up M7 pitches… but we’re not feeling too bad, either. Besides, these big routes in the mountains usually take a few attempts over several years, so gaining knowledge is useful. Come on! I think. We’re strong, acclimatised and psyched. Aleš is a machine. We can find a way up this thing. G is for G-Force.
We’re the only team on the mountain, whereas nearby Gasherbrum 2 has had about 30 people on it, and K2 has reportedly seen 100 people summit via the standard route. The curse of an 8000 metre mountain. It’s distressing to see this side of peak-bagging: no care for the mountain, just oxygen, Sherpas, fixed ropes, piles of trash, radios, satellite connections, complete inexperience, a massive dependency on others and their hard work, helicopters, money, ‘speed records,’ selfies, and accidents. I shake my head and walk away. This scene bares no resemblance to mountaineering, alpinism, or climbing.
***
Inside our tent, Aleš and I melt water for our evening meal. A double sleeping bag makes a delicate bubble of warmth around our tired bodies. I can feel every lump in the snow beneath the foam mattress. Outside, the wind howls and the tent quivers. With each gust, snow falls from the walls and sugar-coats us. Of course, part of me wants home, comfort, Christelle.
But most of me wants to continue. This is what we came for, and this is why we’re here. We knew it would be this way, and any escape is a long, long path. There’s no immediate release… so we might as well embrace the voluntary suffering.
The alarm sounds. ‘Tom. It’s 4 o’clock,’ Aleš croaks. He hacks up his lungs and spits out the door. A soft sky is gently welcoming the dawn. I collect snow, careful to avoid Aleš’s rainbow-coloured stains. My head hurts but I think of going up. Our forecast has said the winds should be 10 - 15 kph and lessening each day. We joke about this often, since I think the winds could be as high as 100 kph on the summit. Often, despite the months of training before an expedition, it comes down to: do you get a good weather window, or not. But the weather gives Aleš and I plenty to joke about. ‘10 to 15 kph!’ we say. I’m grateful we get along so well, have such a strong partnership.
I let Aleš take the first pitches of the day, and I’ll lead later; but a part of me is annoyed I’m not keen to lead everything. I’m happy to draft in his track for a while. I join him 150 metres higher, wearing all my clothes but still not warm. ‘I think we’re fucked, but I want you to see for yourself,’ he says when I’m close. My heart sinks. No, come on! I think. We’re so high, so close, I don’t want to be shut down.
But we’re dead-ended at 7800 metres - just a short way from the top. There’s a steep tower rising above the belay. A thin seam cuts the face and the rock quality worsens. It would be tricky aid climbing, slow, many short pitches, Tengkangpoche-style. We’re under-gunned for this; we’d take all day and freeze. We’ve pushed and pushed, changed objective, carried on despite the winds and weather, but finally met something we can’t easily avoid.
We consider the options, but the decision has already been made for us. We can’t feasibly go up, left or right. This leaves down. Really? That’s it…?
It is. Down we go.
G is for Gravity.
Close to our high point. Photo: Aleš Česen
Aleš questing
Me somewhere. Photo: Aleš Česen
A very long descent. Photo: Aleš Česen
BC and G1
Aleš and I. Photo: Siggi
Postscript: A big thanks to Aleš for a great adventure. Despite not getting to the top, we both had a really fun time (occasionally it was less fun…) and felt happy with our efforts. We tried hard, kept pushing, but ultimately the weather was stacked quite against us and we were unlucky with our Plan B.
Summary: Aleš Česen (Slovenia) and Tom Livingstone (UK). New route attempt in the Gasherbrum group, Karakoram, Pakistan. August 2022.
Thanks to:
Rob Smith and Nejc Cesen for weather updates.
Geoff Cohen for providing his Expedition Report from the Scottish Expedition and attempt on the SW ridge of G3 in 1985.
Bruce Normand for beta.
Ghulam at Blue Sky Treks and Tours in Pakistan
Mountain Equipment, Petzl, La Sportiva, Julbo and Totem for support
Firepot meals for excellent dehydrated meals
The BMC, Alpine Club and Mount Everest Foundation for grants.