Fearlessly Enterprising
The peaks were entombed by clouds, and winds attacked me. My pack felt heavy. At intervals I came across ibex horns, most of them avalanche victims, and these gave me an excuse to rest while I measured them. I crossed the mouth of a glacier-filled side valley. It was 4:30 p.m. Somewhere, not far ahead, was the campsite of Urdukas. From Paiyu to Urdukas is about fourteen miles but it seemed as if I had already gone twice that distance. To go on was not a decision, but an acceptance, for there was no reasonable alternative. I plodded on, body and mind now quite separated, the former concentrating on moving each leg, the latter focusing at the ground near my feet. I saw old brown-bear droppings of grass, roots and ibex hair. I noted the color of glacier-worn pebbles, some mossy green with white flecks, some black with crimson marbling. I heard a snowcock cackling in a rising crescendo, and the gurgling bell of a raven, but I was too tired to find them with my eyes. Another side valley with a glacier, and still no campsite. The toil of such hiking excludes romance. It was 6:00 p.m. when I reached Urdukas. A mountain had sagged here to form a bulge on which perched boulders each several times as large as a house. The sloping sides of these boulders formed natural shelters and wearily I erected my tent in one. In the warmth of my bag I chewed pieces of hard tok bread, then full of satisfaction from the hard day's walk, I stretched out to sleep.The challenge of the unknown, of the seemingly impossible simply appeals to many adventurous personalities, those who seek out places geographically aloof and singularly unwelcoming. These are the souls who chafe at the pedestrian and seek high adventure. And who, in the process, face dangers they believe have the potential to do great harm to others, but rarely to themselves. They cannot afford to feel personal fear, only personal caution.
Spring had not yet arrived at Urdukas. Here, at 13,400 feet, only the tops of grass tussocks poked above the snow. No ibex trails marred the white expanse; I suspected that most ibex along the upper Baltoro had moved downvalley for the winter and were now following the retreating snows back up. The only winter resident I saw at Urdukas was a Himalayan weasel with a foxy red coat. After briefly exploring the slope, I continued my hike up the glacier. Above me the sky was clear, a sunny highway of blue, but all peaks remained deep in clouds. Soon the ridge on my right came to an abrupt halt where the large Mundi Glacier joins the Baltoro. I continued on for another hour, walking over ice now, then stopped. Suddenly Masherbrum escaped from its prison of cloud to reveal a gigantic rock face with a white plume of snow blowing from its summit. Again and again the mountain repelled the continual attack of more dark clouds from the south, but inevitably it submitted to them. And then, at the head of the Baltoro, another peak, Gasherbrum IV, disentangled itself from the clouds and evolved into a vast pyramid of light, a celestial peak of symmetry and grace, over 26,000 feet high. As Keats once noted, there are moments big as years. But now, for the first time, I was uneasy. The nakedness of the peak revealed my terrible loneliness, my insignificance. Mountains are not chivalrous; one forgets their violence. Indifferently they lash those who venture among them with snow, rock, wind, cold. George B. Schaller; Stones of Silence, Journeys in the Himalaya, C. 1980
Now a Spanish mountain climber has been injured, and is stranded, alone in the majesty of a mountain in the Karakorum range. Oscar Perez and Alvaro Novellon set out to do their ascent without the assistance of porters, carrying all their supplies on their backs. They both suffered a fall, Mr. Novellon slightly injured, Mr. Perez left with a broken leg and arm. And while Mr. Novellon managed to work his way down the mountain to alert rescue workers, his companion was left to fend for himself until rescued.
"If someone is without injury they can survive up to six, seven days if they have enough food and clothing. With injuries, I cannot say how long" explained the expedition's outfitter. Another Spanish climber added "He is stranded alone without a tent, but with a kerosene stove, a gas canister, his clothes and a light sleeping bag at an altitude of 6,200 metres." If and when those who have set out to rescue him find him still alive, they must negotiate him to the 5,000 metre height where a helicopter would be able to lift him for medical help.
He had provisions for several days, but he has been alone for a week now, in a hostile and very elementary landscape, hostage to the ravages of weather and the unpredictability of the environment. His climbing partner, along with another volunteer, are attempting to reach him, and they are not the only ones, in a desperate bid to save his life. The Pakistani army has also been engaged in this humanitarian mission.
Karakoram: a solid name, hard as rock and ice, a name with the primitive ring of howling storms and desolate valleys, a fitting name for the most rugged range on earth. Stretching some three hundred miles south of the Indus, from the Ishkuman River in the west to the upper Shyok river in the east, the Karakoram contains nineteen peaks over 25,000 feet, including K2, which at 28,741 feet is the second highest mountain on earth. the longest glaciers outside the subpolar region crowd into these peaks, among them the Siachen, forty-five miles in length; the Baltoro, thirty-six miles; and the contiguous Hispar and Biafo, seventy-six miles. George B. Schaller
Labels: Adventure, Particularities/Peculiarities
posted by Pieface @ Thursday, August 13, 2009
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