We’re always together we laugh, talk a lot, cry. We have an incredible understanding: his sunny smile transmits a contagious energy, and we strengthen each other to overcome our grief. When I see him fly away I finally start to cry and, slowly, I let him go, even though I keep thinking about it all the time.Īlex Gavan gives up the climb and returns home, while I find a soulmate – a kind of guardian angel – in Juan Pablo (‘JP’). Then they arrive to take him by helicopter. We are not welcome – the mountain does not want us. I always sleep in two sleeping bags rated for –40 degrees while tucked into my high-altitude suit, and I’m still cold.Īfter the Nepali ascent, K2 seems to tell me and the other climbers that our place is not there. At Camp 1, which is at 6,000m, it’s already –45 degrees C inside the tent. I don’t want my fingers to be amputated.Īs I go to Camp 3, I struggle to resist the urge to panic about how cold it will get.
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It’s always so cold, but tonight it’s even more terrible: the cold penetrates my bones and doesn’t leave me alone for an instant. ‘It would have been hopeless even if the helicopter had been faster,’ the doctor says, later. We turn him over and I look him in the face. They were always cheerful, positive we had a lot of fun together. Two days before we had sung and danced together with Juan Pablo. An interminable hour passes, and after another 15 minutes Sergi stops breathing. We don’t want to move him because if we do something wrong we risk killing him. Slowly other people arrive – first the Chilean Juan Pablo, Sergi’s climbing partner, who runs down the mountain like a missile. He is still breathing but everything is broken, skull cracked, legs displaced from fractures. Spanish mountaineer Sergi Mingote is lying on his stomach, facing the mountain. Even without being able to see his face, I understand immediately that it’s him. I take the last steps and immediately see the unmistakable red jacket trimmed with fur. But this success was, in fact, accompanied by tragedy. Nirmal ‘Nims’ Purja, after this first memorable ascent, told me: ‘Tamara, be careful: this mountain does not forgive anything.’ And he gave me one of his lucky charms. And it was thanks to them that the other climbers could try the summit, because they equipped the route with fixed ropes, without which it’s impossible to attempt K2 in winter. We toasted together: they had achieved an extraordinary feat, well coordinated and in harmony. It was the success of a people, and a very powerful message they were really strong. The 10 Nepali mountaineers who were with us on that expedition wrote history by reaching the summit of K2 in winter, forever cementing their status as world-class mountaineers – no longer would they be known as simple porters. ‘From now on, our paths diverge,’ I told my former partner. I knew that I needed all my energy I couldn’t afford to waste it fighting with Alex. Attempting K2 in winter, the only 8,000er still unclimbed in the coldest season, is not like going to the post office. This was the most difficult expedition of my life. I had decided before leaving that I would only walk in the dark in a true emergency. Then, he would walk alone at night on the mountain, making me worry – if something happened to him then I should obviously go to help, putting my own life in danger.
Optixcam summit k2 freezes how to#
He was suspicious he felt in competition with me, even thought I wanted to teach him how to climb. I didn’t connect with my climbing partner, the Romanian Alex Gavan. This time, however, as soon as I set foot in Pakistan, things started to go wrong.
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In 2014, when I had climbed K2 without oxygen, I had felt a great harmony with the mountain. When I took off from Italy I was sure it would be a successful expedition. As soon as I decided to leave, I finally found peace. And K2 continued to come looking for me, like a blade stuck in my mind.
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Is this what I really want? The desire must come from my heart. Why do I want to climb K2 in winter? Do I just want to show everyone that I am a tough mountaineer? No, that’s not it. The journey to get here – especially the inner one – started during the first lockdown, in the spring of 2020, while I was practising yoga and mindfulness at home in Italy. Who is it? Will they be alive? In what condition will I find them? I think of everything in those few steps as I approach the body. They land 40m from me at Advanced Base Camp. Their head goes up and down, up and down. They do somersaults, roll fast, too fast, from the infinite vertical wall. I scream as I see something, someone, fall from the Abruzzi Spur in front of my eyes. Oh my god, that’s a person! It’s a person!