(Posted 01/20/09, 1:32 pm Pakistan time)
Hoping to take advantage of a few hours of storm reprieve, Qadrat and I left mid-morning yesterday (Jan 19th) for Camp 1. My plan was to stay the night there and then climb to Camp 2 today, sleeping one night there and carrying my share of the summit push supplies, then returning to Base Camp to wait out the next spell of bad weather. During our ascent to Camp 1, Qadrat and I spent much time and energy digging and pulling out the ropes buried under 3 feet of deep, hard, Styrofoam-y, snow - a strenuous process that left both of us a little sore in the shoulders.

The final few meters below Camp 1 consist of loose, low-angled scree - but you don't want to drop something, fall, or kick off any rocks here, for any such bombs end up showering the lower slopes. But yesterday we used little caution on these slopes, since we were the only ones on the mountain; Artur, Robert, Amin, Ali, and Taqi, would follow up the next day carrying their supplies to Camp 2 and returning to base camp that same day (today).

Yesterday, as we approached Camp 1 on these loose slopes, Qadrat picked up a piece of silver tent pole and showed it to me. "Rats," I said. A few steps later, another bent and broken tent pole was found. Then another. By the time we reached Camp 1, we had a handful of broken tent poles and pieces, and could now see why - our tent had been destroyed by the wind. Fortunately, most of our gear and supplies were safely and neatly stashed in canvas bags and left beside the tent. The depot bags were still there, with all the contents inside. My plan to spend the night was now defunct, so we produced another canvas bag which we had just carried up from base camp, filled it with the loads on our backs, and headed down.

I've just heard from Amin via radio from Camp 2 that the tent there is fine. In the wise but simple words of Forrest Gump, "Good. Just one less thing."

Keep a watch on next week's weather...today is the first day of sunshine in 12 days.

Don

Basecamp Boredom 1.1 from Calpinist.com on Vimeo.

Back from Camp 3 at 7000 meters, we are all now resting in base camp, waiting for a spell of good weather to try for...dare I say.

In 18 days since our arrival, we have spent 10 days of activity on the mountain - a remarkable feat for even a summer expedition. We take our fast progress in stride, committed to the long haul, knowing that long spells of bad weather and other challenges lay ahead. Personaly, I feel content, but most of all, I feel thankful - simply grateful - to be on another expedition in the high mountains, feeling humbled by the elements and the great giants surrounding us. 

This is one of many winter trips for me, but my first expedition to the big mountains in the cold season. Some things are different than climbing in the Karakoram in summer, others are the same. The most obvious differences are the cold and the remoteness. It is both amazing and daunting to have the Baltoro all to ourselves, with only the birds, a few hearty pikas, and a lonely fox to keep us company.

Keep in mind that although I now live most of my time in the USA, I was born and raised in Canada, spending much of my youth in the frigid, barren plains of Alberta. Having spent many a winter morn walking to school in the dark and -35C temps (and lower), I find my DNA has not forgotten how to manage the cold. Of course, cold temperatures at 5000+ meters elevation are much different than at 500 meters in elevation. The altitude factors significantly into feeling cold. The higher in altitude one goes, the more hypoxic (look it up) one becomes. At extreme altitudes, one of the human body's psychological responses is to shunt blood to the core, bringing oxygen rich blood to feed the organs. In doing so our bodies can, at extremes, sacrifice our own extremities (fingers and toes) in order to preserve the more vital functioning organs. In essence, for the human body, it IS colder at altitude, and more difficult to keep warm.

Climbing between the higher camps, I find that my fingers and toes go numb quite frequently, losing sensation sometimes for an hour or more. I constantly try to move my toes in my boots and make fists inside my mitts to keep feeling in my fingers - but, I am not climbing using my warmest gear. Yet.

Between base camp and Camp 2, I manage to move in only fleece and my eVent shells, using gloved hands instead of mitts. As long as I keep moving, the cold remains at bay. Above Camp 2 (6200 meters) I must use my down gear, but still climb in only my Feathered Friends Front Point jacket and pants- which are freakin warm, but still nowhere near as warm as my down suit - which I'm saving for the next push to the summit. The wind bites immediately at any exposed skin, and I've already suffered a little black line of frost nip on my cheek and nose - which should peel off in a few days. Call it my yearly exfoliation, if not a low-class spa treatment. Ahh, the measures we go to for good skin.

 

One of the oddest things I have experienced on this winter expedition is the phenomenon of relative comfort, and how this changes with the immediate environment. After being spat out of the hovering MI-17 (helicopter) on December 23rd, I remember looking at the desolate, windblown, frozen moraine and thinking, "Wow! This is home for a few months. Yeesh!"

But after a few weeks of climbing, I now peer down from thousands of feet above, onto that very same spot which our base camp now inhabits, and think, "Hmmm. It would be nice to be in cozy base camp right now." Cozy base camp? Who in their right mind would look at this place and think "cozy."

 

We now face the first long spell of stormy weather - a time for rest, replenishment, and some base camp musings and ridiculousness - so expect a few of these over the next week or two. But before I finish this dispatch, I want to make more clear just exactly who "we" are. Most of our images and videos have contained only a portion of the team, for we are not 3, we are 8. Duties on the mountain have been split between 2 or 3 groups at a time, with Artur, Robert, and I climbing together - hence the photos and videos of us. But here are the other team members, whose contributions match or exceed any task our team of 3 has performed. These men, as part of the team, carry loads and establish the route as our equals. They are strong, experienced, and keen to succeed. We consider these men our partners:

Qadrat Ali, from Shimshal, age 39
Amin Ullah, from Shimshal, age 36
Muhammad Ali, from Sadpara, age 32
Muhammad Taqi, from Hushe, age 28
and Didar Cook Extraordinaire, from Hunza, age 30

(The team left base camp on 01/05/09 to overnight in Camp 1 and then climbed to Camp 2 at 6300 meters to overnight on 01/06/09.)

(11am 01/08/09 Pakistan time) "We reached 7000 meters and decided to set up Camp 3 even though it is a little below what we had planned. The weather was worse than we had anticipated. There was more precipitation than we had expected and the winds were blowing consistently at 40 km/hr with gusts up to 50 km/hr. These winds don't seem like much, but when you combine them with the cold temperatures, it is pretty brutal. You get cold really fast." (The predicted temperatures for 01/07/09  between 6300 m & 7000 m were: maximum -35C =
-31F, minimum -30C =  -22F,  factoring in  the wind chill would be approx. -47C  = -52F.)

"The winds last night were really strong at times, but we were using one of Artur's HiMountain tents and it held really well. We didn't even tie it down because we were in such a rush to get inside of it. It was a long night!"

"Right now we are just cooking, and getting things prepared so we can leave a depot here. Then we will head down to base camp.  Artur, Robert, and I send our greetings to everyone."