‘K2’: Anatomy of a deadly climbing expedition

In their new book, “K2: Life and Death on the World’s Most Dangerous Mountain,” best-selling authors Ed Viesturs and David Roberts compile the astonishing and compelling stories of this magnificent mountain and grant readers remarkable insight into the minds of the talented climbers who have tried to conquer it. They focus on the “six most dramatic seasons in the mountain’s history” — 1938, 1939, 1953, 1954, 1986 and 2008. Viesturs, the first American to climb the world's three highest mountains, analyzes each memorable expedition with the measured eye of a master alpinist. An excerpt.

From chapter one
A sharp pyramid of black rock, sheer snow gullies and ridges, and ominous hanging glaciers, K2 has a symmetry and grace that make it the most striking of the fourteen 8000ers. Rising from the Baltoro Glacier in the heart of the Karakoram, K2 is flanked by five other of the world's seventeen highest peaks. That range, in fact, holds the densest constellation of sky-scraping mountains anywhere in the world — even denser than the Himalaya around Everest. Yet K2 soars in proud isolation over Broad Peak, Gasherbrum I, Gasherbrum II, and its other formidable neighbors.

When you approach Mount Everest from the south, as all teams do that attempt the classic first-ascent route through the Khumbu Icefall and up to the South Col, the great mountain only gradually comes into view. Most of the way to base camp, Everest is effectively hidden behind the bulk of its satellite peak, 25,790-foot Nuptse. As a result, for climbers the first glimpse of Everest seldom comes as a stunning, unforgettable moment.

It's just the opposite with K2. As they march up the Baltoro Glacier, most climbers get their first view of the mountain from Concordia, where several glacial streams converge. All at once, after a week's trek from the last village, Askole, K2 springs into sight. Even though it's still a dozen miles away, the sheer, towering presence of the mountain overwhelms you.

Sir Francis Younghusband, the great Victorian explorer, was one of the first Westerners to see K2 from a distance, in 1887. The prospect moved him to an uncharacteristic effusion in his book about the expedition, as he recalled "saying emphatically to myself and to the universe at large: Oh yes! Oh yes! this really is splendid! How splendid! How splendid!"

Reinhold Messner, who climbed K2 in 1979, unabashedly called it "the most beautiful of all the high peaks." He added: "An artist has made this mountain."

In 1992, Scott and I got our first view of K2 not from Concordia, but earlier, when we hiked up a wooded hill out of our Paiju camp. All of a sudden, there the mountain was, sticking up into the sky, a perfect white pyramid. "Holy shit, that's big!" said Scott, and I answered, "Wow, we're almost there!" That evening, I wrote in my diary, "After breakfast, Scott and I scrambled up the ridges above camp and got some great views of K2. That is one huge mo-fo!"

By the beginning of summer 2008, some sixty climbers had assembled at base camp on the south side of K2. Several had tried the mountain before, but for most of the men and women on the Baltoro, it was their first go at K2. After their own first sightings of the magnificent mountain, some of their Internet dispatches had gushed with the same sense of wonder and astonishment that Scott and I had felt in 1992, or that Younghusband had expressed way back in 1887. Nearly all of the climbers were planning to try the Abruzzi Ridge or its variant spur, the Cesen route.

Too many days spent sitting out storms at base camp, however, had taken their toll on the various teams' morale. By the end of July, more than a few of the climbers had chucked it in and left for home. Others hovered on a teeter-totter of indecision. A 61-year-old Frenchman, Hugues d'Aubarède, decided on July 20 to give up his attempt. No sooner had he started packing his gear than several forecasts arrived predicting a coming spell of excellent weather. According to journalist Matthew Power, the Dutch leader of another team told d'Aubarède, "Just skip your work for another two or three weeks and then you can summit K2." Changing his mind, d'Aubarède called his wife in France to tell her he was going to give the mountain one more shot. It would be a fatal decision.

The window of clear, windless weather arrived at the very end of July. In the group of thirty who set out early on August 1 to go for the top, there were no superstars. Many of those climbers, however, had previous experience on the world's highest mountains. A Norwegian couple, for instance, had climbed Everest together in 2005; they had also reached both the North and South Poles the same year. The Dutch leader, who had made it to the top of Everest without bottled oxygen, was on his third expedition to K2. Besides Norway, Holland, and France, the mountaineers came from an assortment of countries, including Korea, Serbia, Singapore, Italy, Germany, Spain, Sweden, Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. There were also several Pakistanis and a number of Sherpa from Nepal.

Nearly all those climbers set out on August 1 from Camp IV, situated on a broad snow ridge known as the Shoulder, at about 26,000 feet. The Shoulder is the last place on the Abruzzi Ridge where you can reasonably pitch a tent. In 1992, Scott, Charley, and I placed our own Camp IV as far along the Shoulder as we could, just below where the snow slope steepens toward the start of the Bottleneck couloir. Last summer's climbers, however, pitched their tents on the lower, southern end of the Shoulder. The difference may not seem like such a big deal, but we had good reasons for camping where we did. At altitude, in soft snow, it can easily take a full hour to trudge from one end of the Shoulder to the other. That's an hour we saved over last summer's climbers. That's an extra hour added to their grueling summit day on the way up, and at least twenty minutes on the way down.

If there was one guy last summer who really had his act together, it was the Basque mountaineer Alberto Zerain, who started his own summit push from well below the Shoulder, leaving Camp III at 23,600 feet. Operating as a soloist without teammates, Zerain got moving by 10:00 PM on July 31, and he climbed the 2,400 feet up to the Shoulder in the astonishing time of only two hours. When he reached the other climbers' Camp IV, he found them still struggling to get ready. According to Freddie Wilkinson, who covered the tragedy for the magazine Rock and Ice, "Zerain called out to the others still in their tents, trying to cajole them into hurrying up to leave with him. He received few responses .... After an hour of waiting, Zerain finally continued alone."

I must admit that when I first saw photos from last summer, I was shocked. There those guys were, still crossing the Shoulder, and it's already broad daylight! As I said, I'm generally not comfortable criticizing other climbers' decisions. But that late start on summit day struck me as asking for it.

More from TODAY Subway carries 3-year-old’s dad away | Video Klum back on runway 6 weeks after baby | Images Video: Taylor Swift’s SNL shout-out made Lautner blush Turkey or side dishes? You decide! | Vote Ambush! Flight attendant jets from gray to gorgeous

It's easy to succumb to high-altitude lassitude. You lose your motivation. It takes longer not only to do something, but even to think about doing something.

It's no fun getting off in the middle of the night from a high camp on an 8000er. You're in this closet-sized tent with your buddy. It's dark, it's cold, there's ice everywhere. You have to brew up a drink — something warm, like a cup of tea. If somebody has to take a crap, you have to move aside and let him go out and do that. Then you have to put on your boots, your overboots, the rest of your clothes, and your harness. I always sleep with my boots, not on my feet, but in my bag. Lots of climbers don't. So in the morning they have to put on cold boots. That contributes to a bad start.

MORE FROM TODAY BOOKS: MISCELLANEOUS

Racing to save Earth’s most endangered species

Racing to save Earth’s most endangered species Jimmy Carter: How volunteering gave me joy ‘K2’: Anatomy of a deadly climbing expedition R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Where has it gone? What do Americans really want? TV and sex Life lessons from childhood cancer survivors ‘Our Boys’ is a happier ‘Friday Night Lights’ How to assess your self-worth Two brothers, 12 months, one filmmaking dream No such thing as virginity, author says   Add Today Books: Miscellaneous headlines to your news reader: