All language subtitles for K2.Siren.Of.The.Himalayas.2012.1080p.WEBRip

♪

Who becomes
a race car driver?

Who becomes
a base jumper?

Who becomes
a test pilot?

♪

The will to just
try something big,

something dangerous,
something extraordinary?

It's part of who we are.

♪

"The name Himalaya denotes
no mere chain of mountains,

however high and however long
we may imagine it.

It denotes a complex system
of ranges,

of intricate valleys
and of mighty rivers,

that has no rival
upon the face of the Earth.

Some of the greatest
glaciers of the world

are contained
in the Karakoram Range.

In no part of the Himalaya
do we find such a number

of very high peaks
in so limited a space.

The basin of
the Baltoro Glacier

appears by all accounts
to be the most suited

to a mountaineering
and exploring expedition."

♪

My name is Fabrizio Zangrilli,

I'm an alpinist
from Boulder, Colorado.

I work as a mountain guide,

and I spend
a good portion of the year

climbing in Nepal,
Tibet, or Pakistan.

When I first heard
that I was gonna be

working with Fabrizio,
I was a little bit intimidated,

just based on his reputation
as, you know,

a climber
of very hard routes,

a very serious
professional climber.

There are 14 eight-thousand
meter peaks in the world.

They're located in Tibet,
Nepal, and Pakistan.

Everyone wants
the Eight-Thousanders.

They're the big daddies
of mountaineering.

In 2009, I went out
to Pakistan

for an attempt on K2.

For me, it was a journey
onwards and upwards

from Everest,
which I climbed in 2005,

when I was 21.

My name is Gerlinde
Kaltenbrunner,

I am from Austria.

When I was 16 years old,
I went for a slide show.

It was about K2,
and from this moment on,

it was my big dream
to go there, to the Karakoram,

just to see
the very high mountains

and to see K2.

I didn't dream
about climbing K2.

It was such a huge mountain,
it is still.

Everest and K2
aren't even the same sport.

In comparison to all other
8,000-meter peaks,

K2 is a very special one,
for me, the most beautiful one,

but also the most
difficult one.

On K2, you have
not one easy route.

It's steeper,
it has worse weather,

it's right at the top
of Pakistan,

so there's always challenges
with getting there.

When we arrived
in Pakistan

and touched down
in Islamabad,

we thought that
was pretty mad,

but it was nothing
in comparison

to the routes up the mountain,
up to Skardu in the north,

as we traveled for two days
along the Karakoram highway,

which is this precipitous,
very narrow road

along this massive
valley and canyon,

where at times,
you're only inches

from a very, very large drop.

It's extremely bumpy,

there's boulders
the size of your car

sitting in the middle
of the road.

(slats creaking)

♪

Well, we've just arrived
in Skardu

after another 10-,
11-hour bus journey,

so the whole thing, I think,
ended up taking 30 hours,

which was a hell of a lot
longer than we were expecting.

♪

So psyched to be here.

So much cooler
than Islamabad.

♪

"On May 8th,
a stage of 21 miles

brought us to Skardu.

After a long, heavy day
of more than 18 hours,

we went to bed tired out,

but glad to have got through
the first big stage

of our journey.

We had covered
about 225 miles

in 11 days among the chains
of the western Himalaya.

There was the usual inspection
and sorting of baggage,

porters to pay off
and new ones to engage.

At five o'clock, we went
to see the polo match,

got up in honor
of the Duke.

The polo ground
is very large

and lies on a flat
natural terrace

to the west of the city,

overlooking the great
sandy plain

and the splendid amphitheater
of snowy ranges."

(chanting in foreign language)

When you first enter Skardu,
you really realize

that you're out of the city
and sort of in a village.

We end up buying
most of our supplies there--

food, gas, tarps,
things like that

to take care of base camp.

Has anybody seen
the movie "Vertical Limit,"

if you're on
the K2 expedition?

Go, it's gonna blow!

♪

A lot of people thought
that that wasn't

an actual documentary.

(laughter)

But today, we need
to pick up the explosives.

(laughter)

We hop in the Jeeps
with all of our loads

and supplies, and we travel
for six or seven hours

to Askole via quite
a rough 4x4 road.

Organized chaos,
expedition life.

Sometimes they start,
sometimes they don't, you know?

As you guys are probably
learning here slowly,

it's...we're all, uh,
bound by the will of Allah,

and hence the "Insha'Allah"
prefix tagged onto

every single statement that's
ever said, so...

insha'Allah, we'll arrive
in 4 to 16 hours.

If not, well, I guess
God didn't allow it.

(chuckling)

♪

"At half past six
in the morning,

we left Skardu
with 111 porters

and eight saddle ponies
to cross the Indus

and penetrate
into the Karakoram Ranges."

♪

This right here
is the scariest part

of any K2 expedition.

(water roaring)

♪

Holy...holy shit!

Oh, nice!

♪

(speaking in foreign language)

♪

"Few communities
are so cut off from the world

as this little
population of Askole.

Before them lies
an infinite extent of glaciers,

shut in by the most
gigantic mountain ramparts

in the whole world.

Behind them,
a desert valley

which for eight months
in the year

is absolutely blocked
by the snows,

the avalanches,
and the arctic temperature."

♪

Once you arrive in Askole,
it's very refreshing.

You feel like you're finally
starting the expedition.

You're camping, usually,
in a tent for the first time.

It's the way it's going to be
for the next 60 days.

Askole is where the modern
expedition sort of ends,

the luxury of Jeeps and planes
and motorized transport's over.

And now, it's just like
the Duke of Abruzzi did in 1909.

We start walking.

♪

"Now at last, the real journey
had begun.

The camp life that brings one
into the close communion

with nature,
so good for body and mind.

Walking is really
the only kind of locomotion

that puts us
on equal terms

with the world about us.

Our modern mechanical
methods of transportation

tend to make us lose sight
of our relative importance."

(water rushing)

♪

All the way from
the Duke of Abruzzi

and Sella's expedition in 1909
until the mid-2000s,

everybody had to wade
across the river.

And with 150 porters
with waist-deep

glacial runoff water,
it was quite hectic.

It was kind of this,
like, great way

for the expedition
to bond with the porters.

The local porters
are amazing people,

and a lot of them
I've gotten to know quite well.

They're always
willing to work.

For them, it's a joy
to be in the mountains as well,

they're mountain people
at heart.

Without them,
these expeditions don't happen.

"The Balti race deserve
a high degree

of esteem and goodwill.

Without their excellent
qualities as porters,

it would be impossible
to organize expeditions

in this region.

Their uncommon strength
and powers of resistance,

their temperateness,

their amiable
and gentle disposition,

and their capacity
for hard work

have already been recognized
by all those they have served,

from one end of the Himalaya
to the other.

We had now come up out of
the stuffy heat of the valleys.

A little further on,
all trace of path ceases,

and the great frozen basins
of the Karakoram begin.

Sheltered at the foot
of the last spur

which divides it
from the Baltoro

and protects it
from the icy winds,

nestling against the steep
right wall of the valley

lies a little island
of vegetation,

a strip of earth
covered with long grass,

bushes, and little willow
and rose trees.

This is the stage
known as Paiju.

For the last time,
we set up our camp

under the trees."

The walk from Askole
takes six to seven days

to base camp.

Paiju is day two
or day three.

We oftentimes spend
two nights there.

After all the
international travel,

the Jeep ride, and then
a day or two of trekking,

everyone's ready
for a bit of rest.

♪

When you trek
out of Paiju,

you approach the snout
of the Baltoro Glacier.

The river comes pouring out
from underneath it,

and it's quite dramatic,
and you realize,

well, we've left sort of
the land where people can live,

and we're now
actually on a glacier.

Now we're properly immersed
in the shale and the rocks

and the moraine and the ice
of the Baltoro Glacier,

which is making life
pretty interesting.

Very, very slow going.

As you're winding your way
through this maze,

a foot or so
under your feet

is tens, perhaps even hundreds
of meters of solid ice.

And it's incredible to think
how these millions

or billions of tons
are slowly pushing their way

down through the valley,
carving itself out.

And you're wandering around,
trying to find a safe,

a secure route,
from one camp to the next camp.

♪

(grunting)

-Aha!
-Thank you.

♪

Suddenly, you were seeing

some of the most famous
mountains in the world,

laid out like some Chinese
menu for a climber.

It was, it was spectacular.

♪

"The Baltoro ascends as far
as the foot of the Gasherbrum

in an almost straight line
with an even, regular slope

and a uniform width
of about two miles.

No alpine valley
has the elements

of anything
even remotely similar

to this vast roadway of ice
between its precipitous walls.

It is beyond all comparison.

No description, even with
the assistance of photography,

can succeed, I fear,
in giving a just conception,

even if a faint one,
of this extraordinary region."

♪

So we just reached
Concordia camp,

which is the confluence
of about four massive glaciers.

Our fifth and final camp
before base camp.

Tomorrow, we finally go
up that way,

towards that old hill.

Concordia's one of the most
amazing places you'll ever go.

It really gives you
a sense of how big

the mountains are there,
and how small you are.

♪

I've had people
on my expeditions

look at the mountain,

and they're going
to climb this thing.

They get to Concordia
and they say,

"Uh-uh, I'm not doin' this.

To hell with this,
I'm goin' home."

I'm like,
what are you talkin' about?

We just got in--
are you kidding me?

Look at that thing!

When I came the first time
to Concordia,

we turned to the left
and saw K2.

Uh, for a moment, my heart
stopped beating, really.

It was...wow,
just amazing.

"Down at the end, alone,

detached from all
the other mountains,

soared up K2,

the indisputable sovereign
of the region.

Gigantic and solitary,
hidden from human sight

by innumerable ranges.

Jealously defended by
a vast throng of vassal peaks,

protected from invasion
by miles and miles of glaciers.

Even to get
within sight of it

demands so much contrivance,
so much marching,

such a sum of labors."

The trek from Concordia
to K2 base camp

takes anywhere from
five to seven hours.

It's a bit humbling.

If there's good weather
and you're looking

straight on at K2,
it can really stop

and make you think
a little bit.

It's been four years
since I summited Everest,

and don't get me wrong,
it was very hard work at times,

but I did it,
I achieved it.

And so, of course,
afterwards,

the most logical question
was what next?

Obviously, I can't go
any higher than Mount Everest,

but can we do
something similar

which is much more
technically demanding,

and much more of a challenge?

Our base camp is located
on the south side of K2,

and the south face holds
some of the more classic routes.

Right in the center
is called the Magic Line.

It was named
by Reinhold Messner,

one of the greatest
Himalayan climbers of all time.

To this day,
it's only been climbed

by two expeditions.

Further to the right,
you have the Abruzzi Spur,

named after the Duke of Abruzzi,
the 1909 expedition.

They arrived at the bottom
of the mountain,

and found this spur,
the south-southeast spur.

It seemed to be
the most viable option

to gaining the summit.

It later went on
to become the route

that the first ascent team
in 1954 used.

Our route is called
the Cesen,

about one-third over
from the right-hand side.

It's a mixture of snow,
ice, and rock climbing,

averaging about 55 degrees,
with a few steeper sections.

And we'll have four camps
on the way up the mountain,

and hopefully get ourselves
in a good position

to make a summit attempt,
insha'Allah.

♪

"K2 towered up
immediately above us.

The impression made upon us
was so strong, so moving,

that no words
can convey it.

Broad Peak is opposite,
across the valley.

To the south,
there is a spreading view

that ends in the gentle
and reposeful outlines

of the Bride Peak.

All the landscape
around K2

has the richest
variety of design,

the greatest majesty
of form,

and an infinite diversity
of plane and perspective.

The idea comes
into one's mind

of being in a workshop
of nature."

So, um, just got
into K2 base camp,

and I must admit,
I'm not feeling 100 percent.

It is such a relief
to finally get to base camp.

Looking forward
to see you!

I think some of the best people
I've met in my life

are people that I've met
in base camps on mountains.

You really do meet
fantastic people

that are really
at the cutting edge

of what they do.

Thank you--it's Gerlinde,
she keeps me training, and--

Ralf, my husband, is very, very
important person for me,

not only for during climbing,
also in general, of course.

(speaking in foreign language)

Gerlinde and I, David,
and Ralf spent a lot of time

in base camp together.

We always tried to coordinate
with the other teams,

and mostly, there was
the team of Fabrizio.

We always tried
to break trail together,

and it was all the time,
a very good relationship

on the mountains,
and I can say

we are really good friends,
and in base camp, especially,

we have always
a lot of fun.

I started when I was
23 years old.

Broad Peak was my first
8,000-meter peak expedition.

And when I came down
to the base camp,

I was really, I can say,
addicted to the high mountains.

And from this moment on,
I just dreamed

about the high mountains,
and so it became more and more

my big, big passion.

(speaking in foreign language)

We found, at the bottom
of the mountain,

that it was very easy
to suddenly think,

this is a serious undertaking,
this is a massive undertaking.

Are we the people
to try and do it?

And I can safely say
that without the experience

of those people around me,
and of course,

without Fabrizio
at the helm,

I think it would have been
very easy to feel as though

it was perhaps
a step too far.

♪

Pretty heavy day today.

We watched a couple of skiers
skiing down the mountain

from camp two, um,
down the same ridge

as we're gonna be going up.

Uh, one of them
appeared to take a tumble,

fell over some rocks,
and was then unmoving.

And we were obviously
all standing down here watching

through binoculars
and things,

and he stayed unmoving.

The other chap
climbed back up to him.

You know, obviously,
at this point,

we were hoping
that everything was okay

and that, you know,
you just help him down,

or maybe he's unconscious,
at worst.

Um, then watched the skier

sort of pulling down
the other skier.

Of course, at this point,
we're realizing that

things were,
were pretty bad.

And unfortunately,
the chap,

an Italian climber-skier,
had been killed in the fall.

The Italian is dead,
and the other man

is coming down,
and there is no need

for a stretcher,
is that correct, over?

Yes, that is right.

That afternoon was,
was horrific,

especially after
what had happened

the previous year.

Eleven people died over
the period of, really, 48 hours.

Now, K2 is well known
for having a particularly high

death-to-summit ratio.

Perhaps it would have been naive
of me to have thought that,

you know, we would
have come here,

and this whole season
would have been fine and dandy,

and nothing
would have happened.

But I still don't think
anyone was expecting

that on day one
of arriving at base camp,

for there to be the first
death on the mountain.

We managed to get confirmation
that a helicopter

was going to be able
to fly in,

and then we carried
Michele's body

down to the helipad.

We spent a good
couple of hours

trying to keep
Fredrik entertained,

trying to sort of
keep the mood light,

playing silly games.

Eventually, you hear
the dull thud

of the helicopters
coming up the valley.

(helicopter blades whirring)

♪

They came in to land.

We loaded--we had his body
onto one of them.

In some ways,
after the initial shock

of what had happened
the previous day,

it almost had a very matter
of fact quality to it.

We were just getting
on with--with a job,

despite, of course,
what we were really doing.

♪

And very quickly
then we got Fredrik

and his kit
onto the other one.

Fredrik I knew quite well.

He was close friends
of many friends of mine.

We all decided to come back
together the next year.

We had really
perfect conditions

around 8,300 meter
in the Bottleneck.

We got the last weather
forecast from Ralf.

He told us it will
become a perfect day,

and it was just

few moments later

when Fredrik fell.

I thought I have
to look for him.

Maybe I can
help him somehow.

But then Ralf
told me by radio

that he fell
down till 7,000 meter

and I knew that there
is no more help.

♪

We know the risks
that we take

when we come
into this environment

and we are ultimately
very vulnerable.

This is what we do.

We've chosen to accept
the consequences.

♪

The sound of the rotor blades
got less and less

as the echoes disappear
down the valley.

We're all standing
around at base camp.

In some ways
it felt as though

that episode
was very much over.

But of course, it just
reiterated the fact

that now it was up to us.

Now we were there
and our focus

and our main effort
was the mountain itself.

♪

"We then set out
to the foot of K2.

The weather was perfect
for the first time

since we had set foot
on the glacier.

The clear sky,
the pure transparent air,

and the splendor
of the sunlit snow sing to us

like a welcome to the region,

and filled our minds
with the boldest of hopes."

♪

One of the main things
that's really important

is acclimatizing properly
so that you don't develop

any sort of altitude sickness.

The base camp at K2
is 5,000 meters,

approximately 17,000 feet.

So just getting there,

your body has to adjust
to the lack of oxygen.

But then you need
to do incremental steps

up and down the mountain.

Go up a little bit, come down.

Rest a few days.

Go up and sleep at Camp 1.

Come down, rest a few days.

Go up, sleep at Camp 1.

Move up to Camp 2, hopefully,
come all the way down.

Rest a few days.

It's absolutely fundamental.

Your body needs
the time up there

to get used
to the environment.

Course all of this yo-yoing

is really only feasible
with the fixed rope.

It's entirely necessary
because it allows

a very quick
and safe passage back down

if storms come in.

♪

Camp 1 on the Cesen Route
is a tiny little place.

It's a bird's nest, really.

You can fit three, four two-men
tents maximum in the camp.

They're quite exposed

and oftentimes half the tent

is hanging off of a ledge

and you have
quite a lot of air

dangling between the nylon
and the base camp.

♪

What do you feel
like for breakfast?

I don't know, I guess I'll
have whatever you're having.

Well, I think today's menu is...

Not that.

Fruity muesli with milk powder.

Uh, I wanted porridge
with strawberries.

What about the chicken korma?

We could do chicken korma.

It could be quite good.

That's a man's breakfast,
isn't it?

Should we do that?

Let's have it then.

(heavy breathing)

I'm on the snow slope
between Camp 1 and Camp 2.

I'm completely exhausted.

I've still got another
100 meters or so to go.

Which doesn't sound far,
but, let me tell you.

It's gonna take some time.

But then we'll be into Camp 2.

And I can relax a little bit.

Camp 2, at about 6,450 meters,

is a little bit bigger.

It's a two tier camp,

separated by about 20 feet.

Each ledge can hold
maybe four two-man tents.

But there's not a lot
of room to walk around.

I think this is gonna
be home sweet home.

It's not the widest of ledges.

And, you know,
I think we'll be okay.

We'll survive the night,

as soon as we're all
tied on securely.

♪

"We had established our camp

and were provisioned
for a month,

sufficient for the long siege.

The tents were set
up in two rows

on the level stony surface
of the moraine.

The Duke had already made
a cursory examination

of two thirds
of the circumference

of the mountain.

Nowhere had he
discovered an easy,

obvious, and safe route
to the peak,

and the undertaking
assumed a doubtful hue."

When we did finally
fix in to Camp 2

after about two weeks
of the expedition,

we came across, you know,

what we call "dead tents".

Tents that have been left
from the season prior.

Everybody's aware
of the events of 2008.

Many people made the summit,

but didn't come back down.

There were a large number
of climbers on K2.

They got lucky
with a summit day that came

and the day was quite good.

Many people went
to the summit.

Unfortunately, the Serac broke
loose above the Bottleneck

and it took away
the fixed rope.

A lot of the people who
were on K2 in 2008, we knew.

We've been there
previous years with them.

We've been
on other mountains with them.

I've come down today
to the Gilkey Memorial,

which is about half an hour's
walk from base camp,

and as the name suggests,

this is a memorial to those

who sadly lost their lives
on this mountain.

Art Gilkey, he died in 1953
on the American expedition,

high up in the mountain,

it involved
a whole team effort

to try and rescue him
for several days,

trying to get him down,

and in the end he was
swept away in an avalanche.

So in 1953,

the rest of the American
expedition set up this memorial.

And ever since then,

it's been used
as the K2 memorial.

♪

Bizarre to be sitting here

with all these
memorial plaques

to people that I've read about
and heard about,

some of the most famous climbers

that have lived and died on K2.

♪

Just in the last half decade,

seven people that
I have climbed with on K2

have died.

Not all on K2,

but it's a small tribe
of people that go there.

When I think about those people
and how we've all,

sort of, sat at the base
of the Gilkey Memorial,

it's a stark reminder of

the reality of alpinism.

Nobody goes
to the mountains to die.

I don't think anybody--

any of these climbers
had a death wish at all.

I certainly don't.

We come here

because this is where we
feel most truly alive.

The element of danger
in alpinism

is 100 percent part of the game.

As soon as you eliminate
the danger,

you have just
every other sport.

♪

Pretty shitty conditions
up here.

I'm just on my way
down from Camp 1.

Hopefully try and get back down
safely to base camp.

Very, very windy
and all the spindrift.

Pretty awful,
as you can imagine.

♪

The weather is so fickle
that we're forced,

a lot of the time,
to spend,

you know, two weeks
at base camp.

When I talk about the weather
on K2 being so bad, so often,

it's hard to actually
understand how bad it is.

When you're stuck in base camp
for four or five days,

maybe sometimes
up to ten days,

and all it's doing is snowing
or spitting rain,

oftentimes in base camp,

we're wearing down pants
and big down jackets

just to be comfortable enough
to eat dinner.

"Judging from the experience

of the few explorers
who had preceded us,

it was to be feared
that the chief hindrance

to mountaineering
in the Karakoram

would come from the extreme
instability of the weather.

The wind whistled on
the high ridges as violently

as on the Alps in the winter.

Storms raged about the summits
and the snowy peaks,

and long streamers of fog,
tattered and tenuous,

were brought up
by the south-west wind."

♪

Is there any climbing involved
in these expeditions?

No.

The last decade and a bit,
I've gone climbing four days.

Four days?

Yeah.

And 30 expeditions or so.

Yeah.

It's awesome.

You get all this gear,
you get all these toys,

and headphones and kinda show
up here and you just sit here.

Yeah and fester.

And what you do for 68 days is
come up with a list of excuses.

Why you didn't climb.

♪

My first expedition
at K2 was in 2000

with a couple of good friends
of mine.

It was just one of those things,
totally perfect summit day.

Leave the Shoulder,

make very quick time
up to the Bottleneck.

We're passed at that point
by a group of people on oxygen.

I come across Mohammed Ali
slumped in the snow.

He's a well-respected
high-altitude porter.

He'd been working for the team
that passed us.

I assessed that
he'd had a stroke

and the immediate decision
was to try and get him down.

I made it
to about 8,450 meters.

I can see the summit.

The summit slopes
were in front of me.

And I, at that point, realized

I could be on the summit

in an hour
and a half or so.

But the greater challenge
was to get this guy down.

♪

In 2005 I came back.

We went back to the Abruzzi
to acclimatize,

managed to go
to the Shoulder.

And my climbing partner and I

went directly up the south face
right at The Magic Line.

Unfortunately couldn't
continue to the summit.

Winds were about
100 kilometers an hour

and had to repeat the route.

Coming back down
through the ice fall,

which is a very,
very scary place to be.

Definitely not meant for humans.

♪

In 2007 I came back.

We switched to the Cesen Route
to acclimatize.

Once again to the Shoulder.

The idea was,
my same partner and I,

finish off the new route
on the south face.

The weather never came.

In 2007, it was very special

because we had the idea
to do a nonstop drive.

From base camp here on K2

up to the Bottleneck

and back down in 36 hours.

We felt very strong

and the first 15, 20 hours,

we could really
move quite quickly.

Really one of the better days
in the high mountains

that I've ever had.

Really, really fun.

Great teamwork.

Because we had only one and half
days of good weather,

we had to accept that we cannot
manage it up to the top,

and come down before
the strong winds would come.

After 39 hours of climbing,
we reached again the bottom.

And I'm back here, 2009.

By the end of this summer,
embarrassingly,

I would've spent a year
of my life on this glacier.

Luckily it's a phenomenally
beautiful place.

"We heard a thousand voices
from the glacier--

continuous dripping,
murmur of little streams,

the deadened noise
of distant torrents,

the rattle of detritus
down icy slopes,

the sharp cracks
of opening fissures.

Now and then those lesser sounds
would be drowned out

by the roar
of an avalanche.

I know no other mountain
which has such diverse aspects

when seen
from its different sides.

The plates showing it
from west,

south, east, and north-east

display its extraordinary
variety of form,

and show, too, how all its
sides are equally fortified

with the most
formidable defense

against the attack
of the mountain climber."

♪

Gotta love summit attempts
that start off in snowstorms.

♪

(speaking in foreign language)

The forecast
for the weekend is not bad,

and, uh, let's see.

♪

I was,
from the very beginning,

fascinated from this route

to the bottom
of the Cesen Route,

only half an hour
and you start climbing,

and it's a very direct,

very clear and beautiful
line up to the Shoulder.

♪

Another beautiful day
climbing K2.

What do you think, David?

I mean...

♪

(speaking in foreign language)

♪

Good rest day, Fabrizio?

♪

♪

♪

♪

(wind howling)

Almost over.

♪

♪

♪

♪

Camp 4 on the Shoulder,

just about 8,000 meters,

is a massive plateau
the size of a football field.

It's not so steep.

It's about 15 degrees,

so it's pretty easy
to put tents in there.

Unfortunately,
it's extremely windy.

Chris to Fabrizio,
do you copy, over?

He sounds so knackered, eh?

Never heard him sound so--

I've never even heard him
sound tired before.

You guys gonna go
for the summit tonight, over?

♪

Camp 4 out.

♪

Really is a spectacular view.

You see the Gasherbrums
on the left.

Broad Peak,
panning to the right,

Chogolisa.

Concordia down below.

Masherbrum, McLeod
right in front of it.

And the summit of K2,

just in the clouds.

Oh well.

Maybe next week.

♪

I had a very strange feeling,

almost fear to climb
through the Bottleneck.

The thick ice Serac
very fragile

and we had in our mind
the bad accident from 2008.

♪

We tried to climb through
the rocky part on the left side,

but we had to accept
that it was impossible

for us to climb
the very loose rock.

The afternoon at 3:00,

we had to decide
to turn back.

♪

"We had a perfectly clear
and calm sunset.

The lofty snows of K2
were tinged with yellow.

The most delicate wisp
of rose-colored cloud

barely hid the topmost peak,

and a triple shadow
flung itself

all across the mighty wall,

growing more
and more distinct.

The moon, not yet in sight,

was projecting upon K2

the giant profile
of Broad Peak,

while the northern face
of the latter

still diffused
a tranquil white light

from its snowy surface.

Twilight was always followed

by severe and increasing cold.

Profound silence would
brood over the valley,

even weighing down our spirits

with indefinable heaviness.

There can be no other
place in the world

where man feels himself
so alone, so isolated,

so completely
ignored by Nature,

so incapable of entering
into communion with her.

The simple fact is that

these are not mountains
like other mountains,

and one cannot look at them

without disquiet
and foreboding."

♪

I spent a lot of time
in high-altitude.

I know how my body does.

I know when I'm pushing
too hard.

The morning that
they left for the summit,

I knew that it wasn't
possible for me.

I could get down just fine,

but I didn't know if I could
go up and get down fine.

Of course, we always have
to keep in our mind

that we have
to come back safely.

This is the highest priority,
of course.

And just to feel
how far I can go

when I have to withdraw,

this is quite difficult.

These 8,000 meter peaks, they--

They're such a jump

in just physical challenge

and the demands
on the human body.

A lot of people really
can't cope with them.

I think when you're
quite new to this game,

you get so excited when you're,

you know, 600 or 700 meters away
from the summit

of an 8,000 meter peak

that regardless
of how your toes feel

or your fingers,
the moment comes

and if other people
are gonna go to the summit,

you don't wanna turn around

and have to go back
to your office,

or your wife, or your friends
and colleagues,

and say, "Oh yeah,
I was unable to."

You come to appreciate
that success

is not about standing
on the summit.

Success is about coming back

with all your fingers
and toes intact,

with all your team together,

and maybe with some good photos
and some good stories.

A summit is merely a bonus.

♪

It's a funny time
in high-altitude climbing

history, really,
there's so many people

that have collected
ten or more Eight-Thousanders

that are lookin'
to complete all 14.

The interesting thing is,
we have a bunch of women now

that are about to finish,

Gerlinde certainly
being the strongest.

Gerlinde's out front,
breaking trail, leading pitches,

fixing lines,
if need be.

To climb without
supplemental oxygen

is very important for me.

If you use
supplemental oxygen

at around 8,000 meters,
it's like you climbed

only six, six and a half
thousand meters,

and it's a big,
big difference.

I really want to climb
with my own energy.

(speaking in foreign language)

This kind of style
just isn't being done

by many of the other women
that have collected

a high number
of the Eight-Thousanders.

I think I'll be
really disappointed

if somehow Gerlinde
isn't the first.

I never thought about
if I'm the first, second,

the third, or fourth woman
who reached the top

of all 14
eight-thousand-meter peaks.

For me, it was always important
to do in my own style,

without supplemental oxygen
and without help

of high-altitude porters.

Lemme just give you a little
quick, brief update here

from K2 base camp.

My sources in Prague,
Switzerland, Tokyo,

Hong Kong, and Canmore
have all confirmed

that Tuesday,
the fourth of August, 2009,

is the best summit day
for this group.

The weather on K2 is really
the determining factor

between utter failure
and success.

(speaking foreign language)

So when the weather
is declared, you know,

good enough
for a summit day,

you take enough supplies
for maybe four or five days,

and you move up
to Camp 1, Camp 2, Camp 3,

and then eventually,
up to your high camp--

on K2, it's Camp 4.

And, you know,
these are long days.

Get it in your head,
start to mentally prepare.

"I'm gonna go fast.

When it's my--
when I'm second in line,

I am gonna go,
I'm gonna put my head down,

I am gonna go,
I'm gonna get him that rope,

because it's gonna
take me a long time."

When it finally got 'round
to our final summit attempt,

I was filled with a mixture
of anticipation,

but also, you know,
quite daunted

by what the next few days
would hold.

Chris, what's your biggest
fear in life?

My biggest fear in life.

'Cause I think I know
what it is.

-Uh, being hungry?
-No.

Your biggest fear in life...

-is vampires.
-Vampires!

It's actually
in string form, I'm--

It's just gonna go
around your neck?

Yeah, it's for summit day.

"The Duke decided
to make the attempt

on the southern ridge
of the mountain.

It is certainly steeper,
but on the other hand,

it has certain advantages.

The slope faced full south
and got the sun

from early in the morning.

This is a consideration
of the greatest importance

in ascents above 24,000 feet,

as the intense cold can prove
not only a difficulty

but a great danger
to the explorer.

The Duke was accompanied
by three guides.

He crossed the front
of the glacier that comes down

from the southern wall of K2
and went up

the Godwin-Austen, to the foot
of the southern ridge.

As we approached it, the wall
appeared to grow less steep.

On the other hand,

the obstacles became
more evident.

The live ice
of the gullies,

dominated by overhanging
seracs,

the gleam of verglas
on the rocks,

the sheer precipices
showing everywhere

on the face of the wall.

The mountains looked sinister.

We bid adieu to our leader
with good wishes,

which did not succeed
in disguising from ourselves

the insecurity we felt
as to the outcome

of this bold undertaking."

The statistics on K2
play with you, emotionally.

It's, it's an interesting
roller coaster to go through.

Been through a lot
of these summit pushes here.

I hope we got this one
well-dialed.

When we came down
to the base camp,

David told me that he will
finish the expedition.

He don't want
another attempt,

and it was quite difficult
to decide to continue climbing,

but there was still
Fabrizio's team,

and so we had another try.

(speaking in foreign language)

The night before we set off
for the summit,

you feel a bit like sort of
soldiers on the eve of battle,

huddled around their fires,
hoping that you had

the training, the experience,
that the weather would hold,

that the mountain would
look kindly upon you,

and that ultimately,
Lady Luck was on your side.

♪

See that fucking big avalanche?

Luckily, we're just
gonna get a dusting.

Get ready to get
your lungs frozen.

Whoo!

Middle of a snowstorm.

That was quite cool.

I'm glad that we were
that far away from it,

and not right in it,
that woulda been fucking scary.

Ron, you okay?

Yeah!

Is everyone else okay?

(inaudible)

So the wind's picking up
a little bit,

we're huddled
in our little tent.

Well, it will be warm
when the sun comes out.

We're just gonna sort of
overnight here.

Tomorrow morning,
push up to Camp 3,

hope to spend the night there,
insha'Allah,

and see what we can achieve.

"They climbed for a short
distance on hard snow,

then on bare ice,
sticking to the left side

in order to utilize
the rocky projections

on which they fixed
more than 100 yards of rope

for help to those coming after,
with the loads.

The peak itself,
from the Shoulder up,

looked inaccessible
from where we were.

But even if it proved
quite impossible

on nearer view,
the conquest of the Shoulder

was in itself an undertaking
amply worthwhile."

(wind blowing)

♪

Once we got beyond
the rock buttresses,

we had this long
snow Shoulder,

which led onto the Banana Ridge
and then up towards Camp 3.

♪

(labored breathing)

Reaching Camp 3
and setting up the tent there,

the three of us
climbed into the tent

and spent a few hours
trying to melt

as much snow as possible
to make some food

and some drink.

The excitement
and the apprehension

of what the next 24
or 36 hours would hold

meant that we had
a pretty sleepless night.

♪

♪

As we got up
early the next morning,

it was bitterly cold.

Struggling to get
into our down suits,

struggling to get
into all of our equipment,

to collapse the tents
and setting off onwards

to Camp 4, on the Shoulder.

Of course, as we got
higher and higher,

the climbing got
steeper and steeper,

and with the altitude,
it got tougher and tougher.

Every step you took,
it felt like

it was gonna be my last.

My legs were burning,
my lungs were screaming,

trying to draw in what little
oxygen there was in the air,

and my heart was pounding
so hard, I thought it was

about to burst
out of my chest.

A little voice
in the back of my head

was going, "Jake, what on Earth
are you doing to yourself?

Are you completely mad?

Are you completely bonkers?

Why are you putting yourself
through all this pain

and this misery,
ultimately just to stand

on a bit of snow
and rock and ice

a little bit higher
than lots of other bits

of snow and rock and ice?"

It was at this point I made
the very difficult decision

to turn around
and abandon my hopes

of summiting K2.

♪

"After having reached the height
of certainly 20,000 feet,

they found themselves
on a slender crest of rocks

quite broken and crumbling,
so as to give no security

to the foot, nor safe hold
for the hands.

♪

On one side went down
steeply into the valley

the couloir by which
they had come up.

On the other, a dizzy steep
of ice descended

to the Godwin-Austen,
3,000 feet and more below.

♪

They went on
for three hours,

climbing always toward
the reddish rock

where the Duke had hoped
to set up camp,

and never reaching it,
though it seemed constantly

within a few steps of them."

Finally, after many hours
of climbing,

you come up to the Shoulder.

It's a very flat place,
and then starts

the beginning
of the Bottleneck,

and there it is again
very, very difficult

and dangerous also.

When you do make it
up to Camp 4,

you really wanna be there
as early in the day as possible.

And then, you usually start
around one or two

in the morning.

It's pitch black,
it's freezing cold.

You know, you're
a little bit dizzy.

It's quite daunting.

Summit day on the expedition
is like,

life compressed.

You experience so many
different emotions

throughout the day,
you know?

You can wake up feeling
absolutely terrible,

and wanna go home,
and then you start walking

and you look around you,
and you just feel

totally elated
and just amazed

by the beauty that's around you
and love it,

and then you're like,
"That's why I'm doing this!"

♪

Mountains make us feel tiny.

They're just big,
I can move fast in them

and I still feel tiny.

♪

You get up here and you get
above 7,000 meters and realize

you're just a tiny
little speck.

♪

When you're
at high altitude,

it's such a bizarre feeling.

You almost consistently
have an out-of-body experience.

Your heart starts
to really beat.

You can feel it,
you can feel how it's laboring.

Um, and...you know,
I got a smile on my face

because, you know,
I know how I do

in that environment.

I now crave, or love,
that sensation

of the pounding of my heart.

I love making my body
work that hard.

When we have established
our tent maybe

at around 6- or 7-
or 8,000 meters,

and maybe there is
almost no wind,

beautiful sunset,
in these moments, for me,

really a lot of energy
comes back from the nature.

And these are the moments
which remain in my mind forever.

♪

I like to say
it's a walking meditation.

It's such a focused activity

that once you sort of
go down that road in life,

it's very hard
to come back from.

I think I need it,
it's who I am.

♪

If this is in your heart
and your mind,

you cannot say, "Okay,
now I've finished,

because I don't
want any more."

It's inside, and I have
to follow this feeling,

maybe until
the end of my life.

♪

We had an absolutely
beautiful, spectacular day.

The sunrise was perfect.

No, no news as of yet,
but as far as I know,

she's pushin' the route
through the Bottleneck, over.

(speaking in foreign language)

♪

We could pass the Bottleneck
and reach the height

at around 8,300 meters again,

and there, we found
a lot, a lot of snow,

until the waist.

♪

"The guides finally came
to the reluctant conclusion

that it was useless
to proceed further.

It was hopeless to think
of bringing so long

and formidable an ascent
to successful issue,

when from the very
first steps,

they had met
with such difficulties

as made the climb
barely possible

to guides not hampered
by loads.

After weeks of examination,
after hours of contemplation

and search for the secret
of the mountain,

the Duke was finally
obliged to yield

to the conviction
that K2 is not to be climbed."

Having been up the higher parts
of the mountain so many times,

it became evident
to me very quickly,

it wasn't gonna
happen that day.

We had to decide
to turn back,

and this was also
really difficult,

and in these moments,
I really trust my gut feeling,

and again,
very near the summit,

and we saw, okay,
it's impossible.

In the end,
nobody made the summit.

Fortunately, everyone
came down in one piece,

and all was fine.

I mean, some of the strongest
climbers in the world

were up there and couldn't,
couldn't make that route go.

That's the way it goes
sometimes, you can put in

very hard pushes,
come very close,

and, uh,
it just doesn't happen.

No big deal.

♪

"The day ended in a sunset
of indescribable beauty.

The mountain seemed
to throw off its hostility

and become serene once more.

The pale blue sky became
softly tinged with rose.

One by one, the light left
the surrounding heights,

forsaking last of all
the three great summits

of Broad Peak.

Finally, the tranquil moonlight
and the profound stillness

and peace reigned
over the scene."

♪

After 2010, I went home
and I didn't know

if I want to come back
to K2.

I felt that I have to get
distance to this mountain,

and thought maybe this mountain
does not like me,

this was in my mind.

But then one day I felt
that I have to go back.

Climbing friends
and also my family told me,

"You are really crazy,
why you go back?

Why you have to climb
this mountain?"

K2 was always in my mind
and in my heart,

and I think, one day,
K2 will accept

that I can climb to top.

There are lessons to be learned
from every trip,

from every wall,
from every rope length

that you climb.

You are constantly changing
how you do things,

how you see things.

You don't really
worry too much about summits.

You want them,
you chase them,

but you really better enjoy
the day-in, day-out activity

of being there.

You're ever-present
in the moment.

If it's that one moment
you're chasing,

you're gonna forget
about the millions of moments

that come before.

Do I want that one moment?
Of course.

Success is fulfilling the dream.

Chasing it.

Sometimes, you dream too big,

sometimes, you don't dream
big enough,

and sometimes,
you dream just right.

♪

After 2010, I decided
it was very important

not to try again Bottleneck.

For me to avoid
this part of the mountain

and not to come back
to the south side of K2.

On the north side of K2,

we found complete
different conditions.

It was like another mountain,
but it was still K2.

I could really
identify with this side,

it was always
a good and warm feeling.

♪

Finally, at 6 p.m.
in the evening,

we could do the last steps
to the highest point of K2,

and this is very
difficult to explain,

what was inside my heart,
my mind.

There were so many
strong emotions,

all the very beautiful
but also the very sad moments

which I had on K2 were very
present in this moment.

We had a very beautiful evening,
the sunset was just...

so intense,
and it was overwhelming.

♪