Background

Dispatch 1

Dispatch 2

Dispatch 3

Dispatch 4

Dispatch 5

Dispatch 6

Dispatch 7

Dispatch 8

Dispatch #3: The Trek to Base Camp

It's took us five days of trekking and one rest day to reach Base Camp. We've spent two nights here now and are getting settled in. But back to the trek.

We typically got up at 4am, had breakfast, and were on the trail by 5:30. Each day's hike was about 5-6 hours, and none of it was particularly tough. After three hours we would reach a lunch spot and our cook staff would whip up some ramen noodles, tinned fish, tinned fruit, and tea. Then we'd go on for another hour or two to reach the campsite for the day.

Whenever I tried to take a picture (like of this flowering bush) a porter or two would jump in. These guys wanted a copy, so I wrote down their names and address--they can't write.

The first few days were quite hot and we we're glad to walk in the early morning. At the end of the first day I was infected by the dreaded 'song that won't go away.' This one was 'Bananaphone'. Google it and watch the animation--you'll see what I mean! Kids will love it (but avoid the sequel). Then, an even worse song elbowed its way into my brain. This one was 'The Picard Song' by Dark Materia (again, Google it). I finally shook this when I saw the compsite on the other side of the river.

We reached Paiju the second day and found a very crowded area--four expeditions were there so we camped in an overflow area. We can see the Baltoro Glacier and some of the famous granite towers are in sight. The first three campsites are developed (as of 2003) with tent sites, toilets, and sinks.

The sinks with the best view in the world; Paiju Camp. The snout of the Baltoro Glacier is at the end of the line of cliffs.

The morning of our rest day at Paiju, Deigo (ITA) was stretching outside the mess tent before breakfast. I walked over and he showed me a horseshoe that he'd found. I explained that in the USA, you mount the shoe on your wall with the open end up and it will fill with good luck. We decided to take it to Base Camp and put it in the mess tent.

The next day we headed for Urdokas, the longest day of the trek to base camp. We finally got onto the Baltoro Glacier and hiked up and down the moraines along the true left bank. Grasses, sedums, and various legumes dotted the landscape. We arrived in Liligo and ate lunch with the Trango group going in and out of the clouds.

Our cook, Fida, and his staff prepare lunch on our second day of the trek.

The trail to Urdokas hugs the side of Liligo Peak and other unnamed peaks. We we walking along, digesting lunch when the roar of a rockslide filled our ears. We looked up in horror to see a dust cloud erupt about 600 meters up the slabs above the trail and about 500 meters in front of us. Microwave-sized blocks bounced and blasted the slabs, finally strafing the trail. There were literally hundreds walking the trail that day, and we were certain that somebody had to be in the area pelted by the rocks.

I hiked on, afraid of what we would see. I arrived and found a number of our group huddled around somebody. It was Diego, with a small but nasty tear on the outside of the knee where a large rock had grazed him. He and Max (ITA) were the only two in the rockfall zone. They had scrambled for cover as the rocks flew past them. It was still dangerous so we got Diego up and moving into a safer area. He eventually hiked slowly to Urdokas, where Don prepared to examine and treat his wound.

Nazir, our guide, came in and said that there was a doctor in camp. Don went to check it out and came back with a whole herd of doctors! Turns out a National Geographic team was in the area, and they had a dozen or more doctors, medics, etc. and they just happened to be at Urdokas. Quicker than you can say "3-0 silk" they put four stitches in his skin, and no permanent damage was done. I think Diego drained all of the luck out of the horsehoe that day!

The next day we continued our walk to our first camp on the glacier, named Goro 2. At one point Don appears, yelling for our L.O. We rush ahead and find a porter with an apparent serious case of HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema). This life-threatening illness can strike anyone in the mountains, and the porter had the classic signs--crackling sounds in the chest and fast respiration. Don immediately went into 'stablize, package, and transport' mode as we would do in the USA. But helicopters don't come for porters (unless you're willing to fork over $9000 cash). The porter said that somebody else gave him medication earlier in the day, but we didn't know what. One dose of the right meds could save him, but two could kill him. The best we could do is send a note to the docs in Urdokas (several hours down the glacier) and have the porter carried by his comrades. Did he make it? We don't know.

Now you might ask why somebody would bother walking around in such dangerous terrain. But where is it safe? Put both hands in your pocket and stroll down the street. If you trip and fall and break your neck, would you say the area is dangerous? People die every day because some idiot has to dial his/her cell phone instead of watching the road. Have you stopped driving? So don't be too quick to judge what's 'safe' or 'dangerous.'

Now where were we? The last two days were more hiking on the glacier. We reached our campsite (where the porters dumped their loads) and set up tents hastily in blowing sleet.

My tent and Base Camp after about a foot of snow the first night.

Until the weather settles a bit there won't be any serious attempts at climbing. Our bodies need to acclimate so a couple of days at this elevation isn't a bod idea. Previous reports of summit success on Broad Peak were, as they say, greatly exaggerated. Back in a few days when something happens.

Mike