Ernest Hemingway once said, "There are only three sports: Bull fighting, motor racing and mountaineering; the rest are merely games." The point being, Hemingway only thought it qualified as a sport if there was a good chance the sport would murder you at some point.
If so, then mountaineering stands above the rest, as the most famous peaks are also those littered with the most bodies. So why do people keep doing it? Because it affords opportunities for inhuman displays of badassery. Like ...
Nanga Parbat in Pakistan is five miles straight up -- 26,660 feet to be exact. It's also known as "Killer Mountain" because up until 1990, 77 percent of the climbers who attempted to climb Nanga Parbat died trying. Just to be clear, they didn't just fail to reach the top, the mountain punished them with murder for even attempting it.
Via Jon Martin
"Please keep your hands and feet away from the mountain."
Hermann Buhl was born in Innsbruck, Austria, and had taken up climbing in the Alps as a teenager first as a hobby, then as an obsession. In winter, he'd walk around with snowballs in his hands in order to toughen them up for his next trip. He eventually became a mountaineering guide, and then in 1953, Buhl heard about the mountain that had already killed 31 climbers (with and no successful summits) and said, "Yep, that's the one. I'm climbing that."
"I'm not even going to get up."
And ... Fight!
The expedition's main problem was the fact that it was 1953. At that time, there had been very few attempts or successful climbs of mountains that high, so no one knew much about the lethal effects of the thin air at those altitudes. Climbers, for instance, didn't know that future generations would label everything 26,000 feet and higher "The Death Zone" because the human body literally can't survive for more than a couple of days.
After suffering through bad weather and organization, Hermann Buhl and the rest of the summit party got the green light to ascend to a camp at 22,600 feet. From there they would climb to the summit the next day. They woke at 1 a.m., but Buhl's partner wasn't feeling well, so Buhl decided that was fine, he would just go alone.
"Just going to expand mankind's horizons, get some coffee on the brew."
At the time, only two mountains above 26,000 feet had been climbed, and most expeditions were huge, with massive resources and hundreds of people working on getting two men to the summit. Aside from the usual threats of avalanches and getting crushed by falling ice blocks, there also was the danger of sheer exhaustion and oxygen deprivation; some climbers would just walk off cliffs in their oxygen-less confusion. Without supplementary oxygen at that altitude, which Buhl didn't have, climbers need to breathe 10 to 20 times before they have the energy to take a single step. And in all this, Buhl decided he was going to just walk up to the top alone, making it not only the first ascent of the mountain, but the first solo ascent.
Naturally, it was harder than he anticipated. He finally did reach the summit but not until 7 p.m. ... which means it was going to be dark on the way down. No, you can't climb down a mountain in the dark, unless you want to make the trip really, really fast, and wind up as a shattered, partially frozen bag of meat at the end. So Buhl was forced to spend the night at about 26,000 feet.
Standing on a narrow ledge, clinging to a single handhold.
All night. Knowing that if he fell asleep, he would tumble to his death.
"I wonder if I can pull it here."
And he was probably a little tired at that point, considering he had been climbing for 18 straight fucking hours. He had no food or water. He was so exhausted that he started hallucinating a partner was standing beside him on the ledge.
Still, he survived. He spent an entire night exposed in the Death Zone and lived. If you want to see how much a toll that night on Nanga Parbat took on Hermann Buhl, below is a photo taken the day after he had descended from the summit:
Hermann Buhl was 29-years old when that picture was taken.
K2 is the second highest mountain in the world, and because it is steep on all sides and every route is as long as it is difficult, it's considered one of the hardest mountains in the world to climb. Before 1990, it killed 41 percent of the climbers who tried it. Pete Schoening's expedition arrived there the summer of 1953, so this was at a time when no one had ever reached the top.
Via Stuart Orford
Eh, what's up there really apart from the overwhelming sense of achievement?
Schoening was the youngest person on the expedition -- he had climbed long rock routes in the U.S. a bit but never abroad, so 26,000-foot peaks were completely foreign to him. To give it context, it was like Schoening had jogged for about a mile every day and now he was pulled in by the Olympic Marathon team. Although he might have seemed less than qualified, the leader of the expedition said he invited him along because, "He was always cheerful."
"You signed me up for what?"
Close to the top, the team was trapped by a storm -- something that you'll find is a recurring theme in this article. After four days, one of the members collapsed outside the high camp. The doctor of the expedition diagnosed him with a blood clot in his leg -- that meant if it traveled to his lungs, the guy would die. Waiting out the storm was no longer an option.
It would be almost impossible to get him down even with modern equipment and support. In 1953, they were left entirely on their own. But down the mountain they went, until they encountered an ice field.
Like this, only verticalier.
We're assuming that even if you know nothing about mountains or mountain climbing, that trying to go steeply downhill on something called an "ice field" is treacherous as shit. And, sure enough, one of the climbers slipped, sliding down, creating a horrific chain reaction that wound up pulling six climbers down the mountain, death waiting below for all of them ...
But something stopped their fall.
The combined weight of six grown men and their climbing equipment, more than 1,000 pounds, was stopped by Schoening -- the new guy.
You can't see his other hand, but he's holding up the whole comment box.
All Schoening could do was to hold on to a flimsy wooden ice axe wedged against a rock and hope his body wouldn't be torn in half by the rope or the 1,000 pounds of flailing team members. Surely not the easiest thing to do after climbing one of the world's toughest mountains without supplemental oxygen, and spending a few days at the aforementioned "Death Zone" altitude. Schoening's hands were freezing, and he couldn't see a thing because of the storm. Yet, he held on while the team gradually regained their positions.
What Schoening did was considered so miraculous that the climbing community simply named it "The Belay." For anyone unfamiliar with climbing, belaying is the act of securing someone with a rope, which is basically 50 percent of what climbing is all about. Mountaineers could have named that particular event "Pete Schoening's Belay" or "The K2 Belay," but it was such a remarkable moment of heroism that it will go down in history only as "The Belay." The ice axe he held on to is currently on display in a museum.
Via Carl Hancock
"Break the laws of physics to access axe."
Back in 1986, the West Face of Siula Grande had seen several failed expeditions and was considered one of the most difficult climbs in South America. Joe Simpson wanted to give it a shot after a friend of his described it as a "challenging day out," partially because Brits are notorious for understating everything, and partially because mountaineers around the world are notorious for sandbagging the shit out of each other.
It's a walk in a park with no oxygen and frequent avalanches.
Simpson was 25 and had climbed since he was a teenager, doing several routes in the Alps. But nothing like Siula Grande. Despite his young age, or likely because of it, his thoughts before climbing a dangerous peak several people had failed trying was, "We'll just do it, we're better than them."
Via The Independent
"And we're certainly more arrogant."
And ... Fight!
To his credit, Simpson did climb it with a friend (Simon Yates). But on the descent, Simpson fell. He landed with his leg outstretched and the impact sent his shin bone through his knee. His lower leg bone was now alongside his thigh bone and his knee was shattered.
They both knew that a broken leg on a mountain like Siula Grande was a death sentence; it's difficult enough to climb down it with two good legs. Still, Yates threw a rope around his injured friend and pushed him over the edge, lowering Simpson down the mountain. Simpson's broken leg slammed into rocks and ice as he slid down, and adding insult to injury, a (you guessed it) storm moved in, dropping the temperature to about 80 degrees below zero Fahrenheit with the wind chill.
Exhausted and cold, Yates made what seemed like a fatal mistake: He accidentally lowered Simpson off a lip he couldn't see over, and the cliff ended up being longer than the rope. They were stuck. Below the dangling Simpson was a big drop onto the glacier at the base of the mountain, and Yates was too exhausted to pull him up. Yates was slowly getting pulled off the mountain by Simpson's bodyweight and they had no way to communicate because the storm drowned out all sound.
This went on for over an hour, and they were slowly freezing to death. Finally Yates, seeing no other alternative, cut the rope.
Finally, a way to use a pocket knife that doesn't involve sawing a limb off!
Simpson, leg already a shattered mess, plummeted 150 feet to the glacier below and into a massive crevasse. He miraculously survived the fall, catching on a ledge inside the crevasse. But with a broken leg, unimaginable pain and severe dehydration, he really only had two options left and neither one was pretty: he could lower himself deeper into a crack so big he couldn't see the bottom, or sit there and die.
Simpson opted for the not-waiting-to-dying choice and descended by way of crawling. In what might have been the only moment of luck on his entire trip, he found a way out and then managed to crawl down the glacier itself. Doing this took tremendous skill because glaciers can be giant death traps, hiding several cracks covered by snow bridges that can barely support the weight of falling snow, let alone a human body.
Neatly demonstrated here.
After conquering the glacier, Simpson still had five miles of rocks as big as cars to negotiate before he could reach camp. He had no alternative but to hop and crawl his way there, mangled leg and all.
The friend, Yates, was at the camp, grief-stricken and mourning his "dead" friend. Then said friend showed up at his tent, asking him what the hell happened on the ledge.
"You didn't need to cackle."
Simpson lost a third of his body-weight during the ordeal, and the route he and Yates climbed has never been climbed since. With his leg shattered, Simpson's doctors told him he would never climb again. But he did anyway, after two years of intense training because he can do whatever the fuck he wants now. There's a whole movie based on it here.
On the other end of the dramatic spectrum, there's a drinking game based on the experience.