Two weeks after getting home from Everest, something was missing. I was proud of the summit, but I needed something to look forward to. One mountain kept coming back to me. K2, the savage mountain. Arguably the most difficult and deadliest of the fourteen 8,000m peaks, and a climb people train their whole lives for.
Benny, the American guide who took me to the top of Everest, was heading to Pakistan and had climbed K2 before. I messaged him. Not in a few years, not next year. This year. Twenty four hours later a plan was in motion: Gasherbrum I and II to acclimatise, then a private push on K2 with Benny and two Sherpa. Five weeks, three 8,000m peaks.
I had four weeks to recover, train and get a Pakistani visa. Everyone told me I was crazy. The day before my flight everything was ready except the visa. A friend with a contact at the Pakistani consulate in the North of England came through, and at 4AM a message landed on my phone: visa approved. The consulate even invited me to high tea on my return. The next day I picked up four duffel bags, left a freshly written will on the coffee table, and flew to Pakistan.
After Gasherbrum we moved to K2, and in July I was standing at its foot, ready to climb.
On our summit push, at Camp 2 (6,700m), we received devastating news. An avalanche had hit neighbouring Broad Peak. Among those lost were guides, Sherpa, expedition members and friends. The atmosphere across the whole range changed instantly, and the season became a rescue and recovery effort.
The next morning our team decided to abandon the attempt and descend safely to base camp. Summits can wait. Respect for the mountain, the conditions and the people we lost cannot.
Getting to K2 took four weeks. Getting to the top will take another season. I'll be back.