For most people, the extended lockdowns resulting from COVID-19 were an excuse to spend more time on the things that matter in life: time with family, staying home, finally learning how to cook. For Nepal’s elite mountaineers, a case of lockdown fever led to one of the greatest achievements in climbing history.
Nepali high-altitude climbers have been a crucial part of nearly every significant expedition in the Himalayas since the industry began roughly a century ago. The image of the tough and happy Sherpa climber is as iconic as the elusive yeti, yet is often seen as an accessory to the triumph of foreign guides.
Despite being known as the strongest climbers in the world, there are very few, if any, significant first ascents that can be credited to Nepali climbers alone. This is partially explained by the fact that most high-altitude workers are too busy making money on popular (and already climbed) mountains like Everest and Manaslu. The other reason is that all of the important first ascents in Nepal were already bagged by foreigners years prior.
In June, 2020, Kathmandu was entering into the fourth month of a brutal lockdown. People were only allowed outside of their homes for a few hours each day to purchase basic supplies. The entire tourism and climbing industry was crippled as the international airport was shut down. For Nepal’s elite climbers, this was a particularly acute torture as they watched a year’s worth of income evaporate like snow melting off of an empty mountain.
Fabled high-altitude climber Mingma Sherpa is the first Nepali national to summit all fourteen mountains above 8,000 meters. The expedition company he runs with his two brothers, Tashi and Chhang Dawa, Seven Summits Treks, has pioneered high-efficiency and low cost expeditions to mountains across the world. On yet another tedious lockdown morning, they began to hatch a plan that would lead them to claim the most dangerous and difficult climbing prize left in the Himalaya – the first winter ascent of ‘the savage mountain,’ K2.
K2 in winter was the last major objective in the world of hard-core high altitude mountaineering. The world’s second-highest mountain was the only 8,000 meter peak that had yet to see a winter ascent. With avalanche-prone slopes across the entire route and temperatures regularly reaching -70 degrees Celsius, this elusive prize has thwarted – or killed – many of the best climbers in the world for decades.
But Mingma’s plan was just crazy enough to work. Pakistan wasn’t subject to the same draconian COVID lockdowns as Nepal. Previously most winter attempts had been by large foreign teams, and did not have the advantage of Mingma’s logistical prowess and roster of highly skilled (and highly motivated) Sherpa climbers.
Within a few days of posting their intentions on social media, Seven Summits had 26 foreign climbers sign up for an accompanying expedition. Chhang Dawa, a veteran of a number of successful K2 expeditions, knew that they would need to put together the strongest team possible for both the paying climbers and themselves.
After securing verbal permission from the authorities in Pakistan, Mingma reached out to Nepali-born British citizen Nirmal ‘Nims’ Purja to see if he wanted to join. Nims had just recently climbed all fourteen 8,000 meter peaks in just over six months, something that usually takes dedicated climbers a decade or more to accomplish. He agreed.
The team was growing stronger by the day, and grew to include Nepal’s most elite climbing guides including the legendary Mingma David Sherpa, as well as Mingma G Sherpa, Kili Pemba Sherpa and Dawa Tenjing Sherpa – who had also started to plan their own attempt at K2 in the winter, and were happy to join forces.
On December 13th, after weeks of preparations and ferrying loads to K2 Base Camp, the expedition began in earnest when the first Sherpa team left for Islamabad. They were followed by another group of Sherpas and the foreign clients who all gathered in Skardu on December 22nd, when they all began the long trek to Base Camp together.
Ascending the mountain was a massive logistical undertaking requiring 70 tents, nearly 5,500 meters of rope, and hundreds of kilograms of food, kerosene, and other supplies. All of this had to be moved onto the mountain by human power.
By December 29, all climbers had arrived at Base Camp. A strong advanced team composed of experienced climbers Sonam, Pasang Norbu and Lakpa Temba headed up the mountain, fixing ropes and establishing the higher camps. On this first push, they managed to fix ropes all the way to the Black Pyramid, which lies between camps II and III at an altitude of 7,500 meters, where they spent two nights and returned to Base Camp by January 4th.
This incredible effort opened a window for the main team to make a shot at the summit. But then tragedy struck. As the team was preparing to begin a continual push to the summit, a massive storm shredded seven tents at camps I and II and blew away a large cache of oxygen bottles.
Undeterred, the team rallied and replaced the camps, and began their ascent again. While there was still a lot of mountain to cover, moving as a cohesive large team put the odds in the Nepali team’s favor. On January 12th, a team of ten climbers reached camp II. From there they moved up to camp III and rested for a day.
As the team moved up to the mountain, they had hoped to climb through the night of January 15th, reaching the summit by mid-day on the 16th. Each climber was carrying a full 30 kg pack with rope, climbing hardware and water. The going was cold, dangerous and difficult. During the ascent, some team members began to fall far behind the stronger and faster team leaders.
Mountaineering is often cast as a foolish and selfish pursuit. There are countless stories of climbers pushing past injured or helpless climbers on the way to the summit, or ignoring teammates in peril to ensure their own safe descent. Some of these decisions are understandable, as the often fatal effects of altitude and cold are difficult to overstate. Every extra minute spent above 8,000 meters in such brutal conditions could easily begin a physical decline that forces a climber to turn around, or much, much worse.
But this wasn’t an ordinary expedition. Risking their own chance at the summit, the faster climbers waited for the rest of the group at the infamously dangerous ‘bottleneck’ at 8,210 meters.
Once they safely crossed this obstacle, the team again began to spread out. Once again, the stronger climbers waited for the others – just ten meters below the summit. No matter the cost, the team was committed that no single individual would be able to claim the prize of being the first to summit K2 in the winter.
The team regrouped and linked arms. Together they sung the Nepali national anthem as they walked the final steps onto the summit. The words of the anthem were appropriate: Nepalis are a necklace woven from a hundred different flowers. The team arrived on the summit together at 4:58pm on January 16th.
The descent was uneventful, with two of the climbers (Sona and Geljie) arriving in Base Camp in a single push.
Watching Nims’ famous Go-Pro video of the final moments that led to the summit belies the true danger and significance of the ascent. In the video, the team of climbers smile, sing, and charge their way up the final snow slopes under a perfectly blue sky. It almost looks easy.
But while the only injury amongst the Nepali team was a minor case of frostbite on Nims’ finger, the winter season proved deadly for other climbers on the mountain.
Renowned Spanish climber Serge Mingote, who was attempting to climb all 14 8,o00 meter peaks without oxygen, died when he fell to his death while descending to Base Camp from Camp I. Three other accomplished climbers also died: Pakistani climber Muhammad Ali Sadpara, 45, along with John Snorri, 47, and Juan Pablo Mohr, 33, from Iceland and Chile, respectively, were last seen crossing the dangerous ‘bottleneck’ at 8,200 meters. Their bodies were found five months later by a rope-fixing team working for an American expedition.
It’s fitting that a group of Nepali climbers achieved the last remaining, and arguably most difficult, objective in Himalayan mountaineering, and that they did it entirely in their own style. “Our success was because of our excellent teamwork,” said Mingma Sherpa in an interview. “If only a few Sherpas or if some foreigners had made the same attempt they wouldn’t have been successful.”
It’s also fitting that this happened outside of Nepal.
“Nepal is known across the world as a country of mountaineers, but all our mountains were first summited by foreigners,” Mingma continues. “We were unable to become the first summiteers of our own mountains. That’s why we had formed a joint team to set a record on K2, the last mountain unclimbed in winter. It finally became possible because of some foolish people like us. We will all die someday, but our names are now scripted on K2 in golden letters.”
