WILCO VAN ROOIJEN
Surviving K2
Index
1
WILCO VAN ROOIJEN 2
Surviving K2 2
Foreword 4
Chapter 1 The beginning 6
Chapter 2 Three times K2 12
Chapter 3 1995 – A dream falls apart 36
Chapter 4 The Return to K2 in 2006 48
Chapter 5 K2 Summit Ascent 2008 84
Chapter 6 Saved 119
Chapter 7 Epilogue 123
Chapter 8 Word of thanks 125
Author’s last thoughts 127
In memoriam 127
Foreword
For years now some have considered Wilco and I as the Siamese twins of Dutch mountaineering; an
inseparable team, merrily racing through the Alps, sometimes away from home for weeks on end,
sometimes on quick hit-and-run missions. The year 1995 was supposed to be ours - the step towards
more serious climbing. We were two young turks playing a part in a team of experienced expedition
climbers. Our goal was the 8611-metre K2.
This expedition was to be the crowning glory after years of alpine work. But things did not go as
planned. In the early stages of the expedition Wilco was hit by a rock, which ended any thoughts of
summiting for him. I suffered from an uninvited stomach bug that had me more time behind the tent
than on the mountain.
But that 1995 setback on K2 made Wilco the man who he is today. In the years that followed, he
became stronger and more motivated. His philosophy was simple – after careful calculation he set
himself a goal and then went for it. Many years of climbing in the Alps followed, as well as
expeditions to Poland and the Himalayas. But I recollect that the idea of climbing K2 always lurked in
his mind, and not always at the back of it. In 2004 he climbed Mount Everest without the use of
bottled oxygen. It was only logical that K2 would be the next step.
The experience of being on a mountain a second or third time is a special one. You don’t always need
to succeed the first time, and a first failed attempt is a magnificent motivator for a second visit. You
view the mountain from a different perspective and adapt your strategy. There is rather more respect
for the beast, and both drive and motivation grow. You tread more skilfully. In 2006 Wilco took part
in an international K2 expedition which again proved unsuccessful, he did not summit. But he did
meet Irishman Gerard McDonnell and together they planned to return to K2 in 2008.
Today he has a family and is professionally involved in expedition climbing. 2008 saw Wilco as
leader of the Norit K2 Expedition. With an international team Wilco returned to K2 for a third time.
Each year K2 makes new victims. No one knew that just as in 1986, the year 2008would be a
disastrous year on the mountain. That season we were the first ones on the mountain. We had a strong
team in which everyone was prepared to work towards a common goal, reaching the summit of K2 via
the Cesen Route. Wilco is a good expedition leader. He does his utmost to ensure everyone has a
summit attempt. And having to work hard on a mountain is not at all bad if the atmosphere in the team
is good. We take the greatest pleasure in climbing on K2 together.
In dealing with this terrible loss, the strongest support comes from Gerard’s girlfriend and family.
They were willing to listen to the true story of Gerard’s descent without reproach. It remains a huge
loss. But climbers are climbers. This is what defines who they are. I am proud that Gerard and our
expedition members managed a successful climb of K2.
As a true professional, Wilco is able to separate expedition, family and the loss of Gerard. He sets out
a clear line for his life. His longing for the unknown, higher goals whereby he explores the limits of
his abilities , such as during the descent from the summit of K2, where he lost all his toes. Everyone
was astonished by his perseverance. He is a well-balanced individual and that is also e his strength in
terms of his rehabilitation. I have doubts he will climb again. There is no way back. But new
challenges lie ahead. The longing r for new adventure remains.
Cas van de Gevel
Malaga, March 2009
Chapter 1 The beginning
The tip of the pen flows over the paper. I had always imagined creating a smooth signature for this
milestone in our lives, and I can see that I’ll manage it. It’s my signature next to Heleen’s on the
purchase contract of our converted farmhouse in the Dutch province of Gelderland. We smile
nervously; our young son Teun is on my lap and doesn’t have a clue as to what this transaction
actually entails, but he smiles all the same. I look at the notary and he nods: it’s officially our home
now. A dream has come true and we feel the deep meaning of the moment. A day later I’ll join the
eight-man climbing team as part of the Norit K2 Expedition. We are to climb one of the most
dangerous mountains in the world. If everything goes to plan I’ll be back in three months.
People sometimes ask me what possesses me. I always answer : “Because I want to feel alive.”
However, I have seldom suffered such ambivalent feelings as when I signed the purchase contract to
our house. My passion for mountains and extreme expeditions always dominated everything and made
my life very orderly. But ever since my marriage to Heleen, my son’s birth and purchasing our home
the risks that make up such an intricate part of a life as adventurer, are more present than ever. What
am I doing to them? I am responsible for them, what will happen to my wife and child if I don’t come
back? And let’s face it, that’s a possibility.
We spoke extensively with each other about it. Heleen understands that I have ‘a history’ with the
other love of my life, K2. We have had many heated debates on the issue, whereby the unfulfilled
desire in me ultimately won. I have to do this. I need to return to K2 for what will perhaps be a last
try. I cannot even promise that I’ll give up if this attempt also fails. My head is filled with
contradictory thoughts and emotions at the start of the Norit K2 Expedition.
Before driving to Schiphol, I pick up Cas van de Gevel in Utrecht. I am welcomed with a broad smile
on the face of my faithful climbing partner and friend with whom I share everything. Back in 1995 we
were two inexperienced rookies who managed to enter the premier league of Dutch mountaineering by
earning a place on the K2 expedition led by Ronald Naar. Cas wanted to return to K2 one day, and this
makes it his moment just as much as it is mine. A better and more reliable climbing partner with
experience and commitment I feel cannot exist.
It is a déjà vu. Standing next to Cas at Schiphol are two other enthusiastic young team members,
Roeland van Oss and Jelle Staleman. Towards the end of 2007 we had placed an ad for two young,
ambitious climbers to join us on the 2008 Norit K2 expedition. And here they were. The two who best
matched the job description and dared to play high stakes on climbing’s Holy Grail. One needs guts,
passion, climbing skills, excellent physical condition and personal maturity in making decisions. In
other words: you need to understand the dangers and know exactly what you are doing. Reckless
behaviour or overconfidence tends to lead to disaster.
Roeland van Oss is a quiet, reliable and very technical climber. He looks self-assured and makes a
solid impression. Roeland is training to become a mountain guide and we don’t doubt that he has his
heart in the right place. No tall stories, he knows what he can do, what he can’t, and what he wants.
Jelle is completely different. I got to know him via my triathlon organisation Hellas in Utrecht, where
he trained sporadically. He had spent most of his time with the marines abroad. I admit to having
reservations about marines. A natural prejudice, his letter of ‘motivation’ confirmed my feelings.
Green Berets, nights without sleep, constantly pushing on - that kind of thing. It’s good to have
stamina, but what do you do when you are over 8000 metres and faced with the choice of descending
or digging a snow hole to survive.
A die-hard marine who never stops may sound tough, but in the mountains this can leave you dead.
When you are in the mountains you must not simply keep on going expending the last of your energy
until you reach the summit. The summit is only half way, a fact many have forgotten in the emotional
high of summiting. You must know what you are doing and have yourself completely under control.
And yet while we know that Jelle has not yet mastered severe, technical climbs and has only been
involved in serious mountaineering for several years, we still chose him. We know that he is fit, think
that he will respond well to coaching and hear that he is a good laugh. This is important. We also
know that he won’t be afraid when the going gets tough.
Court Haegens the last Dutchman on the team will fly in a week later. He is an Alpine climber with
long experience in technical rock climbing and a rich history as an instructor for the Royal Dutch
Climbing Association, the KNBV. In 2006 he climbed his first 8000 metre peak with relative ease. He
plays things safe and is a welcome addition to the team. Court is an honest and reliable guy, and if you
want to know about the risks it’s best to speak to him. The Norit K2 expedition team also includes
three foreigners: a Nepalese, an Irishman and an Australian. I want an eight-man team so we can work
on the mountain in two teams of four.
Over the years I have become closely acquainted with Gerard McDonnell, an Irishman who lives in
Alaska where we have climbed and trained together at length. He is a man after my own heart. Calm,
balanced, no beating about the bush, and someone you can take at his word. A climber who
understands endurance and perseverance. We unintentionally share near-death experiences on the
mountain of our dreams: me in 1995, and Gerard in 2006. I always knew that Gerard would never be
daunted by the experience. We are very similar in this way. Maybe our accidents made us more
determined. This would never happen to us again, and we would show that back then it was just bad
luck.
In 2003 Gerard climbed Everest with oxygen from the Nepalese south side together with Sherpa
Pemba who hailed from the Khumbu region. Sherpas are tireless workers who are extremely well
adapted to climbing at high altitudes, and they are born to an impressive and proud culture. Of the
entire group, Pemba has the most experience above 8000 metres. Although he had never climbed
Everest without oxygen, he stood at the summit six times. Pemba is an absolute professional; he
would be very popular with sponsors in Europe - a man of consensus, never seeking out confrontation
but not afraid of speaking his mind. It is striking that Pemba doesn’t consider K2 to be the most
dangerous mountain, but rather Annapurna’s south face. Pemba thinks that this mountain is much
more dangerous because the avalanches there are very unpredictable. Pemba’s athletic physique
makes him a climber who commands respect from everyone. He is married and has a child.
Last but not least, the Australian Mark Sheen. In 2006 Mark climbed on Broad Peak with Gerard and
myself, and we immediately hit it off. Mark is from Perth and does not have a mountaineering
background – a fun laid-back Aussie who is ambitious and eager to learn. During the Broad Peak
expedition, he climbed to camp 4 with Gerard and me to just below the col at almost 8000 metres. In
the middle of the night Gerard, Mark and I set off for the summit. Mark was quickly forced to give up:
he returned to camp 4. His decision not to descend further, but to wait for Gerard and me, proved a
serious error of judgement. Upon returning that evening, we found Mark in a delirious condition. We
were shocked to find him so depleted and forced him to descend with us. We reached camp 3, the next
day continuing on down to base camp. Mark was suffering from frostbite in his fingers. It was a hard
lesson but Mark accepted his mistake and didn’t complain. Luckily his fingers fully recovered.
A year later. Mark is climbing Mount Everest with a team from New Zealand. A strong, cold wind is
blowing when he reaches the summit. When I hear about his successful summit attempt, I e-mail him
my congratulations. He replies asking me what my plans are and enquires about a place on the team. I
am ecstatic, it will be wonderful to have Mark on board. He is a team player. And now the team is
complete, a balanced group with ‘winners’ at all positions. I am happy, more than happy.
We also receive support from our base camp in the Netherlands, which is manned by our spiderman
Maarten van Eck. Good communications are extremely important. On the mountain we are completely
dependent on meteorological information from Ab Maas that we receive through mission control.
There is also a medical hotline to our expedition doctor Ronald Hulsebosch. Maarten and Michel
Schuurman serve as press officers, our link to the outside world. The base camp in the Netherlands,
always on standby, is our life line.
On this expedition we have found a sponsor who is also active as a fully-fledged team member. Norit,
and in particular Menno Holterman, have been involved in the expedition from the start. Not only
financially butalso with other contributions such as a small technological wonder that should be a
must-have on every expedition: a mobile water purifier that spared us a lot of physical discomfort. It’s
always hard to say goodbye, but with all faith in a positive outcome, it’s easier.
The journey out of the country and on to higher ground progresses smoothly and before we know it the
first real challenge presents itself; the infamous Karakoram Highway (whoever came up with this
moniker must have had something of a sense of humour) - the old silk route between Pakistan and
China running through the northern state of Baltistan. There is very little actual highway: the road is
mostly narrow, partially unsealed and sometimes so steep that vehicles need help to make the climb. It
extends through the Indus valley where at certain places the river runs hundreds of metres below
through an inhospitable landscape. The fact that there is even a road here is a miracle in its own right.
A heavy toll was paid to build it; construction cost many people’s lives; an estimated one per
kilometre. The Karakoram Highway was completed in the 1970s. It is the only road that connects
Baltistan with the five lower basins in the Punjab in Pakistan. Baltistan borders on China in the north
and Kashmir in India to the east. This area has long been the ‘playing field’ of tensions between India
and Pakistan as both countries claim Kashmir. Although this is a relatively quiet area where a ceasefire is in place, there are many army posts on the glaciers up to K2. More Pakistani and Indian soldiers
die from high-altitude disease than from bullets.
We want to drive to Skardu over the coming two days. We leave at 06.00 in two buses. We haven’t
even been on the road for an hour when the suspension on one of them gives up. Yet another adventure
begins. The driver attempts to drive on but the screeching noises are too much even for him. We
switch buses and continue slowly. In the next village, we look for a new vehicle and driver. Serious
negotiating is necessary before a deal is closed. We finally continue, the views brightening our mood.
We have magnificent views of Nanga Parbat (8125 metres) and Rakaposhi (7790 m), just like K2,
mountains with characteristic shapes.
Our driver is amazing. For the past two days he has been driving along narrow, dangerous, unpaved
roads. He is positive and optimistic and, in spite of the time lost, he thinks we will reach Skardu on the
second day. We are startled as we careen from the road, but it’s not serious. The rush of adrenaline
from the near-accident enables our driver to deliver us to our destination quickly, we arrive 23.00. We
are standing in the famous K2 hotel in Skardu with its magnificent view of the desert plains and
mighty mountain rivers. We quickly take our things to our rooms, shower and sleep.
When we wake up, we are in a different world. An oasis of rest, with views that are only possible in
the high mountains. We have breakfast and rearrange all baggage barrels and duffel bags. We buy
groceries. All the communication equipment - the laptops, modems, satellite phones, solar panels,
batteries and converters are given a final check. From now on we only use solar energy and no longer
need the 220V plugs.
06.00 on 21 May. We leave in the jeeps in the direction of Askole. From Skardu it is over 110
kilometres along dangerous off-road paths that are sometimes impassable due to landslides, falling
rocks or rivers that have burst their banks. We pass many suspension bridges that only allow one
vehicle to pass at a time. These seemingly frail wobbly obstacles are crossed at no more than walking
speed. Even though this is an adventurous journey through amazing landscapes, there is little time to
enjoy it. We are constantly avoiding rocks, and on the lookout for places where the road has been
washed away, landslides or broken down vehicles. I know that just outside Askole there is a steep
incline that can only be climbed with 4x4s and in low gears. It also demands a skilled driver as the
road has several treacherously sharp hairpin bends. In 2006 several jeeps got into trouble: they had to
be unloaded and only made it after several repeated attempts. My heart is in my throat, but I needn’t
have worried. We climb the hill at the first elegant attempt.
Askole is a real expedition village. As the road ends here it is a gathering point for porters seeking
work which brings foreign wealth to a very poor part of the world. The next morning, the atmosphere
is especially pleasant. We are recruiting. We are the first expedition of the season and the porters are
raring to go. I have brought along 100 Norit K2 Expedition caps. I know from experience how happy
porters are to have such headgear. A quality cap is easily worth three day’s wages. The caps are
handed out, and all hell breaks loose. We feel like pop stars, there are sadly not enough caps to go
round. Happily some of the porters prefer their traditional Hunza headdress.
On 22 May we begin our seven-day trek. We are tired of sitting, and eager to make active use of our
bodies again. Active acclimatisation can begin. We - are still at only 2500 metres, but will quickly
ascend to 5000 metres. The trek goes via Korophonenaar Jhula, Paiju where we will have a day of rest,
then on to Urdukas, Goro II, Broad Peak base camp and our final goal: K2 base camp. We trek for six
to eight hours a day. We start early, around 06.00, before sunrise, and by around 15.00 have done the
distance and still have time set up camp. K2 trekking is one of the roughest and heaviest as there are
no villages or settlements along the way (unlike Everest), nowhere to buy cola or tea or whatever. We
don't complain. It’s part of the story. The mountains along the route are also among the highest and
most rugged with five of the world’s 14 eight thousanders in handsome view. We have already passed
Nanga Parbat (8125 m), and are now walking past Gasherbrum 1 (8068 m), Gasherbrum 2 (8035 m)
and Broad Peak (8060 m). The path will end at the foot of K2, mountain of mountains (8611 m). Other
famous summits here include the Great Trango Towers, the Cathedrals, Uli Biaho, Paju Peak, Liligo
Peak, Masherbrum, Mittre Peak, Mustagh Tower and Chogolisa - a climbers’ Valhalla.
From Paiju we climb onto the famous Baltoro Glacier, which we follow to Concordia, the ice plateau
where some 60 glaciers converge. From here we should be able to see K2 but today the view is
obstructed by mist, clouds and snow. In the process of covering distance at high altitude it’s best to
keep your mind blank and focus on infinity. We continue trudging through the snow and cold to Broad
Peak base camp. Quiet is all around. Tent, food, water and fatigue combine to put us to sleep fast.
When we wake up the next day, we are surrounded by powder snow as far as the eye can see. We gaze
in delight. A clear blue ceiling on a white white world. And there it is, in the far distance - King of the
Karakoram - higher than all the surrounding summits. Humility, pride, wonder, fear, and bravado all
have a place in our cocktail of emotions What a simply magnificent view. The area immediately
around K2 is called the throne room of the gods of the mountain. It is easy to understand why.
From Broad Peak base camp we cross the Godwin Austen glacier. We cross moraines, jump meltwater streams and move delicately between the massive boulders. We soon arrive at the K2 base
camp. Because we are the first expedition to arrive (there will be many more during the season) we
can choose the best spot on the famous moraine strip below the slopes of K2. Somewhere in the
middle the porters thrown down their load from their powerful sweating backs. They have worked
hard. And now these hard workers are to be paid. A fixed fee was agreed in advance, but they are
secretly hoping for a tip. When I announce to the porters, who are gathered together in a large circle,
that they will receive 10 days pay instead of the agreed seven applause rings through the camp. We are
a popular bunch, and probably spoil things for expeditions to come. After the porters leave, a feeling
of tranquillity descends. We can start building our home for the coming two months.
Chapter 2 Three times K2
It’s the third occasion. I carefully open my eyes after a wonderful, deep sleep and stare at the dark tent
cloth above me. It is the middle of the night. I wonder what woke me - my thoughts or the natural urge
I feel. The third time, I repeat to myself. A restless voice inside me starts nagging somewhere close.
Our expedition started so well, but now we’re sitting here and can do nothing but wait. It is mid-July,
our first serious summit attempt was two weeks ago. Unfortunately, unsuccessful.
The longer we wait the less likely it is that we can make a new summit attempt. Very frustrating. I
crawl out of my sleeping bag and into my long sleeved underwear, outer pants and fleece vest, and
anorak. It’s freezing cold at night. I would have preferred to stay in the tent, but nature calls. I drag
myself through the cold towards the toilet tent. My headlight shines across the rocks as I clump along
on my ‘moon boots’. For hygienic reasons the tent has been placed at the other side of the camp, far
from the mess tents. Fortunately, all international expeditions have agreed to place their toilet tents
here. At the other end of the camp the glacial river flows from where we get our water supply. Even
though our expedition now has a novelty that has saved us a lot of physical discomfort – a mobile
water purifier that Norit has provided – we don’t take any chances.
It is deathly quiet in base camp. I can make out the contours of the mighty K2 and a shiver runs down
my spine. Although it is the third time, you never get used to the awe-inspiring sight of this mountain.
At night it inspires the most fear; it makes me feel small. In the light of day and from the safety of
base camp, I have often stared at its flanks and broad shoulders: it doesn’t seem to hide any secrets
from me and I can effortlessly find my way along the route and camps to the summit; both with my
eyes and in my mind. But now in the dark, in the middle of the night, I have lost all my bearings and
with the growing feeling of disappointment that this attempt will also prove unsuccessful; the
mountain appears more cruel than ever. I look under the thin tent cloth above the pile of rocks and
notice that we need to move the toilet today or tomorrow otherwise it will collapse.
Another problem. Because our base camp is moving on the glacier, every structure ends up collapsing,
however strong it may be. Even our base camp will not withstand the long wait, I think to myself
cynically.
My thoughts go back to the end of May, when we arrived. The glacier was still smooth and everything
looked different. It was all covered by a beautiful, thick white layer of snow. Setting up camp was
simple and there was plenty of room. We were the first expedition on the glacier. We were able to
choose the best spot for our base camp at 5000 metres altitude with a fantastic view of K2. We quickly
set up our comfortable base camp – in the beginning of the expedition everything seemed to go well.
After returning to my tent I quickly squeeze into my warm sleeping bag and reflect on that first day of
climbing. The Norit K2 Expedition commenced on 3 June. Roeland, Jelle, Cas and I start fixing the
first 600 metres of fixed ropes on the route to camp 1. We all feel the youthful excitement, this is the
real thing. We are finally allowed to get going, after a long, tiring journey and months of intensive
preparation. Cas leads the way as he looks for the right route, Jelle follows with the rope. I climb in
between to film and Roeland prevents the 200 metre long rope from twisting and snagging. The
conditions may not be perfect, but we are moving along rapidly. During the first day we fix three
lengths of rope with the help of pitons.
We ascend to around 5500 metres, then return feeling tired but fulfilled. Pemba, Gerard and Mark
have not yet joined the expedition. Pemba has asked his lama in Nepal to bless the expedition and has
built a stone alter with Tibetan prayer flags. The expedition’s prayer ceremony will take place on 5
June. Pemba does not want to climb or step onto the mountain before then. Gerard and Mark join
Pemba out of respect for him. Pemba doesn’t mind that we have already started climbing: with all his
experience he understands that you should make the utmost of every good day on the mountain. The
images are very vivid in my mind. And now I can’t sleep any longer. I search for my headlamp, switch
it on, search through my things and dig out my diary, crawl deeper into my sleeping bag and start to
read.
Got up at 4.00 this morning to finish the job of fixing the route to camp 1 at 5800 metres. Yesterday we
fixed three two-hundred-metre lengths of rope and got up to around 5500 metres. When I left my tent
Cas walked by and said: “Wake Jelle up, it’s very quiet in his tent.’ He was still sleeping. After
breakfast Cas, Roeland and I departed, Jelle would catch us up on the glacier. We used red flags to
mark a route . But the route was still unclear, and so we wanted to mark it more clearly today. It’s
very important to mark the route according to a specific line as it very dangerous to walk to the
bottom of the route in too direct a line. You are literally walking through a potential avalanche cone
of snow and ice. If these come crashing down (which they do with monotonous regularity) they will
instantly bury you. It is best to avoid them. Over the past days Cas, Jelle and Roeland have also placed
many flags, but you would not be able to find your way across the glacier in a ‘white-out’, and that is
why we decided to further improve the route. In a total white-out you must be able to walk from flag to
flag; the route to base camp should be clearly marked, especially when returning to base camp after
an exhausting climb. At 5.00 we started preparing the route, and at 6.30 we were standing at the
bottom of the slope up to the route. We put on our equipment and started climbing. Cas leading the
way, followed by Jelle, then me and Roeland as the last climber. Roeland was suffering and when I
asked if he was alright, he said he wasn’t. His throat was hurting and he was short of breadth. I told
him not to risk it all just to be able to climb today. But he wanted to come up, albeit at his own pace.
We climbed up to 5500 metres, where we ended the previous day and put all the gear that we had left
behind in our rucksacks. In addition to this equipment, we were also hauling up new stuff - two tents,
two sets of MSR Reactor stoves, gas tanks, breakfast, warm meals, three lengths of 200 metre rope,
pitons, ice axes and more. Cas tracked the route up, Jelle climbing behind with the first part of the
200-metre rope, I reeling in