Moments to remember

I spent two whole months in Pakistan this last summer. I was there to film, but I was also planning on climbing a few mountains, and while I was there it just so happened that there were a few moments  that I’m going to remember for the rest of my life! Just like snapshots, they’re stored away in my memory.

Heading out alone on a starry night (June 29th, 2019) to the foot of the rock face on Geshot Peak, I was surrounded by a deep silence. I had 50 meters to go before I reached the summit of Geshot Peak, (6,200m) a peak that has never been climbed before. My rapid pulse began thumping in my ears, my heart was in my throat - I finally began the long and lonely descent.

Time travel to a month later, I find myself at the Baltoro Glacier in the Karakoram range. We’re on the Black Tooth, a peak about 6,200m above sea level, our second bivouac in the face. The rock beneath us is hard, but what an incredible sky! The Milky Way, the silhouette of the surrounding Karakoram range. This would be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, if only we weren’t so exposed here. Truly impressive!

The previous day: we’re on this 55-60° sloping ice face – moving unroped. Tired, uncertain. The ice is poor, every tool placement has to be perfect. Positioning our crampons as accurately as possible. Whatever you do, just don’t slip! Completely focused, in the moment. Hoping we don’t get a cramp... Then, sweet relief as we climb onto the ridge.

Summit day: we reach the highest point of the Black Tooth around noon. There’s no euphoria on reaching the summit, we’re far too tired for that. It’s snowing, and visibility is dreadful - we have to get off this mountain. My eyes follow Martin as he abseils down into the depths, into the great white nothing. The fog is so thick that we can’t see much at all. Are we still going the right way? Suddenly, for just one minute, the fog clears. We see the huge serac beneath us, we’re in luck, we're going the right way.

On the descent, darkness is quickly falling. Suddenly, I feel a strong tug on my harness. Shocked, I peer down at Martin, a few meters below me. He looks back at me with big, stunned eyes. The piton he’d driven in had popped out, just as he was about to start abseiling! We both would have fallen to our deaths if he hadn't realized this. We were saved by a fraction of a second. “Bloody hell, Martin, that was close! We’ve got to stay focused!” I say, knowing full well he’s thinking exactly the same thing.

We arrive at base camp at 1:30 a.m. in the morning. It’s like I’ve been in a trance these past few hours, but we made it. An enormous sense of relief spreads through our bodies. We really did it!