OUR VERTICAL CHALLENGE ON THE TRANGO TOWERS

An adventure right from the beginning. I couldn’t help but start this story differently. Often, the first days of travel are all a rush when you’re getting ready to leave for a mountaineering expedition in an area like Pakistan. And sometimes you’re moving so fast that you forget a few details, critical ones.

So here we are at the check-in for our flight, with Giacomo Mauri (from now on Jack, as everyone calls him) stopped because of an error on his visa: the date of birth on his identity document doesn’t match the one in his passport. An oversight that could have cost us our entry visa, but in the end we manage to board ... with a “pending” label on our luggage, indicating that the bags will be sent back if, once we land in Islamabad, they don’t let us into the country. That would be a disaster! We keep repeating this over and over for the entire duration of the flight. A constant state of anxiety that dissolves only when we land in Islamabad and easily pass through passport control and find ourselves catapulted into another reality.

Ghulam, from the local Blue Sky agency, is there to meet us, among the men, women, and children patiently waiting. He’s our local contact, with whom we spend the first few days visiting the city and organizing the logistics for the next legs of our trip. First the domestic flight to Skardu, a small town in northern Pakistan where every expedition interested in the Karakorum mountains passes through. So we do too, as we aim for the vertical and elegant Trango Towers. Next is the ascent by jeep to Askole, the last human outpost before we start the long journey on foot toward our final destination.

But not everything goes according to plan. In fact, word soon arrives that our flight has been cancelled. Our plans are ruined — what do we do now? “Inshallah,” our friend reassures us. We get in the car and follow the famous Karakoram Highway for two days. An epic journey that immerses us in the true spirit of Pakistan as we experience chaotic roads, wild but orderly traffic, and constant horns. We also face a landslide on the road, but in the end we reach Skardu, where Safder, our guide, patiently awaits us.

Outside the window, the sun is just about to rise, but in our hotel room we’re already anxious. There’s no time to rest; we’re only at the beginning, and the real journey has yet to begin. Having prepared the supplies and arranged all the gear, we get back in the jeeps, this time headed for Askole. There are a thousand unforeseen events here too. At a certain point a huge landslide blocks our road, and our traveling companions immediately set to work to clear it, armed with shovels. In the meantime, we relax in the sun and meet a group of Chinese, also headed to the Trango Towers.

In Askole we arrange the final details. Tomorrow we’ll start walking. Soon we’re all sitting in the mess tent, and we really start to get to know our Pakistani friends. We’ll spend the next few weeks together. They’ll manage the base camp and take care of us when we’re not on the wall. Several times on our journey we cross paths with our Chinese friends, and we get to know them better too. From the way they speak and from the three photographers following them, they seem to be very strong, and, like us, they aim to repeat Eternal Flame, one of the most iconic routes on the Trango Towers.

Developed in 1989 by Kurt Albert, Wolfgang Güllich, Christof Stiegler, and Milan Sykora, it runs along the south face of the Nameless Tower for a length of approximately 1,000 meters, including the first 10 pitches shared with the Slovenian route. We’re talking about an iconic route that has rewritten the concept of difficulty on high-elevation big walls. It’s a dream that becomes even more real when the Chinese team tells us the weather will be good for a week.

A one-week window — we couldn’t let it slip away! So Jack and I review our plans. The idea was to be dropped off as close as possible to the wall, with enough gear and food to be able to stay on the wall for at least four or five days, and in the meantime the porters would go and prepare the base camp near the Shipton Spire, the location of a possible second objective of our expedition. The idea was to simply attack Eternal Flame directly, without acclimatization. We would try to manage the altitude by climbing very slowly, so as not to feel the vertical gain. But, as we were about to learn, it’s always good not to make too precise of plans in the Karakorum.

As we climb the last leaps that would take us toward the wall, we hear cries and see Haqan, our cook, running toward us at full speed. He’s agitated. “Many donkeys are injured. One dead,” he shouts at us. We don’t understand right away and try to calm him down. When he regains consciousness, he explains to us that the donkeys are unable to climb up to the Shipton base camp and that many have injured their hooves, and there’s nothing more that can be done for one: it fell into a crevasse along with some of our camp equipment (various tents, mats, food, etc.). OK, we have to change plans.

Feeling sorry about both the animal and material losses, we reorganize and decide to set up base camp in an area that’s more convenient, practical, and easily accessible for the animals, closer to the Trango Towers but farther away from Shipton. After changing all our plans, we receive the weather update via satellite and realize that the first two days won’t be great. We therefore decide to postpone our attempt a bit, using these days to acclimatize slightly. It’s the right thing to do after all these unforeseen events.

Trusting in the lengthy weather window, we climb back up to the base of the wall, where we stop to bivouac.

But things don’t look good when we wake up — as soon as we stick our noses out of the tent, we find ourselves in the clouds and rain. We wait patiently in the tent, watching the clouds dance lightly under the gusts of wind and our wall disappear and merge with the sky.
After a couple of hours, a slight clearing makes us optimistic, so we decide to give it a try. We climb quickly at first, then increasingly slowly. We’re almost to the end of the long rockslide gully that connects the base camp to the start of the route when the sun starts to show itself ... fortune favors the bold, but what a shambles.

Finally, we’re at the actual start of the wall, the vertical one. I take off my down jacket, put on my shoes, and chalk up. Jack leaves the honor of the first pitch to me. I couldn’t have hoped for better! We started late, it’s just stopped raining, and it’s hot. We find the second and third pitches wet, but how amazing it is to climb here, on this rock.

Along the first pitches of the Slovenian route, we find fixed pro left by an American team that preceded us, and, on the pitches with the greatest risk of falling, we give in to the temptation and use it as additional protection. The climb continues the rest of the day, always exciting, until around 6 p.m. when we reach a terrace where we find a small tent already set up. We’re certain that it belongs to the Americans, and knowing that they’re at base camp, we don’t hesitate; within a few seconds we’re already sprawled out, enjoying a well-deserved rest.

The dawn of the second day of climbing welcomes us while we’re still asleep … and we continue to sleep. Our plans were to ease into the day. Breakfast, a few photos, and then off we go, around 9. Of course, today everything seems different. Now that we’ve started the real route, we’ve also begun to be slowed down by the altitude, and the difficulties are no joke either. Between wet rock, technical sequences, and a chimney transformed into an ice waterfall, we have a lot to do.

In total we climb 10 pitches, reaching the snow ledge when the last light of the day has already given way to the darkness of the night. Finally, after a day that seemed never-ending, we can lean our backs against the wall and let ourselves be lulled by the night, knowing that we’ll have a whole day of rest before tackling the last 200 vertical meters to the top. A conviction that makes us fall asleep with a smile … and wake up with terror in our eyes.

Going to bed without eating enough and almost without drinking leaves us like two corpses in the morning. Feeling feverish, with no appetite, exhausted. We decide to stay calm and wait through the rest day. A good sleep and we’ll be fit to complete the climb … a very long day. Infernal heat inside the tent. The continuous work of melting snow to make water, and the effort of drinking to wash down the rehydration salts. But the situation doesn’t improve. We are both aware that if it goes on like this, there will be no attempt — on the contrary. We’ll need to hurry down before we run out of strength entirely. At dinner we force down some pasta and then go back to bed, hoping for a miracle in the night. I think Jack is a bit better off than I am. After a few hours I have my head outside the tent, gasping for air, throwing up my dinner. All night. Then in the morning, the worst sight we could imagine: a heavy snowfall envelops us.

Without thinking twice, we collect our things and begin the long series of rappels that will take us back to the foot of the wall. How hard it is to do anything! Wet ropes, strange chafing, and a shattered body. A descent that seems eternal and difficult, lasting a long time. In the end we find ourselves back among our Pakistani friends, who take care of us at base camp.

Every day, Jack and I sit on a boulder, staring at the Tower as it rises vertically upward. By now we know every inch of its rock. Recovery isn’t going well at all and takes a lot of patience, but we’ve run out of it. With each passing day, there’s less possibility of doing something beautiful. So we start to make alternative plans, but until we’re strong enough and there’s a window of at least two or three days, there’s little hope of doing anything interesting. We’ve already decided to try everything to repeat Eternal Flame.
So the days pass and the waiting becomes annoying. Then comes the message that we’ve been waiting for: a nice long window is coming. It will be our last opportunity to climb Eternal Flame.

On the day of the climb, the heavens are smiling on us, Jack and I feel good, we’re motivated, and we have enough time to succeed. So we start the usual pre-departure preparations again. But this time as well, after a great first day of climbing, we’re in the clouds again. Again we wait in the tent until the sky clears. Climbing up high and reaching the snow ledge will be impossible, but we still decide to reclimb the first pitches and then jumar the next day on the fixed ropes left on the wall by the Chinese mountaineers. In the end, we’re having fun and the climb is beautiful.

We climb one hold at a time, one pitch at a time, through clear spells and snowstorms. Today I would struggle to remember a day of real sunshine, even if I concentrated. Apart from this, taking advantage of the moments of calm, in two days we finally reach the snow ledge. Here we are again, with our little tent in place and our minds already focused on the final difficulties. Our bodies and minds are in great shape; we can’t ask for anything better. Maybe just a clearing so we can enjoy the last pitches in peace.

The alarm rings very early the next morning, and I unzip the tent with a hint of disappointment. Disappointment is immediately transformed into surprise by the incredible day that awaits us outside! It’s extremely cold, but the sky is as clear as I’ve seen it since the first day of the expedition.

With those temperatures we have no desire to start climbing, but in fact at 6 I’m already aid climbing on the first two pitches. After these, the day takes a turn that’s nothing short of magnificent. The first sun of the day comes to warm us up, the rock is nice and dry, and the pitches incredibly beautiful. At 1 p.m. we’re at the end of the hardest pitches and are already anticipating the summit.

Without thinking too much about the breaks, we put on our shoes and prepare for the last easy mixed pitches. Jack starts just as it begins to snow … oh well. We complete the pitches quickly, and within a few hours we’re finally at the top. It’s snowing and we’re surrounded by clouds. We can’t see anything at all, but how amazing. We’ve climbed Trango Tower repeating Eternal Flame!

We hug each other, take some photos, and rest for a couple of minutes. Then Jack descends to the last rest point and starts preparing the first rappel, so I’m left alone for a few moments in absolute silence. Only the wind fills my ears, and an incredible emotion inside me quickly turns into uncontrollable crying. This has never happened to me before, but I don’t have too much time to get lost in thought. The climb is only halfway finished; we have to get down. So I join Jack, and soon we’re ready to lower ourselves into the void while the summit is immersed in fog again. Now it’s also a bit ours.