Finding Jim Read online

  Tomorrow I rest while Dan and Phil return to Camp One, spend the night and then on the 13th carry on to Camp Two, at 6900 metres! While they’re going to Two, Steve and I will return to Camp One with our sleeping bags, spend the night, and the next day carry on to Two and then return all the way to base. Meanwhile, Stacy, John and John will carry for the first time to One tomorrow, rest on the 13th, and then return to One to sleep on the 14th. That’s the plan, anyway! Got all that?

  The route is great. There are plenty of positive aspects, probably the most encouraging being that the terrain from Advanced Base Camp to Camp Three will be mostly fixed with a series of ropes. This means that it will be relatively easy to back off the mountain quickly in the event of bad weather or altitude complications. It took me less than one hour to descend from Camp One to Advanced Base Camp this afternoon – a vertical distance of 760 metres.

  June 12. Another glorious day, our fourth in a row. And to top it all off, it’s Dan’s 41st birthday. I got up at 5 a.m. to see Dan, Phil, Stacy, John and John off to Camp Two. Hopefully the weather will hold and Steve and I will get back to Camp One and carry to Two.

  Love Always, Jim X0X0

  June 16, 1993

  Dear Sue,

  Just listened to Blue Rodeo’s “Lost Together” and my mind really focused on you. Your memory brings such a warm feeling into my heart. I wonder how you’re doing. I am anxiously awaiting news from you. I know you’re thinking of me. I can sense that, so I don’t need your letters, but I want them. I know you and I talked of my being a different person when I get back. It seemed inevitable, after time spent in such a place, on such a mountain. It still does, though how I’ll be affected is not clear. Whether I’ll want to return to such high and desperate mountains is certainly not a given. I have been exploring the value of this trip in my mind, the nature of the climbing, the people I’m here with and the quality of the experience. The ledger is still being examined. Probably the real outcome won’t be fully analyzed until some time after, maybe years.

  On Friday I will have been gone four weeks. I wonder if we dictate our own lives by the way we reach for goals or new directions. I think that in many ways we do, but that reshaping requires courage. I’m searching for some of that courage. It’s not always easy or comfortable, and in many ways ease and comfort are precisely what we are seeking in life.

  Dan is doing great. He focuses incredibly well and has his sights set on the top. I think these forced rest days affect him more than me. We’ve talked about patience, and maybe K2 is one of his learning experiences. K2 will require patience: patience to slowly achieve altitude given the nature of the weather and the route conditions. Eventually, however, there will come a time for a bold step toward the summit. Too soon and the margin of safety dwindles; too late and the opportunity is gone for the season. We talk about it a lot.

  It’s now a cool June 18th at 7 in the morning. I’m under a mountain of down trying to keep my fingers warm enough to write this. Yesterday Dan and I did a carry to Camp One from Base Camp. It was a physically tough day in marginal weather and the rest of the team decided not to go. With all of the new snow we were trail-breaking, which added 3 hours to our previous times. I feel good this morning, though, so I guess we are getting acclimatized. Dan and I are now at least one carry ahead of the rest of the team. It’s the Dan Culver School of Impatience and Motivation. I’ve been around it before and will be careful, as the stakes get higher, not to be drawn into the whirlwind. We talk about it and recognize our different personality traits. In many ways we complement each other; it’s simply a matter of the correct personality dominating at the right time. Our cook, Gullam, has the best advice: “Going slowly. K2 is not going anywhere, not to China, not to India, you going slowly.” Sound advice.

  It’s starting to warm up now and my fingers are able to hold the pen continuously.

  K2 Base Camp is becoming a real international show. There is a Dutch team, a Slovenian team, a Swedish team and our team: all this activity, drama, intrigue. The Dutch team brought a satellite communications system. It’s an amazing deal. A small dish, about 120 cm in diameter, automatically tracks a satellite when the system is engaged. We can call home anytime we want to, but it is not private and costs $25 a minute. Dr. John phoned his wife Carol in Calgary today, who wasn’t expecting the call. He said it was tough because he has semi-successfully taken that component of his life (wife and one-year-old son) and placed it in the back of his mind. His call, one minute and 58 seconds, only served to open the emotions. I don’t intend to use the phone unless I summit or if something goes badly wrong with our team.

  Love Always, Jim.

  June 22, 1993

  Dear Sue,

  Dan, Phil and I got off the mountain last night after pushing our high point to Camp Three, at 7500 metres. It was a long, hard day and I struggled more than Dan and Phil, but it’s just a matter of acclimatization. It is the most technically serious part of the climb, but with the strong work of the Slovenians and the gaps filled in by our team and now the Dutch down below, there are fixed ropes everywhere and so escape is fast. Yesterday we descended in two hours and 45 minutes. Granted we had good weather, but even in worse weather I know we could descend quickly. From Camp Three to the top of K2 is a walk, except for a few hundred metres on summit day. Our biggest concern, other than lack of oxygen, is finding the route in poor weather. We’ve brought 250 wands to mark the way.

  I thought for sure we’d receive mail today as the other Canadian team arrived, but no luck. Tough mail service around here. Though I’d love to hear from you, I know in my heart you’re with me up here. Your warmth gets me through the long nights and your love keeps me focused when the going gets toughest.

  Love Always, Jim.

  P.S. The porters say the weather on June 21 dictates the type of weather for the summer. This year … hot and sunny, YES!

  June 24, 1993

  Dearest Sue,

  It looks like a mid-winter storm in Whistler out there, the winds howling and the snow continuing to fall. Weather changes are wild and dramatic here. All is well, our team is comfortably secure in Base Camp – warm, well read and certainly well fed!

  No big news since my last letter, but this one won’t get away for a few days, so I doubt you’ll see it before the 20th of July. The only real news today was that Stacy picked the first summit team: Phil, Dan and me. This is great news in many ways. First, it’s a strong team – safety in strength and experience. Second, it would be great to summit with these guys; they’re going very well and I have the strongest bonds with them.

  There’s plenty of work ahead, lots of unknowns, and these are obstacles we’ll have to deal with once the storm breaks. We have to sleep at Camp Three and then move to establish Camp Four at 7900 metres, sleep there and then hope we’re feeling up to going another 600 metres to the top. We’re a ways from the summit, but there’s a good feeling among us.

  Today we established that we’ll carry a Gamow bag to Camp Three, the bag we’re sharing with the Swedish team. It’s a pressure contraption designed to effectively lower the altitude within the bag. It’s an emergency deal. If a climber is feeling the effects of altitude, he or she can crawl inside and the pressure is changed with the use of a pump. This bag can change the altitude at Camp Three from that of 7500 metres to something more like 4000 metres. Apparently the history of these bags is startling, many reversals of cerebral edema and other high altitude illnesses. One more safety feature in our favour.

  Now it’s the 25th of June and nothing has changed from yesterday. The snow continues to fall steadily and we have been reduced to reading and eating machines. I suppose there have been a few hours of sleep thrown in as well.

  I just finished reading Leaven of Malice by Robertson Davies, the second of his Salterton Trilogy. The books are going fast; my selection will be done soon. Fortunately, there are lots of books about camp that I am anxious to read if the mountain doesn’t want us on its slopes.

/>   It’s a funny thing, but until these past couple of days there has been no opportunity to really relax and let my mind drift. These trips are often ripe with such chances, but this one has been paced very quickly and with so many new experiences invading my brain, and the many chores that consume our days, there has been little chance of a clean slate in my head to allow new or developing thoughts to grow. So, despite my desire to get on with the task at hand, learning to enjoy and grow with this idle time is my new, tough assignment. The Tao of Pooh talks about it, they sang about it in The Life of Brian, and it’s up to me to let life’s flow of energy work for me instead of trying to force it in some direction it doesn’t want to go. Easy to say, tough to live.

  June 26th. The weather has shifted and the skies have cleared. Lots of snow from the past few days is sloughing off the steep mountain slopes surrounding us. As the day’s heat builds, we’ll certainly see an increase in avalanche activity from the steep, rocky slopes. Our latest plan is for Phil, Dan and I to leave soon, probably at 2 a.m. tomorrow, and make an attempt on the summit. That would take four days up and two days down, so our weather window needs to be pretty long. We’ll see how it goes. We’ll also have to feel comfortable sleeping at Camp Three and then at Camp Four at 7900 metres. Lots of questions to be answered and the only way is to make the move.

  I’m a bit nervous, only about the altitude, and I will be doing a good job of listening to my body up there. The altitude will affect our decision-making abilities, and decision making is crucial at this stage of the climb. It will take an incredible mental and physical push to reach the summit, but we don’t want to step over the line just to summit K2. I feel fit and rested, however, so we’ll go and check it out. There is still lots of time, though it would be fantastic to have it all behind us quickly. We’re all packing and deciding what we can do without, how to lighten our loads without endangering our lives. There is a hesitant buzz of excitement, our first summit bid and everyone is feeling the drama. The four who aren’t on the first summit team – Stacy, John, John and Steve – will be following behind Dan, Phil and I, supporting us from one or two camps below. Here we go.

  Well, Sue, my stomach is full of butterflies but they’ll calm down once I’m on the hill. I’ll use you to help me make my decisions; you’re a big part of my future. If we get a big weather window, who knows how it will all work out. I am anxious to hold you and to know your sweet smile again in my life. Take care of yourself, Sue, and I’ll be seeing y’all soon.

  Love Always,

  Jim X0X0X0X0X0

  June 28, 1993

  Dearest Sue,

  I’m sitting in my tent in Base Camp listening to “Unplugged” by Eric Clapton. Bonnie Raitt will come on soon with “Let’s Give Them Something To Talk About.” It reminds me of Rogers Pass and the way you and I fell in love. My memories of time spent with you carry me these days on K2.

  The weather is still not cooperating. We had such an excellent start, but the momentum has died and the energy will have to be rekindled when the time is right. K2 is a waiting game.

  It’s now after dinner, the light is fading and I’m huddled under my mound of down, writing. The weather is showing some signs of improvement. In the past couple of hours, the wind screaming across K2’s summit has stalled and the skies are trying to change from obscured to clear. We’ll be up at 1 a.m. to take a look and make a decision about whether this is an appropriate window for a summit attempt. Dan is anxious to the point of being fidgety, but patience is the name of the game. We’ll see how we handle the thin air when the time is right. Not before.

  K2 has provided some great personal insights for me. I don’t think it is because I’m simply away and have time for thought, though significant time away from the pleasantries of Western Canada is something that allows thought processes to jell. I really feel that K2 itself, the nature of the climbing and the seriousness of the mountain, play a huge part in how my thoughts are going. For the past 17 years, mountains have played an increasing role in my identity and my persona. I think you’ve clearly seen that in the past year. K2 and this trip and my time with you in the past are changing my perspectives. It’s a difficult thing to describe, particularly since it’s not clear in my own head, but I sense it is in the process of focusing in my thoughts. I’ll keep you posted.

  So, my love, it’s time I turned in so the 1 a.m. alarm doesn’t find me too groggy. If tomorrow is yet another rest day, I’ll add to this; if not I’ll be off to Camp Two.

  Love Always,

  Jim

  July 2, 1993

  Dearest Sue,

  Happy Canada Day. I came off the mountain yesterday after a three-day stint into unsettled weather. I wish I could tell you our schedule here for K2, but it all depends on the weather. We’ve been waiting now since June 21st for our “break” for the summit. Patience is a learned virtue and we are all learning; K2 insists on it. There is some hope for tomorrow. The Swedish team down the glacier gets weather reports from the Swedish Meteorological Service via some elaborate set-up, and they are calling for a shift tonight and a four-day window of weather. We’ll see.

  My last trip up the mountain revealed some new insights into both myself and the challenges of K2. Dan, Phil and I left at 2 a.m. on the 29th and pushed right through to Camp Two at 6700 metres. We arrived at 3 p.m. after a long and tiring day. The next day we were to go to Camp Three to sleep, but after about 150 metres, I knew I couldn’t do it. I turned around, knowing that Dan and Phil could be going to the top. Lots of thoughts ran through my head, but the bottom line was that I wasn’t acclimatized and going on would have been dangerous. It was one of those threshold things and now that I’ve passed it and dealt with it, the decisions in the future should be easier and clearer.

  Anyway, I returned to Camp Two by myself and worked there on the camp and spent another, much better night, which will help with acclimatization. Dan and Phil ended up turning around too, because of poor weather. Back in Base Camp, Doctor John has me on a prophylactic course of Diamox now to help with the acclimatization process. Stacy, John, John and Steve have been using it with success. Dan, Phil and I had a different philosophy. But now, for me, philosophy is out the window and “better living through chemistry” is in! I’m the control in the Diamox experiment, so I’ll keep you posted after my next shot at Camp Three, and beyond.

  We’re doing well and have established many safeguards: Gamow bag, fixed lines from BC to Camp Three, the latest high altitude drugs, well stocked camps in terms of food and fuel, three-person teams, etc. All of us are keen on returning home, me most of all. I sometimes wonder if I’ve got the guts to climb K2. I still don’t know how close to the line one has to wander, but I feel I may not have the ability to wander too close. You know me. I’m your basic wimp-chicken. Things will have to be going very well for me to reach the top.

  I wonder if you’ll recognize me when I get home. I’m certainly not losing any weight, probably gaining with all of these days in Base Camp, and my body is changing from biceps to belly. My climbing goals are shifting a bit, too. 5.12 on rock is the next plan.

  It’s dinnertime. Who knows, maybe we’ll wake up at 1 a.m. and the Swedish report will have been right and the push will be on. The sooner we climb this great mountain and I can fly home to your arms the better. I’ve been gone six weeks now and we’re halfway at worst. I am hopeful for August 1st, but I’ll let you know somehow once the dates become more fixed and the summit is a done deal.

  Love Always,

  Jim X0X0

  Back in Vancouver, I checked the mail every day and read Jim’s letters over and over, especially before I went to bed. Some nights I went to sleep dreaming of marrying my brave, confident love, and other nights, especially as he neared the summit, I could only think of running away from him as fast as possible.

  By July 12, 1993, Jim had been gone for almost two months. Rays of mid-morning summer sun plunged through the windows of my apartment. Humming to myself, I let a cool ocean
breeze in through the balcony door. What to do today? A jog along the seawall? A bike ride? I was making the bed when the phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Sue. It’s me, Patti.” Her voice trailed off. It was Dan’s wife.

  “Oh hi, Patti, how are you?” I pinned the phone to my shoulder with my cheek and flicked the sheet.

  “Sue, I have bad news. Dan is dead.”

  “No!” I shouted and dropped the sheet. What about Jim? Where’s Jim? But I was too scared of the answer to ask.

  Patti sighed. “Yes, he is.”

  “No!” I yelled again and gripped the phone with both hands.

  “Jim called last night. The Dutch team let him use their satellite phone. Jim is fine. Dan fell on the way down. They couldn’t find his body.” Patti spoke methodically.

  I slumped to the bed in relief. Jim was not dead. “Oh, Patti. Is there anything I can do?” The phone shifted in my sweaty palm.

  “No, thank you, honey.”

  “Is anyone with you?”

  “Ryan is here. My brother is coming.” Ryan is her 13-year-old son from her first marriage.

  “Oh, Patti, I am so sorry.”

  “Yes.”

  We said goodbye, and I sat there paralyzed and vibrating internally all at once, still clinging to the phone. The news of Dan’s death ricocheted through my body. My arm felt like cement when I lifted the receiver to call my father.

  “Hullo?”

  “Hi, Dad. It’s me, Sue,” I wavered.

  “Hi, Sue. What’s wrong?”

  “Dan is dead. He fell.” I fingered my bottom lip.

  “Oh dear, oh, Sue. Is Jim okay?”