The Last Man on the Mountain: The Death of an American Adventurer on K2

by Jennifer Jordan

  Dudley did his best to keep Fritz and George entertained with songs and stories, describing in great detail the yacht cruise he would take them on to tropical paradises, but his audience was often unreceptive and he too would grow quiet again, mesmerized as he watched the sides of the tent flexing and releasing in the wind, which reminded him of the Highland Light when she was at full sail. All the while, he massaged his feet hoping to ward off frostbite; he had felt the first nip a few days before and knew that the only cure at this altitude was warmth and circulation. He had to keep the blood moving through his toes.

  Next to him, Fritz tried to keep focused on the task at hand: climbing the mountain. He wrote a long note for Tony at base, detailing the team’s actions for when the weather cleared, instructing that the porters for the march out should be ordered for arrival in base camp on July 17. If the weather didn’t cooperate, then the team would have to split, with twenty porters and a Sherpa and a sahib (if one was available) leading the first half out on the 17th, and those still on the mountain following toward the end of the month.

  As he wrote, he watched the tent bucking against the wind and worried about the strength of the fabric, knowing that even a small tear would allow the wind to shred the tent in minutes. He thought the constant “bang, bang, bang” of the tent sounded like claps of thunder. Even after years of mountain expeditions, this was the most terrifying storm of his life and he huddled against its fury, waiting for the next gust to rip the tent open and blow them off the mountain. God knows it had happened before on Himalayan peaks. He just wished the god-awful racket would stop. He suddenly understood shell shock and why boys came home from the battlefield with dull eyes that stared off into space. He now knew why they lost their minds; the brain can process only so much noise before it shuts down, and he felt like he was about to lose his mind.

  Nearby, George was also flirting with insanity. All he wanted to do was run—get out of the tent and just start running. He knew it was a crazy notion and that even trying to stand on the steep, wind-blown ice in this furor would mean instant death. The wind felt like a solid wall of force. But if it didn’t end soon, and if he didn’t stretch his legs and get some blood moving through his body, he would become a raving maniac. He could barely feel his toes. They went from painfully cold to numb and he didn’t know which he preferred; at least when they hurt he knew there was blood flowing. Now they were numb, and he knew that meant the blood had gone from freezing to frozen in his veins. If they didn’t thaw soon, the tissue would die. He spent his already sleepless nights trying to massage blood into his toes as the thought of losing them to frostbite terrified him. Compounding his miseries was the Primus stove which leaked gasoline fumes and added dizziness and nausea to his now constant headache.

  “Jesus, what happens if it never stops?” he wrote miserably, as terror and boredom alternated through his thoughts. Camp IV was proving to be his Waterloo. “My attitude about K2,” he wrote, “is to get the hell out of here.”

  Day after day, the storm raged on and tempers reached their limits. On the 28th Dudley and Fritz began arguing about their options, screaming all day at each other over the din, as George huddled nearby scribbling in his journal. Throughout the storm, all three suffered coughing jags, a common malady at high altitude, which left them gasping for air in the tiny tent.

  Below them at Camp II, Jack and Tony were increasingly anxious for their safety. With everyone trapped where they were on the mountain by the 100-mile-per-hour winds, there was nothing to do but worry, write in their journals, and read aloud to each other. Jack read Goethe to Tony and Tony read Tennyson to Jack. Jack also wrote a letter to his father asking for money as the “expedition [is] getting poor.” Fritz had been imploring Jack to write his father, a school principal turned real estate broker, for funds; the coffers were close to empty.

  On June 29 the storm finally subsided enough for the men at Camp IV to stand outside. It was the first time they had done so in eight days and they all stretched carefully. The three men suffered from frostbitten feet and stumbled about as blood started to flow through the frozen tissue. Looking over at George, Dudley could see that they’d lost him from the climb. The storm, boredom, fear, crippling inaction, and painful frostbite had broken the young man’s spirit and strength. Although Fritz thought that all George needed was a good rest in order to resume the climb, Dudley had seen that dead look in men’s eyes on the front lines when they had simply had enough and would rather risk court martial or death than fight one more day. For George the war was over, the expedition finished.

  At Camp II the boredom and inaction also took its toll, especially on Jack. He now endured near-chronic insomnia, migraines, nausea, dizziness, and depression—all classic symptoms of high-altitude sickness. While he continued to organize the ferrying of the team’s supplies up the mountain, none of those loads seem to make it out of camp, in large part because he was unable to lead the Sherpas. This was a bitter defeat, made somehow worse by watching the older, less experienced Wolfe move ever higher on the mountain.

  After the storm, as Jack watched George Sheldon descend to Camp II, he looked up the mountain for a second figure in retreat, expecting to see that Dudley too had had enough. But George was alone and when he reached camp told Jack, Nope, Dudley is feeling great and continuing up, although his feet had also been frostbitten during their eight-day ordeal. Jack and Tony were outraged to hear this. Even though Dudley was doing well, they thought he had no business climbing any higher and, on July 1, they sent a note to Fritz saying as much. Dudley had proven himself adequate to follow on Fritz’s rope, they said, but for him to go any farther would be unnecessarily dangerous.

  The warning again fell on deaf ears. Between Tony’s ill will, Joe’s laziness, and Jack’s inability and—in Fritz’s mind—increasing unwillingness to work higher on the mountain, it sounded like sour grapes to him. When Fritz shared the note with Dudley, Dudley again asked, Who are they to criticize me when they can barely make it out of Camp II?

  In response, Fritz sent a note of his own, beginning, “Dear Jack and Tony, I am very disappointed in you.” He admonished the men to get off their asses and start bringing loads up the mountain. Feeling totally abandoned by Fritz and merely working as his “puppets,” Jack, Tony, Joe, and now George, who had remained at Camp II nursing his swollen feet, railed against the leader and his expedition, which they felt was increasingly a one-man show. But the note did serve its purpose; it nudged them toward a semblance of action. That afternoon they finally prepared themselves and loads for a carry to Camp IV. Unfortunately, weather again intervened and in the morning, when Tony looked out the tent flap at a foot of new snow, he announced that he for one was not moving from his sleeping bag. With insomnia and ennui now chronic problems for Jack, he too was unable to motivate himself and he simply zipped the bag closer around his neck and went back to sleep. Nearby, Joe and George barely stirred.

  A few days later, when George’s feet had recovered enough for him to put weight on them, he left Camp II and made his last trip down to base camp, where he reunited with Chap over almost an entire bottle of Tony’s rum. With the weather clear, Jack and Tony also left Camp II, finally headed up to Camp IV with a load. But as was so often the case, after a late start and slow climbing through deep snow and clinging to frozen ropes, they barely made the equipment dump at Camp III (at 20,700 feet) before they had to turn around in the retreating light. On their descent, Tony slipped in an icy couloir and began falling, gathering speed as he careened out of control down the steep slope. Fortunately, Jack worked quickly and was able to anchor the rope around a rock and stop Tony’s fall before he pulled them both off the mountain.

  Over the next few days, storms and a general enervation once again kept the men at Camp II, with Tony complaining about a pain in his side and Jack plugging his ears to shut out the Sherpas’ “incessant monkey chatter.” One day bled into another and still Jack and Tony remained at Camp II. Soon Joe returned from
base camp with a load of mail and a fresh supply of Sherpas, but Jack and Tony did not leave camp.

  Meanwhile, Fritz, Dudley, and two Sherpas, Tendrup and Kikuli, steadily pushed up the mountain, first tackling one of K2’s most famous obstacles: an 80-foot chimney of rock pioneered the year before by Bill House, who had climbed it without a rope or any fixed protection. This was then the world’s highest known free ascent of a rock wall and to this day remains one of the greatest climbing achievements in history. The notorious House’s Chimney is a steep, narrow gully of crumbling rock and ice. Even after a safety rope was finally anchored to the rock after House’s ascent, because there are almost no footholds, the 1938 and 1939 climbers pulled themselves up with arm strength. As a result, the packs were brought up separately so as to reduce the weight on the rope and the arms. Today there is a steel ladder permanently affixed to the wall.

  After taking most of the day to set the safety rope in the chimney and pull their gear up after them, Fritz, Dudley, and the two Sherpas established Camp V at 22,000 feet on July 1. Once the camp was built, Fritz, Kikuli, and Tendrup continued up, leaving Dudley to help the Sherpas bring supplies up through the chimney. While Fritz was disappointed that only Dudley seemed willing and able to climb the mountain, he was pleased with the strength and experience of his Sherpas. Kikuli was proving to be as talented and loyal as his reputation indicated, and although Tendrup often needed prodding to quicken his pace on the mountain, the younger Sherpa was also a strong and able climber on the demanding slopes.

  Benjamin Franklin Smith, circa 1909. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley, far left, with his siblings and mother, 1900. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley, far left, at the Hackley Hall School, circa 1904. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley, second from right, front row, with Phillips Academy football team, circa 1914. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley, rear right, and Grafton, front right, with two summer employees in BF Smith’s Old Orchard, Maine, tourist business. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley, Mabel, and unidentified friend, circa 1919. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley at Hannes Schneider’s Ski School, Tyrol, Austria, 1933. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Dudley and Alice motoring through Europe in his 1938 Buick Phaeton. (Courtesy of the Dudley F. Rochester and Dudley F. Wolfe Family)

  Fritz H. Wiessner. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Vittorio Sella, Jack Durrance, Fritz Wiessner, and Dudley Wolfe, March 19, 1939. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Cromwell, Wolfe, Sheldon, Wiessner, and Cranmer aboard the Biancamano. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Conte Biancamano Dining Room. (Courtesy of Serge Guyot)

  Cranmer and Susie aboard the Biancamano. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Dudley skiing above Srinagar. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Wiessner, center, choosing porters near Srinagar. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Dudley soaking his feet on the approach march. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Team at Urdukas Camp, back row left to right, Durrance, Trench, Cromwell, Wiessner, Amarnath, Chandra, Cranmer, Wolfe, Sheldon, with sherpas sitting in front. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Cranmer crossing a glacial stream. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Team approaches Concordia with G IV looming on the horizon. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Cranmer gets his first look at K2 from Concordia. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Dudley below Broad Peak on the last day of the trek into base camp. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Base camp. (Courtesy of the Cranmer Collection)

  Kikuli and Durrance at Camp II. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Pasang Kikuli. (Courtesy of the George C. Sheldon Family)

  Route of the 1939 K2 Expedition trek from Srinagar to base camp. (Courtesy of Dee Molenaar)

  K2, the route, the high camps, and Wiessner’s high point, 1939. (Courtesy of Dee Molenaar)

  For the next week, Dudley contented himself alone at Camp V, cooking and cleaning up from his meals, writing in his journal, and endlessly watching the mountain. At any time of day or night, the sharp crack of an avalanche cutting loose from the slopes above would herald the thunderous torrent to come. Luckily, the tents were in a relatively safe alcove so the freight train of snow, rocks, and ice moving upward of 150 miles per hour would rain down all around him but not on him. Once the initial terror of being swept away passed, it was like standing under a waterfall.

  Above him, Fritz, Kikuli, and Tendrup established Camp VI at 23,400 feet on July 5, and the next day they hauled 45-pound loads up to what would become Camp VII at 24,700 feet. Every day they climbed and awaited food, equipment, and fresh men from below, but none came. Frustrated and angry at the “setback” of having to descend rather than continue up toward the summit, Fritz and the Sherpas finally went down to Camp V, where they found Dudley still alone and his supplies running low.

  Fritz couldn’t believe it. Here he was climbing and establishing camps, practically alone, while his foot soldiers lounged at Camp II. Why, he wondered, weren’t they able to push through the exhaustion and the pain of frostbitten feet the way he was? Why couldn’t they embrace the difficulty of the task at hand and just do their jobs? Wasn’t he climbing in deep snow? Wasn’t he suffering headaches and swollen feet? Were they boys or were they men? While wishing he could, Fritz knew he wouldn’t be able to climb the mountain alone and “finish it single-handedly,” so on July 9 he descended to Camp II to demand an explanation from Jack and Tony. Once again leaving Dudley in camp, he took Kikuli and Tendrup with him so that they could carry more loads to the high camps.

  “Lo and behold,” Jack wrote, “Fritz came forth from the hanging fogs of K2…looking somewhat worn since I saw him last 18 days ago.”

  Eighteen days. It is an eternity on a mountain, particularly when you are left without a leader, foundering in boredom and ennui, and not knowing what is happening above. The men greeted each other and Fritz explained in great, enthusiastic detail how he had pushed all the way to Camp VII. While Jack was energized by Fritz’s speech, Tony announced sullenly that the day of departure from base camp was set for July 24 and that he had already called for the porters to come and take them out.

  Fritz couldn’t believe his ears! How dare they make the decision without any consultation with him and Dudley? Tony tried to remind Fritz of the note he had sent Tony at base camp about splitting the team if the weather slowed their progress, but Fritz continued to rage. Tony looked down at his feet and almost petulantly reminded Fritz that it was difficult to consult him when he hadn’t been seen in nearly three weeks.

  Fritz ignored the comment and continued his harangue, assuring them how close he—they—were to victory. While Tony finally agreed to carry a load to Camp IV, he said he would go no further than that on the mountain. But Jack was revitalized by Fritz’s purpose and energy. It felt like a shot in the arm and he was suddenly envisioning himself on the summit; his European climbing boots had at last been delivered to the mountain and, once the weather gave them a window, Fritz assured him, they would go for the top together.

  With Fritz breaking trail through the new snow that had fallen overnight, Jack, Tony, and Joe left Camp II in the morning and headed up the mountain. The going was slow and the rope between Joe and Jack frequently became taut as Joe stopped and gazed off into the distance, as if he were sitting on a park bench watching the clouds roll by. Increasingly incoherent, Joe had clearly reached the end of his climb and perhaps was showing the first signs of cerebral edema. In
all fairness to the man, liaison and transport officers are rarely climbers, and the fact that Fritz needed and expected him to be part of the support team on the mountain said a lot more about Fritz’s management than it did about Joe’s lack of team spirit or climbing acumen.

  Meanwhile, Dudley had been waiting at Camp V for nearly a week. It had begun well, but each day he felt himself growing weaker. He needed to keep moving, but he had to wait for Fritz; this was not a mountain he could climb alone. Every day he sat vigil at the top of House’s Chimney waiting to help with loads as they came up. But none had. Finally, on July 10, two Sherpas, Tendrup and Sonam, appeared from below and started up the chimney, calling to “Wolfe Sahib!” that they had mail for him. Dudley waved to the men with excitement but then watched in alarm as neither took the time to tie into the rope that had been anchored at the top of the chimney and instead started to climb without any protection. The chimney was the steepest section of the mountain; knowing Sonam was young and inexperienced, Dudley immediately felt apprehensive as he watched the two men inch up the narrow rock. Suddenly, Sonam’s feet slipped from under him and Dudley, horrified, watched as he fell twenty feet down the chimney, bounced off the rock and then slid down the steep slope beneath. Powerless to help, Dudley yelled to Kikuli, Sonam’s brother, who was lower on the slope. Kikuli ran as best he could over the uneven rocks and icy slope toward his brother as Sonam rolled and tumbled hundreds of feet down a scree slope. Finally, Kikuli was able to grab onto Sonam at the edge of a cliff before the young man fell to the glacier 6,000 feet below. Dudley tied into the rope and clambered down through the chimney to help and to make sure that Sonam was all right. Badly bruised, Sonam was alive, but seeing blood trickling out of his ear Dudley thought the man might have suffered a concussion. He doubted whether Sonam would be able to climb any further on the mountain. Climbing back to Camp V after the accident, Dudley spent another night alone.