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Belaying

The following article is reproduced from the 2016 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. Author: Ron Funderburke.

Climbers have been belaying for as long as they’ve been using ropes. We use some type of belay in almost every roped climbing context—it is the essential skill that unites all disciplines. It’s interesting, therefore, to see how little agreement there is about the “best” belay techniques, how distracting our assertions about belaying tend to be, and how rigidly dogmatic we can be about a task that many understand so imperfectly.

This dogmatic approach persists even though using a rope to belay something valuable—whether a load of cargo on a ship or a climber on a cliff—has always been organized by three fundamental principles:

  • There should be a brake hand on the rope at all times.

  • Any time the brake hand slides along the rope, the rope should be in the brake position.

  • The hands and limbs should be positioned according to their natural strength.

These are the principles that we should use to evaluate belaying, yet our discussion of “good” or “bad” belaying often revolves around a specific biomechanical sequence. It’s time to abandon this way of talking and thinking about belaying. It’s misleading, reductive, and provokes more arguments that it solves.

Meanwhile, a cursory perusal of any edition of Accidents reveals there are severe consequences for imprecise understanding of belaying. In recent years, 5 to 10 percent of all incidents reported have involved inadequate belays.

This edition of Know the Ropes will equip readers with language and principles that unify all belay contexts. Additionally, for those who are new to belaying, those who want to learn to belay in different contexts, or those who aren’t sure about their current technique, this article will provide some suggestions for how to do so in a fundamentally sound way.

THE ORIGINS OF BELAYING PRINCIPLES

The earliest belayers used the most primitive technique: The belayer held the rope tightly and did not let go under any circumstance. Belayers had to be very strong, and the rope had to be kept very tight. And the brake hand had to be on the rope at all times. Even the strongest belayers and the lightest climbers wouldn’t stand a chance without this fundamental principle. 

The addition of friction to the belay system allowed smaller belayers to secure bigger climbers. Wrapping the rope around features in mountain terrain or the belayer’s body provided enough friction to hold larger loads. 

Friction also introduced two new realities to belaying. First, friction could be increased and decreased, creating a “belay cycle.” Increased friction is valuable when holding a load; decreased friction is valuable when trying to move rope through the system.

The second new reality was that friction allowed the belayer to relax a little. In the more primitive form of belaying, without friction, the belayer’s hand-over-hand technique maintained a constant grip on the rope. By contrast, a belay system with friction allows the belayer to relax [their] grip at some points in the cycle, which, naturally, deprioritizes vigilance.

These changes led to the second fundamental principle of belaying: Since every belay cycle has a point of high friction, it makes sense to spend as much time in that position as possible. Therefore, whenever the brake hand slides along the rope, the rope should be in the brake position. If a climber falls while the brake hand is sliding on the rope, it obviously will be easier and quicker to arrest the fall if the rope is already in the brake position.

Since the addition of friction to the system, every major evolution in belaying has involved some sort of technology. First came the carabiner, which not only allowed belayers to augment their friction belays but also invited the use of hitches, tied to carabiners, as belay tools. The most effective of these was the Munter hitch. 

belaying on a Munter hitch; traditional belaying

The Munter hitch offered a braking position that was the same as the pulling position, so the belay cycle was easy to teach and learn. It soon became the predominant belay technique in all disciplines. (Before the advent of reliable protection, dynamic belays, and nylon ropes, belaying was primarily the duty of the leader. A second might belay the leader, but the leader was not expected to fall, nor was it widely expected that a leader fall could be caught.) The Munter hitch, belaying a second from above, conforms naturally to the third fundamental principle of belaying: It positions the hands, limbs, and body according to their natural strength. It keeps the belay comfortable and strong throughout the belay cycle, and while taking rope in, catching falls, holding weight, and lowering.

THE MODERN ERA

An era ago, these fundamental principles were not really in dispute. They applied to body belays (hip belays, butt belays, shoulder belays, boot-axe belays, etc.), terrain belays (belays over horns, boulders, and ridgelines), and belays on carabiners (Munter hitch). However, by the Second World War, climbers began to use nylon ropes and other equipment that could handle the forces of leader falls. Moreover, climbing clubs, schools, and enthusiasts began to experiment with redirecting the climbing rope through a top anchor, so that belaying on the ground, for both the leader and follower, became much more common. Pushing the limits of difficulty also became more common— leading to more falling.

Belayers around the world also began to experiment with new belay tools that redirected the braking position 180 degrees—the most common early example was the Sticht plate, but the same principle applies to today’s tube-style devices. Instead of the brake strand of rope running in the same direction as the loaded strand (the climber’s strand), the belayer had to hold the brake strand in the opposite direction.

For many years, instructors and textbooks explained how to use these new manual belay devices (MBDs) by defaulting to the hand and body positions that had become entrenched from the use of the Munter hitch and the hip belay. The most common of these was the hand-up (supinated) brake-hand position on the rope. 

The stronger, more comfortable technique with MBDs is a hand-down (pronated) position with the brake hand, and newer texts and instructors often adopted this technique, in order to connect the new technology with the fundamental principles of belay. But the resulting cacophony—with belay instruction varying wildly—gave students and climbers the impression that belaying did not have any governing principles. 

We climbers have our sectarian instincts, and climbers today are as likely to argue the relative merits of various belay techniques as they are to argue about the merits of sport climbing and trad climbing, alpine style and expedition style. The goal of this article is to redirect all belayers’ attention to two indisputable truths: 

  • Belaying happens in many, many different contexts. 

  • Belaying in every context is most effective when it is based on the three fundamental principles, which long preceded any arguments we are currently having. 

THE CONTEXTS OF BELAYING

Even though we generally learn to belay in a fairly simple context (top-roping), belaying is much more diverse than what happens in an Intro to Climbing class. The most appropriate belay techniques can vary widely depending on the setting (gym, multi-pitch crag, alpine climb, etc.) and whether the climber is leading or following. Most generally, belaying happens in three different ways, using different techniques and tools for each: friction belays, counterweight belays, and direct belays. 

FRICTION BELAYS

In a friction belay, the rope runs directly between the belayer and climber, and there might not be any anchor. The potential holding power of the belay is relative to the amount of friction one can generate, the strength of the belayer’s grip, and the resilience of the object providing friction. 

Friction belays are most common in mountaineering (though there are other contexts where they provide efficient and prudent options). In the mountains, there usually are long stretches of terrain where a full anchor is not necessary and building and deconstructing anchors might dangerously delay the climbers. 

Most commonly, the belayer will select a feature of the terrain to belay or use [their] body to create friction. The belay stance must replace the security that an anchor might have provided, whether by bracing one’s feet, belaying over the top of a ridgeline, or another method. Any terrain features used to provide friction or a stance must be carefully inspected to ensure they are solid and won’t create a rockfall hazard. 

COUNTERWEIGHT BELAYS

Whether climbing single-pitch routes or belaying the leader on a multi-pitch climb, these are the most commonly used belay techniques. The climbing rope is redirected through a top anchor or a leader’s top piece of protection, and the belayer provides a counterweight, coupled with effective belay technique and tools, to hold or lower the climber or catch a fall. 

Even though there are plenty of exceptions, the vast majority of American climbing happens in a single-pitch setting, on a climb that is less than 30 meters tall. The belayers and climbers generally are comparably sized, and the belayer is comfortably situated on the ground. Belaying this way provides a more social atmosphere, allowing for banter, camaraderie, and coaching. That’s why climbing gyms, climbing programs, and most casual outings gravitate toward this belay context. 

However, the ease and comfort of single-pitch counterweight belays do not liberate the belayer from serious responsibilities. Thankfully, there are several different biomechanical sequences for belaying a top-rope that fall under the halo of the three fundamental principles. Each of the three techniques outlined below comes with a set of pros and cons that makes it the preferred methods of certain groups of climbers, instructors, and programs. 

PBUS

The top-roping belay technique commonly known as PBUS resonates with climbing instructors and mentors because it emphasizes the fundamental principles so distinctly. The hand transition is securely in the braking position, and it’s hard to imagine the belayer losing control if the climber were to fall while the hand was sliding. Plus, the ergonomics of the technique keep the wrist and grip pronated.

PBUS is most effective when a top-roper is moving slowly and hanging frequently. When the climber moves quickly and proficiently, a strict adherence to this technique often causes the belay setup to collapse, which could allow the belay carabiner to cross-load. It’s also harder to move slack quickly enough to keep up with a proficient climber. 

belaying; PBUS method of belaying

HAND OVER HAND

If the belayer alternates brake hands, [they are] able to move slack through the belay cycle more quickly than with PBUS. As long as the brake hands are alternating in the braking position, this technique abides by the fundamental principles of belay, and it is a preferred technique for experienced belayers and for top-ropers who move quickly. 

Many instructors and mentors dislike this technique because it allows the belayer to keep “a” brake hand on at all times, instead of keeping “the” brake hand on at all times. As a result, this technique is usually relegated to more experienced teams.

belayer; Hand over hand belaying

SHUFFLE

The shuffle technique is most applicable when using an assisted-braking device (ABD) to belay, but it can be used with manual devices by a very experienced belayer (read more about assisted-braking devices). It requires the belayer to have a refined sense of how to grip the rope with varying degrees of intensity, all without relinquishing the readiness to brake. A loosely gripped brake hand can shuffle along the brake strand, up or down, without letting go. A tightly gripped brake hand can be used to catch falls.

Many belayers find this technique unsettling because they are attached to the idea that a relentlessly strong grip on the brake strand is symbolic of the belayer’s commitment. With a proficient belayer, however, the shuffle technique is not only fundamentally sound, it also can be a smooth and reliable way to belay, especially with an ABD. 

anam-13201214178-1495804271.jpg

TOP-ROPE BELAYING IN ACTION

BELAYING A LEADER

Lead belaying involves the same fundamental counterweight arrangements as top-rope belays, but the dynamics involved in a lead fall greatly augment the forces a belayer must contend with. The loads can be severe and startling. Moreover, there is much more to effective lead belaying than simply paying out slack and catching occasional falls. The interplay of slack and tension requires quick and seamless adaptation, practiced and undistracted fine motor skills, and a situational awareness that is hard to achieve if one has never done any leading oneself. Lead belayers must master the following skills:

  • Setup and preparation

  • Correct use of the chosen belay device

  • Compensating for unnecessary slack

  • Catching falls

Unfortunately, lead belayers may only learn a portion of these skills before they are asked to perform all of them on a belay. It’s easy to imagine how a rudimentary skill set can result in frustration, accidents, or even fatalities. 

SETUP AND PREPARATION

A lead belayer needs to determine the likely fall line for a climber who has clipped the first piece of protection. Standing directly beneath the first piece and then taking one step out of the fall line (roughly 10 degrees) will usually keep a falling leader from landing directly on the belayer’s head, while still keeping the belayer in position to give an effective belay. 

Once the lead belayer decides where [they want] to stand, the rope should be stacked neatly on the brake-hand side, right next to the belayer’s stance. A knot in the belayer’s end of the rope (or tying in) closes the system. 

USING THE BELAY DEVICE

Lead belayers will have to learn some fine motor skills to offer an effective lead belay, especially with an ABD. It takes practice. 

Most of the time, the leader keeps [their] brake hand wrapped entirely around the rope, as with any other belay. The lead belayer pays out arm lengths of slack as the leader moves, and then slides the brake hand down the rope with the rope in the brake position. The mechanics are mostly identical, whether the belayer is using an MBD (such as an ATC or other tube-style device) or an ABD. 

But when the leader moves quickly or pulls a lot of slack to clip protection, the belayer will have to feed slack fast, without releasing the brake hand. This is easily learned with an MBD, using a form of the shuffle technique. But with ABD devices such as the Grigri, a specific technique for each device must be learned and practiced. Follow the manufacturer’s instructions and warnings. (Most have produced instructional online videos explaining the appropriate technique.) No matter which device you use, keep the fundamental principles of belaying in mind. Most importantly, your brake hand must stay on the rope as you feed slack. 

COMPENSATING

Lead belaying also involves a subtle exchange of giving and taking rope called compensating. When a leader makes a long clip, there is a moment where the rope is actually clipped above the leader’s head, and [they are] effectively on a short top-rope. As a result the belayer needs to make a seamless transition between giving slack, taking in slack, and giving slack again. The most extreme version of compensating happens when the leader downclimbs from a clip to a rest and then reascends to the high point.

CATCHING FALLS

The most important part of catching a fall is stopping a leader from hitting the ground or a ledge—or abruptly slamming into the wall. On overhanging climbs, a leader is less likely to impact objects, so longer falls are acceptable. But on vertical or low-angled climbs, the same length of fall could easily cause the leader to impact features along the fall line. 

The lead belayer must be constantly prepared to mitigate the fall consequence as much as [they] can, and a key part of this is maintaining the appropriate amount of slack and movement in the system. While belaying a leader on an overhang, the belayer might feel free to let the momentum of the counterweight lift [them] off the ground. This is the coveted “soft catch” that so many leaders seem to think is essential. 

But when a fall is more consequential—when it might result in ledge impact or a ground fall—an astute belayer may “fight” the fall, sometimes even taking in slack and bracing to increase the counterweight effect. 

It takes time and effort to learn this distinction, because every climb is a little different. One of the most important ways to learn lead belaying is to lead climb. An experienced leader will better understand the issues facing other lead climbers and will know what it feels like to have a belayer do [their] job perfectly.

LEAD BELAYING IN ACTION

DIRECT BELAYS

Direct belays connect the belay system directly to an anchor. As a result, the anchor must be fundamentally sound. That is to say, it has redundant construction, distributes loads intelligently to all the components, limits potential shock-loading if a single component were to fail, and is adequately strong. The anchor must easily sustain all the potential loads applied to it, plus a healthy margin of error. Its integrity should not be in question. Read more about anchors here or here.

Direct belays are the most prudent way to belay a second from the top of a rock or ice pitch where falls are likely and consequential. (That would include all fifth-class rock terrain and almost every ice climb at any grade.) They do not trap the belayer in a counterweight arrangement, allowing the belayer to manage the rope and multi-task. Because the belayer is attached to the anchor separately, the belayer can affect assistance techniques to help a climber move up if needed. Direct belays also put less force on an anchor than counterweight belays do (which shouldn’t matter, really, because the anchor should be bombproof). Lastly, they are particularly advantageous when belaying more than one person simultaneously. 

Whether the belayer is using a Munter hitch, an MBD, or an ABD in a direct belay, the fundamentals apply: The brake hand is always on the rope, hand transitions occur in the braking position, and the limbs are positioned in ways that are comfortable and sustainable. Direct belays should confer all of the climber’s weight to the anchor, so it is easy to imagine a few different hand positions that take advantage of the belayer’s natural strength.Lowering is a completely different story with direct belays. As articles in Accidents will attest, lowering will usually require the belayer to disable or reduce a device’s autoblocking or braking function. As a result, the belayer should redirect the rope through the anchor and use a friction hitch or backup belay whenever [they are] lowering from a direct belay. 

COMMON MISTAKES

FINAL THOUGHTS

As we can see, there are so many variables to belaying that it can be counterproductive to say there is only one “right” technique. The appropriate belay method for each pitch depends on the terrain, the style and difficulty of climbing, the relative experience and weight of the climber and belayer, and the tools available. The “right” technique is the one that’s appropriate for each context, as long as it adheres to the fundamental principles of keeping your brake hand on the rope, sliding your hand only when the rope is in the braking position, and positioning your hands and body according to their natural strength.

Keep exploring belaying by watching our Know the Ropes videos here or checking out this slideshow. If you teach belaying or just want to take a deep dive, see the AAC’s own Gold Standard curriculum.

Find more information on a variety of topics, including “Climber Communication,” by checking out our complete Know the Ropes collection.

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Keep Climbing Clean

The AAC L.A. Chapter organizes a clean-up at Stoney Point

PC: AAC L.A. Chapter Chair Alex Rand

Grassroots: A storytelling series about cutting edge projects and conversations in the AAC community.

by Sierra McGivney

Thirty seconds off of 118 FWY and Topanga Canyon, Stoney Point welcomes climbers and hikers. Brittle sandstone boulders tagged with graffiti and spotted with white chalk contain almost 100 years of climbing history. Located just north of Los Angeles, this crag provides convenient access to stellar climbing, minutes away from the city. This small climbing destination features various highball boulders with thought-provoking problems and exciting top-outs.

Stoney Point was initially developed in the late ’20s and early ’30s. Glen Dawson, a mountaineer and longest-tenured Sierra Club member, led Sierra Club outings to Stoney Point.  

Big names like Royal Robbins, Yvon Chouinard, and Bob Kamps developed routes on the boulders of Stoney Point. Chouinard's Hole, a V2 boulder problem, is a notable route that requires the climber to execute a grovely mantel into a scoop. Stoney was a practice ground for bigger projects, mainly groundbreaking first ascents involving free climbing, such as the Salathé Wall in Yosemite Valley. 

PC: AAC L.A. Chapter Chair Alex Rand

Today, Stoney Point is akin to an outdoor climbing gym. A community of local climbers spends their days perusing boulders and climbing top-ropes. Climbers grab hold of textured slopers and in-cut crimps crafted from fine-grain sandstone. Stoney Point is home to just under 300 routes. One of the climbers you’d see milling around is Alex Rand, the American Alpine Club Chapter Chair for the Los Angeles Section. 

“You'll see the same people day in and day out go over to [Stoney Point], climbing their favorite routes, guiding people who are trying to find a boulder that might be a little more obscure, encouraging people or sharing crash pads,” says Rand. 

Amid all of the crash pads and climbers, glass bottles, rusty nails, and other trash litter Stoney Point. The crag is in a prime location for people to discard trash as they drive by on the highway, or to spray paint the rocks these climbers call home. 

AAC member Jennifer Zhu

“It's kind of interesting because it's such a prolific climbing destination, and it is so— what's the word?— it's so unimposing when you get there it is sort of this park that is littered with broken glass, empty bottles, and graffiti all over the rocks,” says Rand. 

On Jan 23, 2022 the AAC’s L.A. Chapter, along with Trail Mothers and Sender One Climbing Gym, organized a clean-up of Stoney Point. Fifty people showed up. A mix of rock climbers, gym climbers, and hikers participated in the event. The large turnout was unexpected. 

“We almost didn’t have enough trash bags for everyone,” says Rand. 

By noon, volunteers collected over 200lbs of trash. Old luggage and motor oil cans were some of the most notable trash collected. 

After the event, a core group of people stayed to climb and encouraged others to join them. Seasoned climbers of Stoney Point gave beta on route-finding to new climbers. Everyone set up their crash pads next to one another, sharing gear and beta.

AAC member Jennifer Zhu

One of the fundamental parts of the clean-up is bringing people together through climbing. Rand sees this as a great opportunity to expand and strengthen their community while making new friends and climbing partners.  

“You get to meet a diverse group of people who live all over L.A. and who have all sorts of backgrounds and experiences with the American Alpine Club and climbing,” says Rand.

The L.A. chapter does crag clean-ups every couple of months in the surrounding L.A. area. Even with these clean-ups, trash still remains at Stoney Point. More graffiti appears on boulders and rock walls in the weeks afterward. Tiny shards of glass get simultaneously kicked up and buried in the sand.  

“I think that it's essential for the health and well-being of Stoney Point to continue to do these cleanups,” says Rand. 

For the next clean-up, on Earth Day, April 9, Rand and Kristen Hernandez of Trail Mothers are coming equipped with colanders and sifters. The L.A. AAC Chapter, Trail Mothers, and the Stoney Point community will continue working to preserve and rehabilitate the boulders, rock walls, and trails of Stoney Point.  

AAC member Jennifer Zhu

At Stoney Point, people are creating a community built on crag stewardship. Instead of rejecting the new wave of climbers, Stoney Point welcomes newcomers in, while also teaching conservation and safe climbing practices. There is something for everyone at Stoney Point. 

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Rewind the Climb: Pete Schoening’s Miracle Belay on K2

by Grey Satterfield

artwork by James Adams

photos from the Dee Molenaar Collection

It happens every day, in every climbing gym across the country: the belay check. It can swell up a wave of anxiety for new climbers or a wave of frustration for more experienced ones, but no matter where you are in your climbing journey, you’ve done it. Everyone has demonstrated their ability to stop a falling climber. But what about stopping two climbers? What about stopping five? And what about stopping five without the convenience of a Gri-Gri, in a raging storm at 8,000 meters, hanging off the side of the second highest mountain in the world?

Pete Schoening checks all those boxes, and his miracle belay during an early attempt of K2 is one of the most famous in all of climbing history. It’s an awesome reminder that in climbing, much like in life, a lot of things change, but a lot of things don’t.

In 1953, during the third American expedition to K2, eight climbers funded by the American Alpine Club built their high camp at nearly 7,700m. The team consisted of Pete Schoening, Charles Houston, Robert Bates, George Bell, Robert Craig, Art Gilkey, Dee Molenaar, and Tony Streather.

On the seventh day of the ascent, climbing without oxygen, Schoening and his partners were within reach of the summit. With the first ascent of the long-sought peak tantalizingly close, the weather turned, trapping the climbers for10 days at nearly 8,000m. The storm raged on, destroying tents and dwindling supplies. Then Gilkey developed thrombophlebitis—a life-threatening condition of blood clots brought on by high altitude. If these clots made it into his lungs, he’d die. The team had no choice but to descend. Without hesitation, they abandoned the summit attempt and put themselves to work getting Gilkey to safety. With an 80mph blizzard compounding their effort, the climbing team bundled their injured comrade in a sleeping bag and a tent and, belayed by Schoening, began to lower him down the perilous walls of rock and ice.

After an exhausting day of descending, they had made it only 300m but were in sight of Camp VII, which was perched on a ledge another 180m further across the icy slope. Craig was the first to reach the site and began building camp. Then the real disaster struck.

As Bell was working his way across the steep face, he slipped and began to rocket down the side of the mountain. Bell was tied to Streather, who was also pulled off his feet and down the slope. The rope between the two climbers then became entangled with those connecting the team of Bates, Houston, and Molenaar, pulling them off in turn. The five climbers, along with the tethered Gilkey, began careening down the near vertical face, rag-dolling down the mountain over 100m and speeding towards the edge: a 2,000m fall to the glacier below.

At the last second—as the weight of six climbers slammed into him— Schoening thrust his ice axe into the snow behind a boulder and, with a hip belay, brought the climbers to a stop. The nylon rope (a relatively new piece of climbing gear at the time) went taught and shrank to half its diameter, but it did not snap. The hickory axe held the strain. Schoening, rope wrapped tightly around his shoulders, had performed what is considered one of the greatest saves in mountaineering history—known now and forever known as “The Belay.”

“When you get into something like mountain climbing,” Schoening said afterwards, “I’m sure you do things automatically. It’s a mechanical func- tion. You do it when necessary without giving it a thought of how or why.”

However, the incident was not without tragedy. As the team recovered from the fall and established a forced bivy, they discovered that Gilkey, bundled in sleeping bag and tent, had vanished. There is speculation that he cut himself free in order to save the lives of his friends above.

Schoening, always humble about the feat, was later awarded the David A. Sowles Memorial Award for his heroics by the American Alpine Club in 1981 as a “mountaineer who has distinguished himself, with unselfish devotion at personal risk or sacrifice of a major objective, in going to the assistance of fellow climbers imperiled in the mountains.”

Fifty-three years later, in 2006, 28 descendants of the surviving team gathered, calling themselves “The Children of ‘The Belay.’” All owed their lives to Schoening—and his ice axe—high on K2. The axe, which some have called the holy grail of mountaineering artifacts, is on permanent display at the American Mountaineering Museum in Golden, Colorado.

Much has changed in the world of climbing over the past 70 years. When Schoening headed up K2 in 1953, assisted-braking belay devices were yet to be invented. The AAC provided no rescue services as a benefit of membership. Nobody owned an InReach or a satellite phone. To survive in the mountains in that era was to rely solely on your team—on the trust that comes with tying in together and the knowledge that a friend is watching your back.

So we would do well to remember Pete Schoening and his belay—to hold the other end of the rope is a serious affair. The next time you go out climbing, don’t forget to give your belayer a high-five and a hug.

Grey Satterfield is the digital marketing manager for the AAC. He has a decade of experience managing climbing gyms and loves to share his passion for climbing with anyone who will listen, be it through writing, photography, or swapping stories around the campfire.

Phil Powers: Farewell to A Visionary Leader

“I believed that with real work the AAC could not only provide membership benefits and community, but also be a positive force in the larger world. So I embarked on what has been a most fulfilling journey.”

Dive into this exhibit to learn about one of the AAC’s most influential CEOs, his legacy, and what inspired him to shape the Club the way he did.

Phil Powers: Farewell

Pitons

by Allison Albright

A set of pitons from the mid-20th century, including LEM, Charlet-Moser, Stubai and Chouinard

Pitons are one of the oldest types of rock protection and were invented by the Victorians in the late 19th century. Pitons are metal spikes which are inserted into cracks in the rock and secured by hammering them into place with a piton hammer.

Illustration of a climber using natural protection methods to rope down from Alpine Climbing on Foot and with Ski by Ernest Wedderburn, 1937

Mountaineering involved technical rock climbing only as a means to reach the top of the mountain, and not, in those days, for its own sake and by the turn of the 20th century, most mountain climbers favored “natural protection,” which was securing rope to rocks or other natural features that could be found along the route. They used pitons nearly exclusively for climbing down and only then when the route down had become unsafe due to the sun setting or ice forming on rocks.  This was especially true of UK mountaineers, who prided themselves on their ability to climb without the use of such aids.

Many mountaineers in those days believed that the use of artificial rock protection and aids, such as pitons, would lead to carelessness and were regarded as useless in the ascent of difficult routes. 

Early pitons were iron spikes and had rings attached to one end through which mountaineers would secure their rope. However, those rings sometimes bent or broke under the weight of a mountaineer. Hans Fiechtl invented the modern piton in 1910, made entirely of one piece of metal with a hole (called the eye) in one end. This reduced the number of moving parts in the tool and made them sturdier and more reliable.

Illustration of piton use and placement from the Handbook of American Mountaineering by Kenneth Henderson, 1942

“In such cases, pegs to hammer in and anchor to are a remedy for our failures, our failure to carry on, to adjust the climb to the day-length, or to watch the weather. Their use then is corrective, not auxiliary.”
— Mountain Craft by Geoffrey Winthrop Young, 1920

Angle piton with a ring

Illustration of proper piton technique from the Handbook of American Mountaineering by Kenneth Henderson, 1942

Pitons were mostly made of softer steel and iron that allowed them to conform to the shape of the crack when used, making it difficult or impossible to remove them from the rock when they were no longer needed. This method worked well in the softer rock of Europe and much of the US, and pitons were habitually left in place at the end of a climb.

 





However, leaving permanent marks on the landscape sat poorly with many climbers and soft pitons didn’t work well on longer routes where rock protection needed to be removed and used again. They also didn’t hold up well in the hard granite of places like the Yosemite Valley. In 1946 John Salathé, a climber and a blacksmith, used hardened steel to create pitons that could be removed from a crack and used again and again without getting bent or disfigured.

A lost arrow piton with sunburst design

The only problem with the harder pitons was that they often disfigured the rock. Since pitons are hammered into and out of rock cracks, and since the same cracks are often used over and over again, climbers were leaving their mark each time they inserted and removed a hard steel piton. The soft steel pitons weren’t much better at leaving a route unaltered, since they often had to be left in place. They can still be found in some routes.

 “There is a word for it, and the word is clean.” – Doug Robinson, The Whole Natural Art of Protection, 1972

Yvon Chouinard, who had been making pitons through his Chouinard Equipment brand for several years by then, introduced the aluminum chocks in his 1972 Chouinard Equipment/Great Pacific Iron Works catalog. The catalog included two seminal essays on clean climbing; A Word by Yvon Chouinard and Tom Frost, and The Whole Natural Art of Protection by Doug Robinson. You can read them online here. This ethos changed American climbing forever and the piton was quickly replaced by equipment that could be easily removed and reused without damaging or altering the rock, first slings, nuts and chocks and later cams.

Pitons manufactured by Yvon Chouinard, arranged in order of their evolution.

Clean climbing methods proved to be much safer and easier to use than pitons, since pounding a spike into a crack with a hammer is time and energy consuming. Pitons are still used in some places where other types of protection aren’t an option, but these situations are rare.

You can check out some examples of pitons from our archival gear collection in the slideshow below.

Denali - First ascent of the South Face via the West Rib 1959

Denali - First ascent of the South Face via the West Rib 1959

It had all begun on an afternoon some nine months previous. Four of us were lying about relaxing after a particularly fine Teton climb when someone enthusiastically suggested, "Let’s climb the south face of McKinley next summer!” To attempt a new and difficult route on North America’s highest mountain seemed a most worthwhile enterprise; without further ado, we cemented the proposal with a great and ceremonious toast.

Gongga Shan (Minya Konka) 1932

by Eric Rueth

The Sikong Expedition in 1932 has to be one of the more unique mountaineering tales to have ever occurred. I and maybe others would argue that if there ever was a mountaineering expedition that should be turned into 1990’s style action-adventure movie starring Brendan Fraiser, this one would be it. There are too many interesting details to this expedition to fully capture in a blog post like this, so instead I’m going to give you a bare bones description and show you some of Terris Moore’s slides in an attempt to get you to read the American Alpine Club Journal articles about the expedition (linked below), and/or to read the entire book of the expedition (prologue through the epilogue), Men Against the Clouds. The pieces written by the expedition members themselves are really the only pieces of writing that do this expedition justice.

The Sikong Expedition consisted of four Americans, Jack Young, Terris Moore, Arthur Emmons, and Richard Burdsall. These were the four remaining members of a larger Explorers Club expedition that was meant to take place but dissolved due to various delays and complications created by global events. One of the global events was the Japanese invasion of Shanghai which led Young, Moore, Emmons, and Burdsall to briefly become a part of the American Company of the Shanghai Volunteer Corps.

After the dissolution Lamb Expedition to Northern Tibet, the first step of the newly formed Sikong Expedition was a twenty day journey up the Yangste River that featured rough waters, beautiful gorges and potential for pot shots from bandits on the river banks.

The Sikong-Szechuan region was still relatively unknown to the west and the purpose of the original expedition was to explore survey the region and gather samples of flora and fauna along with an attempt on Gongga Shan. The explorer’s spirit lived on in the Sikong Expedition. Thirty pages of appendices and one AAJ Article document their efforts. Below are two slides that not only shows the expedition doing some survey work but also shows how photographs and slides can degrade over time! If your interested in degrading photographs check out this previous library blog post.

Part of the reason for surveying the region and the mountain specifically was that at the time calculations of its height ranged anywhere from 16,500’ to 30,000’. The Sikong Expedition measured Gongga Shan’s height to be 24,891’ which is only 100’ off of the mountain’s current measured height of 24,790’.

After weeks of acclimatization, moving supplies, and setting up camps, no high-altitude porters and with crevasse falls along the way; Moore and Burdsall attained the summit on October 28, 1932. Below are two of the dozens of photos taking while on the summit. Photographs were taken with the Chinese flag and the American flag. The American flag (48 stars) carried to the summit currently resides here at the American Alpine Club Library. Due to wind, an ice axe had to be pushed through the flags to keep them attached and flying for the summit photos.

What makes this expedition such an amazing feat is the twists and turns that take place in the story. The expedition in a sense never should have happened after the Lamb Expedition dissolved. Under normal circumstances it is likely that everyone would have headed home and planned to try again at a different time. Instead, four members remained in large part due to the Great Depression and being told that their money would fair them better in China and that there likely wouldn’t be work for them if they returned to the States. The style that the mountain was summited was more akin to modern expeditions than it was to the siege the mountain strategy that tended to be the norm for the day. Despite not receiving much plaudits at the time, Gongga Shan was the highest summit reached by Americans at the time but the expedition was able to help fill in one of the few remaining blanks on the map.

If you’re an American Alpine Club member you can checkout Men against the clouds by logging into the AAC Library Catalog.

And regardless of if you’re an AAC member, you can find AAJ articles written about the expedition by following the links below:

Terris Moore’s AAJ article about the climb

Arthur Emmon’s AAJ article about the survey work

A short article by Nick Clinch that concisely summarizes the expedition

K2 1953: The Third American Karakoram Expedition

by Eric Rueth

Camp V (22,000 ft.) with Mashrabrum [sic] in the background. Photo, Third American Karakoram Expedition.

For the third and final installment of our pre-2018 Annual Benefit Dinner Americans on K2 wrap-up, we’ll take a look at the Third American Karakoram Expedition in 1953. It doesn’t seem possible to start this blog post better than the way Robert Bates started his article about the expedition in the 1954 American Alpine Club Journal,

 “On 2 August 1953 all eight members of the climbing party of the Third American Karakoram Expedition, in excellent physical condition, were camped at 25,500 feet on K2 with ten days’ food. The summit of the second highest mountain in the world (28,250 ft.) rose less than 3000 feet above us. It was our hope to establish two men at Camp IX, at 27,000 feet or slightly higher, on August 3rd; and on the following day, if all went well, to thrust at the summit.”

The men high up on K2 were Dr. Charles Houston, Robert Bates, George Bell, Robert Craig, Arthur Gilkey, Dee Molenaar, Peter Schoening and Capt. H. R. A. Streather.  After the 1938 First American Karakoram Expedition, Houston and Bates had been dreaming of returning to K2. Delayed by World War II and political conflicts between India and Pakistan they were finally able to return to K2 15 years later for a second attempt at the summit.

The optimism of reaching the summit by those eight men on August 2nd was met with a multi-day storm. At Camp VIII (25,500 ft.), the party was battered by heavy winds. One tent was completely ripped apart, forcing its occupants to seek refuge and residence in nearby tents. Even worse, the wind made keeping stoves alight impossible. Without being able to keep the stoves consistently lit, the party could not melt enough snow to stay hydrated.

After five days of being tent bound and becoming increasingly dehydrated, the storm began to lull. Now that it was possible to hear each other over the wind discussion of pushing higher up the mountain arose. But again optimism was met with disaster. When Gilkey emerged from his tent on April 7th, he immediately passed out.

Gilkey passed out from the pain that a charley horse had caused him. That charley horse turned out to be thrombophlebitis. Gilkey had blood clots in his leg. Getting Gilkey off of the mountain was now the main objective but hope still remained for an attempt on the summit. The party immediately broke camp to begin the descent, only to be turned back by the likelihood of an avalanche along the route. The storm raged on and the party bunkered down. On August 11th, the party’s hand was forced, Gilkey now had a clot in his other leg and more seriously in his lungs.

Capt. Streather at Camp III. Photo, Third American Karakoram Expedition

With the storm still raging, there was no other option than to descend. Any thoughts of a summit attempt were abandoned. Getting Gilkey down was now the only objective. Gilkey, who was unable to walk, was wrapped in his sleeping bag and the remnants of the destroyed tent; he would have to be lowered down the mountain.

The going was slow and required every ounce of strength and focus from the party. The route used to climb up the mountain did not work for descending now that Gilkey had to be lowered. Schoening and Molenaar led the descent by finding a suitable route. The rest of the party would belay Gilkey and each other.

On the steepest pitch of lowering, the storm obscured the line of sight and made vocal communication with others below futile. First Schoening and Molenaar disappeared into the storm. Then Craig escorted Gilkey while he was being lowered until he too disappeared. Streather descended to a point where he could see Craig’s arm signals and relay commands to the rest of the party belaying. Already physically exhausted by the task of lowering Gilkey and being battered by the storm, those belaying were in for a test. Streather turned to the group and shouted, “Hold tight! They’re being carried down in an avalanche!” The group, the ropes, and the anchors held fast. Craig, who was not tied into any ropes, grabbed the ropes lowering Gilkey and held on for the duration.

Following the avalanche, the party was absolutely exhausted. The party was close to the small ledge that served as Camp VII. Craig traversed to the Camp VII to gather himself after surviving the avalanche and to attempt to enlarge the ledge so the entire party could recuperate from the physically and mentally demanding day.

With Craig at Camp VII, the rest of party continued the extremely slow process of working their way towards the ledge. Bell was working his way over a difficult stretch of an ice gully when another catastrophic event occurred, Bell lost his purchase and started falling down the mountain. The hard ice prevented a self-arrest by Bell and Streather, who was tied into the other end of Bell's rope. The location of the pair when they fell set off a chain reaction that would send the entire expedition, except for Craig alone at Camp VII, down the mountain to the Godwin-Austin Glacier two miles below.

Only the entire expedition didn’t disappear over the edge of the mountain and fall two miles through the void. As members one by one were caught up in ropes and pulled from their feet, they tumbled and somersaulted downwards picking up momentum along the way until all of a sudden the rope grew taught. Schoening arrested the fall of his six companions in a moment that will forever be known as, “the belay.”

The entanglement that caused the catastrophic fall down the mountain also worked to save the expedition. Various injuries and lost gear resulted but the expedition suffered no loss of members.

This diagram by Clarence Doore follows an illustration by Dee Molenaar. It is one display at the American Mountaineering Museum.

Eventually making it to Camp VII the ledge still needed to be bigger before tents could be set up and the party could put the horrific day behind them. Gilkey was secured with two ice axes beneath a rock rib while the space was expanded. When camp construction was completed Streather, Craig and Bates went to retrieve him. Only, upon their arrival at the rock rib they found a bare slope. Gilkey and his anchors were gone, swept away by an avalanche.

The night that followed the horrific day would offer little rest. The party had been pushed to the limit physically, mentally, and emotionally and were now cramped together in two tents on a precarious ledge. The storm still raged on and Houston, who had suffered a concussion, would wake up in a state of confusion consequently waking up everyone else.

The next day the storm continued and so did the party. It took four days for the battered party to descend from Camp VII to Camp II. At Camp II, the party was met by porters who provided food and comfort after their heroic and tragic descent.

As they departed the mountain, the expedition built a large cairn memorial for Gilkey near the confluence of the Savoia and Godwin-Austen Glaciers. The memorial still stands to this day and has grown to be more than a memorial only to Art Gilkey; the Gilkey Memorial is now used to remember all who have perished on the Savage Mountain.

With the conclusion of the 1953, there had been three attempts made by Americans on K2. The first had been successful as a reconnaissance but failed to reach the summit. The following two ended without the summit being reached and tragic loss of life. Americans had paid a high price for their efforts on the mountain and it wouldn’t be until 1978 that the mountain would finally yield to Americans.

Read about the Second American Karakoram Expedition here.

Read about the First American Karakoram Expedition here.

*These blog posts were an attempt to sum up the American attempts on K2 prior to the successful expedition in 1978. Unfortunately they leave out a lot of the nitty gritty details and personalities of those involved. If your interests have been piqued you can read the full expedition reports in the American Alpine Club Journal at publications.americanalpineclub.org or if you're an AAC member you can checkout some of the many books about K2 in the AAC Library at booksearch.americanalpineclub.org.

By Eric Rueth

K2 1939: The Second American Karakoram Expedition

by Eric Rueth

K2. Jack Durrance Collection.

After the successful reconnaissance of K2 in 1938, the Second American Karakoram Expedition was poised to make history. A route on the Abruzzi Ridge had been established up to 26,000 ft. with locations for campsites and beta on the difficult sections of climbing. If weather permitted, there seemed to be no good reason why history would not remember the Second American Karakoram Expedition as the first to summit K2 and the first to conquer an 8,000m peak. But the events would play out differently on the mountain and history now remembers the 1939 expedition for its tragedy and the controversy that followed.

The party that arrived at the base of K2 in 1939 was not a strong one. It was originally planned to include 10 members but after dropouts for various reasons it dwindled to five. The biggest issue with the loss of these members was that they were the five most qualified members (excluding Wiessner) and left the expedition with no returning members of the 1938 expedition. A last minute addition brought the party up to six and included: Fritz Wiessner, Eaton Cromwell, George Sheldon, Chappel Cranmer, Dudley Wolfe, Jack Durrance (the last minute addition). They were also accompanied by a British Transport Officer, Lt. George Trench and 8 Sherpa who climbed up the mountain: Lama, Kikuli, Dawa, Tendrup, Kitar, Tsering, Phinsoo, and Sonam.

1939 Expedition members. Left to right, standing: George Sheldon, Chappell Cranmer, Jack Durrance, George Trench; seated: Eaton Cromwell, Fritz Wiessner, Dudley Wolfe. Jack Durrance Collection

The weakness of the team was not that any of the members were on the team; it was that these members were the team. Each team member had their strengths but unfortunately also their limitations. As climbers kept dropping out of the expedition, it lost its well-rounded and experienced members that could have potentially brought the best out of the team. Fritz Wiessner was the only fully qualified and experienced climber to arrive at K2. To add to the weakness of the team, a number of events weakened it further.

First was that due to the timing of Durrance’s addition, his boots were set to arrive at some point after the party’s arrival at K2. The boots finally arrived four weeks after the party was making their way up the mountain. Durrance proved to be one of the harder working team members but was hindered by his footwear. Without his high altitude boots he was limited to staying below 20,000 ft. Even with staying at the lower camps Durrance’s feet were taking a beating and hindering his productivity.

The second event was one that had the expedition not ended in disaster probably would have gone unnoticed. When Wiessner and Wolfe were gathering the supplies for the expedition they did not purchase enough snow goggles for the porters. Expedition members created makeshift glasses by cutting narrow slits into pieces of cardboard. Shortly after beginning the days march toward K2 three porters suffered from snow blindness. The three were sent back to Askole and their loads were divided between Cranmer, Durrance, Sheldon, and Trench. The extra weight effectively created a double-carry for the four.

The third event would weaken the expedition’s manpower by one sixth.  On May 30th, Cranmer spent some time in a crevasse trying to retrieve a tarpaulin that was dropped by one of the porters. Cranmer emerged with the tarpaulin but also severely chilled and exhausted. Cranmer then carried the extra weight from the loss of porters to snow blindness on May 31st adding even more exhaustion. Cranmer rose from his tent on June 1st to announce that he did not feel well before he retreated back inside. Hours later, Cranmer would be coughing up more than three coffee cups worth of a, “clear, frothy fluid” and was slipping in and out of states of delirium and consciousness. Years later Durrance stated, “I never knew anyone could be so sick and stay alive.”

Now at the mountain and before committing to the difficult climbing on the Abruzzi Ridge, Fritz and Cromwell took a day to get a view of northeast ridge. But as it was in 1938, no viable route presented itself. So, the Abruzzi Ridge was the route to the summit. Loads were carried and routes established following the footsteps of the year before. To avoid the dangers of rock fall Camp III (20,700 ft.) was used only as a supply cache.

As the route progressed upward, almost exclusively led by Wiessner, morale began to decline. Storms battered the expedition and battered ambition. A chasm was beginning to open in the expedition, one of motivation and physical distance. Wiessner and Wolfe never wavered in their ambition or optimism of reaching the summit, while the rest of the members seemed to grow lethargic and hesitant to continue pushing up the mountain. Wiessner and Wolfe continued up while the majority of the expedition tended to stay in the lower camps with Durrance typically somewhere in between.

The battering storms that weakened morale also made a physical impact on the team. The cold of the storms nipped Sheldon’s toes. Sheldon continued working on the mountain until the weather improved. With the arrival of warmer weather his feet began to swell and he could do little more than hobble, which he did down to basecamp. Physically, two of the six of the expedition members were incapacitated.

The 1939 expedition would establish two camps higher than the previous year. Camp VIII was established at 25,300 ft. and Camp IX at 26,050 ft. Both were stocked well enough to support a push to the summit. July 18th saw an attempt for the summit from Camp IX by Wiessner and Lama. Meanwhile, Wolfe was well supplied but alone at Camp VIII. Durrance, the closest American to Wolfe was at Camp II (19,300 ft.).

It was a harrowing attack that brought the pair to 27,500 ft. just 700 ft. from the summit. Wiessner wanted to continue upwards but Lama did not. The time was 6:30 p.m. and proceeding upward would mean descending at night. Wiessner saw the route that lay ahead and was confident they would be able to reach the summit on the second attempt.

On the retreat to Camp IX, Lama’s crampons that were strapped to his pack became tangled in rope and ended up being lost. On the second attempt the loss of crampons came into play. In order to ascend without crampons step cutting became necessary and it was apparent that the task would take too long. So the team descended again, this time to Camp VIII, to restock.

Jack Durrance Collection

Wolfe informed the pair upon their arrival that no loads from below came up during their absence. This left the provisions at Camp VIII too little to support another summit attempt and another descent was made. Now a trio, Wiessner, Lama and Wolfe made their way to Camp VII. What was found at Camp VII was devastating and exacerbated by a fall that Wolfe had taken en route where he lost his sleeping bag. The majority of the supplies at the camp had been stripped leaving the trio with one air mattress and one sleeping bag.

With much frustration and confusion about their current situation, Wolfe would remain at Camp VII while Wiessner and Lama would continue downward to Camp VI. A deserted Camp VI saw the duo continue downward only to find empty camps littering the route. After an awful night’s sleep wrapped in a tent at Camp II, Wiessner and Lama made their way into basecamp exhausted and suffering from the cold. There would be no more attempts for the summit.

Wolfe still lay alone 24,000 ft. and Durrance, Dawa, Phinsoo and Kitar started up to retrieve him. On July 25th they ascended to Camp IV. Durrance and Dawa were ill the next day so Phinsoo and Kitar continued on the Camp VI. Camp VI also saw the arrival of Kikuli and Tsering who in a single day ascended from basecamp, 6,900 ft. below! The first contact with Wolfe on July 29th found him in dismal condition. He convinced his rescuers to come back for him on the morrow when he would be ready.

Poor weather delayed their second attempt until July 31st. With the weather still poor Kikuli, Kitar and Phinsoo went to retrieve Wolfe. On August 2nd Tsering returned to basecamp alone. He relayed the previous days’ activities and that he hadn’t seen or heard from the neither three Sherpa nor Wolfe since the second attempt to retrieve Wolfe departed Camp VI.

One more attempt was made to reach the high camps to see if there was any sign of life high up on the mountain, but Camp II would be the highest they could reach. On August 9th Kikuli, Kitar, Phinsoo and Wolfe were presumed dead and the expedition departed from K2.

Pasang Kikuli. Jack Durrance Collection

Read about the 1938 Reconnaissance of K2 here. 

Read about the 1953 Third American Karakoram Expedition here.

*Photos from the Jack Durrance Collection restored by The Photo Mirage Inc.

By Eric Rueth

K2 1938: The First American Karakoram Expedition

by Eric Rueth

On February 24, The American Alpine Club will celebrate the first American ascent of the world’s second-highest peak, K2, at our Annual Benefit Dinner in Boston. It’s been 40 years since Jim Whittaker led an American expedition to the Savage Mountain but the history of American expeditions to the mountain goes back much farther and is one mired in adventure, tragedy and heroism.

Photograph of K2 from the Baltoro Glacier, taken by Vittorio Sella in 1909. Vittorio Sella Collection

The first American expedition to K2 took place in 1938. This was not only the first American expedition to the mountain but the 3rd ever attempt on the mountain and the first since the Duke of Abruzzi attempted K2 in 1909. The American Alpine Club had acquired permits to K2 for 1938 and 1939. With permits for back-to-back years, the main focus for the 1938 expedition was to reconnoiter the mountain and three ridges to determine the best route to the top. Of course if the opportunity presented itself they should reach the summit.

After evaluating photographs and surveys of the area from previous expeditions, it was determined that there were five potential routes. This meant there were five routes that had to be explored and hopefully at least one with a viable route to the summit.

The party, given the task that was laid before them, was relatively small. It included Charles Houston, Robert Bates, Paul Petzoldt, Richard Burdsall, Bill House, Captain Norman Streatfeild (British Liaison Officer), 6 Sherpa porters and 3 camp men.

On May 13, 1938 the party departed Srinagar to begin their 362-mile approach. After a month the confluence of the Savoia and the Godwin-Austen glaciers was reached on June 12. The confluence of the glaciers provided a centralized basecamp that allowed the expedition to have relatively easy access to both glaciers for reconnaissance.

Once base camp was established at 16,600 ft., the first task was to reconnoiter the Northwest Ridge. The ridge looked promising in photographs taken by the Duke of Abruzzi’s expedition, and two of his guides had reached the Savoia Pass on the ridge. After navigating over the crevasse covered glacier, Houston and House reached the bergschrund only to find disappointment in the form of hard green ice. It was fewer than 800 feet to better terrain above but they determined that chopping steps into the ice would be too consuming of time and energy and would be a dangerous link in the chain of camps up the mountain if the Northwest ridge offered a viable route. Fortunately, Petzoldt and Burdsall spied a rock route that they believed could unlock the ridge. When House and Petzoldt made an attempt to see if the rock route would go, they were met with unfavorable weather and had to abandon the thought for the moment.

On June 19th the entire party convened at basecamp to discuss what had been discovered thus far and how to proceed. Bates and Burdsall had made a trip down the Godwin-Austen Glacier and through brief clear weather windows were able to completely rule out the south face due to avalanche danger. After a good look at the Abruzzi Ridge, they reported that it didn’t look promising.

The northwest ridge wasn’t out of the question, but the obstacle of ice would be a time consuming one. So, the focus shifted to the east side of the mountain. The expedition would get a close look at the Abruzzi Ridge and the northwest ridge and return to the Savoia glacier if no route seemed better than what had already been discovered on the northwest ridge.

Continuing with the trend, the first views from the east side of K2 were not positive. The northeast ridge is a long knife-edge ridge littered with gendarmes. The south side of the ridge seemed like it could go but would require long stretches of travel through icy gendarmes that could topple over onto anyone traveling beneath them. The north side was prone to avalanches from high up the mountain and neither appeared to offer sites suitable for establishing camps. The Abruzzi Ridge at least looked possible, though difficult.

After the first views of these two ridges it was decided that Houston and House would climb the Abruzzi Ridge to determine the difficulty of climbing. On the first day of exploration of the ridge Houston discovered some small pieces of wood, these were remnants of the Duke of Abruzzi’s highest camp in 1909 and provided a psychological boost to the climbers. As they carried on up the ridge, the climbing grew more difficult and no suitable campsites were found. With the Karakoram’s penchant for sudden poor weather, the lack of adequate campsites was more concerning than the difficulty of climbing.

Photograph of K2 from Windy Gap, taken by Vittorio Sella in 1909. Vittorio Sella Collection

Uncertainty began to set in. Three routes remained as options: the northwest ridge, the northeast ridge and the Abruzzi Ridge. The big problem was that none of the routes seemed particularly better than the others. Each ridge had its own question looming over it. Could the northwest ridge be reached without devoting a lot of time and energy to carve out steps? Was there a potential route hidden on the northeast ridge that would not place the climbers in extreme danger? Were there any suitable locations to place campsites on the Abruzzi Ridge?

The party attempted to answer two of these questions. Bates and House returned to the Savoia Glacier. A few days of roaring avalanches off of the west face of K2, tumbling seracs, traversing ice slopes and heavy snow saw the pair reach a high point of 20,000 ft. before the rock became too steep. They came to the conclusion that reaching the northwest ridge under the current conditions was not possible.

Houston and Streatfeild had an easier time on the northeast ridge; easier in that they realized after several hours of step cutting that the route would not be adequate for carrying loads and the ridge offered little protection for any campsites that could be established.

So the Abruzzi Ridge was all that remained. As the last viable option all efforts and resources would now focus on the Abruzzi Ridge. Camp I was established at its base at 17,700 ft. While the rest of the expedition ferried loads to stockpile Camp I, Petzoldt and House continued scouring the ridge for campsites. After a day of searching and ascending a steep snowfield, hopes were waning and the pair was about to descend back to Camp I. Petzoldt decided to ascend one more pitch to peek around the corner of a crest. When Petzoldt reached the end of the rope, he let out an excited yell. Camp II was found. The campsite at 19,300’ was the first good news of the expedition since arriving the base of the mountain and lifted everyone’s spirits.

Rock taken from the Abruzzi Ridge. Karakoram translates to, "black gravel." Robert H. Bates Collection

Once Camp II was established and stocked with 10 days worth of supplies Petzoldt and House again led the way in search of the next camp. The ground grew steeper and steeper with any ledges discovered sloping downward. Once again the prospect of finding a campsite seemed slim and hopes began to waver. Around noon, as the going became more and more difficult, the pair noticed two buttresses a few hundred feet above them that may yield suitable terrain. With haste House began the first of two ice traverses that lay between them and the buttress. In an effort to save time House cut as few steps as possible. This time-saving maneuver led to House losing purchase and sliding towards the Godwin-Austen Glacier. Petzoldt was prepared for this possibility and held fast to the rope around House’s waist. After banging into the buttress that Petzoldt belayed from, House attacked the ice slope with new vigor. House completed the traverse placing pitons and running rope along the way. The reward for the day’s climbing was a tiny, uneven platform that sloped off the mountain on three sides.

Before Camp III (20,700 ft.) could be established Petzoldt and House needed to safeguard the route with 900 ft. of rope. The treacherous terrain was difficult for two unloaded men; it would be near impossible and reckless to attempt with a full load of supplies. The task of safeguarding the route took the entirety of the next day and still not satisfied with its security, was reinforced more as light loads were carried towards Camp III the day after that. Before the light loads could be brought all the way to Camp III, a storm began to build. The loads were left below a buttress and the pair descended all the way to Camp I when it appeared that the storm was gaining strength and was potentially going to be a long one.

The storm was not prolonged and the next day was relatively clear. With extreme caution, loads were carried to Camp III and more ropes placed to further secure the treacherous sections of the route. After 4 days of ferrying loads while snow fell and winds howled around them it was time to go higher than Camp III and search for Camp IV.

Petzoldt and Houston led the way in search of Camp IV. The climbing above Camp III grew more technical, the rock grew more rotten and was eventually blocked by a large gendarme. Petzoldt conquered the obstruction via an overhanging crack that led to a ledge with solid holds. A few hundred feet above the recently defeated gendarme another obstruction was reached, this time it was an impassable wall of reddish-brown rock. The duo descended back to the top of the gendarme and decided that it would be the location for Camp IV (21,500 ft.).

Once Camp IV was established it was time to push up the mountain. The new leaders were Houston and House. A location for Camp V was discovered at 22,000 ft., placing it only 500’ higher than Camp IV.

Above Camp IV the rock was near vertical and in worse condition than expected. This section was only climbed after House was able to work his way up an 80-foot chimney. The chimney now bears his name. Camp V was then located across a snowfield and under a rock pinnacle. This 500’ took four hours to achieve and would be an entire days work when moving supplies. House’s Chimney was impossible to climb with a load so a makeshift aerial tramway was constructed to haul the loads up.

After a few days of poor weather and load ferrying, a site for Camp VI was discovered at 23,300’. The climb up to Camp VI took serious skill in route finding and saw Petzoldt and Houston turned back at multiple points. Eventually they discovered a steep snow gully that tested their nerves. The snow was deep and anything that fell down the gully disappeared into nothingness. The snow gully led to more rotten rock, which led to a buttress whose base would be the location for Camp VI.

Above Camp VI lay the black pyramid, a near 1,000-foot buttress of dark rock that loomed over the expedition while they were scouting the ridge a month earlier. If they could make their way up the black pyramid, K2’s 2,200-foot summit cone would be within reach.

Petzoldt and Houston worked their way up the route; Petzoldt, with fine intuition about where the path lay ahead, led over steep technical rock and eventually up another snow gully that led to the top of the pyramid. With the snow shoulder above the black pyramid reached, the Abruzzi Ridge was conquered. A handshake was shared and a “restful cigarette” enjoyed.

Thank you note written by Houston and Petzoldt on a piece of toilet paper. It reads:

"Hi

Thanks a million for the campsite and tent. They were certainly welcome when we came down at 4:15. Very cold.

We went 700 ft. higher over climbing of varying difficulty and spotted c/c weather. Route ahead not too bad. Hope to make top of pyramid today.

We hoped you could make two platforms more on this ledge and one near the big notch [?] feet below here.

Good luck + thanks again

C +P"

Robert H. Bates Collection

The route was pushed higher and a good campsite was found for Camp VII at 24,700 ft. Even after ropes were fixed on the difficult terrain between Camp VI and VII, the route would remain difficult and would be unwise to attempt in bad weather. With supplies dwindling it was time to make a decision.

The expedition conceded to K2 and the mountain remained unclimbed. With supplies dwindling and difficult terrain between camps a prolonged storm would potentially be catastrophic to the group, added onto that the porters were due to arrive in seven days.

Before retreating down the mountain, one final push would be made. Houston and Petzoldt would make a dash as high up the mountain as they could reach. A Spartan Camp VII was established with just enough supplies for Houston and Petzoldt to climb for a day. Any sign of bad weather would force the pair to make a hasty retreat to Camp VI.

The weather the next day was clear so the pair went up. Though K2 had provided many difficult and technical days of climbing, the final day was one of plodding through snow. By noon a recognizable shoulder was reached at 25,600 ft. The Duke of Abruzzi had triangulated the altitude 29 years earlier and the climbers knew that they had reached the summit cone. The pair climbed up a few hundred more feet to gain a good view of the route that led to the summit. Both agreed that it did not appear any more difficult than the route below and that the summit could be reached from the Abruzzi Ridge. They then turned and started back down the mountain.

Though their high point of 26,000 ft. was 2,250 ft. below the summit, the First American Karakoram Expedition was a success. The entire south side of the mountain was reconnoitered and a promising route to the summit was discovered. More importantly there were no major injuries and everyone involved survived the attempt high up the Savage Mountain. It was now up to the Second American Karakoram Expedition to climb the mountain.

Read about the Second American Karakoram Expedition here.

Read about the Third American Karakoram Expedition here.

By Eric Rueth

Care and Handling of Archival Nitrate Negatives

by Allison Albright

Nitrate film base was developed in the 1880s and was the first plasticized film base available commercially. It enabled photographers to take pictures under more diverse conditions, and its flexibility and low cost was partially responsible for making photography affordable and accessible to amateur consumers as well as professionals. It was widely used from the 1890s until the 1950s. 

An album of nitrate negatives circa 1900

Nitrate negatives also happen to be mildly toxic and somewhat volatile. Because the material is the same chemical composition as cellulose nitrate (also known as flash paper or guncotton), which is used in munitions and explosives, it is incredibly flammable and prone to auto-ignition. It was also used in motion picture film in the early 20th century and was responsible for several movie theater fires during that era.

Below are some negatives in the early stages of deterioration.

As if the danger of combustion wasn’t enough, nitrate negatives also emit harmful nitric acid gas as they deteriorate, meaning that we need to use safety precautions such as respirators and latex gloves when handling these negatives. 

HNO3 + 2 H2SO4 ⇌ NO2+ + H3O+ + 2HSO4

Nitric acid is considered a highly corrosive mineral acid.

Nitrate negatives usually deteriorate in just a few decades, making them an extremely unstable storage medium. As they deteriorate, the image begins to fade and the negative turns soft and gooey, causing it to weld itself to whatever it’s stored with, resulting in the loss of the image. 

A clump of badly deteriorated negatives stuck together forever

When good negatives go bad - a negative in the process of becoming goo

Like most archival collections containing materials created from about 1890 to the early 1950s, the AAC’s collection includes some nitrate film negatives. For most of their lives, these negatives have been stored in a cold, temperature controlled area. We’re digitizing these negatives in order to capture the images and make them accessible to the public before we put them in deep freeze. The best way to preserve and store nitrate negatives for the long term is to freeze them to slow the process of deterioration and minimize the risk that they’ll start a fire. 

Because of the unstable nature of nitrate negatives, some deterioration is to be expected. However, the vast majority of this collection is still in good shape. We've included a few selections below. Eventually, we’ll make all the images from our nitrate negatives available.

These photographs are taken from the collection of Andrew James Gilmour (1871-1941), an AAC member whose surviving photographs help inform our knowledge of the history of climbing and what the sport was like in the early 20th century.