Father of Ice Mountains

By John Quillen

A 2011 ski ascent of 24,747 foot Muztagh Ata in the Chinese Pamirs. We follow in the footsteps of legendary climber Eric Shipton for an expedition to the top of the "Ice Mountain Father". Frostbite and fistfights are all part of the landscape here in China's back of beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Quillen
• Release date: Mar 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311539724

John Quillen

I am a lover of all things outdoors and occasional chaser of big mountains. My home is in the Southern Appalachians where I channel the energy of what was once the tallest chain of peaks on this earth.Contact me here. http://johnquille0.wix.com/fotm#!contact/ckws

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Father of Ice Mountains

In the Footsteps of Shipton

A 2011 ski ascent of China's Muztagh Ata

John Quillen

Copyright © 2016 by John Quillen

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Printing, 2016

Southern Highlands Press

335 High St.

Maryville TN

37804

ISBN-13: 978-0692643815

ISBN-10: 0692643818

www.fatheroficemountains.com

Other books by John Quillen

Tempting the Throne Room

Surviving Pakistan's Deadliest Climbing Season 2013

ISBN: 978-1494845841

www.temptingthethroneroom.com

Acknowledgments

Many of the brilliant photographs, including the cover inset, are the work of teammate Christian Konow.

Eric Graves was a lucky charm on my first book. He performed the initial edits on this one and his dedication to the success of a friend's second effort is above and beyond the call.

My sweetheart, Laurel Dunn read and re read the manuscript several times. Then she proofread and endured my continual revisions patiently.

Jim Casada provided proofing on three chapters.

Dr. Kenneth Bielak advocated for aggressive hyperbaric oxygen treatment that may be the single reason I still have the ends of all fingers and toes. Similarly, Dr. Dan Walters and Mike Holmes contributed a good medical kit and excellent post-incident support.

My family, Mom, Dad, Shelby, David and Todd have always supported these adventures, despite the ensuing and now predictable consternation.

But it was Brian Moran who got me out of there and back home. He literally hauled me from one side of the globe to another, then back again.

Prologue

This manuscript was largely completed prior to June, 2013 as Brian Moran and I joined in Islamabad for our next suffer fest. Pouring over the contents of Father of Ice Mountains, I couldn't quite seem to wrap up the project and proceed to publication of what I thought would be my first book. Something was keeping me from sharing this story with the world.

That something turned out to be the tragedy that gave birth to my true first publication, Tempting the Throne Room, an account of the days marking that foray deep in the Karakoram on the flanks of Broad Peak. Hacked out from my psyche to the printed word in the form of a cathartic and dark memoir, I soon realized that my time in Western China was preparation for what proved to be the deadliest season in Pakistan climbing history.

In retrospect, Father of Ice Mountains is prologue to Tempting the Throne Room. The intervening years consolidated those parallels eerily in ways that proved quite evident to those of us who remained for retelling. Our dark time in the Karakoram had to conclude before this tale could be released. Only 700 days separates two stories that occurred within nautical miles of each other on the other side of the globe. There is an invisible line between China and Pakistan but these mountains make no political distinctions when it comes to success and punishment. In Father of Ice Mountains you will learn of our experiences with both. Sadly, on K3, the results were considerably more lopsided.

"I can recall nothing of the next three or four hours except dull, plodding monotony and intense cold. We were prevented by the width of the ridge from seeing the other peaks of the massif by which we might have been able to gauge our upward progress. We avoided going to the left for fear getting too close to the edge of the ice cliff overhanging the Yam-Bulak glacier, while to the right the ground was somewhat crevassed. The snow neither improved nor deteriorated; the force of the wind neither increased nor slackened; the sun seemed to become no warmer. Early in the afternoon a small, swiftly moving cloud attached itself to the ridge a few hundred feet above us. This seemed to show that we were getting very close to the top, and I now had very little doubt that we would reach it."

Eric Shipton Mountains of Tartary, Hodder and Stoughton 1951

Despite his optimism, Shipton was unsuccessful in reaching the summit of Muztagh Ata, which translates to Ice Mountain Father in Uyghur.

Chapter 1

The Uyghur who Wigged Us

(photo courtesy Christian Konow)

What some could call a road turned to pure gravel two hours outside of Kashgar as our bus officially entered the dusty Karakoram highway. Our humble climbing team was expecting a picturesque ascent snaking through the Indus River Valley. Little were we prepared for the impending nightmare soon to unfold. Immediately upon entering the twisting one-and-a-half-lane dirt highway which many television shows have dubbed one of the most dangerous roads in the world, our vehicle nearly flipped, teetering one hundred feet above the muddy drink. Our chauffeur, a grumpy little Uyghur man had neglected to slow down before a big hairpin and raised the minibus to one set of wheels. Fresh fruit, newly purchased from roadside stands, careened like mortars from their overhead containers and splattered the opposite windows leaving what could appear to the bystander, a veritable crime scene. Ripened watermelon could have been mistaken for passenger brains as it exploded onto the opposing window; in similar fashion cantaloupes struck with a dull thud and water bottles ping-ponged from floor to ceiling. Climbers were upended from seats and tossed across the aisle into neighbors laps and our driver was catapulted into the passenger seat. We had yet to begin our expedition and had all nearly been killed just steps from civilization.

Having erroneously concluded that this incident would drive home the importance of caution on this mountain path cum highway with its myriad curves and plunging cliff sides, we settled in to the most terrifying ride of our lives. Our nutjob chauffeur did not seem at all fazed by the initial incident and continued to undertake turns at breakneck speed. Brian, my climbing partner who is fairly accustomed to turbulence as a commercial airline pilot, smirked nervously though we both maintained seriously watchful eyes. I was quite apprehensive as we approached a high mountain lake where the Chinese had actually created a road through the middle of the water using the tailings of mining projects further up the mountain. Their efforts were sufficient to create a small vehicular passage and I wondered if subsequent conveyances would find this temporary road permanently washed out from underneath their axles. As we traversed the lake just inches above the surface, water streamed through our tires. I was relieved that our driver was presently exercising some modicum of caution, but my relief proved fleeting. As we transitioned back onto the true dirt, our driver resumed his mad dash.

Obviously something was not quite right, but I could not figure it out. On one of the highest mountain roads on earth this man seemed inattentive to the point of distraction. The realization then hit me like a rock dislodged from the cliffs above. He was having trouble staying awake. I can understand nodding off on a flat interstate highway, but when the sharpest curves and one of the steepest passages in existence can't hold your attention, you’re in a world of hurt. Ever vigilant, Brian kept increasingly watchful tabs on the escalating negligence at the front of the bus as the rest of us clutched railings and seat backs. Soon the driver began opening the window, slapping his leg, and doing the head bob. Brian said, Man, he’s gonna go. He’s gonna go! And having no hesitation in assuming the role of co-pilot, inched closer to the cabin.