Buried in the Sky: The Extraordinary Story of the Sherpa Climbers on K2's Deadliest Day

by Peter Zuckerman

K2 lacks the mass of Everest, but it’s sleeker—and meaner. Climbers call it “The Savage Mountain.” The peak has all the obstacles of Everest, and more. K2’s glaciers are riddled with fissures concealed by layers of snow; climbers step on these crevasses, punch through, and, if unroped, disappear. Blocks of ice cleave off overhanging glaciers; avalanches roar down icy flanks. And then there’s the altitude. No human, plant, or animal can tolerate such harsh conditions for more than a few days. With each lungful of air, climbers on the summit suck in only a third of the oxygen they breathe at sea level. Oxygen deprivation saps their strength and compromises their judgment. Altitude illness breaks them, giving some the coordination of toddlers. As if these difficulties weren’t enough, storms are harsher on K2. It stands 882 miles northwest of Everest, and, being farther from the equator, is more vulnerable to extratropical cyclones and their accompanying jet streams. Everest at least follows a reliable weather pattern: Water evaporates from the Bay of Bengal east of India, forming cloud banks; they float northward over the Himalaya, nudging the jet stream off the summit, in advance of the monsoon. In May, relatively windless weather graces Everest for as long as two weeks. In contrast, K2’s weather window is a crapshoot. Climbers don’t know when the window will open—or whether it will open at all.