New Article--Reinhold Messner: Surviving Nanga Parbat

[Patrick Carlson]

This week I take a look at one of the most famous and controversial survival stories in extreme mountaineering--Reinhold Messner's 1970 ascent of the Himalayan peak Nanga Parbat. Messner details the events in a recently published collection of interviews with the legendary climber, My Life at the Limit.

The events on Nanga Parbat give Messner a chance to dwell on topics common to great survival stories: Life, death, and the intersection of risk and ambition when exploring remote and dangerous places.

What do you make of Messner's approach to exploration? Is the risk worth it?

[The Survivor]

I grew up reading books like "Banner to the Sky" and "Last of the Breed." Stories of survival have always intrigued me, as menial tasks, such as gathering food or finding shelter, become something much more significant. Like Messner, I, too, once sought the thrill of living in that space between life and death; that zone of existence in which we are at our most vulnerable, yet still capable of escaping. In those moments where life is uncertain and death surrounds us, it is our own will and perseverance that can pull us through. That is where the joy of exploration and survival lies: in knowing that we circumnavigated death itself, through means that were entirely within ourselves all along.

Like Messner, I enjoyed climbing and spelunking as a teenager growing up. I was introduced to this extreme hobby by my older brother, whom I idolized all of his life. So, naturally, I was inclined to become more involved with the sport as I grew older. I was eventually shown all the knots and techniques by my cousin. He and I explored caves, ascended and descended waterfalls, rock formations, and cliff faces of all shapes and sizes. I always had a rope and solid harness, while he, ever the daredevil, would sometimes decide to risk it all on the tenacity of his own mind. Usually this paid off, as he was quite good at what he did.

Together, we conquered as many caves and cliffs as we could (in East Tennessee, at least). My fondest memory of my cousin Ricky was the coldest night in autumn, a few years back. With winter approaching, we had decided to go out in his canoe to a small island along the Tennessee River. We drank some beer and built a fire. We ate beef jerky and shared some laughs, all while near freezing due to our lack of proper outerwear; we had no idea it would be so cold that night. In the morning when we awoke, both of our boots had melted clean through because we had to sleep so close to the fire. It was a great night. One of those spur-of-the-moment trips with someone you love, that you never forget. That trip wasn't the most death-defying of ours, but it was the most memorable.

We had a lot of great excursions like this one, without planning or plotting. We'd simply decide we were bored, and go do something reckless. It didn't really hit home just how reckless we could be until a tragedy occurred.

On August the fourth of this year, just over a month ago, Ricky decided he wanted to freehand a large power line pylon. It was one of those massive towers that carries electricity over long distances and steep terrain. Without a safety of any kind, he decided that he wanted to see the view from above. I had watched him do this before, but never all the way to the top, and not this particular pylon. I was not there to see what happened, thankfully, but my cousin made it to the top. Yet, as stated in the article above, the descent is always the tricky part.

My cousin Ricky was seemingly a reckless individual, but I had seen him do things I thought superhuman at times. Today, there was no superhuman ability to be found; only a man who had made a foolish decision. As he stood at the top, he yelled to someone whom he was camping with, and was readying himself for the climb back down. His shirt got snagged and ripped on a piece of metal, causing him to lose balance. He fell 80 feet, landing on his skull. Needless to say, my cousin had tempted death one time too many.

To some, there is, and always will be, more to life than a 9 to 5 job and getting a paycheck to be truly happy. For him, there was never enough adventure. At times, he would simply go off into the woods for months at a time, with supplies for only a couple of weeks; trials, I suppose, to prove to himself what he was really made of. I believe that is how men like my cousin and Reinhold Messner live; it is not a day to day decision, but a lifestyle. What you and I perceive as recklessness likely has a plan, albeit a dangerous one, to back it up.

Was it worth it? Was it worth risking everything you know and love for an adrenaline rush and a grand view? That is a near impossible question for any survivor to answer, and I'm not certain that anyone can say for sure. From what I know of my cousin, I can say that it would have been the way he'd have wanted it; I just can't say that the timing was quite right. He was only 37 years old. Would he have done it differently? Going back to the article, would Gunther have done anything differently? These men, simply by doing what they love, forfeited their lives. That fact, however, doesn't change their passions. It doesn't change the way that they lived, so why would they want to be remembered any other way?

As in The Long Dark, the true happiness of survival lies in those quiet moments that don't yet encompass fear but are far from calm. Those moments between life and death, when one has exceeded their own expectations, and gone beyond the threshold of death's icy grip. I would say it is, to the one enduring the initial pain, worth every bit of the risk for those few moments of absolute freedom over the world. To know that they had conquered something great today and would live to fight for victory over some other seemingly insurmountable obstacle tomorrow. As for those of us, like Messner and myself, who endure the lasting pain of loss, it will never be worth the it. For all the exploration and adventure in the world, it will never be worth it.

[Patrick Carlson]

@The Survivor

I'll just say welcome and thanks for sharing your thoughts with us. My condolences to you on the recent passing of your cousin.

As you so eloquently point out, there are places in the world that seem irresistible in their beauty or challenge, no matter how dangerous they are in reality. Again, thank you. I look forward to hearing more from you here in our forums.

[Raphael van Lierop]

Incredible post, The Survivor. Thank you so much for sharing, and condolences on your loss.

[The Survivor]

I appreciate the support, and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.