Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life?
— MARY OLIVER, THE SUMMER DAY
By the end of 1986 there was no country in the world that dominated Himalayan climbing the way Poland did. There were individuals from other nations, of course: Messner and Habeler, Doug Scott and Greg Child. But no single country could boast such a strength and depth of climbing talent. Within that Polish team, with its dozens of amazing performers, the stars rose to the surface: Jurek Kukuczka, Voytek Kurtyka, Wanda Rutkiewicz, Krzysztof Wielicki, Andrzej Zawada and Artur Hajzer.
But the team was breaking up. Voytek had long ago given up on the big national-style expeditions, preferring to climb in small groups, often with foreign partners. Wanda too had forsaken any sense of Polish loyalty, climbing with whomever she could, depending on the circumstances. Not just in Poland, but everywhere, individual aspirations had taken over where nationalistic goals once ruled. Jurek wanted the Himalayan Crown. Krzysztof was after speed.
They struggled to balance their aspirations with the continuing challenge of financing their dreams. Shortly after climbing K2, Wanda met the person who would help her do just that – Dr. Marion Feik. A lawyer from Vienna, Marion was tiring of her profession in the human rights field and offered to become Wanda’s agent and manager. Wanda accepted. Now she could concentrate on what she did best: climbing. Marion would take care of the rest. It was a match that promised long-term stability, a luxury that Wanda had been unable to find in her two attempts at marriage. Their relationship also yielded an invaluable source of correspondence for historians, tracking not only Wanda’s career but also her feelings, her doubts, her dreams and her fears.
She wasted little time in Poland and was back in the Himalaya by September of 1986, this time to attempt Makalu, in the eastern part of Nepal. Wanda was in good spirits and wrote from the trek:
6 September 1986
Dear Marion
Your help in organizing this expedition was invaluable. I’m taking your perfume up to base camp, but I’ll eat the ham on the approach march. I’ve left European civilization far behind and I’m enchanted by the landscape below Makalu….
Ever since Reinhold Messner’s achievement, a great deal of media attention was being paid to 8000-metre peaks. But Messner and Jurek weren’t the only ones chasing 8000ers. Swiss butcher Marcel Rüedi was ticking them off, too. Although none of them had admitted to a “race,” everyone else, including the media, had treated it as such. Wanda too had become an 8000-metre specialist, and it was likely on Makalu that she began to imagine herself climbing all 14, for both Rüedi and Messner were at base camp. Impressed with Wanda’s performance on the mountain, Messner pronounced, “Wanda is the living proof that women can put up performances at high altitude that most men can only dream of. I’m certain that a woman will have conquered the magic fourteen 8,000-metre peaks within the next ten years.”47
30 September 1986
Dear Marion
The normal route up Makalu is not particularly difficult, but it is savagely strenuous…. One of the worst trials is having to keep retreading the track in deep snow, often up to your waist and burrowing like a mole…. I think about you often, and I’m looking forward to your warm welcome in Vienna.
Although Wanda reached 8000 metres on the mountain, the summit eluded her. Not so for Marcel Rüedi, who was climbing with Krzysztof. Krzysztof was faster and reached the summit before Rüedi, who eventually had to bivouac on the way down without a sleeping bag at 8200 metres. When Messner and his partners climbed to the summit the next morning, they were watching out for Rüedi, yet it wasn’t until they were descending that they saw him sitting in the snow with his hands on his ski poles. He appeared to be taking a short rest. But he was dead. After climbing nine of the 14 8000ers, he had died in his tracks, apparently not acclimatized to climb at the pace he was attempting. For Wanda, the 14-8000-metre dream was just beginning.
Although the race was over for him, Jurek was motivated to finish off his last climbs. Artur, now his preferred climbing partner, was just as enthusiastic. Together with Krzysztof, Wanda and Rysiek Warecki, they arranged for a winter permit for Annapurna and were back in Nepal by the New Year of 1987.
Wanda didn’t confine her activities to Annapurna.
11 January 1987
Dear Marion
… I was busy in Kathmandu working the system to get more permits for the future. I just can’t slow down, even in Nepal….
It had been Jurek’s idea to invite Wanda on the trip, although none of the other climbers were particularly excited about climbing with her. If Jurek invited her, then he could climb with her, they reasoned. She didn’t climb as fast as the others; she bivouacked too often; and she always brought too many gadgets. Jurek wasn’t all that keen to climb with her, either, but he had a practical reason for inviting her. Wanda had a film commission from an Austrian network, and she would bring some badly needed cash. In fact Jurek had often commented to Celina that climbing in the Himalaya was not for women. Celina disagreed with him and, in her quiet way, was a strong supporter of Wanda, who she thought was brave and strong for choosing this tough climbing lifestyle.
They established base camp by January 20, but their time was desperately short: the permit expired on February 15. Annapurna in any season is one of the most dangerous of the 8000-metre peaks. A winter attempt nudged it into another dimension altogether. They were on the north side of the mountain where they saw not one ray of sunlight, not even an hour or two of forgiving warmth to look forward to. Except at base camp, it was just constant cold and shade.
Since Jurek had done the organizing, there was a lot of food, at least. Rysiek had recently returned from the Tyrol, bringing a supply of delicious Austrian Speck (bacon). Everyone on the team was looking forward to sampling it. When they reached base camp they rummaged through barrel after barrel: no Speck to be found. Their disappointment was mitigated by the amusing sounds emerging from Jurek and Wanda’s tent. The other climbers giggled each night as they listened to the strange smacking sounds. Their imaginations ran wild. “We thought, oh boy, Celina will be jealous,” Artur said. In fact, Celina was a bit worried. She knew that Wanda and Jurek would be sharing a tent on this trip, and, although she admired Wanda, even saw her as a kind of idol, she was not blind to her feminine charm. As it turned out, her worries were unfounded; when the expedition ended and they were packing up base camp, Artur discovered a pile of Speck containers tucked under Jurek and Wanda’s tent. The suspicious noises had been more gastronomical than anatomical.
Initially the climbers made good progress on their cold, dark mountain. They were resting in base camp before taking another load of gear and food higher up the mountain when Wanda fell ill with a fever and sore throat, as she often did early in an expedition. She opted out of the next load-carrying trip. Jurek, Krzysztof and Artur began packing up. As usual, Artur wanted to take more gear, and Jurek, as always, wanted to take more food. He belonged to the group of alpinists who, regardless of the altitude, liked to eat well.
Wanda wasn’t part of this packing up, so she was in the mess tent, chatting with Rysiek. Artur approached the tent and overheard them speaking.
“I know these sons of bitches. They’re going to try to get to the top now,” Rysiek said.
“Do you really think so?” Wanda asked, obviously surprised.
“Well what would they be waiting for?”
When Artur entered, Wanda asked him directly, “Is it true that you are going to try and get to the top?”
Artur was caught. This was a much more difficult question than appeared at first glance. He knew that it might be possible to try for an early summit bid and that if any of them could do it, it would be Jurek and him. They climbed quickly and were still acclimatized from Manaslu. But they hadn’t been on the mountain long and the highest camps were not yet in, so the chances of getting to the top right now were very unlikely. The answer was therefore both yes and no. He didn’t know what to tell her, so he deferred to Jurek. “I just follow the leader,” he said. “If the leader stops, I stop. If the leader goes, I go. If the leader backs down, I back down. I’m not the one to make the decision.”
Wanda saw through the deflection and became angry, accusing Artur of scheming behind her back. She stomped out of the tent in search of Jurek. Upon being questioned, he said that, yes, if there was a chance to go to the summit now, why would they wait? It seemed obvious. She became enraged. She wasn’t ready yet. It was all happening too quickly. “If, as you say, there is a chance that you’ll go all the way to the summit, what will happen to me?” she demanded of Jurek. “You know that I can’t try for the summit right now. I think that you should designate someone to stay behind and be my partner for a later summit attempt.”
Artur had sidled up to the pair and overheard her request. He was dumbfounded. “This ‘to designate’ sounded so curious to me,” he exclaimed. “She was forcing Jurek to become a true general manager, as if we were on a big expedition. I knew this kind of management from books and all of a sudden it looked as if I would still be able to see all these mistakes and blunders first-hand.”
There were three eligible partners for Wanda: Jurek, Krzysztof or Artur. Jurek designated himself. And so the unofficial climbing team of Jurek and Artur was, for the time being, broken up. Jurek assigned Artur to Krzysztof. The wily Artur tried to process what had just happened. He knew that Krzysztof, even though he wasn’t as successful or as psychologically tough as Jurek, was in even better physical condition. But Jurek was more driven. Either of them would make a formidable partner. “To put it bluntly, switching partners can be compared to getting out of a Toyota diesel into a gasoline Mazda,” he finally concluded.
By the time they reached 6800 metres, all four were climbing together. They were just 300 metres above Camp III when nightfall forced them to bivouac. Everyone was tired and Wanda still felt ill, possibly suffering from anemia, a condition that had plagued her on and off since Everest. They planned to descend the next day, rehydrate, continue to acclimatize and then come back up the mountain for a serious summit bid. Krzysztof and Artur were in their tent, preparing for bed. All of a sudden, from the neighbouring tent, came Jurek’s question: “Who is going to come with me and try to get Camp V set up tomorrow?”
Wanda knew she wasn’t well enough acclimatized. It would be a waste of effort for her to try and climb higher now, and the summit was still more than 1200 metres above them. It was an easy decision for her; the answer was no.
Krzysztof was not completely acclimatized either. But he was a faster climber. He could probably go higher and get safely down. Yet he was also smarting from the repercussions of the recent death of his good friend Marcel Rüedi. When Rüedi, climbing slower than Krzysztof, had opted to stay behind and rest on the way down, Krzysztof had agreed. After Rüedi died in his tracks, Krzysztof had been criticized for “leaving his partner” on the mountain, and he was worried about getting into a similar situation with Wanda. But before he could begin to respond to Jurek’s challenge, Artur shouted as loud as he possibly could, “Meeeeeeeeeeee!”
The circumstances leading to the summit team of Jurek and Artur were curious. On the one hand, the two were clearly the most able, since they were still acclimatized from their previous climb. On the other, Krzysztof was much more experienced than Artur and was perhaps a more obvious choice for Jurek. About Jurek there never seemed any doubt: he was always the most ambitious and most willing to suffer for a summit. Annapurna in winter was no exception. Wanda was probably never a serious candidate for a fast ascent, even though she had brought most of the financing. In the end, the summit team was decided in that moment when Artur seized the day, yelling out his eagerness to go.
Artur worried about Krzysztof, who by now had developed a big reputation. He not only climbed fast but also expected others to perform at his level. Some called him a “harsh leader” who bossed people around and wanted things done quickly – his way. He was a small person with a big attitude. Certainly bigger than Artur’s. And his ambitions were enormous. Maybe Krzysztof would hold a grudge against him. Artur was experienced enough to know that relations between big egos on big mountains can sometimes produce big problems. He remembered Kangchenjunga in January, when Krzysztof had positioned himself so carefully and craftily in order to assure himself a summit bid. And the South Face of Lhotse in 1985, when Krzysztof had left the expedition abruptly after Rafał Chołda’s death, declaring that any further effort would be a lost cause. Krzysztof knew when to cut his losses. That was clear. But for the moment, Artur was willing to risk hard feelings for the chance to climb higher with Jurek.
Jurek and Artur didn’t stop at Camp V. On February 3, just 16 days after arriving in base camp, they reached the top of Annapurna.
Their achievement was remarkable, not only because of the speed with which they climbed it but also because of the winter storm that hit them near the top. They were forced to climb the last bit blind, following radio instructions from below. Krzysztof remembered the moment the pair trudged into base camp, Jurek’s joy as he waved his arms, singing a popular Polish song at the top of his voice: “I love you, Life.”
Krzysztof and Wanda tried one more time, but she was extremely weak from a lingering bronchial infection; it was only her dogged determination that initiated their second attempt. Krzysztof knew it was doomed even before they began. He saw the enormous effort it cost Wanda to try again, knowing that just a few months earlier she had been standing on the summit of K2. He understood the physical and emotional ordeal she had endured on that mountain, and he tried to convince her to ease up. “I told her a thousand times: ‘Messner went up with the Sherpas. Is he great?’”
“He is,” Wanda acknowledged.
“Then take the Sherpas, they will help you,” he implored. But Wanda wanted to do it her way, to be the first, to do it without help.
“A difficult woman,” Krzysztof said, “an extraordinary woman.”
Krzysztof had initially been impressed, even awed by Wanda. But as he grew to know her better his admiration faded. “Not an easy woman. Very hard – hard-headed,” he said.
He told a story about when he, Jurek and Wanda had been invited to Switzerland to participate in some medical tests on high-altitude climbers. One of the procedures, which was supposed to determine the condition of their altitude-impaired brains, was a memory test. The scientists would make statements such as, “On January 13, at 6:10 a.m., a ship with a draught of 260,000 tons sank in Hamburg harbour. Sixteen children and 31 adults drowned, among them 7 women and 15 men, 3 seamen…. At 1:10 p.m., a rescue team consisting of 47 people set out. Three rescuers died during the operation.” The climbers would then be asked to repeat it.
“Is a seaman the same as a man?” joked Krzysztof.
“Your brain has more holes than mine,” Jurek taunted.
“Yes, but yours are bigger,” retorted Krzysztof.
They played around with the questions and answers, not taking the exercise terribly seriously. That evening, Wanda appeared at their door with a slight frown furrowing her brow. “Jurek, how many of those rescuers drowned?” The two were flabbergasted and laughed at her earnestness.
“That’s ambition!” exclaimed Krzysztof.
He complained that she refused to follow traditional expedition rules and protocol. More important, he felt, along with quite a few others, that when Wanda was on an expedition there was always more work to be done, often for her benefit. Alek Lwow agreed that she tended to use people for her own goals on expeditions and that, particularly as she began to age, she gravitated to climbers who were better and stronger than her. She certainly wouldn’t be the first – or the last – aging climber to adopt this strategy. Even Messner admitted that if it hadn’t been for the strength of Hans Kammerlander, his partner on Lhotse, his last 8000er, he never would have summited. Krzysztof worried that, although Wanda was a star – the biggest in Poland’s climbing history – physically, she was slowing down to a dangerous level.
The Annapurna winter defeat was bitter for Krzysztof who, in later years, developed an obsession for winter climbs. He had come very close on Annapurna but had given up his attempt for his partner, who wasn’t even his partner but Jurek’s partner. “Annapurna was the first peak that I didn’t climb,” he said. “I was with Wanda. No, Kukuczka was with Wanda.”
At the end, despite the obvious fact that she had been invited to Annapurna primarily for her money – not because they wanted to climb with her – Wanda just seemed happy to have survived.
18 February 1987
Dear Marion
The events of the last three weeks seem quite straightforward when I sit and write them down, but in fact I have survived some of the worst perils of my life. The route on Annapurna was a very dangerous one…. I was in poor condition, with a bad cough…. Thank you for remembering my birthday.
Like her contemporaries, Wanda devoted her entire life to Himalayan climbing. Although her 10th-floor apartment on Sobieskiego Street in Warsaw was neither beautiful nor elaborate, it housed her equipment and provided her with a home base. The view out her window of the sea of rooftops and endless blocks of concrete was monotonous and grey. But it really didn’t matter, since she was hardly ever there.
Marion managed her as best she could, but there was never enough time to do all the things Wanda wanted to do. Wanda’s ambitions far exceeded climbing. She recorded interviews, wrote reports, filmed and edited, lectured and solicited sponsors – all activities essential to the life of a professional alpinist. She confided to Marion, “I live for the mountains, but I don’t live only by the mountains. I’m not just a climber, and I don’t ever want to be just a climber.”48 Still, she was realistic about her creative talents, saying, “I’m one of those who is competent, but not talented…. But I’m grateful for even the modicum of talent that I have.”49 She soon developed a pattern of overcommitment that gradually wore her down.
Krzysztof’s career was heating up; winter climbing was becoming one of his specialties. Following the carnage of the 1986 summer season on K2, he joined Andrzej Zawada’s winter expedition in 1987. Affectionately known as the “K2-million-dollar-helicopter-expedition,” it was a lavish affair. They had arranged for their equipment to be carried in by 250 porters in October. But heavy snowfall stopped the caravan partway up the Baltoro Glacier, and they abandoned the bags halfway to the base. When the team arrived in late December, the bags were strewn everywhere. They had reached slightly higher than 7300 metres when the fierce cold winds of the Karakoram winter chased them off. Broad Peak too was a failure.
These disappointments, plus a failed winter attempt of Nanga Parbat, didn’t deter Andrzej. He remained excited about the future of winter climbing, making two attempts on Makalu and five attempts on Nanga Parbat over the next few years. Even as he grew older and his physical prowess waned, his vision never wavered.
It had been a busy 14 months for Jurek. In January of 1986 he had stood on the top of Kangchenjunga. In the summer he had climbed a new route on the South Face of K2. Autumn saw him complete a new route on Manaslu and, by the beginning of February 1987, the winter ascent of Annapurna. He was at number 13. Only one to go – Shishapangma.
Located in China, Shishapangma presented some organizational and financial challenges. Four years earlier, Jurek had toyed with the idea of sneaking across the border with Voytek for an illegal ascent. But times had changed, and for this final 8000er, he wanted it all above board. Jurek and Janusz Majer first tried to organize a permit with some Chinese Mountaineering Association officials who were visiting Poland. The Chinese offered the period between November 10 and December 15, 1986. “What a date!” stormed Jurek. “Neither summer nor winter!” He and Janusz interpreted this as a diplomatic refusal, and they requested a different time. The answer was no. The next step was to accept the Chinese invitation to Beijing to continue the discussions. But there was a problem: the Chinese trip would cost money – in a currency they didn’t have.
They packed for the big city: jacket, tie and their very best shoes. Once in Beijing, the two indulged in sightseeing tours in a comfortable Mercedes bus. They slept soundly in a good hotel and ate some excellent meals. But on the main issue – how to get and pay for the permit – they made no progress at all. They finally managed to schedule a meeting with the top official on the last day of their visit. The night before the meeting, Jurek and Janusz hatched their plan: they would invite some Chinese climbers to Poland and offer to cover all the costs in Polish złotys. In return, they would ask for the Shishapangma permit.
The Chinese official was guarded with his response. “Ah yes, this could be of some interest to China,” he said. “It is very important for Chinese climbers to gain experience in other mountain ranges. You would cover all the costs in Poland?”
“Yes, absolutely. All the costs. It would be a great honour for us,” Janusz enthused.
Jurek chimed in at this opportune moment. “Perhaps you could include the costs of this ‘organizational’ week in Beijing as part the Chinese contribution to our partnership?”
The Chinese official looked up from his papers with a serious expression. In the spirit of international cooperation, he nodded. “Yes, gentlemen, that would work.” They shook hands.
Relieved, Janusz and Jurek topped up their budget by inviting a number of foreign climbers to Shishapangma. And so it transpired that Jurek’s Shishapangma expedition of summer 1987 included French, American, Mexican and British climbers, along with Janusz, Artur and Wanda.
A succession of storms confined them to base camp, where Janusz was struck down by a particularly virulent case of altitude sickness. The rest tucked in to a wide range of international cuisine, and Jurek endeared himself to all the other climbers with his cooking skills. They were a merry lot, getting along with a minimum of posturing. They rested, slept, visited, read and ate as much as possible, waiting for their chance to climb.
When the weather improved they all headed up the mountain. With such a diverse group of people, all with different goals and ability levels, they drifted off to their individual routes and camps, a situation that suited Jurek. He seemed quite relaxed on his last 8000er, confident in his abilities and no longer burdened by the race with Messner.
Jurek wanted to climb Shishapangma by a new route up the West Ridge and then ski down the peak, just to add interest. Wanda wanted to become the first Pole to climb it (she was second, just after Ryszard Warecki), and was on the standard route with Carlos Carsolio and several others. Artur was ambivalent about being on a mountain with Wanda again. He was young and strong and judged her as already past her prime, despite her achievements and her standing in the community. But he needn’t have worried about being bogged down by Wanda; he was teamed up with Jurek.
Artur and Jurek made the first ascent of the West Ridge, crossing the previously unclimbed West Summit, then continuing over the Central Summit and along the connecting ridge to the Main Summit. This was the first time the sharp ridge connecting the Central and Main summits had been crossed. When they arrived on top on September 18, they were alone. It was already quite late in the day, but they were used to high-altitude bivouacs. As the two friends stood on top, peaceful and quiet, the sun sank below the horizon, releasing a kaleidoscope of hues: salmon, terracotta, vermilion, ochre and mauve.
The normally taciturn Jurek was finally moved by the experience. After eight years of wandering around in the highest mountains on Earth, he had done it. Never in his most daring dreams had he imagined such a feeling of joy as he stood on the summit of his final 8000er, the last bead on his “Himalayan rosary,” as he called it. If Goethe was right when he wrote in his Theory of Colours that the “highest goal that man can achieve is amazement,” Jurek had succeeded.
A couple of days later, after Jurek had skied down the mountain, everyone celebrated at base camp with a flag-festooned cake to mark his success. Fourteen flags for 14 summits. Messner sent a telegram to Jurek, saying, “You’re not number two. You’re magnificent.” And so he was. His record on the big peaks was second to none – not even to Messner’s – for he had chosen to do them in very sporting style. The “hard way,” as some put it. And in half the time.
Surrounded by his friends from home and from other parts of the world, Jurek was perfectly content. He had achieved his dream. Even more important, he was in the mountains he loved.
In sharp contrast, Wanda’s reaction to her own fine performance on Shishapangma revealed scant satisfaction: “It’s a wonderful moment, when I feel utterly exhausted and utterly happy at the same time. I’m delighted to have another damned peak over and done with, but that moment at the summit is also the end of something – the signal to turn about and begin to return to ordinary life. Whenever you achieve something, you’re standing at the end of another road….”50 Perhaps she was thinking of a future road for herself, one that involved more creativity and less brute strength.
Ewa Matuszewska suggested that she might consider buying a shop to sell outdoor clothing and equipment. With her fame, it would almost certainly be a success, and it could provide a career after her climbing days were over. Wanda scoffed at the idea and accused Ewa of trying to force her into a life as a shopkeeper.
But Wanda’s brother Michael knew she was considering other possibilities. She had floated the idea of buying an old, abandoned castle, fixing it up and operating it as a high-priced hotel. Not a bad idea, thought Michael, but not for Wanda. He knew she could never settle down long enough to make it work. He had watched for years as she had drifted about, dropping in to the family home just long enough to reconnect between expeditions. He was amused by these events, for his mother, who was thrilled by her fame, would explode in a flurry of action, assembling the rest of the family. “Wanda’s coming. Wanda’s coming!” They would troop in for the obligatory family dinner and then wouldn’t see her again for months on end.
By 1987 Wanda had become increasingly reflective about her dangerous lifestyle. “I take all my emotions to the mountains with me,” she wrote to Marion, “so any fighting I do is with myself, not the mountain…. What you can’t do is dominate the mountain. Mountains never forgive mistakes, which is why I keep up a dialogue with them…. When I’m up in that thin air, suffering at every step, I’m able to reach deep into my inner self and in those moments I have a certainty that someone is helping me.”
She was expressing what so many Himalayan alpinists feel at altitude – a rational acceptance of danger, combined with a psychic bond to a benevolent higher power, that elusive third man. There are countless stories from extreme situations on windblown ridges and avalanche-scoured walls in which alpinists draw on a supernatural power that appears to come from without. Voytek, Jurek and Krzysztof had all experienced the sensation numerous times. As Greg Child explained, “Going to blow-your-mind high altitude creates a world inside of ourselves.”
Despite her awareness of her own mortality, however, Wanda ultimately knew that she was addicted to adventure and danger. “I can’t live without them,” she wrote in a letter to Marion.