Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain by Jonathan Bloom (bookreader TXT) 📗

of the “eight thousanders” (mountains in the Himalayan chain higher than eight thousand meters). The Germans did have a glorious success in the Alps under their belts - Andreas Heckmair’s incredible 1938 ascent of the Eiger’s north face - but especially under Hitler, they felt they needed to reach the highest points on Earth before their British counterparts. During the time of Nazi rule, Germany made multiple attempts at Nanga Parbat, a mountain thought to be the 9th tallest in the world, in 1934, 1937, 1938, and 1939. The 1939 expedition included Heinrich Harrer, the German climber who wrote the book Seven Years in Tibet. The attempts at Nanga Parbat all ended in failure and in the last case, the incarceration of the climbers by the British.

Nanga Parbat was a regular target for Germany because it was one of the few eight thousanders to which they had access. The French and British controlled most of Asia, so mountains like Everest and Kanchenjunga were out of their reach. Nanga Parbat is in the far western end of the Himalayan chain and was therefore easier for them to access.

Hitler was not satisfied with climbing the ninth tallest mountain in the world. He wanted Germany to conquer the biggest ones, even if they were deep in enemy territory. To this end, the Nazis planned covert expeditions into India, Nepal and Tibet. One such expedition was led by a man named Wolfgang Rauff, a powerful banker from Berlin. Rauff - raised in Ernstthal, Schönburgische Rezessherrschaften, Kingdom of Saxony - was an aggressive nationalist who had served in the First World War. Jealous of the younger men who were fighting on the front lines of the latest world war, Rauff carried a gun everywhere he went, even on climbing expeditions, in the hopes of running into the enemy.

A party of eight men led by Rauff made a push to climb Fumu in the summer of 1937. The expedition was bold for two reasons. Firstly, Fumu was already known to kill more climbers than it spared. Secondly, the mountain was well within the sealed Nepalese border, and Nepal itself was surrounded by realms of aggressive “sub-humans.” The party had to leverage the chaos of Stalin’s purges, the Moslem uprising in Sinkiang, and the Sino-British border disputes in Tibet to create a smokescreen for their protracted, tedious trek into Nepal. They made the trip of several thousand miles with minimal equipment using any means at their disposal including cars, boats, and the vegetable carts of local farmers.

At that time, no one had even come close to reaching the top of Fumu, let alone making it past ten thousand feet. The mountain has few possible approaches, and the approaches that do exist are deathtraps. Starting at eleven thousand feet and rising to twelve thousand feet, the mountain is almost completely ringed by ever-shifting scree. This precipitous steep of rubble endlessly changes shape due to activity from above, volcanic and otherwise. Rauff’s was the first recorded team to get above the scree without losing a single soul. They were certain once that obstacle had been surmounted, the remaining trip would be relatively easy.

Climbing any mountain over ten thousand feet requires a rigorous regimen of altitude acclimatization. Acclimatization is required so climbers can adapt to changing atmospheric conditions as gradually as possible. To this end, once past ten thousand feet, climbers will ascend roughly one thousand feet and then climb back down to sleep. They may repeat the process more than once before ascending further. As difficult as this process may sound, it is the better option when compared to altitude sickness. In its mildest form, sufferers may just experience a headache. But in its most severe form, a person can die a painful death. Despite this risk, Rauff and his team chose not to down-climb the scree. Altitude sickness seemed like a better fate than being crushed in a landslide. Rauff’s team would begin the acclimatization process above the scree.

They took what is known as the southern route, or “Malick’s route,” after the first known man to attempt Fumu back in 1881. Malick’s route was generally considered preferable to the northern route because of its proximity to the one pass into the Qila Sanctuary, even though the northern route was less challenging. If one chose to take the northern route, he would have to prepare for an extra several days hike around the base of the mountain. With an endeavor that already strained the limits of Man, few people in their right mind made that choice.

The next several days went well for Rauff’s party. From the scree, the eighteen small objects moved up the southern face of Fumu to their third camp, slowly but consistently. They down-climbed the next day with no incidents, and on the third day they climbed back up even faster than before. The outlook for the next few days was even more positive. They would be ascending and descending vast fields of snow and ice that gradually rose up to the intended Camps Four and Five. These fields were not very steep and as wide as football fields.

The weather was also in their favour. Other than the constant grim cloud at the summit, the blue of the sky was uninterrupted in all directions. The southern exposure and mild winds likely put the temperature somewhere around forty degrees Fahrenheit. Most of the men were shirtless.

According to Nima Sonam, one of the nine Sherpa who survived the events of that day, Rauff was walking in front, untethered. Rauff had felt on such an easy pitch, there was little need to be tied to the other men. Lobsang Tenjing, another Sherpa who was very interested in currying favor from any “white eyes” who hired him, walked in front with Rauff. He too walked without a rope. The two chatted away about politics, women, and the best places in Berlin to get a custom-made, high-quality backpack. Rauff fancied himself an expert on such topics. The other six Germans climbed