On July 15th, the moment had come to embark on my first summit attempt. Together with my climbing partner, I left our tent at Camp 3, situated at 7000 meters, at 2 AM. The cold wind bit at us, but we pressed ahead with determination—I felt invigorated! By 10 AM, I had crossed the 8000-meter mark for the first time in my life. What unfolded afterward continues to stir me to this day, touching me deeply.
On the ridge above 8000 meters, I spotted a Pakistani high-altitude porter. He lay in the snow, coughing up blood. It was evident he was suffering from altitude sickness. I tried to communicate with him, asking for his name. His responses were muddled and confused. He repeatedly took off his gloves, exposing his frostbitten, blackened fingers. Vomit was frozen on his face, his lower lip frostbitten as well.
Without hesitation, I reached out to my family at the base camp, describing the situation and pleading for assistance to save his life. My brother and father contacted the agency employing the man. Their response to our plea for help was astonishing:
Our concern that the man might not survive hardly seemed to matter to them. Left to my own devices, I began the task of guiding, pushing, and lowering the man down the mountain. At 7800 meters, I encountered an American friend. I implored him for aid. He had medication that we could administer to the man. From another porter, which was not willing to help, we managed to obtain an oxygen cylinder. The medication and oxygen worked wonders, gradually reviving the man. Still, it took us nine hours to reach Camp 3, where we handed him over to an Austrian mountain guide.
Completely drained, I collapsed into my tent and fell asleep with the door open.The following day, I descended from Camp 3 toward the base camp. Exhausted beyond measure, I stumbled repeatedly. My relief was immeasurable as my family met me at the mountain's base and carried my backpack during the final hour to the base camp. It took a while to fully comprehend the magnitude of what had transpired. Looking back, a slew of questions emerges.
In an environment where external assistance is scarce, and everyone depends on mutual support in times of trouble, how could all aid be denied?
How can individuals prioritize reaching a summit over saving a life?
Is this an issue confined solely to the mountaineering community on 8000-meter peaks, or are we confronting a broader societal dilemma?
I believe we must learn to shoulder responsibility beyond our designated spheres when necessary. I hope that my story will embolden and inspire others to assume responsibility beyond their assigned domains—be it in mountaineering, work, or daily life. Thank you!
