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Dispatch: Were Envelopes Bigger 70 Years Ago? K2 Base Camp, China - Monday, June 12, 2000
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This quip is so famous that it has become the foundation of an entire grant program, the Gore Shipton Tilman Grants. "Shipton and Tilman," the grant administrators write, "were strong advocates of traveling in small compact teams, staying nimble, unburdened by numbers of porters and excessive tonnage. Selection of the team was paramount; closely knit friends with mutual respect and trust for one another. They loathed bloat and waste, seemingly getting an extra thrill out of getting by on the barest minimum." Tilman must have been on Jeff Alzner's mind one day in May, 1998, as he sat in a tent at 14,000 feet on Denali, scribbling on the back of an envelope, hatching plans to climb K2 with a couple of friends. The envelope contained the return tickets to Talkeetna on "K2 Aviation" that Jeff had won at an auction in the American Alpine Club meeting in November, 1997. His companions in the tent were Wayne Wallace and Steve Davis. A small, close-knit group of friends. Friends who happened to loathe bloat and waste. Aha. They were a small compact team. They'd travel unburdened by oxygen tanks, satellite phones, laptops, and other hefty gear. They'd nimbly hop, camp by camp, up the hardest mountain in the world, leaving unnecessary items — toothbrushes and toilet paper and other bloat and waste — at Base Camp. They'd use 7mm accessory cord instead of real rope. They'd bring ultralight Ushba titanium ice screws, and a tiny single-wall tent for the summit bid. As the ideas flowed, even Tilman's Envelope Principle seemed attainable. Mmm. Sweet simplicity. Jeff's notes on the back of the envelope read:
THINGS WE NEED TO CLIMB THE NORTH SIDE OF K2:
That was two years ago. In the ensuing 24 months, the little spark in that tent on Denali grew from the embryo of an idea, to the fetus of a planned expedition, to the birth of the beast itself. And for the past three days, Jeff and Ginger have been running around with an entire notebook full of lists and numbers. 600 kilograms of flour. 2200 eggs. 900 liters of kerosene. 130 kilograms of propane. 40 tents. 200 wands. Ten radios. 225 locks. One lock-picking kit. One Chinese-Uyghur phrase book. Eight Balti porters, each carrying 25 kilograms per day up to the mid-way point for five days. 20 camel drivers, each carrying 35 kilograms per day for four days, at 15 yuan per kilo (approximately $65 dollars per load). 18 team members, each carrying 25 kilograms per day for three days. We are still climbing in what is considered "lightweight" style, without the aid of supplemental oxygen or high-altitude porters, but the expedition logistics are simply not that simple. What are the differences? Well, for one, Shipton and Tilman never tried to actually climb K2. And there's the gear. Shipton and Tilman brought a mound of gear, too, but climbers don't wear Grandma's hand-knit boiled wool sweater anymore. Our gear is lighter and much more effective at regulating core body temperature. It is also much more expensive. So part of the planning process for expeditions today is finding sponsors for some of the critical pieces of equipment — dry-loft down suits for the summit bid, crampons with no-stick snow plates, ultra-warm double plastic boots. Sure, we could probably get away without bringing the warmer aveolite liners for the plastic boots, but, then again, there are some distinct advantages to having 10 healthy toes. And of course once you've got sponsors for the gear and raw expenses, they'll need media coverage to justify their dollar investment. This inevitably means some kind of communications equipment. Back when Tilman began exploring the globe, communication was a military term, and the dearth of things like satellite phones, solar panels, and adventure films made it easier to simply say, "See you in a year. We'll send a newspaper report back via courier in about three months." So, given that we're using an entire notebook to plan the expedition, does it mean that we've failed to meet Tilman's criterion for a "worthwhile" expedition? Clearly not. Maybe envelopes were bigger 70 years ago. Or maybe Tilman's quip is obsolete. A century ago, when very little was known about the far-flung regions of the globe, simplicity was appropriate. Not now. The era in which travellers could bumble into a foreign land or try a first ascent and be excused for their ignorance is gone. The first step in responsible expedition planning, in my opinion, is visiting the American Alpine Club library in Golden, Colorado, and generating as many envelopes of research as possible. Jeff's mantra in the pre-expedition planning process was, "dare to believe in the impossible, learn as much as possible, and then forget it all." Adventures today are about exploring the unpredictable, not the unknown. "Worthwhile" expeditions, in our opinion, are those that can be planned on a single 3.5" floppy disk, those in which every detail is planned and predictable. Except the itinerary. — Heidi Howkins, MountainZone.com Correspondent |
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