Why Climb the Himalayas in Alpine Style

Why climb the Himalayas in alpine style — Climber Ahn Chiyeong on why he takes the alpine approach in the Himalayas

Ahn Chiyeong is one of Korea’s leading alpine climbers. He has made world-first ascents of several Himalayan peaks, including Gasherbrum V and Ampu I, and has opened new routes. In April 2024, he took on Kangri Sar (6,811m), an unclimbed peak in the Nepali Himalayas. Here he talks about alpine climbing.

Words *Ahn Chiyeong
Photos Kangri Sar Expedition Team

What does it mean for a climber to scale the high mountains of the Himalayas? Climbers don’t prefer to keep doing easy, familiar climbs. At heart, they look for places that are newer, more puzzling and more difficult. The harder a mountain’s terrain and conditions become, the more the physical and mental suffering of climbing rises with them. “What am I hoping to find and feel in such places, climbing difficult walls and seeking out mountains?” It is a question that keeps coming back to me, too.

Isn’t the process of climbing—pushing for something faster, a little harder or higher, and overcoming frustration and pain along the way—much like the process of searching for a greater sense of accomplishment, or for the value of life itself? A huge wall that sends a chill down your spine just by looking at it shakes the heart of a climber who longs to go up. Climbing an unknown mountain and coming down safely is not something just anyone can do, and the joy of it is one that only climbers can feel. Of course, the question arises whether it is worth risking your life.
Hanging from a single rope on a silent rock wall more than 1,000 meters high, my partner and I can face the pure mountain with nothing but our physical and mental abilities. We submit to the environment and the weather, getting by for days on small amounts of food, and reaching the summit and returning alive is a desperate wish, almost a plea. Looking at a seemingly impossible face, a climber feels curiosity—“Can I really climb this?”—and at the same time fear of how much hardship climbing it will bring.

The more magnificent and rugged a mountain is, the more closely I observe it, searching for a small possibility. After days or even months of thinking and watching, once I find a way up, a strong urge to climb takes hold. A mountain no one has climbed rises in solitude as if waiting for someone, and in a place touched by human hands for the first time, you feel the joy of creating a new route.
The uncertainty of alpine climbing is what makes it all the more appealing. The harder a mountain is to climb, the brighter the climb shines, and the stronger the pull that stirs the desire to take it on. Such mountains are guarded from the start by complex glaciers and long, hard-to-walk stretches of *moraine. Once you cross the moraine and the real climbing begins, you have to endure the cold and enter terrain where breathing is difficult. Rockfall and snow showers pour down on walls of mixed snow and rock, or the wind blowing along the face knocks stones loose and strips away body heat, and the whistling of the wind gives you goosebumps and saps your will.

* An area where rocks, sand and soil carried and deposited by a glacier are mixed together.

At midday, sunlight reflects off the surrounding snow and creates radiant heat, so temperatures rise and clothes and gloves are often soaked with sweat and snow. After around 4 p.m., the temperature drops sharply and the wet clothing and gloves freeze. Only by tucking the stiffened gloves against your chest and carefully switching to a fresh pair can you keep your fingers safe.
A small two-person tent pitched on a slope keeps body heat in and shields you from wind and cold, a welcome refuge. The floor is lumpy and uneven, making it uncomfortable to sit or lie down, but just being inside raises your chances of survival. When it snows, you have to clear snow all night and keep watch over avalanche zones. The process of climbing like this is hard and grueling, but I come face to face with the mountain as it is. Accepting it as a matter of course is the way to become one with the mountain in spirit.
The mountains of the Himalayas are high and not easy to reach. How to climb such tall, remote peaks depends on each climber’s approach. There are several styles of climbing depending on the objective. The best known are the “expedition style,” in which a large team climbs together, and “alpine style,” in which a minimum of people and equipment go for the summit in a single push. Not many Korean climbers pursue alpine style in the high Himalayas. In alpine style, the team is kept to two or three people and climbs with less cost, less time and minimal equipment. There are no climbing guides or Sherpas to help, and no fixed ropes. Every task the climb requires falls to the team members. It is demanding both physically and mentally, and the risks are great.

Alpine climbing has a low success rate and high risk. Once you leave base camp and start climbing, you have to go all the way to the top. If you give up or descend partway, it is hard to try again. Even in bad weather or poor physical condition, it is hard to turn back, so accidents are fairly common. The risks that come with the climb are the climber’s own. A mountaineer takes full responsibility for going up.
The charm of alpine climbing lies in the process. If you’re lucky, you can pitch a tent on flat ice on a glacier, but you may have to sleep perched on a rock ledge. You carry food for only two-thirds of the climbing schedule. You have to cut weight, and at high altitude you can’t easily eat even when you’re hungry. The best you can hope for is rice that has been freeze-dried and boiled into a soup, or a cup of soup or tea. Lunch is chocolate, candy and yokan (sweet bean jelly). With every nerve on edge, you slip past the glacier’s *crevasses, climb enormous cornices or ice walls, and struggle up rockfall-prone faces, until the tip of the summit finally comes into view beyond a long ridge.

* A deep crack in the surface of a glacier.

After a long climb up a mountain nearing 7,000 meters, I often worry more about the way down. On the way up, you manage your strength and place plenty of *protection for safety. On the descent, your strength is nearly gone and your judgment dulls, so mistakes are more likely. Because you are rappelling walls of more than 1,000 meters, you save gear as much as possible just in case, and in doing so the *anchors can’t help but feel precarious. You may have to rappel hanging from a single *snow bar about 60 centimeters long buried in the snow, or drill holes in the ice, thread the rope through and rappel from that. That is why climbing is more dangerous on the way down.

* Equipment placed in the rock to protect a climber in case of a fall, such as pitons, nuts and cams.
* A device fixed to rock or ice so that a rope can be hung from it.
* A type of anchor used on ice walls and snow mountains.

Himalayan peaks are so high and so difficult to reach that many expeditions prefer the siege-style approach, known in Korean as the “polar method.” Climbers find a spot at the foot of the mountain with good access and set up a base camp, then gradually establish a series of higher camps as they ascend. Fixed ropes are installed along the routes between camps, and Sherpas and climbers use them to go up and down again and again, restocking food and equipment. Sherpas help with the fixing of the ropes, too. Members of the climbing team also carry loads and take the lead on difficult sections themselves, but much of the work a climb requires is done with the help of guides and Sherpas. It is a style of climbing in which safety is guaranteed to a certain degree.
It seems to me that a method like this is hard to square with the pure spirit of challenge that mountain climbers talk about, or with the idea of gloriously conquering a mountain. Adventure, exploration and the challenge of climbing in the Himalayas always carry the uncertainty that comes with success, along with the risk of the unexpected. Isn’t it only when a climber works through all of this that the pure challenge of climbing is truly achieved? In this respect, I think alpine-style climbing is a more legitimate challenge than ascending by the polar method. Of course, if safety comes first and you are taking beginners along, climbing with fixed ropes is not wrong, either.

Climbers work tirelessly to create the chance to climb. They stop what they are doing, save money and spend years training and preparing. They tend to sacrifice a great deal for a single moment on the mountain. The way a person climbs can differ, and so can the goals each one pursues. For me, the ultimate goal of climbing is to return to the home you set out from: your body and face burned dark, your frame gaunt and your clothes hanging loose, but safely back in the arms of your family. Isn’t that the finest kind of success a climb can have?