‘Q. Write a personal account of your expedition, highlighting your experience in terms of the following: o The difficulties you encountered o How you left o How you survived’ by Rafia Sajjad

On November 21^st of last year, a few colleagues of mine and I decided to climb the Nanga Parbat. Taking risks was one of our favorites because seriously, what is life without a little bit of adventure and risks?

I had gathered some information on Nanga Parbat and I got to find out that it was also known as “the King of the Mountains” due to its vast area; it was at a height of 8126 meter. We, soon, hired a guide to lead us up otherwise we would have been clueless pandas seeking shelter.

The day had come. We were all ready to climb the mountain in the glacial weather; snowflakes clinging to the parched crust of our faces with breezy winds blowing that caused our hair to stand up. My heart beat faster as the moments passed by. We were all packed up in our warmers and gear that was provided, rations full.

The first day had been really tiring. In the distance you could see the clouds covering the horizon. The next couple of days went about as planned: climbing, resting, eating and repeat.

However, one day as we were climbing the humungous white giant, we noticed that flag was drifting towards but as I squinted my eyes to focus, I watched as the pile of snow followed.

Our guide shouted telling us to run but everybody knew there was no escaping this. Soon, the avalanche captured us in its trap, my body going numb in seconds.

I lost contact of my guide and the others so I reached out for the device and tried radioing the Base Camp. I mouthed the words “help” but no sound came out. I tried harder the next time and let out an almost inaudible “help”. I could hear the chaos building on the other end and a few hours later, I suppose, the helicopter could be heard. As they found no sign of our existence due to a thick layer of white sheet plastering us, they left.

There was no hope left in me. I blacked out and when I woke, provisions running low, I tried pulling away at the snow surrounding me. It was petrifying, salty tears running down my frostbitten cheek. But, at the very next moment, the sound of another helicopter filled my ears like music and I radioed them, saying, “I hear you!”

It took a while but they dug me out, rope around my waist and the next thing I knew, I was being pulled up. Heaps of blankets soon covered me. All my other acquaintances made it through the avalanche, luckily. Before long, the pilot flew away from the aftermath of the flurry. A deep sigh of relief escaped my lips as I shivered against the cool atmosphere.

‘Q. Write a personal account of your expedition, highlighting your experience in terms of the following: •The difficulties you encountered • How you felt •How you survived’ by Zoha Sarim

I buried my pick-axe into the heavy white mass of snow with all my might before dragging it out. My breath came out labourious white puffs. My nose was numb and I could not feel my feet. Wiping sweat away from my forehead, I nestled my pick-axe into the icy pit before me once more and dragged it out. There –I had finally finished digging my snow hole. I stumbled into its chilly depths and collapsed, my tense muscles trembling. I rubbed my legs in an attempt to get the circulation flowing. I had made a terribly stupid, impulsive decision and I was now paying the price for it, isolated in the vast, freezing mountain Diamir –the King of Mountains.

I am a well-known, seasoned alpinist from Slovenia. My name is Tomaz Humar. I have had my eyes set on scaling and conquering Diamir, also known as the Nanga Parbat, for a while now; however, when I arrived at the base camp the weather was irregular with threats of blizzards and snowstorms. Embarking on a trip to climb the 26,000 foot mountain in such weather would have been suicidal. Diamir after all does have the tallest rock and ice wall in the world, along with three vast rock faces. It has attracted and ended many climbers before me. I had been biding my time, waiting for the dangerous weather before I set out, but my departure was sped up by another alpinist: the American climber Steve House who, along with his partner, was also determined to reach the summit. In haste, I left early to scale the mountain, even in such life threatening conditions, for I wanted to be the winner in this race; a grave mistake indeed.

I encountered a couple days of good weather and favourable conditions initially. However, soon my thus far successful 6000 metre ascent was hampered by fog, drenching snowmelt and avalanches. I dug myself into a hole and radioed base camp and asked Nazir Sabir, President of the Alpine Club of Pakistan for a rescue helicopter. I waited for quite a few days. The helicopter could not reach me in such harsh conditions. After a few failed rescue attempts, I was sure that there was no hope and that I would surely perish, but then another attempt was made and proved successful. I was safe again. I owe my life to Lieutenant Colonel Rashidullah Baig and Major Khalid Amir Rana, my rescue pilots. Without the brave attempts of Sabir, Colonel Manzoor Hussain and the Foreign Minister of Pakistan, I would have surely been a dead man. As for Steve House, he scaled Diamir and returned to Base Camp a month after my rescue, proving that haste is a complete waste, and that slow and steady wins the race. Oh, how I regret my decision now.

‘Q. Write an article to your school magazine about climbing Nanga Parbat. Narrate the incident in your own words taking ideas from the text provided, ‘ by Mirza Hussain

I was one of the most respected mountain climbers in the world. I came to Pakistan for the first time to conquer Nanga Parbat, also known as Diamir, the King of the Mountains. I had solo climbed many mountains, but none this dangerous. People at base camp said it was suicidal, yet I still looked death in the eyes without any fear. I came from Slovenia to make my death-defying ascent, but I was grounded due to uncertain weather.

Diamir was 8126 metres tall and waited for me. I still waited, anxious for the weather to get better. I stared at Nanga Parbat like a predator stalking its prey. While I waited, another mountain climber, Steve House, the American with his partner arrived at Base Camp; he was as determined as I was, as he had climbed the infamous Rupal Face, a 14,800-foot vertical nightmare of stone, snow, and ice.

I then decided, from seeing my opponent, made a decision to climb the mountain. All went well for a couple of days. There really was a silver lining in every cloud; I had made it to 6,000 metres, but natural hazards such as fog, snowmelt and avalanches left me no choice but to stop. I had made my decision to ascend on 1 August, but I was stranded on 5 August radioin Base Camp for a rescue.

It was scary, yet exciting. I had never thought about the fact of being trapped in a snow-hole to be that claustrophobic. I could not believe the fact that the Hunter became the hunted; Nanga Parbat had been waiting for me to make my ascend; it was the predator not the prey.

Helicopters came and went, and slowly did my motivation; they came as close as 40 metres, but conditions caused them to abandon me. On the fifth day of my snowy jail, my rations started depleting and so did my spirit, the next day to me felt my last day. I made my mind that if death would come for me I would be ready.

The next day, I was awakened by the sound of a helicopter for another rescue, but they could not hover and yet I stayed. But with the skills and courage of the pilot, he managed to hover close. I knew it was my last day, but to stay alive. They saved me even with the hook attached tightly to the mountain and thanks to the pilot I was saved and I lived the rest of my day so as if it were my last.