In Defiance of Nature

The allure is simply too irresistible to adventurous spirits, those to whom the physical effort, the emotional need, the attachment to mountain climbing, ascending impossible heights against uncertain odds is worth the effort. The effort is worth it to them, in the certainty of their reward for the effort; success in summitting.

For they think of themselves as being impervious to the danger that confronts others less dedicated to the task, less aware of the risks, less experienced at meeting nature on her terms.
Those who live with the certainty that they will survive while others will not. And often enough they do survive, while others do not.

And then, those superior athletes of the climbing world, with the admirable reputations for care and physical finesse, find themselves incapable of telling themselves they've done it often enough, they've achieved what others could not, and perhaps there are other occupations they could turn their minds and their finely-honed physiques to.

The mountains call and they are incapable of failing to respond. The mystique of the mountains has settled deep in their bones, it has invaded their reason, it haunts their dreams, it tempts them to tempt fate. And so they return, and when they return they once again dream their dreams of fulfilment while knowing full well that nature can turn opportunity in a moment that will seem like an eternity, into failure.

And so, once again tragedy strikes in the Himalaya. The second tallest mountain on this Earth of ours. It's an inevitability. Eleven climbers no longer urging their bodies to respond to the need to surmount all the difficulties that confront them ascending and descending K2. An ice wall shearing away and with it the climber-dependent ropes carefully positioned to ensure they will live to see another day.

So they now will not. They've tumbled off the sides of an impossibly-steep mountainside in an avalanche of snow, ice and rock. And those among them whom fate spared on this occasion, carefully replay the scenario in their minds, finding fault with the lack of clear thinking on the part of many of those who perished. Clear thinking? Rational decision-making at that oxygen-starved height?

The human brain running on the overdrive of instinct to survive does not carefully evaluate, nor heed the experienced advice of those shouting infallible directions, those still capable of discerning the potential for safe decision-making against the chaos of blind reaction. It is frail humankind struggling with the neutrality of nature which controls everything and nothing.

It's a personal disaster for the families of those who have lost their loved ones. Toward whom no amount of intimately personal appeal or rational discussion was able to penetrate the resolve of those they saw off on their journey to personal fulfilment. The appeal of high adventure stifling the reality of difficulties certain to be encountered en route to the destination.

Of difficulties sufficiently severe to deliver other determined adventurers to irreversible misadventure, that of life's termination. But never them. Yet when the mission turns abruptly from advantage and success to visceral recovery of life's potential, the fortunate ones decry those whose lack of presence was their undoing.

Panic overtakes reason; it will do so when the human brain's capabilities have been compromised. In the face of disaster, more imminent than immediate, the primitive compulsion to deflect death intervenes. After which shocked rescue parties begin their search for those not yet accounted for. While a legendary alpinist understands the futility of the search.

"On K2 when they're missing, they're dead."