K2 Ski Descent

In August on K2, as the sun rose over the Karakoram Range, Watson and his team worked upward on the face. They kicked steps and adjusted oxygen masks. Watson had a ski pole in one hand, its handle outfitted with an ice ax blade for grip.

The group climbed for hours, pushing past 27,400 feet. No one had yet made the top of K2 in 2009. By noon, Watson and his team were realizing they might not see the summit either.

Chest-deep snow made progress similar to “swimming uphill,” Watson said.

At 2:30pm, encrusted with ice and exhausted, Watson looked down the mountain to see a climbing partner put a gloved hand to his throat, slicing it sideways in signal.

The top was less than 500 feet above. No climber in the 2009 season would stand on summit of K2.

But Watson had his skis. He could still do something substantial.

While his team rappelled fixed ropes down the Bottleneck Couloir, Watson went over a checklist in his mind. Remove the pack. Take off the skis. Clean the ice from his boots. “It’s hard to think at that altitude,” he said.

Watson stamped out a ledge on the 60-degree face. The slope below — a near-vertical aspect of crusted snow and ice — hung above a void.

He clicked in. Shouldered his pack. Steadied his breath.

Watson’s skis side-slipped two feet, metal edges searching for grip. “I thought, ‘here we go!’” Watson recalled.

He stretched to plant a pole, and then he jumped, skis slicing the thin air. Knees flexed, hands forward, Watson was airborne for an instant at 27,500 feet. His edges bit the slope and skidded forward unexpectedly, Watson holding on for literal life.

He made two more jump turns. He stopped to peer over a 10,000-foot drop, a spec on a wall.

Then he traversed and skied the Bottleneck Couloir without issue. An aspect considered among the world’s toughest climbing objectives had just been descended by a Minnesotan on skis.

His crew spent a cold night at the base of the couloir. The next day, Watson clicked back into his skis while the other climbers tied to ropes to descend.

He pushed off on the shoulder of K2, linking turns on a face of improbable proportion. Base camp was more than a vertical mile below. But Watson looked at the snow ahead of him. He paused and grabbed a breath. He leaned forward again, a mountain climber gliding away, heading downhill on skis, far out of sight.

—Stephen Regenold writes about outdoors gear at www.gearjunkie.com.