No Shortcuts to the Top: Climbing the World's 14 Highest Peaks

No Shortcuts to the Top: Climbing the World's 14 Highest Peaks

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by Ed Viesturs, David Roberts

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This gripping and triumphant memoir from the author of The Mountain follows a living legend of extreme mountaineering as he makes his assault on history, one 8,000-meter summit at a time.

For eighteen years Ed Viesturs pursued climbing’s holy grail: to stand atop the world’s fourteen 8,000-meter peaks, without the aid of bottled oxygen


This gripping and triumphant memoir from the author of The Mountain follows a living legend of extreme mountaineering as he makes his assault on history, one 8,000-meter summit at a time.

For eighteen years Ed Viesturs pursued climbing’s holy grail: to stand atop the world’s fourteen 8,000-meter peaks, without the aid of bottled oxygen. But No Shortcuts to the Top is as much about the man who would become the first American to achieve that goal as it is about his stunning quest. As Viesturs recounts the stories of his most harrowing climbs, he reveals a man torn between the flat, safe world he and his loved ones share and the majestic and deadly places where only he can go.

A preternaturally cautious climber who once turned back 300 feet from the top of Everest but who would not shrink from a peak (Annapurna) known to claim the life of one climber for every two who reached its summit, Viesturs lives by an unyielding motto, “Reaching the summit is optional. Getting down is mandatory.” It is with this philosophy that he vividly describes fatal errors in judgment made by his fellow climbers as well as a few of his own close calls and gallant rescues. And, for the first time, he details his own pivotal and heroic role in the 1996 Everest disaster made famous in Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air.

In addition to the raw excitement of Viesturs’s odyssey, No Shortcuts to the Top is leavened with many funny moments revealing the camaraderie between climbers. It is more than the first full account of one of the staggering accomplishments of our time; it is a portrait of a brave and devoted family man and his beliefs that shaped this most perilous and magnificent pursuit.

Editorial Reviews

Veteran mountain climber Ed Viesturs lives by a simple rule: "Reaching the summit is optional. Getting down is mandatory." Living by that guideline, he turned back just 300 feet from the top of Everest, but it didn't stop him from becoming the first American to successfully ascend all 14 of the world's 8,000-meter (26,256-foot) peaks without the aid of bottled oxygen. No Shortcuts to the Top is a mountain climbing book, but its lure goes far beyond that. Viesturs' life and near-death experiences are rendered with disarming modesty and insight. Like Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, this book leaves one gasping -- and wiser.
Publishers Weekly
In the opening scene of Viesturs's memoir of his quest to become the first American to climb the 14 mountains in the world higher than 8,000 meters, he and a friend nearly get thrown off the face of K2 when they're caught in an avalanche. It's one of the few moments in the story when his life genuinely seems at risk, as his intense focus on safety is generally successful. "Getting to the top is optional," he warns. "Getting down is mandatory." That lesson comes through most forcefully when Viesturs recounts how he almost attempted to reach the summit at Everest the day before the group Jon Krakauer wrote about in Into Thin Air, but backed out because it just didn't feel right. His expertise adds a compelling eyewitness perspective to those tragic events, but the main focus is clearly on Viesturs and his self-imposed "Endeavor 8000." From his earliest climbs on the peaks of the Pacific Northwest to his final climb up the Himalayan mountain of Annapurna, Viesturs offers testimony to the sacrifices (personal and professional) in giving your life over to a dream, as well as the thrill of seeing it through. (Oct.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
In 2005, Viesturs (No Boundaries: Spirit of Adventure) completed Endeavor 8000, a campaign to climb the world's 14 highest mountains without supplemental oxygen. He became the first American to do so. In this memoir, cowritten by veteran mountaineering book author Roberts (On the Ridge Between Life and Death), Viesturs chronicles his climbing career, starting with his summers guiding for Rainier Mountaineering Inc. and concluding with his success (after several attempts) on Annapurna, a series of peaks in the Himalayas. In between, Viesturs summited Mt. Everest as part of the 1990 International Peace Climb led by Jim Whittaker, the first American to climb Everest, along with climbers from the Soviet Union and China. He credits his success in mountaineering to being not a rist taker but a risk manager. Decades earlier, a group of British climbers took big risks in pushing the boundaries of mountaineering. Willis (Ice: Stories of Survival from Polar Exploration) focuses his history on mountaineer Chris Bonington and the motley group of quirky characters with whom he climbed. This dramatic and romantic look at the "greatest generation of climbers" uses previously published accounts and interviews with the surviving climbers to describe the expeditions and what motivated these men. First ascents on Eiger's north face, Annapurna's south face, Changabang, Everest's southwest face, the Ogre, and K2 are detailed and dissected. Viesturs's book is a thrilling read, fresh in the story it tells. Willis's book is an exciting reprisal of some of mountaineering's most infamous climbers and the legends their expeditions created. Both are recommended for public libraries, although those with limited funds for this genre would be better served buying Viesturs's memoir. [For Viesturs's book, see Prepub Alert, LJ 6/1/06.]-Margaret Atwater-Singer, Univ. of Evansville Libs., IN Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
The bracing story of one man's 18-year quest to climb all 14 of the world's 8,000-meter-plus mountains. Viesturs became the sixth man ever to accomplish that feat when he conquered Annapurna in Nepal, in May 2005. Almost equally inspirational is Viesturs's determination to somehow forge a living out of his passion for mountaineering. He realized early on that he must choose between his veterinary practice and his love for mountain-climbing, initially scrambling to earn a living as a house-builder and mountain guide until the idea of climbing all 14 of the world's highest peaks sent some corporate sponsors his way. Some unavoidable repetitions occur as we follow Viesturs and his various partners up and down the Himalayas, and the narrative never quite manages to make us appreciate the grueling conditions of the climb, or the sheer wonder of reaching the summit. Still, the author does a good job of outlining the logistics of mountaineering: the dizzying trails leading to base camp, the truckloads of clothing and gear required, even the difficulties of relieving oneself at 26,000 feet. In addition to his own remarkable story, Viesturs provides valuable portraits of the many other mountaineers, past and present, who climbed and sometimes perished on the same mountains. Particularly fascinating is his own account of the 1996 tragedy on Mt. Everest, made famous by Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air. (Viesturs and his partners, having decided against a summit attempt due to deteriorating conditions, passed on their way down the doomed team of climbers heading up.) A self-described "purist" who reached most of his summits without the use of supplemental oxygen, the author invites our awe for the earlymountaineers who braved life-threatening conditions without the high-tech gear available to climbers today. Doesn't answer the question of what makes Viesturs and his fellow mountaineers repeatedly risk life and limb, but certainly inspires respect for their monumental efforts.
From the Publisher
“Ed Viesturs is not merely one of our strongest mountaineers; he’s also one of the most remarkable. He’s demonstrated that it’s possible to climb the world’s highest peaks without taking reckless chances, and without sacrificing one’s honor or integrity. He has never hesitated to help other climbers in need, even when it meant putting himself in danger or sacrificing his own opportunity to achieve a summit. Ed, simply put, is a genuine American hero.” —Jon Krakauer

“From the drama of the peaks, to the struggle of making a living as a professional climber, to the basic how-tos of life at 26,000 feet, No Shortcuts to the Top is fascinating reading.” —Aron Ralston, author of Between a Rock and a Hard Place

“Ed Viesturs—the first American to climb all fourteen 8,000 meter peaks without bottled oxygen—is an animal. A human animal blessed with enormous strength balanced by intelligence, honesty, and a heart of gold. And besides, HE IS A NICE GUY. This is a great read for those of us who climb, those who want to learn to climb and live to tell about it, and those who like great adventures.” —Jim Whittaker, first American to climb Mount Everest

“Ed Viesturs was an inspiration to me personally and to the Seahawks team in 2005. I highly recommend reading this account of one of America’s heroes.” —Mike Holmgren, coach of the Seattle Seahawks

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At last things seemed to be going our way. Inside our Camp III tent, at 24,300 feet, Scott Fischer and I crawled into our sleeping bags and turned off our headlamps. The next day, we planned to climb up to Camp IV, at 26,000 feet. On the day after, we would get up in the middle of the night, put on all our clothing, grab our gear and a little food, and set off for the summit of K2, at 28,250 feet the second-highest mountain in the world. From Camp IV, the 2,250 vertical feet of snow, ice, and rock that would stretch between us and the top could take as long as twelve hours to climb, since neither Scott nor I was using supplemental oxygen. We had agreed that if we hadn’t reached the summit by two P.M., we’d turn around—no matter what. * It was the evening of August 3, 1992. Fifty-four days earlier, we had started our hike in to base camp on the Baltoro Glacier, which we had reached on June 21. Before the trip, even in my most pessimistic scenario I had never imagined that it could take us more than six weeks just to get in position for a summit push. But this expedition had seemed jinxed from the start—by hideous weather, by minor but consequential accidents, by an almost chaotic state of disorganization within our team.

As usual in the midst of a several-day summit push at high altitude, Scott and I were too keyed up to fall asleep. We tossed and turned in our sleeping bags. Then suddenly, around ten P.M., the radio in our tent crackled to life. I turned on my headlamp, grabbed the walkie–talkie, and listened intently. The voice on the radio was that of Thor Kieser, another American, calling from Camp IV, 1,700 feet above us. “Hey, guys,” Thor blurted out, his voice tense with alarm. “Chantal and Alex aren’t back. I don’t know where they are.”

I sighed in pure frustration. In the beam of my headlamp, I saw a kindred expression on Scott’s face. Without exchanging a word, we knew what this meant. Our summit push was now on indefinite hold. Instead of moving up to Camp IV to get into position, the next day we would find ourselves caught up in a search—and possibly a rescue. The jinx was alive and well.

On August 3, as Scott and I had made the long haul from base camp up to Camp III (a grueling 7,000 feet of altitude gain), Thor Kieser, Chantal Mauduit, and Aleksei Nikiforov had gone for the summit from Camp IV. Chantal, a very ambitious French alpinist, had originally been part of a Swiss team independent from ours. When all of her partners had thrown in the towel on the mountain and left for home, she had stayed on (illegally, in terms of the permit system) and in effect grafted herself onto our group. She was now the only woman on the mountain. Aleksei—or Alex, as we called him—was a Ukrainian member of the Russian quintet that made up the core of our team.

That morning, Alex and Thor had set out at five–thirty a.m., Chantal not until seven. These starting times were much later than Scott and I would have been comfortable with, but the threesome had been delayed because of no shortcuts to the top high winds. Remarkably, climbing without bottled oxygen, Chantal caught up with the men and surged past them. Struggling in the thin air, Thor turned back a few hundred feet below the summit, unwilling to get caught out in the dark. Chantal summited at five p.m., becoming only the fourth woman ever to climb K2. Alex topped out only after dark, at seven p.m.

The proverbial two p.m. turn-around time isn’t an iron–clad rule on K2 (or on Everest, for that matter), but to reach the summit as late as Chantal and Alex did was asking for trouble. And trouble had now arrived.

On the morning of August 4, as Scott and I readied ourselves for the search and/or rescue mission that would cancel our own summit bid, we got another radio call from Thor. The two missing climbers had finally showed up at Camp IV, at seven in the morning, but they were in really bad shape. Chantal had been afraid to push her descent in the night and had bivouacked in the open at 27,500 feet. Three hours later, Alex had found her and talked her into continuing the descent with him—possibly saving her life.

Staggering through the night, the pair had managed to stay on route (no mean feat in the dark, given the confusing topography of K2’s domeshaped summit). But by the time they reached the tents at Camp IV, Chantal was suffering from snow blindness, a painful condition caused by leaving your goggles off for too long, even in cloudy weather. Ultraviolet rays burn the cornea, temporarily robbing you of your vision. Chantal was also utterly exhausted, and she thought she had frostbitten feet. In only marginally better shape, but determined to get down as fast as possible, Alex abandoned Chantal to Thor’s safekeeping and pushed on toward our Camp III. He just said, “Bye-bye” and took off.

Thor himself was close to exhaustion from his previous day’s effort, but on August 4 he gamely set out to shepherd a played–out Chantal down the mountain. It’s an almost impossible and incredibly dangerous task to get a person in that kind of shape down slopes and ridges that are no child’s play for even the freshest climber. Thor had scrounged a ten-foot hank of rope from somewhere—that’s all he had to belay Chantal with, and maybe to rappel.

Over the radio to us, Thor had pleaded, “Hey, you guys, I might need some help to get her down.” So Scott and I had made the only conscionable decision: to go up and help.

As we were getting ready, we watched as Alex haltingly worked his way down the slope above, eventually stumbling toward camp. We went up a short distance to assist him, then helped him get into one of the tents, where we plied and plied him with liquids, since he was severely dehydrated. Meanwhile, surprisingly, he didn’t show any concern for Chantal.

Going to the summit, both he and Chantal had pushed themselves over the edge, driven themselves to their very limits. It happens all the time on the highest mountains, but it’s kind of ridiculous. To make matters worse, on August 4 the snow conditions were atrocious. Same with the weather: zero visibility. Scott and I tried to go, made it up the slope for a couple of hours, then had to turn around and head back to camp. We made plans for another attempt the following day.

We were in radio communication with Thor. He’d started to bring Chantal down to Camp III, but he only got partway. They had to camp right in the middle of a steep slope, almost a bivouac, though Thor had been smart enough to bring a tent with him.

The next day, August 5, Scott and I got up, packed our gear, and started up again, hoping we could meet up with Thor and Chantal and help them back to our camp. At some point, we could see them through the mist and clouds, two little dots above. It was blowing hard, and little spindrift avalanches were coming down the slope we were climbing. Part of it was stuff Thor and Chantal were kicking off from way above, stuff that by the time it got to us was a little bigger. But no really big slides. I’d scrounged a fiftyfoot length of rope, with which Scott and I were tied together, because of the crevasses that riddled the slope.

At one point, Scott was above me. Something just didn’t feel right. I yelled up to Scott, “Wait a minute, this is not a good slope.” It was loaded, ready to avalanche. If you’ve done enough climbing, you can feel the load on a slope. I attribute that sense to the years of guiding I’d done by that point in my life. At that time, Scott hadn’t done as much guiding as I had.

We stopped in our tracks. I said, “Man, let’s not get ourselves killed doing this. Let’s discuss this.” Scott sat down facing out, looking down at me. I figured, if a big spindrift slide comes down now, we’re going to get washed off the face.

I started digging a hole with my ice ax, thinking I might protect myself if a slide came from above. After a few moments, I looked up just in time to see Scott engulfed by a wave of powder. He disappeared from sight. At once I tucked into my hole and anchored myself, lying on top of my ax, the pick dug into the slope. Bracing myself for impact, I thought, Here it comes.

It got dark; it got quiet. I felt snow wash over my back. The lights literally went out. I hung on and hung on. And then, the avalanche seemed to subside. I thought I’d saved myself. I thought, Wow, my little trick worked.

But the fact was, Scott had been blindsided. He was tumbling with the snow, getting swept down the face. He hurtled past me, out of control. Scott was a big guy, maybe 225 pounds. I weigh 165.

The rope came tight. Boom! There was no way I could hold both of us. I got yanked out of my hole, like getting yanked out of bed. I knew instantly what had happened. Scott was plummeting down the mountain, with me in tow, connected by what should have been our lifeline. And there were 8,000 vertical feet of cliff below us.

If you’re caught in an avalanche and careening down the slope, there are several ways of trying to save yourself. One of the ways is called a selfarrest. The idea is to get your ice ax underneath your body, lie on it with all your weight, hold on to the head, and try to dig the pick into the slope, like a brake.

I’d learned the self-arrest when I’d started climbing, and as a guide I’d taught it to countless clients. So the instinct was automatic. It ran through my head even as I was getting jerked and pummeled around by the avalanche: “Number one: Never let go of your ax. Number two: Arrest! Arrest! Arrest!” I kept jabbing with the pick of the ax, but the snow beneath me was so dry, the pick just kept slicing through. I’d reach and dig, reach and dig.

Yet I wasn’t frantic. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, and it was as if sound had been turned off. We probably fell a couple of self-arrest hundred feet. For whatever reason, Scott couldn’t even begin to perform his own self-arrest.

Then, as I was still desperately attempting to get a purchase in the snow with my ice ax, suddenly I stopped. A few seconds later, just as I expected, the rope came tight again, with a tremendous jolt. But my pick held. With my self-arrest, I’d stopped both of us.

“Scott, are you okay?” I yelled down.

His answer was almost comical. “My nuts are killing me!” he screamed. The leg loops of his waist harness had had the unfortunate effect, when my arrest slammed him to a sudden stop, of jamming his testicles halfway up to his stomach. If that was the first thing Scott had to complain about, I knew that he’d escaped more serious harm.

Yet our roped-together plunge in the avalanche had been a really close call. If it hadn’t been for the fact that two other mountaineers were in desperate straits, there’s no way Scott or I would ever have tried to climb in those conditions.

Meanwhile, somewhere up above, Thor and Chantal still needed our help—more urgently with each passing half hour.


In mountaineering, 8,000 meters—26,247 feet—has come to signify a magical barrier. There are only fourteen peaks in the world that exceed that altitude above sea level, all of them in the Himalaya of Nepal and Tibet or the Karakoram of Pakistan. They range from Everest, at 8,850 meters (29,035 feet) down to Shishapangma, at 8,012 meters (26,286 feet).

During what has often been called the golden age of Himalayan mountaineering, the first ascents of all fourteen were accomplished, beginning with the French on Annapurna in 1950 and ending with the Chinese on Shishapangma in 1964. The stamp of the expeditions that waged that fourteen-year campaign was typically massive—with tons of supplies, hundreds of porters and Sherpas, and a dozen or more principal climbers—as well as fiercely nationalistic, as the French, Swiss, Germans, Austrians, Italians, British, Americans, Japanese, and Chinese vied to knock off the prizes. (If any country can be said to have “won” that competition, it would be Austria, whose leading climbers claimed the first ascents of Cho Oyu, Dhaulagiri, Nanga Parbat, and Broad Peak–two more mountains than any other nation’s climbers would bag.)

Given the gear and technique of the day, it was considered cricket to throw all available means into the assault on an 8,000er. There were experts, after all, who doubted that Everest would ever be climbed. So teams strung miles of fixed ropes up the slopes of the highest peaks, allowing those tons of gear to be safely ferried from camp to camp. They bridged crevasses and short cliffs with metal ladders. And they routinely used bottled oxygen to tame the ravages of thin air in the “Death Zone” above 26,000 feet. (It was long assumed that any attempt to climb Everest without supplemental oxygen would prove fatal.)

Only one of the fourteen 8,000ers was climbed on the initial attempt. Remarkably enough, that was Annapurna, the first of all the fourteen to be ascended, thanks to an utterly brilliant effort spearheaded by the Parisian alpinist Maurice Herzog and three Chamonix guides, Louis Lachenal, Lionel Terray, and Gaston Rébuffat. So heroic was the ascent of a single 8,000er considered that each such deed accrued a seemingly limitless fund of national glory. The fiftieth anniversary of the triumph on K2 in 1954 was recently celebrated in Italy with much pomp and circumstance. The first ascent of Everest by the British the year before—news of which arrived in England at the very moment of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation—has been called, with no apparent irony, “the last great day in the British Empire.” Sir Edmund Hillary remains the most famous mountaineer in history. (Alas, his more experienced partner, the Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, does not even rank a close second.)

So hard-won were those early successes on the 8,000-meter peaks that only two men—the Austrians Hermann Buhl and Kurt Diemberger—participated in more than a single triumph. At the cost of losing several toes to frostbite, Buhl pushed on to the summit of Nanga Parbat in a now legendary solo ascent in 1953, after all his teammates had faltered. Diemberger topped out on Dhaulagiri in 1960. And the two men joined forces on an admirably light, small-party first ascent of Broad Peak in 1957. Only eighteen days later, Buhl fell to his death on a neighboring peak when a cornice broke beneath his feet. His body has never been found.

By the mid–1970s, the most ambitious Himalayan mountaineers were attempting the 8,000ers by routes that were far more technically difficult than those followed on the first ascents. Difficulty for its own sake became, in fact, the ultimate cachet. Meanwhile, the first ascent lines, while not exactly being reduced to the humdrum status of “trade routes,” were proving less fearsome than the pioneers had found them. By 1975, for instance, thirty-five different climbers, including the first woman, Junko Tabei from Japan, had successfully climbed Everest by the South Col route opened by Hillary and Tenzing.

From the Trade Paperback edition.

Meet the Author

ED VIESTURS is the first and only American to ascend all fourteen of the world's 8,000-meter peaks without supplemental oxygen and the author of The Mountain, K2, and The Will to Climb.

In addition to his collaborations with Ed Viestrus, DAVID ROBERTS is the author of more than twenty books, including Finding Everett Ruess.

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No Shortcuts to the Top 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 27 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This is an excellent and exciting biography. In fact it is the best biography I have ever read. I do not know a lot about how to climb mountains, but I learned how it is done in this book. Mr. Viesturs is a man determined to climb the world's 14 highest mountains without using bottled oxygen. He climbed Everest 6 times. He is a careful man, who admires the mountains he climbs, appreciates their beauty, yet knows how quickly you can die. His wife, Paula, is an amazing person who always supported him on his quest. With his determination, his family's support, the people he befriends during his journey, I found this an inspirational story that everyone would enjoy. You don't have to be a real mountain climber to understand his book. It is exciting, full of adventure, and he is such a kind, caring man who pursues his dream to the end. It inspired me to the very last page. I loved it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Ed is the human animal of this book. I say that because of all the amazing things he does throughoutit. I wont go to far into detail because i dont want to give to much away but i will say that the man can climb any mountain without and oxygen tank! He has overcome every mountain possible while saving friends and fellow climbers in the process. It is amazing to hear his story. It honestly makes me look at life a bit different. It tells and shows that you should to what you love and never look back. My favorite part of the book is when he puts his own life in the hands of death to save a friend from a life taking fall. this thriller will keep you reading to the end, so read this book and i promise you wont be disapionted.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I'm sixty years old and I've been climbing mountains for most of those years although nothing quite so challenging as those that Ed Viesters climbs. I've read a lot of books on mountaineering but none quite so enthralling as this one. It was nice to get his take on the 1996 Mount Everest tragedy. This book has me all charged up to start training and get climbing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is one book that will make you want to keep reading non stop until the end. Very well written, it has plenty of excitement and adventure to keep you locked in throughout.
fathom More than 1 year ago
I'm not a big fan of memoirs but I did like this book. Ed Viesturs truly seems like a nice guy; I was a little surprised at how self-congratulatory he is. More then once, in the book, he gave a laundry list of his accomplishments and after a while it became a little tiresome. Because it wasn't necessary; his entire life story and history is very compelling. There was no need to pump himself up. He became fascinated and almost obsessed with high mountains as a young boy and that never left him. He is an inspiration to anyone who has a dream. It is a simple message, but obviously not so easy to achieve; "follow your dream."
DStan58DS More than 1 year ago
Once again, for fans (armchair & otherwise) of mountaineering literature, Viesturs & Roberts have put together a fine book. Too often, when writing about the high mountains, authors fall into prose too philosophical and mystical for me. These two, however, tell the stories of the mountains without the detours into the spiritual/what's-the-meaning-of-it-all style that mars many mountaineering books. You will still be awed at the spirit and strength of the men and women who climb. You'll still be inspired by the beauty of 26,000+ foot peaks. If you have read other books by Viesturs & Roberts, you may find that you're re-reading stories they have told in other books, but in the context of this book, you won't mind revisiting those old stories. Pull on your expedition weight long johns, get cozy, and climb along with Ed.
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Thomas Gibson More than 1 year ago
Ed's perspective on life is a blue print that more people should follow- a must read
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Matthew Covington More than 1 year ago
it is a great book about the 14 8meter peaks awesome everyone needs to read it
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