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Nisar Hussain on Nanga Parbat in 2009. Photo: Louis Rousseau
Nisar Hussain was not the first talented Sadpara climber to go unnoticed by the mountaineering world. When American mountaineer Charlie Houston assembled a team for K2 in 1953, he hired several Sadpara porters, including Mohammad Hussein. There were few employment opportunities in Sadpara then, and carrying supplies for expeditions was the best way for the strong locals accustomed to a physical shepherding lifestyle to earn money. When an accident occurred high on K2, during which Art Gilkey disappeared, the remaining climbers limped into base camp, dazed and exhausted. George Bell was in such bad shape he couldn’t walk. Four porters lugged him down the glacier on a makeshift litter, but eventually the trail became too steep and narrow. Referring to Mohammad Hussein, Bell recalled: “At this point, the biggest and strongest of the Sadparas knelt beside the litter, and with a gentle smile invited me to climb aboard. Sprawled on his back with my arms draped over his shoulders and clasped across his chest, I could peer over his shoulder and see exactly what went on. … In time I came to feel almost as secure on his strong back as I had on my own two feet during the march in. … Each time he put me down after a hard carry, he would turn around with a sympathetic boyish grin and inquire, ‘
Tik sahib?’ (Everything okay, sahib?) It was impossible not to say yes.”
More than 20 years later, another American team was attempting K2 when one of their porters became dangerously ill. When it was clear he needed to be evacuated, 12 porters bundled him into a sled and started hauling him down the glacier. But when they reached the loose, bouldery moraine, Mohammed Hussein—the same man who had carried George Bell in 1953—hoisted him onto his back. At 50, he was still carrying people off K2 yet his name was largely unknown.
The next generation of Sadpara climbers ushered in Ali Raza Sadpara, born in 1968. As a child, his school was destroyed in a fire, effectively ending his education. He and his classmates spent much more time in the hills, making regular treks up to 6,000 meters to tend to their livestock.
Ali Raza’s first mountain job was at age 16, hauling loads on the glacier beneath K2 and Broad Peak before eventually becoming a high-altitude porter on K2. With no formal training, he picked up mandatory climbing skills—self-arresting with an ice axe, belaying, and crevasse rescue— as needed on the job. “I did not even know how to wear crampons,” he admitted. Nevertheless, he climbed above 8,000 meters on that trip. As Ali Raza climbed with people from all over the world, he brought important lessons back to Sadpara and shared them with less experienced climbers.
Ali Raza dreamed of climbing all 14 8,000ers, but he needed sponsorship to pay for expensive permits and replace the wages he would lose as a high-altitude worker. Uneducated, he lacked the marketing prowess to promote himself. So he abandoned his dream and stayed closer to home, working on foreign expeditions and eventually making 17 ascents of Pakistan’s 8,000-meter peaks.
While many would prefer to climb lower, more technical peaks, the best paychecks come from expeditions on the 8,000ers. There is no shortage of work in the Death Zone.
In an interview in 2021, Ali Raza indicated that he would only climb for four more years. Two years later, while training for K2, he was critically injured in a fall on a local cliff, fracturing his spinal cord and several ribs. He died in the Skardu hospital a few weeks later. Pakistan’s mountaineering community was stunned. Naila Kiani, the first female Pakistani to summit one of her country’s 8,000-meter peaks—Gasherbrum II—called Ali Raza her teacher, guide, and friend. “You taught climbing to so many people…rescued so many people in the mountains. A true hero, a legend.
Chacha, your name will live forever.” Pakistan’s most successful high-altitude climber, Sirbaz Khan, called Ali Raza
ustaadon ka ustaad—teacher of teachers. Upon hearing of his death, Sirbaz said, “Ali Raza, my friend, thank you for teaching me how to climb and even more importantly for teaching me how to live. . . . I have rarely loved and respected any mountaineer as much as I have loved and respected Apo Ali Raza.” One of Pakistan’s finest climbers and a man committed to coaching the next generation was dead at 56.
It seems that Ali Raza taught well, for both Naila and Sirbaz have become leaders in the Pakistani mountaineering community. Naila has climbed 11 of the 14 8,000ers and is an ambassador for Ascend, a not-for-profit organization based in Skardu that is committed to empowering girls through mountaineering-based leadership training and community service. Naila intends to be part of that empowering process: “This wonderful journey has given me the chance to realize my lifelong dream,” she says. “I intend to make the most of this opportunity to inspire and encourage other girls as they begin writing their own stories of success.”
Sirbaz was on his way to Shishapangma to climb his last 8,000er this spring when the Chinese rescinded all permits for the mountain. Instead, Sirbaz climbed Everest without supplemental oxygen. Exuding a quiet confidence, he is breaking new ground for Pakistani climbers, but he is respectful of those who came before him. He dedicated his Annapurna summit in the spring of 2021 to Ali Sadpara.
His Dhaulagiri summit in the fall of 2021 was dedicated to Amir Mehdi, the forgotten hero from the first ascent of K2. And his Makalu summit in 2022 was dedicated to Ali Raza Sadpara. Sirbaz is determined to honor his mentors and elevate their names into prominence in the history of high-altitude climbing. “Now I am fully committed to winning honor and pride for my country, my people, and especially the underprivileged mountaineering community of Pakistan,” he says. He feels responsible to the younger climbers of his country. “The coming period is ours,” he declares. “We will try our best to leave a better field for the coming generation.”
Back in the village of Sadpara, blue-collar construction work is gradually replacing the shepherding lifestyle of young men. However, these jobs pay poorly, and high-altitude work remains the occupation of choice. While many would prefer to climb lower, more technical Pakistani peaks, the best paychecks come from expeditions on the 8,000ers. There is no shortage of work in the Death Zone.
Now, with Sadpara’s greatest mentor, Ali Raza, no longer able to pass on his knowledge, that work has become more dangerous—especially given the lack of financial support these climbers get from the expeditions. Murtaza Sadpara, who started climbing in 2021, managed to pick up some crucial skills from Ali Raza on Gasherbrum II but struggled to equip himself adequately. Eventually, Murtaza acquired enough knowledge to be hired by Sky Tours to accompany two Mexican clients up Broad Peak in 2023. He was paid $178 USD for the duration of the expedition plus tips, and, unable to afford the needed equipment, he made do with used clothing from a shop in Skardu.
He carried two bottles of oxygen for his clients but none for himself since he didn’t have money for a mask and canister, and Sky Tours hadn’t provided him with one. After 10 hours of climbing, Murtaza and the clients stopped on the summit ridge for an hour while bad weather swirled around them. Murtaza’s old, ratty gloves soon soaked through and froze his fingers. According to Fernando J. Perez of the Basque newspaper
El Correo, “When the clients saw [Murtaza] couldn’t go on, they took the oxygen bottles and proceeded to the summit, leaving Murtaza behind.”
Austrian climber Lukas Woerle eventually reached the summit ridge and discovered Murtaza lying in the snow. “It was not possible to communicate properly with him,” Lukas reported after the trip. “He was unable to remember his name, so I started dragging and pushing him back down.”
With badly frostbitten fingers, Murtaza was taken to a hospital in Skardu, where doctors recommended amputation. The 24-year-old father of two was speechless. He refused and left the hospital. Back home in Sadpara, his fingers turned black. Murtaza’s cousin, Sajid Sadpara, Ali Sadpara’s son, stepped in to help. One of Sajid’s friends, Alex Txikon, who made the first winter ascent of Nanga Parbat with Sajid’s father, arranged for Murtaza to come to Bilbao in Basque country for medical care.
But the damage to his fingers was too serious to save them. Murtaza now faces a questionable future. Even before losing his fingers, he couldn’t earn enough from high-altitude work to support his family, supplementing the work by crushing rocks for road construction. Without fingers, he won’t be able to crush rocks, and he certainly won’t be able to carry loads or fix lines at altitude. His fate is symptomatic of the ongoing system in Pakistan, where some employers are neither training their high-altitude workers sufficiently nor outfitting them with proper equipment.
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