The altitude where atmospheric pressure, about one-third its typical value at sea level, is too low to sustain human life starts at about 8,000m. At this altitude, digestion stops, vision blurs, thinking slows. Risk of frostbite, HACE, and HAPE increases exponentially. The body uses oxygen faster than it replenishes, slowing bodily functions until they eventually cease.

To climbers and mountaineers, these heights are known as the death zone.

Of the 1,187,049 named mountains around the world, just 132 of them are taller than 7,000m. Of those 132, only 14 of them rest above the death zone. Commercial airlines flying into the Karakorum or Himalayas regularly cruise between 20-30,000ft, placing passengers at eye-level with climbers on these summits.

Singapore enjoys some of the greatest biodiversity on earth, but the tallest mountain on the island is Bukit Timah Hill. To the child awestruck by 8,000m peaks, Bukit Timah Hill’s 164m was insufficient, to say the least.

Of the 8000ers, the one that always drew my eye was Chogori, better known as K2. Extreme exposure, sheer altitude, and high technicality across the route. That disastrous combination of qualities had climbers agreeing that it was the most difficult to climb. To 10-year-old me, that meant K2 was the coolest and thus, the most impressive of all the 8,000er’s.

While not the case growing up, climbers now tend to credit Nanga Parbat, “The Killer Mountain,” as the most difficult climb. K2’s popularity since my childhood has resulted in slightly more established routes and support at camps, and aside from the altitude, Nanga Parbat has all the same challenges while being more remote - making it the slightly more dangerous climb these days.

Unlike the Himalayan behemoths, the giants of the Karakorum are incredibly remote with no villages, tea houses, or roads of any kind along the way. The most civilization one can hope for are tents from others on the same pilgrimage.

Despite all my outdoor pursuits, I usually only opt for the tent when it’s absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, with a career outdoor photography, this necessity arises every other week. Though, it wouldn’t just be a couple weeks as I was about to embark on my craziest adventure yet.

At the confluence of three glaciers, the Baltoro, Vigne, and Godwin-Austen, lies a campsite - Concordia (4,600m); The Throne Room of the Mountain Gods. Linking the base camps of four different 8,000m peaks, the most of any campsite on Earth, Concordia is the “city center” intersecting dozens of peaks in the area.

It’s also where most of the giants I’m searching for lay.

Our estimated arrival at Concordia lined up with the new moon. So far from civilization and at such altitude, we were on for some properly clear skies.

However, this is the Karakorum.

Its fickle and unrelenting weather is often the antagonist in every expedition and yet, I’d wagered some hefty bets. Because at Concordia lies K2, Broad Peak, Gasherbrum I, Gasherbrum II, and the images I wanted to make of these titans.

But before all that, we’d need to make it there. And at 4,600m, reaching Concordia was much easier said than done.

Over the next four weeks, we’d cross raging rivers, climb exposed ridges, and traverse crevasse-filled glaciers in pursuit of these giants. From Askoli (3,000m), it was ten days to Concordia, the halfway point where we’d spend three days acclimatizing by venturing to K2 and Broad Peak’s base camps.

From there, we’d prepare to cross the notorious Gondogoro La mountain pass (5625m); the highest point of the trek, before descending to the village of Hushe (3,000m). We’d then drive along the legendary Karakoram Highway to trek to Pakistan’s 5th and final 8,000m peak.

Nothing really prepares you for the Karakoram. Forget the Alps, the Andes, forget every single mountain you’ve ever seen. They may as well be mounds. It’s just nonsensical - countless razor-sharp peaks tear out of the ground, ripping apart the clouds in the sky like rows of shark teeth.

Most of the day, I’m willing my feet to take just one more step. By lunch, my body aches from the many cameras in my pack. At camp, my legs have given up. Immediately after dinner, I’ve collapsed into my tent. It’s a strange feeling to be meeting your heroes in such a state of extreme exhaustion. Even stranger when your heroes are a couple of rocks.

My first tangle with the Trango Towers sobered me right up. It was when the realization of where I was truly hit me.

These are the things of legend, the peaks that half my outdoor gear was named after. Walls that every climber knows of and dreams of climbing - me included. They say to never meet your heroes, but if like me, your heroes are based in nature; chances are their brilliance will weather any Earthly scandal.

To think that I’d one day find myself at unzipping my tent on one of Asia’s largest glaciers, emerging to a direct view of K2, and preparing to make the trek to its base camp; I’d say you were insane.

But, when I found myself at 3:30am the day after visiting K2’s base camp, clipped into a rope on the side of a mountain having survived one avalanche and wading through another, the possibility of me being the insane one briefly arose.

It’s incredible just how much can happen in just 9 hours. According to my Garmin, starting at 11pm, we:

Somehow, I’ve managed to convince people to join me on these ridiculous expeditions. This time, I was with the extremely talented astrophotographer - Evan Lobeto, and we were working with the experienced local guides from Chogori Adventure.

Surprisingly, at the end of my stay, no one wanted to murder each other, and we left with all our organs intact. With the number of times I complained about the heat, exhaustion, altitude, the rocks, the toilets, or my stomach, I’m shocked I wasn’t choked in my sleep by Evan or our guides.

Even after my spectacular snow leopard failure in Mongolia earlier this year, which you should read about here, the success of this trip felt like an overpayment.

The mountains can often be relentless. Weather up here is famous for changing in an instant, and at such an altitude with steep, tricky terrain, the chances for disaster are endless.

Yet, the mountains seemed to welcome us, seemingly changing according to our whims and plans - never raining or overcast when we didn’t want it to be. As unbelievable as it can be, turns out if you do something for long enough, things just work out sometimes.

Pakistan is many things, and to discuss them all would require several articles. But one thing’s for sure - it’s undeniably beautiful.

In total, we drove 1800km, trekked 200km, and spent 30 full days exploring the staggering mountains of Pakistan. It was by far the toughest, sketchiest, and most exciting trek I’ve ever embarked on.

Thank you so much for reading - if you enjoyed it, please consider subscribing. If you’ve already subscribed, tell your friends to subscribe! Do keep an eye on my YouTube channel, which you should also totally subscribe to! There’ll be a video of this trip coming up, and you’re not going to want to miss it!

My next post will be a trip log of this adventure, plus the release of my next set of prints from this trip, so stay tuned!

Some may note that the timing of this trip has been surrounded by some extremely unfortunate circumstances - namely the Broad Peak Avalanche disaster and the Himalayan glacial collapse in Nepal. To see the areas I’ve fallen so in love with so heavily affected is nothing short of heartbreaking. To support relief efforts in Nepal, please check out the following links:

Official Government Relief Fund: https://setu.ndrrma.gov.np/

Direct Relief: https://www.directrelief.org/emergency/nepal-floods-2026/

World Central Kitchen: https://wck.org/news/first-alert-wck-flash-flooding-nepal/

Global Giving: https://www.globalgiving.org/projects/nepal-flood-relief-fund/

Sneha’s Care Animal Relief Fund: https://www.snehacare.org/donate/