Mikel Zabalza recalls daring Karakoram ascents and lifelong drive to explore

Today is International Mountain Day, and Mikel Zabalza will speak at the Congress Centre about his experiences in Karakoram 1, the north‑west extension of the Himalaya, a range he has visited often — first in 1995 and most recently in 2024.

Asked which climb stands out, he cites the ascent of Gasherbrum IV, a prominent, aesthetic peak of 7,925 metres that receives few visits and is very technical. “On our route, at 7,750 metres you hit a barrier and you have to take off your gloves and climb rock. There are 6A sections, very demanding. There’s no fixed rope, nobody there. Dangerous? It requires prior preparation,” he said, adding that danger and spectacle do not always go together.

He described a more dangerous ascent in the high Karakoram on the central Broad Peak, where they climbed an 8,000‑metre secondary summit while opening a new route. Conditions were poor, with deep snow and a constant feeling that everything might give way; progress was difficult and their equipment made descent impossible. “The only option was to go out over the summit and descend the other side,” he recalled.

A turning point in his life came in 1992, when, at 22, he travelled with a friend to the head of the Langtang valley in Nepal. They spent 40 days with no contact with the outside world, climbed many peaks including a 7,000‑metre mountain in alpine style, and later discovered they had made the first ascent of that summit. “It was very daring. I knew then that this was what I wanted in life,” he said.

His interest in mountains began early: he joined a mountain club at ten, though his parents — who had nine children — could not take him out. He started climbing at 16; his parents did not fully understand it but gave him freedom to pursue it.

Zabalza acknowledged the physical toll of a long career. “Bones? I’ve broken more than anyone, always on short routes,” he said. His most recent accident was five years ago in Etxauri, where a hold broke, he fell many metres and broke his wrists. “Life stops,” he reflected.

When asked if he plans to stop, his answer was unequivocal: “Never.” He stressed that the mountain is not to blame, but that it has its own rules and one must learn to recognise them.

What continues to attract him is the unknown: the desire to explore and to find new routes. He noted that some younger climbers retain that spirit, while others are primarily seeking media attention and pursue well‑known summits, like Everest, for the prestige they bring.