Belarusian Woman Recounts How She Conquered the "Killer Mountain" Nanga Parbat at 66
On July 1, 2026, Belarusian Liliya Yanouskaya ascended to the summit of Nanga Parbat, 8126 meters high, in Pakistan's Gilgit-Baltistan mountain region. This is the ninth highest mountain in the world and already the eleventh of the fourteen eight-thousanders conquered by the alpinist. At 66, Yanouskaya became the oldest woman in history to reach this summit. Liliya told "Belsat" about dangerous sections without safety ropes, poisoning during acclimatization, age in high-altitude mountaineering, and the three remaining peaks to complete all 14 eight-thousanders.

"Killer Mountain" — Not an Exaggeration
Reaching the summit of Nanga Parbat for Yanouskaya was primarily a confirmation that after ten previous eight-thousanders, she was still capable of enduring a very difficult challenge. But at the summit, the alpinist says, she felt no euphoria.
"For a long time, I couldn't find the exact word for what I felt. Eventually, I found the English word 'humbled' – a feeling of humility before the mountain's grandeur. The conditions were quite difficult, and it was precisely because of this that the humility was felt so strongly: it was a quiet, internal feeling, completely unlike euphoria or triumph," she recounts.
Nanga Parbat is considered one of the most dangerous mountains in the world, and, according to Yanouskaya, this reputation fully corresponds to reality. On the route, there are narrow couloirs where avalanches constantly descend. They must be passed as quickly as possible, as stopping there is dangerous. After 11-12 PM, rockfall begins: the sun heats the slope, and stones and ice fall from above.
"People fell and died here precisely because they found themselves in these couloirs at the wrong time," the alpinist says.
Nanga Parbat is also associated with one of the most tragic pages in the history of mountaineering. On the night of June 22-23, 2013, armed militants, disguised in the uniforms of local Gilgit-Baltistan guards, surrounded the base camp on the Diamir side of the mountain. They tied up and shot eleven people – foreign alpinists of various nationalities and a local guide. Responsibility for the attack was claimed by the Pakistani Taliban, who called the attack revenge for American drone strikes.
Yanouskaya recounts that thirteen years after the tragedy, her expedition was located in virtually the same spot.
"Thirteen years later, on the first day of my stay at the same spot, we found a spent cartridge right by the tent – a reminder of the tragedy that happened precisely there," Yanouskaya says.
The story of brothers Reinhold and Günther Messner is also connected with this mountain. In 1970, they were the first to traverse Nanga Parbat, but during the descent, Günther Messner died in an avalanche.

Poisoning Could Have Halted the Expedition
Yanouskaya calls the Kinshofer Wall, on the approach to the second camp, the most technically difficult stage of the route. It's a vertical rock face, partially covered with ice, on which dozens of old ropes from various expeditions remain.
Alpinists without rock climbing experience are mostly forced to ascend using a jumar – a mechanical device that attaches to the rope. This requires pulling up one's body weight, equipment, and backpack with their hands, which is very quickly exhausting. Those with rock climbing experience use the rope more as a safety measure and can move much more easily.
The final summit push from the third camp took about eleven hours. They set off around eight in the evening and walked all night without long breaks.
At one point, Yanouskaya seriously considered the possibility of stopping the ascent.
During an acclimatization rotation, when she was in the first camp and preparing to go to the second, she experienced severe stomach pain and vomiting in the middle of the night.
The alpinist believes the most probable cause was contaminated water. In high camps, snow for drinking water is taken near the tents, where many people live simultaneously. Later, in one of the bottles, she noticed something opaque at the bottom, resembling animal or bird remains.
"That day I felt so sick and exhausted that I wasn't sure if I could continue. Even the thought of having to descend to base camp in such a state terrified me," she says. Yanouskaya took the medicines she had with her, rested, and drank clean water. The very next day, her condition improved enough for her to continue.
In the mountains, she emphasizes, relying on normal medical help is almost impossible.
"Various problems, from common exhaustion to altitude sickness or poisoning, can present very similar symptoms, and you have to diagnose yourself, based only on your own experience," she explains.
After the poisoning, the alpinist expected to get at least a few days to rest and recover. But the weather forecast did not allow for it.
Heavy snowfall was expected, which could last a week or even ten days. This would effectively mean the end of the season. Therefore, after the acclimatization rotation, the group spent the night at base camp and less than 24 hours later went up again – this time for the summit push.
"We were under-acclimatized, I was still recovering from the poisoning, but it was the only weather window we had. In such situations, experience and pure stubbornness come into play," Liliya recounts.
Yanouskaya says that at some point, a person simply gathers all their will and continues to go, because they understand that there may not be another chance.
"It was 'no way,' and now it's 'why not?'"
At 66, Yanouskaya became the oldest woman to climb Nanga Parbat. But she herself does not perceive this as the main trophy. The change in people's attitudes around her is much more important to her.
When Liliya first decided to try to ascend Everest, acquaintances called her and her family, trying to dissuade her from the expedition.
"They said it was impossible, because, first, I am a woman, and second, 'I am already old.' Women my age just don't do such things. Impossible," she recalls.
Now many of those people have become her close friends and support her new ascents.
"And it is this change in people that is much more valuable to me than any records. It was 'no way,' and now it's 'why not?'" she says.
According to Yanouskaya, with age, physical fitness has not changed as much as one might expect. However, psychological resilience grows with each expedition.
"Having the experience of previous expeditions, I know exactly what to expect – both from my own head, and from my body, and from the mountain itself," Liliya recounts.
Nanga Parbat turned out to be more difficult for Yanouskaya than she expected, even after K2 and Kangchenjunga. On Everest, Lhotse, and Makalu, according to her, many alpinists and Sherpas always work, so a significant part of the routes are fixed with ropes for the season. On Pakistani mountains, there are significantly fewer people.
During this Nanga Parbat expedition, ropes were fixed only on individual sections. In other places, she had to go roped with a Sherpa or completely independently, without fixed safety ropes.
Fear is felt especially acutely closer to the summit, where the slope becomes very steep, icy, and loose.
"There's no fixed rope, no backup. One mistake or a loss of attention for a second can cost everything: if you slip and start to fall, there's simply nothing to stop that fall, and you'll go down all the way to the end," Liliya explains.
"A Sherpa is also a human, he is not obligated to risk himself for you"
After eleven eight-thousanders, Yanouskaya's attitude towards responsibility in the mountains also changed. She emphasizes: even if there is a Sherpa nearby, an alpinist cannot fully rely on another person. A Sherpa is a representative of the Sherpa people from the Himalayas; in mountaineering expeditions, this word often refers to high-altitude guides and assistants who accompany alpinists, help with the route, equipment, oxygen, and safety.
"It's good, of course, to have a reliable Sherpa nearby, but a Sherpa is also a human: he is not obligated to risk himself for you and must primarily care for his own safety," she says.
Yanouskaya recalls that on Everest, her own Sherpa once left her without oxygen and help.
"Up there, everyone primarily saves themselves. Naturally, I didn't go with that Sherpa anymore," she explains. She also says that in commercial mountaineering, a team does not always exist in the sense that people often imagine from the outside. Each participant moves at their own pace, and people mostly meet in camps.
True trust, according to Yanouskaya, is built over years and numerous expeditions. The world of high-altitude mountaineering is small, so from season to season, people meet each other on different mountains and gradually understand whom they can rely on.
After the Summit, You Still Need to Get Home
Reaching the summit does not end the expedition. After Nanga Parbat, Liliya still needed several days to get out of the mountains.
In Nepal, an alpinist can sometimes be picked up by a helicopter directly from base camp. But in the Karakoram in Pakistan, this is a militarized border zone, so such an option is not available.
The expedition members hiked for two days, descending from base camp to an altitude of approximately 2500 meters. Then there was a long jeep ride, an overnight stay, a bus, and several connecting flights.
"During an expedition, I lose both weight and muscle mass, and full recovery takes several weeks: rest, sleep, good nutrition," she says.
Currently, Yanouskaya's list includes 11 of the world's 14 eight-thousanders: Nanga Parbat, Kangchenjunga, Annapurna, Makalu, Lhotse, Dhaulagiri, Gasherbrum II, K2, Everest, Manaslu, and Cho Oyu.
Initially, she did not have a specific goal to climb all 14 eight-thousanders. It formed gradually, she says, with each new mountain.
Now, three peaks remain: Shishapangma in Tibet, Broad Peak, and Gasherbrum I in Pakistan.
Yanouskaya hopes to go to Shishapangma in the autumn, but everything depends on the permission of the Chinese authorities. She plans Broad Peak and Gasherbrum I for the next summer season.
What will happen after all fourteen, she does not yet know. Among the options Yanouskaya jokes about are climbing Everest again from the Chinese side, attempting a winter ascent, or even skiing down from some peak.
The main lesson of Nanga Parbat for her is the need to be prepared for the unexpected. Weather, route conditions, well-being, and plans can change very quickly.
"With age, I understand more and more: there is no such thing as too much preparation. The better you prepare for the unexpected, the more chances you have to make the right decision at the right moment," she concludes.
Comments
Менавіта так і ёсць. У гарах адчуваеш сябе маленькім мурашом, адчуваеш іх веліч і пакорнасць перад імі.