A Climber We Lost: Takero Nakajima

You can read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2024 here.

Takero Nakajima, 39, July 27

Takero “Kenro” Nakajima was one of Japan’s most-respected alpinists. He died with longtime rope companion Kazuya Hiraide, during an attempt of the West Face of K2 (8,611m).

Kenro Nakajima was interested in the mountains from a young age. His father was a mountaineer and would often take baby Nakajima into the hills around their home in Nara Prefecture. His father died of cancer when Nakajima was only 5 years old, though, so he had scant time to pass his skills and mountain philosophy on to his son.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember much about that time myself,” Nakajima admitted in an interview with Iwatani-Primus. “I only have vague memories of his face, and I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like. But the mountain behind our house that my father led me [up] was the origin of my climbing, and it was what made me fall in love with nature and start mountain climbing.”

Though Nakajima has no memories of these early hikes with his father, it was clearly a desire to connect, on some level, with his dad, that drew Nakajima to climbing. “As I grew up, I had a strong desire to see the world that my father saw,” Nakajima told Torque. “According to my mother, my father did what he loved and had a carefree side, thinking that, whatever happened, things would work out. I inherited that trait. I wanted to know more about my father, and I wanted to try climbing the mountains he did.”

Still, Nakajima had no one to teach him how to climb, and although he went scrambling by himself in high school, his climbing career didn’t begin in earnest until he was in college, studying at Kwansei Gakuin University. It was here—through the school’s mountaineering club—that he found the mentors and companions he needed. His first three Himalayan expeditions were with companions from the Kwansei Gakuin club, and two of them succeeded in making lauded first ascents, Panbari Himal (6,905m), in 2007, and Dingjung Ri South (6,196m), in 2008.

After graduation, he “wandered around a bit” and then began working for an outdoor company as a trekking guide, and later a photographer and cameraman. Nakajima filmed both 8,000-meter climbs and more traditional media, such as the travel program Sekai no Hate Made ItteQ! (The Quest), and although it seems work behind the lens was primarily a way to make ends meet and keep the mountains on his radar, Nakajima clearly had a real passion for it, too. “What’s interesting about filming is that I can see the person’s true face through the viewfinder,” he said. “You can only see that expression on the mountain. You wouldn’t understand it on the street. It’s the face they show because they’re climbing … trying their best.”

Beginning in the early 2010s, Nakajima climbed several 8,000-meter peaks (typically working as a camera operator), like Cho Oyu (8,188m), Dhaulagiri (8,167m), and Manaslu (8,163m). He also made strong efforts in alpine-style, notably an attempt of K6 (7,282m) in 2013. But his career really kicked off when he began partnering with Hiraide. The pair made their first significant ascent together in 2015, climbing the North Face of Api (7,132m) alongside Takuya Mitoro. In 2016, they made the first ascent of the North-Northwest Face of Loinbo Kangri (7,095m).

Over the following decade, Hiraide and Nakajima went on to establish a number of bold climbs on remote, little-known objectives. The pair won the Piolet d’Or three times, for the Northeast Face of Pakistan’s Shispare (7,611m) in 2017, the South Face-Southeast Ridge of Rakaposhi (7,788m) in 2019, and the North Face of Tirich Mir (7,708m) in 2023. Only three other climbers in history have earned the award for three or more separate ascents.

While Hiraide, at 45, was slightly older than Nakajima, and their dynamic seemed—at least on the outside—to fit the “master and disciple” mold, it was clear they were an ideal pairing on the wall. “It is rare to find someone that you feel completely secure tying a rope with,” Nakajima said of Hiraide. Hiraide offered a similar sentiment. “I have climbed many mountains, and now I have become afraid of them,” he said in ROPE, a short film about their efforts on Tirich Mir. “When I head for a mountain, fear makes me hesitate,” he said. “It’s hard for me to take the step, but Kenro does it without a second’s hesitation … His courage is the reason I am able to climb these mountains.”

“We often climb together but we are different climbers,” Nakajima explained. “Hiraide has more experience, whereas I’m technically stronger … This means that I’m usually in the lead, while Hiraide follows me and keeps an eye on me. When I make a mistake, he tells me. It’s difficult to be in the lead, but he also has a big responsibility [being] behind.”

In the aforementioned interview with Iwatani-Primus, Nakajima offered some insight into his penchant for unclimbed walls. “Places that no one has climbed are attractive,” he said. “There is little information, and we have to make our own choices from scratch … If someone has climbed a mountain once, it proves that it can be climbed, even if your ability is far different from that person’s. Whether I can climb it myself is a different matter, but I know that [someone] can climb it. On the other hand, if no one has climbed it, it is a completely unknown world.”

In a tribute for their 2024 Tirich Mir Piolet d’Or, which the duo’s widows posthumously accepted in their honor, close friend Takuya Mitoro spoke about the impact Nakajima and Hiraide had in their home country. “Kazuya and Kenro were pioneers and leading figures in Japan,” he said. “They continually sought out climbs that no one had attempted before, dreaming of mountains that no one had seen … They were truly heroes of the Japanese mountaineering community.”

The inspiration Nakajima’s climbs gave to others clearly wasn’t just an unintended side effect of an endeavor that brought him personal fulfillment, however, but something that he seemed to believe was inherently meaningful, in and of itself. In his report on Tirich Mir, he wrote that “the most delightful event [after their climb] was at the local orphanage. We pointed back at Tirich Mir and showed a picture from the summit, telling the kids we had climbed it. They hadn’t even thought of their local mountain as something people would climb, but after seeing the picture and the two of us with our sunburns, they seemed to accept it. One boy raised his hand and said, ‘I want to climb that mountain as well!’ This made us very happy.”

You can read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2024 here.

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