Tunç Fındık Unsentimental View of His Historic 14×8000
Tunç Fındık is a prominent Turkish mountaineer known for his remarkable achievements in high-altitude climbing.
Over the years, Fındık has become a well-respected figure in the mountaineering community, serving as a guide, author, and motivational speaker while also being involved with the Turkish Mountaineering Federation.
In the world of elite mountaineering, few accomplishments match the feat of climbing all fourteen 8,000-meter peaks on Earth.
For Turkey’s most accomplished mountaineer, becoming the 49th person globally and the first from his nation to complete this challenge represents a milestone in a career defined by exploration and pushing boundaries, rather than simply ticking boxes.
“My 14×8000 project was first in my country,” he reflects, “but I really don’t think it is important anymore in the world, and it has no relevance in Turkey.
It doesn’t mean anything for my country.” This statement might surprise those unfamiliar with the changing landscape of high-altitude mountaineering, but it offers profound insight into how one of Turkey’s pioneering alpinists views his own remarkable achievements.
The 14×8000 project wasn’t initially his goal. “It was rather personal for me, done with the cheapest possible funding and simplest methods, over so many years as sources were available,” he explains. “I was on my own, 90% no sponsors, and I did not even begin to consider climbing all 8000ers until many years after, on my 4th 8000er.”
His perspective on this accomplishment is shaped by decades witnessing the evolution—or as he sees it, degradation—of mountaineering ethics. “In the light of today’s decline of mountaineering ethics in so-called altitude mountaineering, I don’t find 14×8000 valuable anymore at all—and my own involvement in it even less valuable and deplorable,” he says.
“The first dozen people to finish 14×8000 were the special elite of mountaineering, but after that, it became much more ordinary.”
What troubles him most is how commercialization has transformed the pursuit: “Currently any physically fit tourist with good funding (a few million bucks) and very strong logistics (lot of sherpa, lot of oxygen) can finish 14×8000 in short time. This truly has become a logistic event today.”
Pure Mountaineering vs. High-Altitude Tourism
Before tackling 8,000-meter giants, he had established himself as a rock climber and winter mountaineer with numerous first ascents.
This background naturally led him toward a minimalist approach to high-altitude climbing.
“It was natural that I tried my best to employ simple and uncomplicated tactics and strategies to climb most 8000ers, and I genuinely enjoyed this,” he recalls.
While he occasionally used supplemental oxygen, most of his climbs were without it. His evolution as a mountaineer brought him to a clear philosophical position
“With sherpa support and logistics, as well as oxygen use and fixed lines, nothing can be considered as true mountaineering but only high altitude tourism. If one can climb on his/her own, that is true mountaineering.”
He cites examples that embody his philosophy: “On some 8000ers, such as Shishapangma, Gasherbrum 1, and Dhaulagiri, it was only 2 or 3 of us as a team beyond base camp, no fixed ropes but only a 50m rope between you, no oxygen, nobody carrying your equipment, and in case of emergency, you are always on your own.”
This distinction between genuine mountaineering and tourism is especially evident on Earth’s highest peak. “Everest, with today’s logistics and support, is nothing more than a touristic climb, though dangerous because of extreme altitude,” he states. “Of course if you try without oxygen it is totally different but one thing about Everest never changes: the crowd.”
The Call of Nanga Parbat
Among his fourteen 8,000-meter summits, Nanga Parbat stands apart a mountain he attempted four times before finally reaching its summit. His connection to this peak is deeply personal, tied to his mountaineering idol.
“Nanga Parbat is a very special mountain. To start with, top of my idols in alpinism is the legendary Hermann Buhl, who made the first ascent of Nanga Parbat in 1953 on his own, thus this mountain is completely associated with him,” he explains. “Climbing this peak was my personal way of commemorating and adoring him.”
The mountain demanded complete commitment. “For climbing Nanga Parbat, one must realize, death is always so adjacent, you must be fully committed to such a climb. It is not a mountain to be taken lightly or half-heartedly.”
The peak presented its own array of challenges, including terror attacks, adverse weather, and treacherous terrain. “I think I was stoneheaded and foolish enough to attempt this mountain four times. I feel lucky to survive all of that, especially the terror attack to the base camp in 2013.”
The Pioneer of New Routes
While his 14×8000 achievement might garner headlines, his heart clearly belongs to pioneering new routes over 800 of them on ice and rock walls.
“A first ascent, either on rock wall or ice, frozen icefall, or a virgin summit, is the ultimate adventure,” he enthuses. “You explore all the way create a route, face the inherent risks and climb it. It is a complete unknown and the puzzle is there for you to construct.”
This exploration offers a purity of experience that remains his primary motivation: “There lies the sweetness: you are the first to touch these beautiful lines, unspoilt, untouched, absolutely nobody there.
I despise when there are a lot of people on any route: dangerous and untasty, bad experience.”
The joy of discovery has become almost instinctual after decades in the mountains.
“When I look at a big rock wall or a mountain route, I instinctively know now which part will go, and where the best line exists among the aretes, walls, gullies, faces. This will come to you after years of mountaineering, kind of a gut feeling, a sixth sense.”
Even in March 2025, shortly before this interview, his passion for first ascents remains undiminished: “Only this month, I have climbed 10 new trad rock wall or mixed ice rock routes on my backyard, total of 3000 meters of rock climbing.”
The Evolution of Turkish Mountaineering
His climbing journey began as part of Turkey’s first high-altitude national climbing team in the 1990s. “Our alpine club of Turkey chose and tested us, the promising young climbers of the 1990s back then, in order to create a strong international team,” he recalls. “I did not know back then, but this kick-started us to new heights.”
In the three decades since, Turkish mountaineering has transformed significantly. “30 years ago it was ‘just mountaineering’ and everyone went to mountains.
Now in my country it is almost exclusively ‘sport climbing’ on bolts, much more social, easier to excel in short time and incomparably much less risky,” he observes.
The current landscape shows limited depth in traditional climbing disciplines: “Not many trad climbers and hard alpinists in my country, you can count maybe a dozen or two dozen fine trad rock climbers, some ice climbers and a small number of 8000-meter climbers.”
He identifies a fundamental issue: “The main problem is, we have no mountaineering culture, and only the university alpine clubs are more successful in implanting a bit of alpinism culture.” Mass participation tends toward less committing activities: “Trekking and nature hiking is very popular and most of those who go mountains are content with standard routes, classic itineraries, guided ascents.”
As for Turkey’s international recognition in mountaineering, he’s forthright: “Turkish mountaineering is nowhere on any stage except some single individual players on the world stage. Because there is no alpinism heritage or mountain culture in my country.”
The Philosophy of the Mountains
Beyond the technical aspects of climbing, a deeper philosophical perspective emerges throughout the interview. The mountains provide him with a sense of authenticity and connection impossible to find elsewhere.
“Personally I feel myself more human and complete, as real unmasked and original version of myself, in the mountains,” he reflects. “When you feel as one with rock and ice and mountain, you feel you are a part of the universe. When you immerse yourself in this, you will lose yourself, as of in a different and beautiful planet.”
The solitude of the mountains offers a rare gift in today’s hyperconnected world: “Being on my own is a tonic to my soul, and I like going alone. Remember, being completely alone in today’s world is an unimaginable luxury!”
He believes that climbing satisfies something primal that modern society often suppresses: “Lost is the sense of adventure with uncertain outcome. Modern society does not like uncertainty, and completely neglects the proximity of death in normal life, pretend to fully ignore it as if we will live forever. Climbing and mountaineering, meanwhile, provide this primitive instinct.”
The simplicity of mountain life contrasts sharply with everyday complexities: “Living a life of mountains I like much because it is so simple, straightforward and uncomplicated, unlike the social and complicated, labyrinthous, multi-faceted world we live in.”
When asked about the selfish nature of risk-taking in the mountains, he offers a philosophical response: “The best form of freedom is having the choice to live or die at your own hands, so very simple! If one can balance mountaineering and responsibilities, that is fine.”
Humility and the Mountains
For all his accomplishments, he maintains that true mountaineering inevitably teaches humility. “If you are naturally arrogant, soon you shall find your limit because mountain always prevails,” he observes.
The transformative power of mountain experiences runs deep: “The more experience you gather in mountains, it will change you—for the ones who take the ‘way’ as more valuable than where the way reaches, the rewards are beyond physical gains.
Then you are in love with universe and the mountains, and you cannot fail to be humble when you know your tiny, minuscule place in the universe.”
The Future of Alpinism
Looking ahead, he sees the divergence between commercial mountain tourism and pure alpinism continuing: “In the Himalayan climbing, the commercialism has taken a huge step and we can surely consider this a complete new thing in itself.”
He acknowledges the economic benefits for local communities: “The economies of Nepal and Pakistan benefit from this tourism effort, and there is a clientele that demands the supply.”
Yet alongside this commercialization, he believes genuine alpinism remains vibrant: “Real high, extreme alpinism is alive and kicking” with “new lines, hard climbs, small teams without oxygen and no fixed lines on remote, unknown peaks, without logistic support.”
Rather than lamenting this division, he accepts it as inevitable: “These two venues we talk about—altitude tourism and true himalayism—are completely unrelated and different ones veering off in separate, contrary directions. We have to accept this fact.”
Looking Ahead
Despite having climbed all fourteen 8,000-meter peaks, his mountaineering journey continues with undiminished enthusiasm. “For me, climbing on rock and ice, new routes, first ascents are the way to go as always, even this last week I did that,” he shares.
His future plans span multiple mountain ranges: “Very soon I plan to climb some walls and tech routes in my own country, as well as Caucasus, Patagonia, Peru, Tien Shan, new lines or virgin peaks in Himalaya: Nepali and Pakistani 6000ers or 7000ers with small team in near and far future.”
These pursuits face practical limitations: “My options are only limited by available finance and time—as well as suitable climbing partners. This is a major problem as well, as nobody can easily invest enough time and effort as well as commitment into these issues.”
When asked about his legacy in Turkish mountaineering, his answer reveals a man more concerned with living authentically than building a reputation
Most people would somehow know me from my guidebooks or new routes and they would be climbers only. Personally, it does not matter at all to be remembered, as I long since understood, being a known person is not good. I live for myself only, and I love doing what I like most still.
For this mountaineering pioneer who has stood atop the world’s highest places, success is not measured in summits or records
“Looking back, success for me is to be still alive after such a long uphill, dangerous, hard struggle. Records are nothing in this game, not valuable except to the persons directly involved, not valuable at all to the non-climber. So success is not only this or that summit but living a long mountain life.”
