Titanium casesurface-hardened
Lighter than steel so it disappears on the wrist, with a hardened coating near 800 HV — several times the surface hardness of ordinary steel — so the trail doesn't write itself across the case.
The name the tallest point on Earth wore — before the world gave the credit to someone else.
For half a century, surveyors dragged half-tonne theodolites across India to map it by triangulation — one measured triangle at a time, from the coast to the Himalaya. The project was called the Great Trigonometrical Survey.
The man who turned its numbers into mountains was Radhanath Sikdar — a mathematician the survey listed, without irony, as its Chief Computer. In 1852 his calculations placed a remote summit, known then only as Peak XV, at 29,002 feet: the highest point on Earth.
He never climbed it. He never saw it up close. He found it with mathematics. Thirteen years later the peak was renamed for a man who had neither measured it nor set eyes on it. Sikdar's name went to a footnote.
Modern satellites put the summit at 29,031.7 feet. Sikdar, working by hand with 1850s brass and logarithms, was off by roughly one tenth of one percent.
Wear the precision.
Skip the credit.
We're not here to show you a hero shot yet. A survey reveals its ground slowly, one station at a time — and so will this.
What we'll say now: 38 mm of titanium, 9.5 mm thin, built to vanish on the wrist and survive everything the wrist runs into. A sapphire dome you can actually read in the sun. And a caseback engraved as a survey benchmark, carrying a number that belongs to one watch and no other.
Not a spec sheet for its own sake. Each decision earns its place by making the watch read truer, last longer, or disappear more completely into a working day.
Lighter than steel so it disappears on the wrist, with a hardened coating near 800 HV — several times the surface hardness of ordinary steel — so the trail doesn't write itself across the case.
A field watch you can't read is a paperweight. Sapphire resists scratches; anti-reflective coating kills glare on the summit; an anti-fingerprint layer keeps it legible when your hands aren't clean.
An instrument is judged on one thing: accuracy. A smooth sweeping seconds hand, grab-and-go reliability, and a tolerance a mechanical movement can't touch. Sikdar would have approved of the error budget.
A screw-down crown seals the one opening the elements look for. Rain, river crossings, a dropped pack in a stream — none of it is the watch's problem.
Raised applied numerals filled with a warm vintage glow for the hours after the sun fails you. The look of aged radium, none of the physics.
A rotation-proof screw-in caseback, engraved as a survey benchmark with the summit's contours and a unique station number. Every Peak XV is a point on the map that exists only once.
One field watch, surveyed across three terrains. Names shown; the rest reveals at launch.
The reference against which everything else is measured. Deep matte black, warm cream glow.
Deep field green with a tonal strap — the colour of the walk in, before the climb.
Pale, cold and clear — the light at altitude, where the air thins and the view opens.
The first run is limited. Add your name to the Registry and you'll be first to see the full reveal, first to the station numbers, and first through the door when pre-booking opens.
Watch your inbox. When the survey opens, you'll be among the first to know — before the public ever sees Peak XV.