The Summit Push (part 8)

A swift, deliberate punch to the face by our sirdar, Dorjee Sherpa was enough to bring Mike to some sort of coherency. He was really quite dazed and confused but after this lucky strike he began to cooperate. He still refused oxygen but there was no way he could refuse a shot to the left butt cheek of dexamethasone. This wonder drug helps to temporarily reduce cranial swelling therefore allowing the would be rescuers to have some sort of chance at bringing a climber down - alive. At this point several famous faces in the high altitude climbing world began to show up. Of course they quickly wanted to assist. I had no problem with that and we all welcomed as much help as possible. Eventually there were many people much stronger than I on the scene and so I decided to get myself down to camp IV and leave the rescue for the more able bodied souls.
 The weather was a complete whiteout but thankfully the wind had died down and was not a problem. I rappeled a couple of the rock steps and made sure to stay tied in to the safety rope. I was exhausted. What an ordeal. I knew I was o.k. to get down. I just did not know how long it would take me. I could only muster up no more than 10 steps and I would have to sit down and rest. Oh well. Not a problem. I knew that eventually I would get down. Upon arriving at the balcony I noticed 2 of my teammates. One was a very accomplished marathon runner and she had some wonderful sports drinks tucked away inside her down suit. Upon seeing this I asked if I could have some and she gave me the entire bottle. The flavor of something other than bland, smokey tasting water was a treat. I drank almost the entire bottle and I noticed someone next to me crying. It was Dorjee, our Sirdar. He was in great shock because of the condition of Mike and he kept repeating that Mike was going to die. As a veteran of 6 previous expeditions to Everest, Dorjee had never lost a climber and he was devastated that Mike may be the first. I gave him some sports drink and reassured him that Mike was in capable hands and would almost certainly get down alive.
With that forced bit of calming reassurance I resumed my descent of the Triangular Face of upper Everest. I still was running low on energy and every 10 steps I would sit down and rest. This terrain looked really different than on the way up. Even though it was a whiteout I could still make out a few rock features that I could not have seen earlier due to the pre-dawn darkness. I knew I would be passing a few famous dead bodies on the descent and I kept my eyes wide open. I could now see camp IV down below and I knew I was getting close. I sat down again and took a few pictures of Lhotse and a few other mountain features as the clouds and snow were moving in and out.  Eventually I got to the flat part of the South Col where, in a whiteout like this one, a dozen climbers got disoriented and most of them lost their lives on May 10, 1996. This time was different. In anticipation of bad weather a 5mm perlon cord was tied from the outermost tents of camp IV to the edge of the flat area. This way a climber could use this safety tether as a lifeline, almost assuring a safe arrival back at camp. I slowly wandered in to camp and was greeted by a few of our superstar sherpas. A hug, handshake and a warm drink were all welcomed enthusiastically. I took off my oxygen bottle and climbed in to the tent. After opening my sleeping bag I strapped on my oxygen and just layed there trying to understand what I had just accomplished. I was so excited for tomorrow when I was to be able to make the phone call home and let everyone who was diligently praying for me what had just happened. As excited as I was for what I had accomplished a Bible verse kept coming to mind. King David's words in Psalm 115 verse 1. "Not unto us (me), O Lord, not unto us (me), But to Your name give glory, Because of Your mercy, Because of Your truth." I still understood that only through the strength given to me by God, only through the mental toughness granted me that day by the Almighty was I able to do what I had just done. Several hours had passed and a few of my other teammates began to filter back in to high camp. Eventually, as darkness began to overcome us, all had returned except for two - Mike and Phil. I knew the rescue would take a little bit longer than normal because of the conditions. I just did not realize it would be this long. I prayed for their safety and dozed in and out of a joyous, hypoxic stupor.

The Summit Push (part 7)

Photo 1 - The view looking west toward Cho Oyu at 26,907'. Cho Oyu is the flat topped peak in the background. For such a giant, notice how little it looks compared to my lofty perch on Everest. Glance at the horizon. Notice the curvature of the Earth?

Technically, I did have two options - descend or forever become a frozen bump high on the slopes of Everest. However, I really only had one choice. I had just stood on the very top of the world and I dearly missed my family at home. I wanted to quickly be reunited so therefore, I strapped my oxygen mask on, turned the flow rate to 1 1/2 liters per minute and started down. "Wow!" I said to myself. Going downhill is supposed to be easier but this was tough. I took a step and snagged my cramp-on on my down suit. I stumbled slightly, thankful I was safely tethered to the safety rope. I rehearsed in my mind the sequence of events that would lead me safely back to the South Col and the relative safety of my tent.
I worked my way down making sure to safely pass the climbers still on their way to the summit of Everest. At one very crucial passing, one with 8,000 feet of air beneath my feet, I got tangled up and lost my balance. Again, the rope anchored to the icy slopes held. "That was close" I yelled behind my hissing oxygen mask which was efficiently supplying life saving vapors to my lungs. I actually felt strong despite my seemingly lack of mobility. "Getting down is mandatory" I reminded myself. With that little bit of reassurance I quickly descended to the top of the Hillary Step. Luckily there were not many climbers ascending this steep portion of rock and ice so I worked my way to the rappel line. While rappeling I noticed one of my team members still on  his way to the top. I checked to see how he was feeling and to ensure that he still had ample strength to get to the top and back down. We patted each other on the back, he offered his congratulations on my successful summit, and he reassured me that he was doing just fine. I made a mental note that I had now seen every one of my team members except for two. I easily could have missed them especially since everyone is thoroughly covered by a lofty goose down suit. I clipped back in to the traverse rope and made my way to the bottom of the South Summit. As painful as it was I now had to reascend 20 meters to the top and resume my descent on the other side. Upon reaching the top I noticed another teammate. She was huddled over, exhausted and running out of oxygen. At her pace she did not have enough oxygen to get to the top and back down safely. Therefore, she heroically decided to turn herself around, content with reaching the second highest point on earth.
So that was one more teammate. I had now past all of my teammates except for one. He was usually so strong. He was always near the front of the climbing group. I told myself that I must have passed him and in my hypoxic state did not realize it.
At the South Summit we picked up our empty oxygen bottles that we had exchanged for a full one on the ascent. Slowly I made my way down the Southeast ridge into a quickly building snow squall. I had hoped this would not be a repeat of the disaster on Everest in 1996 when 11 climbers got lost on the descent in a snowstorm similar to the one growing around me. Most of those climbers are still on Everest, frozen in the spot where they eventually collapsed, lost and hopelessly beyond extreme fatigue.
There are a series of rock steps which must be navigated in order to continue down. I threaded the rope through my rappel device and began one of the many rappels that would eventually lead me to my tent 2,000 below. In what seemed to be just a couple of minutes I came upon another bottleneck at the top of another series of fixed lines. Nearing the front of the queue I noticed two things strangely out of place. One was the odd sight  of only seeing the head of one climber because his body was hidden by the sheer dropoff on either side and the other was a huddled mass of yellow collapsed on the ice. It turns out the head I saw was one of my teammates and he quickly recognized me. He removed his oxygen masked and yelled "Mikey's dying, Mikey's dying!" Collapsed on the snow in front of me was one of my teammates. The last of whom I was certain I had recently passed and just did not recognize on the ascent. However, I never did pass him. He never made the summit. As it turns out he was suffering from delusional swelling of the brain and was mumbling incoherently. Without the strength to move he had just sat down refusing to go anywhere. I could only see the head of my other teammate because Mikey was not tied in to the safety rope and he was selflessly being held on to the mountain by a teammate who refused to continue his own descent in order to save the life of another. By this point the snow squall had turned in to a full scale blizzard. I was tired but new what I had to do. There was no way I could leave Mike to die up there. I had to help him down, but first, we had to get him moving and he demonstrated very little effort in attempting to get down. His delusional thoughts had given him permission to just sit there and die and he reassured us that that was exactly what was happening.

The Summit Push (part 6)

It was really quite easy to make the decision to carry on. After all, this was the moment I had worked and trained for for so long. However, the life sustaining supplemental oxygen I was breathing was a precious commodity at this elevation and I did not want to run out. Although, I had trained very hard for several years just to get to this place and I was confident in my strength - both physical and metal. With that rational my decision was made. I kept the flow rate at 1 liter per minute and I continued on toward the summit.

Upon reaching the balcony the route meanders sharply up and to the left or slighly northwest. With the aid of my headlamp I was looking around trying to memorize various parts of the route. Upon my descent, should that be in a whiteout or blizzard, I would need all the help I could get to return to camp safely. Even in the dark the ridge was very clearly defined. A sharp drop-off on either side would certainly lead to an express ride back to the bottom of the mountain. I was now entirely on the upper southeast ridge of Mount Everest. I was so happy just to be there. I got to climb at my pace for around an hour or so and there it was - another traffic jam. Here the route turns completely vertical for a small series of rock steps. One rope and a plethora of people who were, at this point, clearly fatigued. I did not look at my watch but upon reaching the top of these steps I knew it had been more than an hour. At this point the eastern horizon was turning a beautiful pink and purple and then quickly I saw bursts of orange, yellow, and red. Watching the sunrise from this lofty perch was truly an honor and a privilege not had by many.
The climbing route continued steeply upward and I just kept taking one step at a time. I would also play little mind games with my self. When was my birthdate? When was my wedding anniversary? When was Alexander born? I would then purposely wiggle my fingers and toes. All of this in an attempt to ensure proper mental clarity and focus as well as warding off frostbite from the extreme cold. Eventually I attained the South Summit of Mount Everest. At 28,800' I was now standing on the 2nd highest point in the entire world. Even better was the beautiful view across the knife edge traverse and the famous Hillary Step. The most famous vertical pitch of rock and ice in all of mountaineering. This was the point where I would change out my oxygen bottle for a brand new, completely full one.
After that essential gear adjustment I began the agonizing descent back onto the ridge and made my way toward the Hillary Step. I had worked hard for every foot of elevation gain and I did not want to lose any by descending. However, to begin the traverse I first had to go down. I quickly made it to the Hillary Step and after a short wait it was finally my turn. Climbing this completely vertical pitch of rock and ice at just a shade under 29,000' was exhausting. Not to worry I told myself. Be patient.
Topping out on this famous feature I bagan to feel that just maybe I would stand on top. I did not want to feel overconfident because I knew that could lead to a fatal error but I knew I was close. Another half an hour of scrambling, jumping, climbing, and perseverance I came to a huge rock. I had to gingerly slide around this rock and hopefully not fall. The amount of air under my feet made even me a little uneasy. I confidently climbed around this rock and there it was. I could see in the close distance a group of people huddled around a bunch of prayer flags. There was a clearly defined hump of snow and nothing but a deep blue sky behind it. It was at this point that I knew I would make it. Five minutes later I took my remaining steps upward to the rooftop of the world."Woooooohoooooo! I did it!" Oh what a feeling of accomplishment. The thrill and experience was all I had dreamed it would be. The time was 8:15 a.m. on May 23, 2010. Eleven and one half hours after starting out for the summit, I stood on top.
I completely took off my oxygen mask and I just looked around. I needed to find somebody to take my picture - and a lot of them! Many pictures and video were taken on the summit and perhaps 20 - 30 minutes had passed. At this point the wind was picking up and the once crystal clear blue sky was filling with clouds. The famous snow plume of Everest was beginning to show and blow off toward Tibet. It was time for me to get down - quickly and safely. I recalled the words of Ed Viesturs, North America's most accomplished high altitude mountaineer. "Going up is optional, getting down is mandatory." In the midst of my joy and celebration I did not realize the amount of time I spent on top of Everest without my oxygen mask on. I did not want to risk dizziness and stumble 10,000' striaght in to Tibet so I quickly put the mask back on and took in a few deep breaths. "Getting down is mandatory" I told myself. "I have to do this." Easier said than done. This is the portion of the climb where most fatalities occur - the descent. Climbers use every bit of their strength to stand on top and leave nothing in reserve to get down. I turned around, tied into the rope and began my descent. At this point I realized my error in judgment in taking off my oxygen mask on top. Fatigue quickly set in and all I wanted to do was sit down and not move. I wanted to rest but I did not want to die, which almost always happens when a climber loses their will to descend. Which option did I want more?
Video Credit: Raphael Gernez

The Summit Push (part 5)

Photo 1 - The view from the South Summit - 28,850'. In the distance is the famous Hillary Step, the bare, vertical patch of rock. Notice the steep drop offs on each side. The left side is a 10,000 foot drop in to Nepal while the right side is an 8,000 foot drop in to Tibet.

Photo 2 - A closer view of the Hillary Step.

Wrapped up in every piece of clothing I had, in addition to a -40F sleeping bag I was feeling quite content. Here I was stretched out in my tent at 26,000' listening to the sound of the wind blow. If the wind did not abate there would be no attempt to summit. However, I remained quite optimistic. I had read about this very situation many times from the various successful summiteers over the years. Every time they would recall how the wind just stopped and their summit push began. 

As a group we decided to stagger our departure from  the South Col. A few of the slower members would leave at 8:00pm and the faster members would leave at 9:00pm. The idea was that the faster members would eventually catch up to the others some where above the Hillary Step and we would all summit together. It seemed to be a well thought out plan.

And then it happened. Just like I had read so many times from other climbers, the wind just stopped. Of course there was a stray breeze here and there but nothing like we had just endured. This was it! It was a go! It was 7:00 p.m. and climbers from other groups began leaving for the summit. We had to hurry. This was not the time nor the place to get stuck behind a bunch of amateur climbers as they re-learn proper rope technique. But, moving fast at this altitude is something reserved for the over ambitious dreamer. The air is so thin that just sitting up will leave a climber out of breath. Earlier in the evening I had melted enough ice to afford me one liter of water. That was it. All I would be able to drink for the next 12 - 16 hours. I then took off my oxygen mask so that I could move about a little easier. I had so many minor things to do. Pack my extra oxygen bottle, re-distribute the contents of my pack, try and eat a snack, and more. Soon it was 8:30 p.m. and I popped my head out of the tent. The night sky was amazing. The stars were so bright. There seemed to be many billions just twinkling away. I was in awe. The best view was reserved for only the select few on Earth who were gazing upon creation from this vantage point. On the far away horizon, where the last of the sun's rays were slowly disappearing, I could just barely see it. The curvature of the Earth. How amazing! I knew that, if given the opportunity, the views would only get better.

I looked at my watch and it read 8:40 p.m. Twenty minutes earlier than what we planned on but I have never been known to be late. Looking into the night sky all I could see was a long line of headlights from the various climbers already on their summit attempt. I had a weird feeling that I would have to accept getting stuck in back of the many climbers because the traiangular face of Everest is no place to climb without the safety of a rope. I could not out climb anyone on this portion of the route. My first objective was a feature known as the balcony. A somewhat flat spot at 27,500'. This is the location where Sir Edmund Hillary built his high camp in 1953 on his way to becoming the first person to summit Everest. At a 2 liter per minute flow I knew that I only had 16 hours of oxygen with me. I needed to be at this spot within 4 hours if I had any shot of making the summit without running out of oxygen.
I quickly caught up to the climbers who had left 15 minutes prior to me and the traffic jam started all over again. We inched our way up ever so slowly. Despite the frustration I remained optimistic. The weather was perfect. Twenty degrees below zero, no wind, and nothing but stars in the sky. I was doing it! The many years of dreaming and reading were all coming down to these next few hours. Could I do it? I did not know but I was going to give it my best shot. The triangular face is very steep. As steep as the Lhotse Face and in spots steeper. This year was a lean snow year on Everest so there was more rock than normal. This fact was realized when we all reached a series of 20' vertical rock steps. There was only one way up and only one rope. These features caused the progression toward the summit to come to a stand still. I did not want to look at my watch but I knew that gaining the balcony in 4 hours was becoming more of a fantasy than a reality. I kept reassuring myself that I could do it. What could I do? I did not want to climb unroped and yet I might have to if I wanted to make the summit and not run out of oxygen. I then considered turning down my flow rate of oxygen. I felt strong and I knew I could do it. After all, we were climbing very slowly. At one of the many stand still moments I took off my pack and oxygen and turned my flow rate down to 1 liter per minute. This is far less than what most climbers climb on but it increased my availability of oxygen by more than 16 hours. At this rate I now had almost 30 hours of oxygen left between my 2 bottles. That reassurance did not make the line upward move any faster. In fact, we were stopping more frequently. I was getting more and more frustrated. All I had to do was get to the balcony and I could begin to pass. After what felt like an eternity I reached the balcony. It was still pitch black and just a light breeze was blowing. This is the spot where many people stop and rest, change oxygen bottles and then continue on to the summit. I knew I could not stop and rest. I had to begin passing people, but first I decided to look at my watch to see just how long it took me to get here. I was hoping for 4 hours and was somewhat shocked to find out it had been just over 6 hours. This was not good. I was now coming to the most physically demanding portion of the summit attempt and I was craving more oxygen. I was left not knowing what to do. Should I turn up my flow rate of oxygen and risk not summiting because I ran out or should I keep the flow rate at 1 liter per minute and risk not having the strength to continue? I wrestled back and forth in my mind for a few seconds before I could come to any conclusion. At that point I made my decision. I knew what I had to do. Would it work?

The Summit Push (part 4)

Photo #1 - The steep and treacherous upper Lhotse Face.
Photo #2 - Climbing toward the Yellow Band.

I woke up at Camp 3 on the morning of May 22nd and one thought immediately came to my mind. Tonight I would be climbing to the summit of Mount Everest! I could hardly believe it. All I had to do was safely climb to the South Col at 26,000'. That would be my final staging ground for the assault upon the summit.
I started the laborious task of melting enough ice to fill my water bottles. This took around an hour and while the stove was humming away I started the equally laborious task of putting on my many layers of clothes. I also screwed the regulator onto my oxygen bottle because from this point forward I would be breathing supplemental, bottled oxygen. All said and done, 2 hours had passed and I was ready to begin the ascent of the upper Lhotse Face. I clipped into the fixed rope and made the traverse over to the main route which went straight up. I swung my ice ax with great force and I jabbed my cramp-ons into the icy sheet beneath me. I quickly came to a slope that was close to vertical. I thought it would be realtively easy but not this time. I felt as if I were sufficating. I was not used to climbing with a mask on my face and I felt as if it was sucking the life out of me instead of delivering the necessary oxygen needed to climb skyward. I ripped the mask off and began climbing without it. I began to think that I must get used to this mask. I had no choice if I stood any chance of making the summit of Everest. In 2005, I had safely climbed to 27,000' without any supplemental oxygen. I felt strong enough to do that again but above that was a complete unknown. I talked myself back in to wearing the mask and continued climbing toward the first obstacle of the day - the Yellow Band. I quickly passed the remnants of other team's Camp III tents that had not survived the furocious wind that almost constantly rakes across the cold slopes of the Lhotse Face. I thought I could continue at a quick, steady pace and much to my chagrin so did about 100 other people. The face is so steep and there were so many people, all with varying degrees of fitness, that we all came to a bottleneck. Little did I know that it would be stop and go like this for the rest of the entire summit push.
A few hours later found me at 24,500', the place where a climber begins traversing upward to the Yellow Band. The Yellow Band is a 200' series of yellow, limestone cliffs. It presents the first real challenge on the climb to Camp IV. It was vertical or near vertical for the entire pitch and I was glad when that part was over. I could now see the rest of the route to the Geneva Spur. That would be my final obstacle for this move to Camp IV - I hoped. I eventually made it to the cut off where people climbing Lhotse head up to pitch their Camp IV. I was certainly glad I was not going there. It just did not look fun at all. It was just as steep as the Lhotse Face and full of avalanche danger. I finished the upward traverse and stood at the base of the Geneva Spur. More vertical rock. I was getting tired and so I rested for the first time on the way to Camp IV. I was very pleased that despite all of the delays from the many people I was able to maintain a positive attitude and I knew that all I needed to do was put one foot in front of the other and I would soon be at the safety and relative comfort of Camp IV. Climbing the Geneva Spur was tiring and yet amazing all at the same time. After a couple of hundred feet of doing this I topped out on the Spur and could see the final traverse into Camp IV. I had imagined this traverse to be flat from all the book knowledge that I had of this mountain. Alas, it was not. It was up and down and rarely flat. I passed a climber being assisted down with ropes and I made sure to leave plenty of room so as not to kink up my rope. Eventually, after 5 hours of effort I strolled in to Camp IV on the South Col. I was absolutely in awe. Here I was standing in the exact place of so much mountaineering history. I could see from Tibet on one side of me to Nepal and India on the other. I could see the famous, still never climbed, traverse between Lhotse and Everest. I could see the upper, triangular face of Everest. I could see climbers coming down from the Balcony, a "flat" spot at 27,500'. Most importantly I could see my tent. My safe haven from the now increasing gusts of wind. Even though I was amazed to be here I knew that I would have no chance of continuing my summit push if these winds did not abate. I silently wondered if this was the end of the road. My high point for this journey. Clouds began to move in and it started snowing. The wind was gaining strength and my hope for standing on the roof of the world was in doubt. "Please God, allow me this chance. You framed the world with your hands. You made this mountain I am now standing on. I acknowlege You as the Mighty Creator. The heavens and earth declare Your glory and I recognize that all I have is from you. Please grant me this opportunity" I prayed. As the wind continued to howl the other members of our team began to trickle in to camp. It was not long before the talk around camp was focused upon whether this inconvenient storm that made its home right with ours would remain with us or move on. I layed down in the tent trying to get a little rest before the biggest night of my life was to begin. However, the wind was not abating but, thankfully, neither was my optimism. I just had a good feeling that this time tomorrow I would be in awe from seeing the view from the top of the world.

The Summit Push (part 3)

Photo 1 - Yours truly at Camp 3 - 23,500'
Photo 2 - The view from Camp 3. Notice the climber behind on the Lhotse Face. Triangular Face of upper Everest in the far distance.
Photo 3 - The beautiful view down the Western Cwm.
Photo 4 - Vertical ice climbing just above the bergschrund on the Lhotse Face - 21,800'.

During the early morning hours of Friday, May 21st I easily woke up to a calm, peaceful and quiet Camp II. This was the day to move on up to Camp III and the weather was taking a turn for the better. An incredible thought entered my mind. Tomorrow night I would be trying for the summit of Everest. How cool was that? After so many years of dreaming, this was it.  Now I just had to make it up to Camp III today and Camp IV tomorrow. I left Camp II around 8:00 a.m. and the first thing I noticed was the incredibly long line of climbers already up on the Lhotse Face. I figured that I was in no hurry and I would take my time; saving my strength for what lay ahead. Depending upon the location of Camp II the first 10-20 minutes outside of camp follow loose rock on top of ice. This is always cumbersome for me because it is difficult to maintain good footing. Nontheless, I quickly made it onto the glacier proper, tied in to the rope and began my winding ascent to the bergschrund at the base of the Lhotse Face. I felt lethargic and was surprised when I started easily passing many climbers heading for the same place I was. My excitement bagan to build even further and I knew that today was going to be a great day. The Lhotse Face is pitched at an average angle of 40-45 degrees. There are a few vertical sections and a few slightly less than the average. All said and done this is not a place where a climber would want to slip. Any fall from this famous landmark would certain prove fatal. However, there were many guided groups in front of me and they were moving extremely slow. I had two choices. Continue going at a turtle speed or unclip from the safety rope and free climb short sections until I passed the other climbers and then quickly tie back in to the rope. I chose the later. I tried to maintain safety at all times on my climb of Everest. This was not one of those times. I knew I could easily climb unroped and get around these people and I felt a little confident. Not cocky or proud, just confident in my climbing abilities.
It was a little over three hours since I left Camp II and I was the first from our team to make it to Camp III. On my mind most of the previous evening and certainly this morning was what was missing from our tents. I just knew that something would not be how we left it. Upon my arrival I immediately saw what was different. There were quite a few pale yellow and brown spots surrounding our tents. The sides of our tents and the inner vestibules on two of them had been used as a toilet. Can you believe that? Really? No courtesy from this other group that had very poor organizational and logistical support. Now I had to look inside the tents and see if any of our supplies were missing.
It turns out that even though we sent sherpas up to dig out our Camp III tents the previous day, the tents had partially been buried by the wind driven snow overnight. Therefore, I was unable to enter any of the tents upon my arrival, so even though I was tired I set out to try and begin excavating the tents. By this time Phil had arrived at Camp III and joined me in chopping out the bullet proof snow with our ice axes. After clearing the snow from one of the tents I was able to get inside and grab the shovel our sherpas had left up there a few days prior. I also took a quick inventory of our oxygen bottles. Thankfully, none were missing. So other than a few "poopie" marks surrounding our tents, nothing else was out of place.
Over the next 4 hours the rest of the team arrived and settled in for the evening. Eating what little we could force down and masking the retched taste with water melted from the surrounding "clean" ice, we tucked in to our sleeping bags for a fitful night of sleep. The plan was to get up in the freezing cold hours of the early morning and begin the long, slow, arduous climb to Camp IV. I easily fell asleep and began dreaming of a beautiful Everest summit day. This is the life. The stuff dreams are made of.

The Summit Push (part 2)

Photo #1 - Self portrait on the Lhotse Face on the way to Camp IV.

Photo #2 - Approaching the Yellow Band. Could there be any more people?

Photo #3 - Above the Yellow Band. Approaching the Geneva Spur.

Photo #4 - On the Geneva Spur. Looking toward Camp IV.

Photo #5 - The final traverse into Camp IV.

Photo #6 - Yours truly upon reaching Camp IV - 26,100'.

Thursday, May 20th dawned very cold, clear, and extremely windy at Camp II. Our team decided this would be our second rest day because the forecast called for continued high winds on Everest through the 22nd. A few other less equiped teams decided to push their summit attempt one day early. Therefore, by the time I woke up many other climbers were on their way to Camp III. One team already had climbers reaching Camp III as I continued gazing upward. It was at that time I noticed something odd. Even considering the distance between Camps II & III I could still make out the long line of climbers slowly ascending. One cluster of climbers in particular seemed to be all congregating altogether - directly next to our tents! I immediately knew what was going on. "No! Not now! Not after all this time and effort. Please don't do this!" Camp III on the Lhotse Face is constantly battered by extreme wind. Consequently, if tents are left erected for any period of time they get completely buried by snow and the poles break. Whereas, the previous day we sent 2 sherpas up to Camp III to pitch our tents and clear away any lingering snow and ice, this other independent team did not. As a result when their climbers reached Camp III they could not find their tents. They were completely buried by the recent snow and incessant wind.

With the wind raging and the temperature well below zero, they needed immediate shelter and our tents looked so inviting. Inside our tents were stoves, fuel, food, and most importantly, life sustaining oxygen. Just enough for our summit attempt. If they were to use our supplies our summit push would be over. All the previous month's work would be in vain. Unfortunately, a huge reality on Everest is that people come to the mountain ill-prepared. They sign up with the cheapest organizer they can find. Consequently, many seemingly small details are overlooked. It would have been so easy for this team to send up a few sherpas to unbury their tents. Instead they considered just using our tents. After all, they were vacant.

Upon seeing what was going on our Sirdar, or head sherpa, went over to this other group's Camp II headquarters and demanded that they vacate our tents and use their own. He loudly exclaimed that our team was not going to suffer because of the incompetence of their leadership. They needed to send up their own sherpas with new tents, oxygen, fuel, and food. Of course they denied our accusations until we provided them with a little proof. One of our team members had a very powerful camera lense. One that, when focused upon Camp III, made it appear as if it were 10 feet away. We took a series of pictures of their team entering our tents, standing outside of our tents, and holding what looked like our oxygen bottles. Their two-way radios magically seemed to work and their climbers were given orders to immediately start vacating our tents - our personal property! Needless to say, after all was said and done, this stress filled event coupled with the lingering thoughts of a pesky cyclone in the Bay of Bengal added a few more gray hairs to my current collection.

The remainder of the day should have been spent relaxing and resting. However, we all took turns monitoring the current state of our Camp III tents. In between rotations I filled my time with eating and socializing with other climbers. That evening, I decided to turn in early because I wanted to get an early start for Camp III the following morning.

 Even though we saw the mystery team's climbers vacating our tents, I just could not help but thinking that something was missing from our tents and our camp. Something had been stolen. It wasn't until the next day, upon reaching Camp III, that I would find out just exactly what it was. Really?