As each step led me through the Western Cwm and closer to the top of the Khumbu Icefall, my anxiety nearly overwhelmed me. Living on the edge of life, death, and extreme exhilaration for the last week began to consume my thoughts. So much so that as I approached a 3 section ladder spanning a deep crevasse I nearly forgot to tie in to the anchor. I leaned over the edge to begin my rappel and felt an unfamiliar lack of security. That “tight” and “protected” feeling is always unmistakable when laying back on my climbing harness, properly tied in, and fully relying upon the rope to carry my weight. Oops! I nearly became another statistic. Forever lost to the icy bowels of the inner Khumbu Icefall.
I crossed several more crevasses, wound in and out, up and down, and around and made it to the lip of the upper edge of the Khumbu Icefall. There it was, staring me right in the face. Yesterday, upon reaching the safety of our Camp II I began to hear stories of another rescue on Everest. With the monsoon quickly approaching the temperatures were getting increasingly warmer. The icefall was moving and had just suffered a massive collapse. This time, the ice failure nearly claimed another life. A woman was making her way through the Icefall for the final time and had forgotten to clip in while crossing a ladder. At that exact time a huge section of jumbled ice blocks collapsed and she was swallowed up 100 feet below. She was eventually pulled out of the ice collapse and with a broken back she lay painfully awaiting her own helicopter to pull her to safety.
I anticipated this section and was amazed at how different the Icefall looked. What was a few days prior a section of a few vertical ladders was now a large section of 5 ladders lashed together and spanning across an enormous crevasse. I rappelled down, jumared up, crossed ladders, and now stood at this tarnished spot. Anne-Mari crossed the 5-section ladder first. She took step after confident step and I could not help but be jealous. As the ladders swayed, bowed, and rocked underneath her weight, I wished I was 60 pounds lighter. Would the ladder hold? I silently wondered as I stepped foot onto the fearsome span. My steps were slower, less confident, but eventually I successfully made my way to the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief and nearly gulped at the same time. I could now peer sharply down the next section of the Icefall. Wow! The whole thing had changed. Not just a little section. Huge towers of ice now lay toppled over. What once was a flat, safe rest area was now split in half, the past evidence of the violent shaking and moving of the Icefall as it succumbs to gravity. A week prior we had only twenty-something ladder crossings. We now had over 40. To view this was scary and cool at the same time. Anne-Mari and I quickly overtook the slower, more fatigued and less confident climbers on their own way down. With all of the recent movement in the Icefall we wanted to get in and get out as rapidly as possible.
The sun was now brightly shining overhead and I was beginning to suffer from dehydration. In my haste I did not wait to melt enough ice and I therefore ran out of water. Oh well, just a few more hours and I would be down. Hopefully! Generally, travel through the Icefall is relegated to early, early morning while it is still dark and the sun has not yet enticed glacial movement. We were now in the middle and had no choice but to descend – quickly.
In addition to not bringing enough water I chose not to bring a 2-way radio as well. Anne-Mari and I figured that we would just save the additional weight and climb down together. This was now proving detrimental in several ways. First, I could have communicated with Phil higher up on Everest and inquire about Mike’s condition and second, I could have summoned our wonderful kitchen staff to come into the lower Icefall and bring us something to drink. At the time I needed to travel quickly the most, I was doing the opposite – traveling as slow as a snail. Dehydration was beginning to consume me and all I could think of was getting something to drink. With all of the snow and ice around me I dare not take more than a handful to put in my mouth. Upon recognizing this water source my body would begin to shut down even further – using what little bodily warmth I had to melt the ice in my mouth into water and leave nothing leftover to keep my body warm. Eventually, I could succumb to the delirious effects of hypothermia.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
The Summit Push (part 12)
As loud and noisy as it was, the ever-increasing storm outside provided a hypnotic pattern as the wind blew fiercely against my tent. A deep sleep eventually overwhelmed me and I slept soundly. I woke intermittently through the night and each time I did I would pray for Mike's safety. I had heard of many stories through the years of ailing climbers not making it through the night. I did not want to be a part of such an expedition. Mike had to make it through the night, he had to survive.
The morning came quickly and I could hear the sounds of Phil on the radio as he talked with the helicopter rescue team in Kathmandu. I thought that this is a good sign. Phil was talking about getting a helicopter up here to rescue Mike - or was it to retrieve Mike's body? I rapidly put on my down suit and got out of my sleeping bag. I looked outside and I did not see Mike. I walked over to Phil to inquire about Mike's condition and he just sighed deeply. He told me that Mike made it rhough the night but was being very combative and would not get ready for the helicopter rescue. In his reduced mental state, Mike thought that everyone was still out to get him and the helicopter was coming to pick him up in order to turn him over to the Chinese, the very people he was supposedly investigating as part of a worldwide drug cartel operation. They had tracked him down and were coming "to eliminate him from the situation."
I knew the importance of getting Mike on the helicopter. Literally, it was his only chance of living. There was absolutely no way that he had the mental and physical capacity to safely make his way through the gaping crevasses and ladder crossings of the Western Cwm and the Khumbu Icefall. Again, I told Phil that I would take of Mike if he would take care of ensuring the helicopter was on its way. I knelt down and looked inside the tent. Mike's face was round and swollen from facial edema. He looked at me and I at him. I reassured him that the little white pills in my hand were "the good stuff" and that he needed to take them. I explained to Mike that I had talked Phil into summoning 2 helicopters - one for each of us. Because of the extreme altitude, 21,500'+, there was no way 1 helicopter could carry the weight of the pilot and 2 more people. The helicopter could only take one afflicted climber at a time, thus the need for 2 separate helicopters. I told Mike that our mission had not yet been compromised but British Intelligence was ordering our quick return to Kathmandu in order to report on the supposed drug operation. Our only choice was to get on the helicopters and just "play along" so as to not blow our sting operation. Mike agreed and jumped out of the tent. I told him that there was no need to bring his gear and to leave it all on the mountain. You see, I knew two things. First, there was no way that the oncoming helicopter could carry the additional weight of his climbing gear and second, because of that fact, the Sherpas would heroically carry it all down as added weight to their already burdonsome loads.
Mike was outfitted with an oxygen mask and full oxygen bottle and I told him that I was leaving in advance to scout out the sight of where the helicopter was to land. I reassured him the mission was still intact and he was to do nothing but hike back up the mountain to the safe landing sight. I told him that the helicopter was 100% on its way and would pick him up first and then come back for me. We would then reconvene in Kathmandu in just a matter of hours.
I snuck out of Mike's sight and now tended to my own mission of getting back to basecamp safely. I had the most dangerous part of the entire mountain ahead of me - The Khumbu Icefall. The sun was now shining overhead and I knew the intense rays of the sun would encourage the icefall to move, creak, groan, and collapse. I just did not want it to collapse when I was in it. I teamed up with Anne-Mari and we began our descent of the Western Cwm. I had 2 things on my mind. Getting back to basecamp safely and the ever increasing wind and clouds that were building around us. I new the wind would play havoc on the little, light-weight helicopter and that there was a huge possibility that it would not be able to land and pick up Mike. Forty-five minutes later I could faintly hear the unmistakable sound of the helicopter's rotors slicing their way through the thin air on Everest. I picked out a small speck down in the valley and I watched as it hugged the contours of Everest in order to stay as low as possible. I was now standing at the spot on Everest where the highest helicopter rescue - EVER - had occured. The problem was that Mike was another 1000 feet higher. I had my doubts as the helicopter flew directly over our heads and disappeared further up the Western Cwm. I remember looking at my watch thinking that the helicopter would be coming back over in about 5 minutes. No sooner did I make that calculation in my head the helicopter had turned around and flew back over top of us. "That was too quick", I said to Anne-Mari. She agreed. There was no way possible that they picked up Mike. It was literally less than 1 minute since we saw the helicopter fly over us. My heart sank because I knew that the helicopter was Mike's only lifeline with the thicker, oxygen rich, life saving atmosphere of Kathmandu. My heart was broken because I knew that Mike wasn't going to make it and now there was nothing I could do to help. I turned around and began my descent into the gaping jaws of the Khumbu Icefall.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Summit Push (Part 11)
The positive sign I was waiting for ended up being right in front of me the entire time. Our entire team was blessed to have a strong group of sherpas assisting us. Shortly after I arrived back at Camp 2 a few of our sherpas started walking back in to camp singing and praying. Not only had they just gone to the summit the same day our team did, but they had the added responsibility of clearing the oxygen bottles and tents from the higher camps. The amount of weight they had on their back was staggering. Upon learning of Mike's condition several of them dropped their heavy loads, grabbed a couple of full oxygen bottles, and some hot tea and started climbing back up Everest again to reach Mike. In my book, these guys are the heros.
Several hours later, heavily assisted, Mike gingerly walks back in to Camp 2. I went over to greet him and I knew something was still wrong with him. He had a blank stare and would not talk. He was beginning to suffer from facial edema as well (swelling of the face in addition to swelling of the brain). I assisted with taking off his harness and other essential elements for ice climbing and we put him in our dining tent. A few of our teammates who had arrived with him began filtering in to the dining dome as well. Still suffering from the delierious effects of altitude, Mike began arguing and swearing. He would not eat or drink. I found this extremely strange. Especially since he had not eaten or had anything to drink for 2 days. I sat next to Mike and tried to see how I could help. I spoke softly with him and asked him what was going on. I never imagined what I was about to hear.
Mike looked in my eyes and spoke softly and yet with great conviction. He told me how he had joined our Everest team as a double agent for the British Secret Service. He confided in me that there was a huge illegal drug operation going on and the high mountain passes of Everest were the drug's pathway between China and Nepal. He was put on the team in order to bust the drug cartels and to free this part of the world of illegal drug trafficing. He told me the reason he would not take the oxygen up higher on the mountain was that the bottles, in fact, were not oxygen but argon gas. Everyone up higher on the mountain, wrapped in thick down suits and oxygen masks, were the enemy. This is what his paranoia induced brain was telling him. He would not take any oral dexamethasone pills because they were poison. He was absolutely 100% certain that everyone had found out his position in the B.S.S. and the Chinese had sent people to kill him.
Wow! Why was he telling me this and no one else? Why did he feel confident that I was not one of the bad guys? I thought back to the Bible verse, "The Lord works in mysterious ways". What a mystery this was and I was deep in the middle of it.
After several hours of Mike talking to me I decided to use his comfort and familiarity with me to his advantage. I gently persuaded him to drink some hot tea and to eat a few biscuits. Phil came in to the tent and told Mike he needed to take some more dexamethasone, orally. Immediately, Mike became irate and absolutely refused. "I may have been found out, but I will not be put to death. I will not be poisoned." You see, Phil had heroically helped Mike for most of the last 48 hours and was exhausted. He took great care and responsibility for his teammates but I could see in his eyes that this situation was wearing on him. Phil and I had gotten to know each other quite well, as this was our third Himalayan climb together. Phil and I locked eyes and I nodded my head. He immediately knew what I would do. I immediately knew what he would do. I told Phil, "I've got this". Secretly, outside of Mike's vision, Phil put the dexamethasone tablets in to my hand and left the tent. All alone in the tent, it was just Mike and I. I looked in to Mike's eyes and I told him, "Mike, this is the good stuff. I just brought this back with me over the border. This is not poison but pills to help with your fatigue. Trust me." Mike looked directly at me and paused. "I like your style" Mike said with complete trust. He grabbed the pills from my hand and swallowed them all - 6 in total. I persuaded him back to his tent and reassured him that the bottle I was giving him was my secret stash of real oxygen. I had successfully determined who was trying to give him argon gas earlier in the day and I had eliminated them from the situation.
Mike slipped in to a deep sleep and I was relieved-slightly. Taking the pills and oxygen had no doubt saved his life but he was now facing, head on, the most important night of his life. I prayed outside of his tent asking God to continue to use me to help save my friend's life. Utterly exhausted I crawled in to my tent. I thought I would fall asleep instantly but I could not. I was worried about Mike. Now that Mike was asleep, Phil had taken over monitoring him through the night. The objective was to do whatever it took to enable Mike to survive the bitterly cold, Himalayan night in great hope for a possible helicopter rescue the following morning. The growing storm outside the tent was suggesting otherwise. I prayed.
Several hours later, heavily assisted, Mike gingerly walks back in to Camp 2. I went over to greet him and I knew something was still wrong with him. He had a blank stare and would not talk. He was beginning to suffer from facial edema as well (swelling of the face in addition to swelling of the brain). I assisted with taking off his harness and other essential elements for ice climbing and we put him in our dining tent. A few of our teammates who had arrived with him began filtering in to the dining dome as well. Still suffering from the delierious effects of altitude, Mike began arguing and swearing. He would not eat or drink. I found this extremely strange. Especially since he had not eaten or had anything to drink for 2 days. I sat next to Mike and tried to see how I could help. I spoke softly with him and asked him what was going on. I never imagined what I was about to hear.
Mike looked in my eyes and spoke softly and yet with great conviction. He told me how he had joined our Everest team as a double agent for the British Secret Service. He confided in me that there was a huge illegal drug operation going on and the high mountain passes of Everest were the drug's pathway between China and Nepal. He was put on the team in order to bust the drug cartels and to free this part of the world of illegal drug trafficing. He told me the reason he would not take the oxygen up higher on the mountain was that the bottles, in fact, were not oxygen but argon gas. Everyone up higher on the mountain, wrapped in thick down suits and oxygen masks, were the enemy. This is what his paranoia induced brain was telling him. He would not take any oral dexamethasone pills because they were poison. He was absolutely 100% certain that everyone had found out his position in the B.S.S. and the Chinese had sent people to kill him.
Wow! Why was he telling me this and no one else? Why did he feel confident that I was not one of the bad guys? I thought back to the Bible verse, "The Lord works in mysterious ways". What a mystery this was and I was deep in the middle of it.
After several hours of Mike talking to me I decided to use his comfort and familiarity with me to his advantage. I gently persuaded him to drink some hot tea and to eat a few biscuits. Phil came in to the tent and told Mike he needed to take some more dexamethasone, orally. Immediately, Mike became irate and absolutely refused. "I may have been found out, but I will not be put to death. I will not be poisoned." You see, Phil had heroically helped Mike for most of the last 48 hours and was exhausted. He took great care and responsibility for his teammates but I could see in his eyes that this situation was wearing on him. Phil and I had gotten to know each other quite well, as this was our third Himalayan climb together. Phil and I locked eyes and I nodded my head. He immediately knew what I would do. I immediately knew what he would do. I told Phil, "I've got this". Secretly, outside of Mike's vision, Phil put the dexamethasone tablets in to my hand and left the tent. All alone in the tent, it was just Mike and I. I looked in to Mike's eyes and I told him, "Mike, this is the good stuff. I just brought this back with me over the border. This is not poison but pills to help with your fatigue. Trust me." Mike looked directly at me and paused. "I like your style" Mike said with complete trust. He grabbed the pills from my hand and swallowed them all - 6 in total. I persuaded him back to his tent and reassured him that the bottle I was giving him was my secret stash of real oxygen. I had successfully determined who was trying to give him argon gas earlier in the day and I had eliminated them from the situation.
Mike slipped in to a deep sleep and I was relieved-slightly. Taking the pills and oxygen had no doubt saved his life but he was now facing, head on, the most important night of his life. I prayed outside of his tent asking God to continue to use me to help save my friend's life. Utterly exhausted I crawled in to my tent. I thought I would fall asleep instantly but I could not. I was worried about Mike. Now that Mike was asleep, Phil had taken over monitoring him through the night. The objective was to do whatever it took to enable Mike to survive the bitterly cold, Himalayan night in great hope for a possible helicopter rescue the following morning. The growing storm outside the tent was suggesting otherwise. I prayed.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Summit Push (part 10)
I must confess that to my surprise Mike did make it through the night. I truly thought that I would hear word that Mike was unable to pull through. I was extremely happy to realize that our entire team was still intact.
I dozed restlessly though the night and found myself continually contemplating what I had just done. Wow! The previous day was so awesome and I hope that today would be equally as memorable. Today I was to begin my long descent back to Camp 2. Upon waking up I drank a little water and started packing. What a chore at 26,200'. I did not bother to eat because I wanted to get down. I peeked outside and the visibility was down to 10 meters. The wind was blowing and it was snowing. I felt bad for those trying for the summit today. I knew it was not possible and I hoped they had more time and strength to wait another day.
I quickly got ready and put on my pack and all of my climbing gear. I knew that I had to take it slowly and be very methodical about what I was doing. I took no more than 10 steps and I snagged my crampon on my Gore-Tex down suit. I immediately fell forward right onto my knees and hands. I looked around and quite a few people saw me fall. Worst of all Dave Hahn who was going for his 11th or 12th summit of Everest saw me fall. He is a climbing legend on Everest. Why did I have to fall in front of him? Why fall at all? Oh well. I stood up and began the traverse to the top of the Geneva Spur passing by the body of a fallen Sherpa climber from years ago. This sight, coupled with my recent fall was great motivation that I needed to be careful. Upon making the top of the Spur I tied into the rope and began my rappel. No problem because I took my time. A downward traverse and I was soon at the top of the Yellow Band. Another two rappels and I continued my very steep descent down the Lhotse Face. I was tired but gaining strength with every step down. I passed several people being assisted down by Sherpas, Guides, and anyone who could help. The past few days took a great toll on many people. There really was no place for me to join in the rescues so I continued down. I made it back to Camp 3 in several hours and I looked over at our tents which were now almost entirely buried by snow. I sure was happy to be going down and not have to sleep another night at Camp 3. The rest of the descent down the Lhotse Face went quickly and smoothly and I gained the top of the bergschrund. I anchored in and waited my turn to rappel over the gaping crevasse that lay 50 feet below me. What should have been a short wait was made much more complicated because I came upon a group of Sherpas who had no idea how to rappel. Hard to imagine but there were many people who did not know this basic form of rope craft. After what seemed to be an hour I finally made the rappel over the bergschrund and I took a huge sigh of relief. The most dangerous part of today was over. I now had to make the final downclimb to Camp 2. I was so thirsty and I was craving juice. I asked several people if they had anything extra to drink but no one helped me. Oh well. I started to pick up my pace. I was completely dehydrated and my appetite was coming back. I hadn't eaten a meal of any sort in 3 straight days. Just a few snacks is all that got me through. Eventually, I gained the rock that delineates the glacier edge from the rockfall of Camp 2. I slowed down and just took in the great views. This would be the last time I would see this place and I wanted to make sure to remember it.
I walked in to Camp 2 and I was greeted by our Camp 2 cook, Pasang Disco. He gave me a big hug and a cold glass of juice. Immediately he slipped away into the cook tent and began preparing a meal. In a few minutes he had a wonderful pasta dish created with fresh grated cheese. The meal was awesome (however a distant 2nd to my wife's cooking) and I enjoyed endless cups of juice. I realized that I was the first person back to our camp. I began to wonder about the rest of my team. I hoped they were safe. After several hours a few of my teammates began to trickle in. However, the one I was concerned about the most was nowhere to be found. Our communications radio crackled and chirped back to life and I could hear the familiar rambling of the Nepali tongue. Pasang Disco came out of the tent with a very concerned look. He turned around and faced the mountain gazing high up the Lhotse Face. I did not have to ask. I knew what was happening. Pasang Disco looked at me and said, "Mike - no good. Very bad up high." Crap. Why did this have to happen. As a climber descends in altitude he should get stronger. However, Mike was getting weaker and as it turned out he had completely relapsed. He had taken a turn far worse than yesterday and now a full scale rescue was in place. The steep, icy slopes of the Lhotse Face are not the easiest places to mount a rescue, but today there was no choice. We eventually made contact with the rescue group that was assisting Mike and we could hear their frustration. He was suffering from cerebral edema and was not thinking clearly. Worse than that he was very combative and would not take oxygen. What seemed like our only option was to call for a helicopter to try to rescue Mike. Unfortunately, a helicopter rescue from 24,000 feet was nearly impossible. As well, the helicopter was in Kathmandu and the weather was turning from bad to worse. I prayed for Mike's safety and just waited. I was waiting for some positive sign that Mike was going to make it down - alive.
I dozed restlessly though the night and found myself continually contemplating what I had just done. Wow! The previous day was so awesome and I hope that today would be equally as memorable. Today I was to begin my long descent back to Camp 2. Upon waking up I drank a little water and started packing. What a chore at 26,200'. I did not bother to eat because I wanted to get down. I peeked outside and the visibility was down to 10 meters. The wind was blowing and it was snowing. I felt bad for those trying for the summit today. I knew it was not possible and I hoped they had more time and strength to wait another day.
I quickly got ready and put on my pack and all of my climbing gear. I knew that I had to take it slowly and be very methodical about what I was doing. I took no more than 10 steps and I snagged my crampon on my Gore-Tex down suit. I immediately fell forward right onto my knees and hands. I looked around and quite a few people saw me fall. Worst of all Dave Hahn who was going for his 11th or 12th summit of Everest saw me fall. He is a climbing legend on Everest. Why did I have to fall in front of him? Why fall at all? Oh well. I stood up and began the traverse to the top of the Geneva Spur passing by the body of a fallen Sherpa climber from years ago. This sight, coupled with my recent fall was great motivation that I needed to be careful. Upon making the top of the Spur I tied into the rope and began my rappel. No problem because I took my time. A downward traverse and I was soon at the top of the Yellow Band. Another two rappels and I continued my very steep descent down the Lhotse Face. I was tired but gaining strength with every step down. I passed several people being assisted down by Sherpas, Guides, and anyone who could help. The past few days took a great toll on many people. There really was no place for me to join in the rescues so I continued down. I made it back to Camp 3 in several hours and I looked over at our tents which were now almost entirely buried by snow. I sure was happy to be going down and not have to sleep another night at Camp 3. The rest of the descent down the Lhotse Face went quickly and smoothly and I gained the top of the bergschrund. I anchored in and waited my turn to rappel over the gaping crevasse that lay 50 feet below me. What should have been a short wait was made much more complicated because I came upon a group of Sherpas who had no idea how to rappel. Hard to imagine but there were many people who did not know this basic form of rope craft. After what seemed to be an hour I finally made the rappel over the bergschrund and I took a huge sigh of relief. The most dangerous part of today was over. I now had to make the final downclimb to Camp 2. I was so thirsty and I was craving juice. I asked several people if they had anything extra to drink but no one helped me. Oh well. I started to pick up my pace. I was completely dehydrated and my appetite was coming back. I hadn't eaten a meal of any sort in 3 straight days. Just a few snacks is all that got me through. Eventually, I gained the rock that delineates the glacier edge from the rockfall of Camp 2. I slowed down and just took in the great views. This would be the last time I would see this place and I wanted to make sure to remember it.
I walked in to Camp 2 and I was greeted by our Camp 2 cook, Pasang Disco. He gave me a big hug and a cold glass of juice. Immediately he slipped away into the cook tent and began preparing a meal. In a few minutes he had a wonderful pasta dish created with fresh grated cheese. The meal was awesome (however a distant 2nd to my wife's cooking) and I enjoyed endless cups of juice. I realized that I was the first person back to our camp. I began to wonder about the rest of my team. I hoped they were safe. After several hours a few of my teammates began to trickle in. However, the one I was concerned about the most was nowhere to be found. Our communications radio crackled and chirped back to life and I could hear the familiar rambling of the Nepali tongue. Pasang Disco came out of the tent with a very concerned look. He turned around and faced the mountain gazing high up the Lhotse Face. I did not have to ask. I knew what was happening. Pasang Disco looked at me and said, "Mike - no good. Very bad up high." Crap. Why did this have to happen. As a climber descends in altitude he should get stronger. However, Mike was getting weaker and as it turned out he had completely relapsed. He had taken a turn far worse than yesterday and now a full scale rescue was in place. The steep, icy slopes of the Lhotse Face are not the easiest places to mount a rescue, but today there was no choice. We eventually made contact with the rescue group that was assisting Mike and we could hear their frustration. He was suffering from cerebral edema and was not thinking clearly. Worse than that he was very combative and would not take oxygen. What seemed like our only option was to call for a helicopter to try to rescue Mike. Unfortunately, a helicopter rescue from 24,000 feet was nearly impossible. As well, the helicopter was in Kathmandu and the weather was turning from bad to worse. I prayed for Mike's safety and just waited. I was waiting for some positive sign that Mike was going to make it down - alive.
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Summit Push (part 9)
Photos 1 and 2 - Assisting with Mike's rescue high on the upper slopes of Everest - 28,000'. Notice the ever intensifying snow storm in the background.
As the afternoon slowly turned to early evening, the sun began to set. The splendor of the sun setting on the far horizon was a beuatiful sight to behold. All of this surrounding beauty seemed to hold no significance to my still missing teammates. Phil, Mike and a few Sherpas had not returned and I was mentally preparing myself for the worst. I figured that in his physical and mental condition, Mike was forever lost to the frozen slopes that steeply stretched above me. After all, when I last saw him he was incoherent and very combative. After the Herculean effort all the rescuers were giving, no one would have faulted them for just leaving Mike and saving their own lives. They had tried their best. One of the foundational principles of search and rescue is that the needs of the many out weigh the needs of the few. In this case there were now more than 10 people assisting with the rescue and with the weather turning from bad to worse, death's knock was getting louder. Any death would be tragic, but it would be silly to lose 11 or more people when all but 1 could have made it down.
More than an hour passed, the sky grew dark and there it was. The recognizable sound of climbing hardware jingling around on the harnasses of a group of people coming back in to camp. It was the rest of my team - including Mike! As he was being lowered down the mountain coupled with the shot of dexamethasone he began to regain coherency. By no means was he his regular self but he was upright and stumbling along. I greeted my teammates and told Mike that there were other ways of getting attention if he wanted it. Of course I was just continuing the friendly rapport Mike and I had developed over the previous 2 months. He blankly looked at me and just said "sure". I could tell he was still dealing with the delirium induced by his cerebral edema. Everyone was back safely, however, the most important night of Mike's life was drawing near. For someone in his condition and breathing supplemental oxygen at a high flow rate, the first night is the most critical. We had just a few medical supplies to sustain him through the night but it was obvious Mike would need a lot more attention. If only he would make it through the night.
Monday, August 16, 2010
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 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.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Summit Push (part 7)
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.
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