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First Ascent Team Members - Seth Waterfall, Dave Hahn, Peter Whittaker, Melissa Arnot, Ed Viesturs, and Chad Peele
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March 26, 2009
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Kathmandu Expedition Prep Update
March 27, 2009
Duffels arrive in Kathmandu
Last week RMI's Basecamp Manager Linden Mallory and RMI's Operations Manager Jeff Martin arrived at Kathmandu's Tribhuvan International Airport in preparation for the First Ascent Expedition. This is their report:
After 35 hours of flying we were amazed to see that all 16 of our First Ascent Maximus 150 Duffel Bags survived the airports of Seattle, Tokyo, and Bangkok, arriving in Kathmandu along with us. After a few false starts and more than a few spills - towering carts of duffel bags crashing to the floor - we moved our gear through the customs officials and x-ray machines and navigated our way to our vehicle before plunging into the chaos of Kathmandu's traffic.
Next, we combined the 1,000 lbs of gear that we brought with us from the States with 2,000 lbs of supplies pre-shipped to Kathmandu. Preparing all of this meant unpacking, sorting, counting, resorting, recounting, and repacking the impressive amount of food, gear, and supplies. Ensuring that everything was accounted for, we separated the gear into 30 kilogram piles (66lbs) that the porters and yaks manage to carry. Three days later, with heads spinning from labels, weights, several trips to the local markets, and gear shuffled countless times, we triumphantly sealed our last duffel.
During the next week, the 27 overstuffed duffels and 18 60-liter plastic barrels we packed will make their way to Everest Basecamp. They first fly to the tiny mountain airstrip in Lukla before journeying the roughly 50 kilometers up the Khumbu Valley, shouldered by porters or yaks, to their destination along the rock and ice strewn landscape of the Khumbu Glacier.
The accumulation of duffels and barrels compromises a staggering amount of gear and supplies, including:
- 38 First Ascent Katabatic Tents
- 3 First Ascent Alpine Assault Tents
- 2 First Ascent Pantheon Dome Tents
- 30 -20°F sleeping bags
- 60 bottles of oxygen
- 7 portable Medical Kits
- 2 Gamow Bags
- medical oxygen
- 2 laptops
- satellite modem
- a satellite phone
- portable DVD player
- array solar panels
- 97 pounds of cheese
- 103 pounds of sausage, jerky, and other meats
- Over 2,000 Pro Bars, candy bars, and granola bars
- 24 pounds of Gummy Bears
- 22 pounds of Hot Chocolate
- 40 pounds of Starbucks Ground Coffee
- 45 pounds of salsa
With the supplies moving their way towards Basecamp we turned to finalizing permits for the climb. Upon picking up the Expedition Leader Peter Whittaker at the airport, we went straight to the Ministry of Tourism to secure our Everest Climbing Permit. Sitting around the well-polished wood of their conference table, sharing the seats of the many mountaineering legends who have passed through before, we discussed our planned camps, our gear supplies and our itinerary with a representative of the Ministry and our Liason Officer. Then, after Peter signed a flurry of paperwork, we walked triumphantly out of the Ministry with our Permit in hand.
Now that the team is assembled in Kathmandu the final details of are settling into place and the climb is taking shape. The next task is to follow our supplies up the Khumbu to Basecamp, take stock, and focus our energies on the mountain.
First Ascent Team Checks in From Katmandu
March 28, 2009
by Dave Hahn
The climb of Mount Everest has begun. Our team came together in these past few days, flying by various routes and trajectories around the world to Katmandu, lugging all manner of electronics, insulation and enthusiasm. Good meals and nights of uninterrupted slumber have repaired some of the jet-lag grogginess and disorientation. We've met as a team several times now and have gone over preliminary plans and strategies. Tomorrow we fly into Lukla and begin walking. It is no stretch to suggest that all are looking forward to simply walking. That will be a welcome change from months of planning and packing and wondering about the future.
Personally, I can't wait to be walking. Katmandu is always an exciting place for a climber to visit... but most of us wouldn't want that visit to be any longer than is necessary when Everest is the goal. There is too much chance for getting sick either from taking in smoggy air or dodgy food. There is still charm to this huge city, but it isn't wise to go hunting extensively for that charm just now. Katmandu is struggling these days; the electricity is only on a third of the time and so there is a nearly constant background noise of hotel diesel generators throbbing away. People are nervously recounting a winter devoid of moisture and the resultant severe water shortages they are now dealing with. As usual there is uncertainty over Nepali central government effectiveness and concern for how worldwide financial troubles will impact the country.
Walking in the countryside will be perfect. We won't think just yet of the dangers of the Khumbu Icefall or the winds that might scour the Lhotse Face. We'll put off worrying over Hillary Step traffic jams and jet-stream meanderings. Instead we'll set off walking through lush forests and fertile farmland through the villages our Sherpa teams live in. We'll get talking some and walking more and we'll get away from cell phones and email. We'll try not to trip or step in goo... we'll take pictures of distant mountainsides and close-up flowers and our lives will get simpler than they have been for some time. I'll speak with Erica and Ed Dohring; my clients, and will explain how this ten-day trek can be the perfect way to prepare for a big climb. I'll try to tell them what I can of the Sherpa culture and the mountain history. Perhaps I'll get to introduce them to a few famous climbers along the trail. I'll mug for the cameras, as our team tries to capture our First Ascent gear being rolled out on its maiden voyage in the great mountain range.
I'll try to stay healthy, warm and dry... simple.
RMI Team Starts Trek to Base Camp
March 29, 2009
8,530 ft.
by Dave Hahn
It was an early morning, hustling out of hotels and bustling onto buses for the short pre-dawn ride to the airport. After a moderate amount of hurry-up-and-wait we hurried out to board a pair of Twin Otters primed for flight. There was a haze lying over Katmandu that we quickly busted through to find generally clear skies and big mountains spread across the horizon.
I had a window seat next to the port propeller and during the fifty minute flight to Lukla my eyes were mostly pressed against that window. It was only ten months since I'd left these same mountains on this same aircraft, so how could I possibly have forgotten just how spectacular and formidable these peaks could appear on a clear morning? It was as if I was seeing Ghari Shankar and Menlungtse and a thousand others for the very first time... and just like that very first time eighteen years ago, I was humbled to look out at all the impossible ridges, sheer faces and jagged summits that I will never be bold enough to attempt. Finally, the plane turned just enough for me to get a clear view of Everest lording over everything and about thirty miles distant. I turned in my cramped seat in an effort to get Erica and Ed Dohring to recognize the dark pyramid now dominating the horizon. The engine kind of messed with their view so I went back to enjoying it for myself... picking out the South Summit and noting how little snow seemed to be covering the rock of the Southwest Face. I smiled at the obvious lack of wind aloft and granted myself a clichéd climber's observation that it was "too bad we weren't going for the summit today" Of course, then remembering that temps at 29,000 ft in the last days of March were likely around -50 degrees F while with patience we could be in line for a balmy -15 degrees F in the latter half of May.
Our Yeti Air Twin Otter started diving down into a steep sided valley and I lost the view of the big hill while focusing on the small ones not so far from our wingtips. Now in the lower Khumbu Valley, it was easy to pick out terraced fields and small farms as the plane lined up for a Lukla landing. The pilot greased it, somehow matching the plane’s steep descent to the opposite slant of the small runway. Within minutes we were out and walking toward a nearby teahouse to regroup as the planes sped noisily away. We sat and ordered a breakfast while discussing the best ways to keep fifteen people looking out for one another on the trails. All were relaxed, as we knew the walk to Phak Ding would be short and relatively easy. In fact, we would lose about 700 ft of vertical over the course of the morning. The trail took us past blossoming cherry and apple trees, past a few flowering dogwoods and a selection of well-tended vegetable gardens. Things were easy enough that the gang could spread out and pursue their own interests. Ed Viesturs, typically, wasted little time in getting the day’s work done. Walking a more moderate pace with Erica and her Dad, I finished somewhere in the middle of the pack along with Peter Whittaker and Melissa. Our camera teams had various projects along the way, including some vegetable mo mo's that beckoned seductively from one café menu along the track. Eventually, we were back to a full compliment of climbers, cameramen and trekkers hunkered down for the evening in our teahouse along the rushing river and protected from steadily falling rain (the good flying weather was merely temporary) in the suburbs of Phak Ding.
Climbers Arrive In Sherpa Capital Namche
March 30, 2009
11,296 ft.
by Dave Hahn
The rain finished sometime during the night and left partly cloudy skies for our morning walk out of Phak Ding. These improved to sunny, clear and blue skies for a few hours as we wandered the trail through the small villages and farms along the Dudh Khosi. The trails were quite busy with trekking groups and heavily laden porters. There were numerous groups from Europe and Japan but none that we recognized as being from the United States.
I walked along with Erica and Ed Dohring and Seth Waterfall. We didn't do much instructing as to how to walk or climb the steps in the trail. Ed and Erica do hike plenty, in addition to the mountaineering they've accomplished. I did ask them to slow down just a bit to match my pace, hoping that I'd be able to pass on a rate appropriate for all we needed to accomplish today. The main wisdom I try to impart at this stage of a long climb is simply an awareness that our performance on any given day is an integral part of our overall performance. For instance, it wouldn't have been so useful for us to attempt to set some speed record on the day moving to Namche if that meant being wasted for our first night at a new and significant altitude. Conversely, walking too slowly toward our intended goal could tire us out just as much by keeping us on our feet with packs on our backs for too long. It isn't like figuring solutions to the world's financial troubles or landing spacecraft on Mars, but walking uphill is none-the-less my specialty and it turns out that getting the walk to Namche right is crucial for climbing Mount Everest.
Everest didn't show itself for us today, but we were granted tremendous views -seemingly straight up- to the wildly fluted snow-faces guarding Thamserku's pointy summit. There was an unreal contrast between the rock and ice we could see by tilting our heads and the lush pine forests we walked through. We passed the odd flowering rhododendron and still a number of blossoming cherry and apple trees, though not quite as many of these once we'd gone through the gates of the Sagarmatha National Park and gradually started to gain a bit of altitude. My little gang enjoyed a hot lunch at the picnic tables outside a teahouse with members of our "production team" (Jake, Cherie, John and Tom) while the other climbers continued on toward the big "Namche Hill" -anxious to get the day's work done.
The sky clouded up again and vaguely threatened rain as we continued along the Dudh Khosi. I found myself recognizing boulders and bridges along the way and remembering the friends/partners/clients from past expeditions who'd lounged here or there and stopped to take pictures in this or that spot. As we walked I counted myself lucky that most of the people in my memories were still my friends after those expeditions. In these days when I have to so often justify going back to the same mountains year after year, I wonder if I'd get away with that as a worthy argument... that they remind me of good people.
Of course the big Namche Hill reminds me of a lot of good and sweaty people. We gained over two thousand vertical feet on the dusty switchbacks, passing lots and lots of porters straining under loads of hand-hewn lumber. Someone up-valley must be building a wooden WalMart. In mid-afternoon, we crested the hills and rolled into Namche, the Sherpa capital. I bumped into a number of Sherpa friends in the narrow streets and as we passed along I just got in the habit of saying "Namaste" to all the shopkeepers, whether I recognized them or not. We caught up with the rest of our team enjoying the lemon tea at the Camp de Base guest house, where we'll spend the next three nights. And now I'm sitting at the comfy dining room tables looking up at the usual posters of Hans Kammerlander, Hillary and Tenzing, and the Dalai Lama. We are home in the Khumbu.
RMI Expedition Acclimatizes in Namche
March 31, 2009
11,296 ft.
by Melissa Arnot
People always ask me what the hardest part of an Everest expedition is. I only have one Everest expedition behind me, but I suppose that is all it takes to know what is hard and what is not. Surprisingly, it isn't summit day and it isn't the Khumbu ice fall. For me, the hardest part is rest days. Writing that feels a little strange, as resting is something good, restorative and needed, but it is really hard indeed. I am the type of person that enjoys movement, enjoys physical challenge and the constant change that traveling provides. To that end, being asked to rest for roughly 1/3 of the expedition is no easy task. I feel like I have been moving forward constantly since I was a kid, and now slowing down to let my physiology catch up with my mind is a challenge for me.
How do I accomplish the task of resting? Reading is a good start, but I cannot read anything related to adventure, otherwise my feet start to twitch and I feel the need to go for a walk. Card games are a good way to rest, they bring laughter and allow your mind to engage, while your body is absorbing the much needed down time. Perhaps the best way to rest is to eat. At the start of one of our many rest days, I look to the teahouse menu. I think about how many meals I can eat today, and if there is anything new that I would like to try. By midday I have rested my way through boiled eggs, tibetan bread, cornflakes, chicken momos, popcorn, fried potatoes, chicken soup, pasta, and if I am feeling really bold...a yak steak. I know, it sounds like it wouldn't be so hard to sit and read, laugh with friends and eat, but the truth is, that is why I climb...because it IS hard to do the other stuff.
When you are moving on a trail, and breathing hard and feeling all the blood move through your body, well, for me that is the easy part. Making dinner after a hard day climbing, a day that starts before dawn, that is restorative in its own way. Maybe it is an illness, feeling more rested after a hard day of climbing three thousand feet than a day lounging in the sunshine and enjoying tea. I suspect it is really good to experience days that just force me to slow down and look around. These days are good for letting me think about the days behind us and renew the excitement for the many days that are still ahead of us. So today, I will practice my resting. I will go walk around the small, but busy, village of Namche and look over at the people who seem to be resting easily, perhaps I will even stop and inquire how they do it. For now though, I have another order of eggs to dig into and a small sunny spot to go sit in.
Everest Backdrop On Journey To Syangboche
April 1, 2009
11,296 ft.
Kwangde and Numbur rise behind Ed Viesturs and Melissa Arnot on their morning hike
by Dave Hahn
While the rest of the gang set out in the dark for "production work" up and over the ridge to Khumjung, I followed at a more civilized hour with Erica and Ed Dohring. Father and daughter were both feeling fine after two nights and a rest day living the Namche high life. On this calm and sunny morning, we hiked up to Syangboche, the sometimes-used dirt airstrip five hundred feet directly above Namche. The mountains were big and bright and unobscured by any cloud whatsoever. As we came to the forested ridgecrest separating us from the Khumjung Valley, we were granted a big view of Everest and Lhotse with wind tearing ragged cloud banners from their summits. We connected up with the early-morning film squad to find the gang over in the Khumjung Bakery. They finished up breakfast and then together we went out for a few more photos, posing amongst the peaks on a fine spring day. Once this was finished, Ed, Erica and I continued with our acclimatization hike, agreeing to meet one and all back down in Namche in the afternoon. But first we found our way to the deck of the Everest View hotel to enjoy... what else? The Everest view with a couple of plates of French fries at 12,000 plus feet. A humongous brown and gold eagle flew close over our fries on his/her way through the tree tops of the ridge. There were a few other tourists about, but for the most part we'd gotten away from the "crowds" of trekkers and porters on the main trail up-valley.
Our walk was quite leisurely and enjoyable, but it was not without purpose. Rest on a rest day is a great and valuable thing, but light exercise at a slightly higher altitude than one is currently sleeping at is also a great way to prepare for actually moving higher. We'll do that tomorrow, assuming that everybody has a manageable last night in Namche. But first, folks are back to resting... enjoying last showers and internet access and shopping in the metropolis of Namche Bazaar.
RMI Team Continues Trek to Everest - Namche to Deboche
April 2, 2009
12,252 ft.
by Dave Hahn
Our guest house in Namche was packed to the gills with other trekkers and climbers last night. But as it was our third night in the same place, we felt pretty much like we owned the place anyway. We packed away the chapattis, the "thak tok soup", and the "chicken chilly" (yes it is spelled that way), as if we'd been living above 11,000 feet for weeks. Erica pretty much won the eating contest by knocking back a plate of veggie chow mein, two boiled eggs AND macaroni and cheese. The kid can eat... and that is a good thing, since that particular skill, or the lack thereof, has made a huge difference in climber success at altitude over the years. Some folks wither away as they go higher. The reasons aren't complicated; we all burn calories faster up high since everything is more work in the thin air, and of course life in a cold place tends to burn extra calories anyway. One of the troubles with simply eating more to compensate is that most people don't feel like doing it. The human gut gets overwhelmed fast when the blood it depends on is poorly oxygenated. So eating becomes a chore and -this being a trip full of mountain guides- we tend to nag each other a lot to do our chores. Erica has discovered that the path of least resistance is to say "Yes please" when the momo plate comes around again. (Perhaps it helps that Melissa bet her a fancy Kathmandu dinner post-trip that she wouldn't be able to maintain her weight for the next sixty days).
We were up, breakfasted and on the trail out of Namche by 7:30 AM. For the first hour or so, we wound our way along on a traverse across a steep hillside. Far below us, the Dudh Khosi was making plenty of noise as the waters crashed through continuous and ridiculous rapids. Far above one could watch eagles and hawks soaring -provided that one didn't look up for so long that one walked off the edge and fell down to the Dudh Khosi. The trail was busy with yak trains coming and going. This was actually our first dealing with true Yaks as they don't generally live below Namche. We've so far seen plenty of dzokials carrying loads -and while dzokial is not an acceptable scrabble word, it is none-the-less a sturdy animal representing the cross between a low-land cow and a high altitude Yak. Now it is mostly yaks carrying loads to and from Everest Basecamp. They are strong, sure-footed, surprisingly feisty and a little tough to pass when they want the whole trail to themselves.
By 10 AM we'd descended a few hundred meters back down to the Dudh Khosi and found our place in the sun. We sat at the tables outside a couple of teahouses drinking milk-coffee, milk-tea and hot lemon. This rest break was a nice time to collect our various camera teams, to make a head count, to people-watch (we watched Ed Viesturs head out at flank speed for his workout on the big hill to Thyangboche) and to eat another plate or two of fried rice. Eventually, we pried ourselves out of our comfortable sidewalk cafes and got busy on the hot and dusty trail going up to Thyangboche. The hillside was mostly covered in pine and rhododendron forests but there were also enough clearings to get a dose of strong sun. Typically, the day had begun clear and bright but was clouding up some as we approached noon. Thyangboche Hill, like a lot of the hills in this part of the world, goes on forever, but our entire group made it up the thing in about 90 minutes. Then it was time for another sit-down for snacks on the majestic hilltop. The place is famous for its elaborate and somber monastery, but also these days for having another last-chance internet café which Peter Whittaker took advantage of to connect once again with his family. We'd begun our hilltop break with views of Ama Dablam, Kangtega, Lhotse and Everest but after a couple more milk-teas the clouds won their battle and concealed everything.
Now wrapped up in cozy First Ascent jackets and sweaters, the whole gang trouped on down the shady side of the Thyangboche Hill through a thick rhododendron forest to Deboche... our home for the next two nights.
Everest Expedition Team Spends Day Acclimatizing at Deboche
April 3, 2009
12,252 ft.
Thyangboche Monastery, the spiritual heart of the Kumbu, with Khumbila rising behind
Today was another acclimatization day here at about 12,252 feet. Production team went out predawn to catch the early morning prayers at Tengboche and shoot in early morning light. Unfortunately the low clouds and fog didn't cooperate with our lighting wishes. Nonetheless we filmed a great dispatch in which we introduce our photographer Jake Norton.
Lama Geyshe Gives Blessing for 'Return to Everest' Climbers
April 4, 2009
14,030 ft.
by Dave Hahn
Down in the shadowy forests of Deboche, we passed an easy bunch of hours yesterday. The sun was blazing at midday, but otherwise, we were under lowish grey clouds. Many of the team made their way back up the hill to Thyangboche to see the large monastery or to sample the food at the bakery or to hook up to the web at the cyber café. Then it was back down to our place next to the nunnery in Deboche. The woodstove in the common area of our tea house kept the place cozy and hard to leave.
We left it this morning at 8 AM in seemingly perfect weather. There were wind-sculpted lenticulars and cat's paw clouds hovering over Everest and Lhotse, but the other hundred mountains in view were cloud-free. We crossed the river to the sunny side of things and walked gradually up the track with Ama Dablam straight ahead and apparently welcoming us with her outstretched arms. The "Dablam" is the jewel that sits in the hollow of the mountain's throat, as if on a necklace. This jewel is composed of ice; a hanging glacier discreetly sized and sitting improbably on the face of a great mountain. I was curious to see it again, since I'd heard so many stories over the winter about its demise. During the popular season for climbing Ama Dablam, in the Fall of 2008, the Dablam had calved off massive avalanches and everybody I spoke to claimed that one could easily see the difference. Sure enough, while still beautiful, the jewel seemed half its former size.
Of course not many people register such a marked change in the "health" of a glacier without wondering if the world is changing too fast and whether there will be glaciers enough to climb on forever. So it was, burdened by the weight of the universe and the health of the planet that I, along with Ed Dohring, Erica and Seth joined the rest of the team in Upper Pangboche at Lama Geshi's house. We'd come to seek the blessing of perhaps the most revered man in the entire Khumbu region. Lama Geshi, although he doesn't sit in some grand temple or cathedral, is a man of great significance in the Buddhist religion of the Sherpa people. It is quite normal for climbing Sherpas and the Western teams they assist to seek his blessing before approaching Chomolungma... the Mother Goddess of the Earth... or "Everest" for short.
Lama Geshi greeted us -basically in his living room and got right down to giving each one of us a friendly head-butt as he tied a specially blessed and knotted gold string around our necks. I felt immediately happy to watch him go through a brief prayer ceremony for us. Although I tend to be slightly cynical about such things, that is a hard attitude to maintain around Lama Geshi as he always seems to take such a genuine interest in the climbers that visit him. Their summit pictures (at least a hundred) are on his walls and he must have seen thousands over the years, but somehow he still seems interested and enthusiastic. Such prayers... basically asking for his help to keep us from killing ourselves... might be a heavy thing, except that Lama Geshi always breaks out laughing as he utters them. His joy is infectious and welcome and seems to put us all in the perfect frame of mind for continuing our walk toward the mountain.
After leaving Pangboche, we gathered again about an hour up the track at Shomare for a rest and some refreshment in another fine tea house. The clouds were steadily rising up-valley and covering the big hills as we set out for the final push to Pheriche. This meant that we could only see about fifty unbelievably beautiful mountains (rather than a hundred) as we turned the big sweeping corner around Tawoche and headed north into town. We were all stunned to see our lodging for the next two nights: The Himalayan Hotel, a beautiful new and spacious building of stone and wood. It didn't take long for each of us to find a comfy spot in either the sun or sitting rooms. There are hills aplenty around to keep even Ed Viesturs content as he "rests" and acclimatizes.
RMI Team Moves up the Khumbu Valley
April 5, 2009
4,276 meters
Team acclimatizes along a ridge above Pheriche. The jagged summits of Kangtega rise behind.
by Dave Hahn
A half dozen of us managed to rally before the sun this morning -aided by flasks of milk tea and milk coffee- in order to get out for hikes and first-light photos. As usual, yesterday had finished cloudy and mysterious- making the morning's clear sky and unlimited visibility seem special. Already at 5:45 AM, Cho Oyu was in full sun, while the ten neighbors which had earlier seemed equal to it remained in shadow. The world's sixth highest peak was perhaps twenty miles to the North and reminding us just how lofty 8200 meters really is. Walking onto the ridge separating Pheriche from its sister city Dingboche we could see Makalu, the fifth highest mountain, some distance to the East. And of course, Lhotse, the fourth highest in the world was pretty close at hand and appeared brutally difficult from the side we were looking at. Being too close to the 25,000 ft. Nuptse wall, we couldn't see Mount Everest behind it, but we will get around that in a few days. Ama Dablam and Tawoche caught the sun in their time, along with Kangtega and Thamserku. And finally, the sun was on our little hiking team and we stripped off a few layers to enjoy the warmth.
The ridges around Pheriche offer great hiking and we were happy to stretch our legs and work our lungs in the thin air. We each strive to hit that delicate balance between rest and exercise which is crucial to proper acclimatization. Some of our team got up to 16,000 ft and even 17,000 ft today, while others just took it easy around "town". Pheriche is a collection of maybe eight tea houses, a few farms, some yak pasturing lands and the Himalayan Rescue Association's clinic. Thirty minutes away, over in Dingboche, they have a few more teahouses and yes, you guessed it, one more last, last, last chance at internet. It is basically the same system that we tapped into in Thyangboche and Namche, utilizing a series of reflector dishes to bring the web into some otherwise remote places. Of course, the farther one goes up the valley, the higher the price. Word was that it cost about 1200 Rupees per hour this morning in Dingboche, which with the exchange rate around 76 Rupees to the dollar makes it... oh I don't know... we are too high for math now. Let's say that it probably makes the web in Dingboche about the same price as in the less user-friendly American airports. The key difference might be that they grow a fair number of potatoes in Dingboche.
Cokes and Snickers bars cost more up at this higher end of the valley... really the end of the normal settlements... but that is only to be expected since we are getting a daily look at how tough it is to porter such loads to Pheriche and beyond. Most of us are still happy to indulge in some expensive snacks and drinks though. It isn't so strange to observe that the longer we are out , the more we crave familiar junk food -while craving money slightly less. Back from the hikes, we mostly spent time mingling with other climbers and trekkers, strategizing, book reading and napping through chunks of the afternoon. Erica, Ed Dohring and I attended a fine talk on altitude illness given by one of the docs at the HRA clinic next door. We like to think we know a fair bit about such things, but it never hurts to hear a good overview again, and to meet the good people (in this case Tracy and Madeline) who volunteer their doctoring skills for weeks on end at the HRA clinic.
All are feeling reasonably well and with any luck, we'll all be loping along to Lobuche tomorrow.
Above Pheriche Dangers of Altitude Begin
April 5, 2009
4,276 meters
by Melissa Arnot
Today is a beautiful and sunny day in Pheriche, at 14,200 feet. So many of the tea houses look and feel the same along the trek, it is easy to forget exactly where we are, but as I walked down the narrow dirt path after breakfast, I could feel exactly where I was. My lungs started moving a little faster and I could feel my heart rate increase, even with my slow steps on the relatively flat trail. As my nostrils expanded to take in the available oxygen I remembered that I am now at high altitude. I know, some of you that live just above sea-level are thinking that we have been at high altitude all along, but it is here that my physiology now agrees with that. Between 8,000 and 14,000 feet our bodies are undergoing some major changes to compensate for the increasingly more obvious loss of atmospheric pressure. Today, my lungs have to work a little harder, and my heart is pumping a little faster to get all of the new red blood cells around my body. I am thankful for all of the things that my body is doing to adjust to living in a world with less atmospheric pressure to keep all of the oxygen molecules within my breaths grasp, but mostly I am thankful to the red blood cells. They are the porters of my blood, carrying around all of the oxygen my lungs will grab onto. If all things go well, my blood pH will alter, and that will increase my respiratory rate telling my lungs that they need to expand and contract more times to achieve the same effect that they had at my house in Idaho. My blood will produce more of those invaluable little porters (the red blood cells) so that every time my ventilation is effective (the simple mechanical act of air rushing into my lungs) respiration will be effective (the actual exchange of gases deep inside my lungs) and then perfusion can happen (the red blood cells delivering the oxygen to all of my tissues). It makes me feel a little tired just to write that, I can only imagine how my body is feeling repeating this cycle over multiple thousands of times per day. When put this way, it is easy to see why we need so many rest days. Our bodies need to get used to this exhaustive act at this elevation before being challenged by the next increase in elevation.
Today, the team feels good. As I look around at Dave doing crosswords, Seth reading Rolling Stone and Erica sipping tea I can tell that they are all acclimatizing well. There are a variety of reasons that one might not acclimatize so well, and surprisingly, the reasons are not so easy to predict. Some people have a physiological make up that slows the adjustments inside of their body as they get higher in elevation. It is hard to find a correlation between this response and much of anything- especially fitness. There are of course some more obvious factors that will prevent your body from getting all that work done. If someone is sick already, maybe even just a head cold, the body is already working overtime and it decreases the resources that can be used for altitude acclimatization. The same is true if someone is dehydrated or under extreme physical exertion. That is certainly part of the reason that we take a nice even pace on our move days, we don't want our hearts and lungs fighting to keep up, because eventually they will not be able to catch up with us, and will let us know. Likely in the form of acute mountain sickness.
Acute mountain sickness is usually the first sign from your body that you need to slow down and stay at the elevation you are currently acclimatized to. Basically, your physiology is saying 'hey, wait for me!'. Consider this a warning, because your body will be persistent if you do not listen, and give you a louder reminder, one that you cannot ignore. Acute mountain sickness (AMS) can start with a variety of symptoms, the most common being a headache. It can be hard to know if it is from dehydration or sun or actually the altitude. If I am at a new elevation and I do experience a headache, I will start by drinking 1/2 a liter of water and consciously taking a few extra deep breaths as I rest. That first altitude headache often sets in after a day of moving and then coming to rest. While moving, we are naturally breathing a bit harder than when at rest. Once that movement stops and our respirations drop the whole process slows, making your brain a little hungry for some more oxygen. I don't mind taking little Ibuprofen or Excedrin for this headache, but I am very aware that the medication is what is making the headache go away, not the fact that the problem is gone...I will keep alert for other signs of AMS. My dinner might look horrible (lack of appetite), I might feel a little more tired than normal (lassitude), the room may spin as I toss my cookies (nausea and vomiting). If I stand to walk and feel uncoordinated or dizzy (ataxia) I know that it is time to act. Actually, I might not know that it is time to act if my mental status is decreasing, that really is one of the great dangers of AMS. Fortunately, I am traveling with an amazing team and we are all looking out for the signs that someone isn't acclimatizing well. So, what to do if these symptoms appear? Well, the best thing would be to descend 2000-3000 feet. As you go down in elevation, the positive effects are almost instant. At just a few thousand feet lower, I can start to feel better. The key now is to rest at this elevation and let my body catch up before going higher again. It also helps to hike a few thousand feet during the day, but sleep at the same altitude for a few nights. That gives my body a chance to taste a higher altitude while still recovering at a lower one (you will notice this once we embark on our climbing schedule at 'extreme altitude').
High altitude illness will not likely go away without some action from you (DESCENT)! Conversely it often progresses and gets worse. You can get swelling and fluid accumulation in your brain that will cause further changes in your level of consciousness, possibly even causing you to go unconscious or stop breathing. That is called cerebral edema, a brain injury caused by increased intracranial pressure secondary to swelling in the brain. It can even look a lot like a stroke or traumatic brain injury, just with a different cause. This is a serious and life threatening emergency, and this person needs descent (which can be complicated if they aren't conscious), oxygen and steroids to decrease the swelling in the brain. Bad news bears.
The other life threatening altitude emergency is pulmonary edema, which is fluid build up in the lungs. As the pressure outside decreases, the pressure inside of our pulmonary vessels increases and sometimes the leak into the spaces in our lungs that are vital for gas exchange. This is basically a pneumonia and will cause difficulty breathing, and difficulty absorbing the oxygen (which could precipitate cerebral edema). This is another one where we need immediate descent and oxygen as well as some medications that can reduce the causes of the fluid build up.
Here in Pheriche there is a medical clinic staffed and run by the Himalayan Rescue Association. There are western trained doctors working there (often volunteering time away from their own medical practices). This clinic is open to climbers, trekkers and porters. They do an altitude talk each afternoon and they do an amazing job educating people on the above mentioned dangers and the importance of listening to your body and being conservative. As a medical professional, I am thankful that the clinic is here. So many people feel sick and assume they just needed to do more training when realistically, their bodies aren't adjusting to the altitude. The clinic helps to educate people and reduce the trepidation about descending if you aren't feeling well.
Our group is experienced, yet that doesn't guarantee that we are safe from altitude illness. What it does do is ensure that we are paying attention, and we have created a schedule that will allow our bodies to physiologically adjust to the rigors we are presenting. So today, as I watch Dave complete crosswords with impressive speed, Seth is reading Rolling Stone and Erica excitedly orders and eats her second helping of food for the day, I can say we are looking pretty good physiologically, and it is a beautiful day at 14,200 feet in Pheriche.
Everest Expedition arrives in Lobuche
April 6, 2009
4,879 meters
by Dave Hahn
We are in a routine... hitting our stride and finding a groove. It felt perfectly normal to wake up at 14,000 ft., pack the bags, guzzle the hot drinks, look each other in the eye for signs of a rough night due to tummy or altitude trouble, fight over who-ordered-what, eat breakfast and hit the trail in the midst of gargantuan mountains and outrageous vistas.
The trek to Lobuche began as an easy stroll up the broad valley that Pheriche sits in. Tawoche and Cholatse seemed to grow bigger and steeper, forming an impenetrable wall to our left. Pocalde and its many rock summits formed a corresponding barrier on our right. We merged into the flow of yak and trekker traffic for a time until the route steepened and narrowed. At that point, we began to pass numerous teams and individuals stopping to catch their breath. Rather than giving in to the temptation to pause every few steps, I urged Erica to treat the hills we were climbing as prep for the Khumbu Icefall. We certainly won't have the option there to pause in dangerous places just because our legs and lungs get tired. Erica has climbed a few good mountains and she understood the challenge I was putting to her. It was time for us to distinguish ourselves from trekkers and walkers and hikers, and to operate more like mountain climbers. Mountain climbers who actually would not have too many more practice stretches before things get serious above basecamp.
The rest of our own team was on about the same game plan. We gathered to check on one another at Thukla... or Dhukla, as you may prefer. In fact, the sign there says "Thukla+Dhukla." At any rate, there are just two teahouses at Dhukla and we sat outside one, sipping hot lemon drinks and chatting with some of the folks we've shared the trail with for several days. There are gigantic hills of rough rock piled near Dhukla, which are actually the terminal moraine of the Khumbu Glacier. After our break, as we climbed up a long and steady hill to 16,000 ft., we were finding our way to the lateral moraines of the Khumbu... the glacier that will essentially be our home for the next seven weeks. We came out onto level ground at Thok La, a pass of some significance and reverence for climbers. There are dozens of stone monuments, or chortens, at Thok La for dead climbing partners... fathers... brothers... sons, teammates and friends. Some of the chortens are elaborate, with engraved and polished brass. Others have chiseled stone tablets eroded and difficult to read after decades in the wind and driven snow. Some are for famous Western climbers, some are for anonymous Sherpas. It always seems appropriate to pause at Thok La in order to walk among the chortens and to appreciate the dangers we will subject ourselves to. And for some of us, it is an important chance to remember friends who didn't make it home.
Thok La is also a natural boundary between the inhabited valleys below and the vast and marginally hospitable world of rock and ice above. It took our team no more than an hour to cover the easy ground into Lobuche from the pass. The trail followed a stream which, I explained to those around me, would normally be a sizable frozen flow at this time of year. I was struck by how little water was in the stream. There was virtually no ice and no snow on the hills forming the moraine. Just as many Sherpas had already explained, the winter was strangely devoid of precipitation and we were seeing confirmation of that. We'd lost our view of several of the familiar peaks of the past week, but we'd gained unimpeded vistas of new and important ones. Pumori, Lingtren and Khumbutse, which tower over Everest Basecamp, only two short days' walk away. And Changtse, Everest's north peak, was visible over in Tibet. The Lobuche Peaks (East and West) crowd the immediate view to the west now and Nuptse's crazy spiderweb wall of dikes fills the east.
We are in yet another comfy teahouse, the "Eco Lodge," unpacking a few bags and getting settled for two nights and some more of that good old-fashioned acclimatization. The afternoon clouds have come over and it seems a good time for a nap.
Climbers Discover 22 Duffels Still in Kathmandu
April 7, 2009
4,879 meters
by Peter Whittaker
Woke this morning to four inches of new snow. It was full on snowing when we went to bed last night and Viesturs and I, like expectant little kids, peered out the window to see how much had fallen. Lobuche had turned into a winter wonderland overnight. Nonetheless, at 16,200' the sun is quite powerful, and by late morning the temperatures were balmy, with some of the porters staging snowball fights!
After breakfast, we received a bit of disheartening news that 22 of our expedition loads are still in Katmandu. We were under the assumption that just four were there and that the rest were on their way to Base Camp. After a morning powwow, we decided to send Linden Mallory (Base Camp manager) up to Base to get a physical count of bags and inventory what was there. Our agenda does not have us occupying Base Camp for two more days, but we must have adequate gear and equipment to make our move up. We should be OK but we'll know more tomorrow.
The team is firing on all cylinders. It is an honor to be a part of such an accomplished group of climbers. We have a wealth of mountain experience and knowledge starting with Viesturs and Hahn, with 16 Everest summits between them. Our climbing team will function the same way we do on Rainier when we are stacked heavy with experienced guides. Though there is an expedition leader and climbing leaders, all team members share in the decision-making process. Our production team rocks as well, as Gerry Moffatt and Jake Norton have both stood on top of the "Big E." This is a talented team, deep on experience.
Now, with a little luck our Katmandu bags will find their way up the Khumbu to Base Camp and we can put our team's mountain experience to work.
Uh-oh, it is beginning to snow again outside...
Night In Gorak Shep, Basecamp Tomorrow
April 8, 2009
4,929 meters
by Dave Hahn
No sooner had I proclaimed a "season of no snow" than it got busy snowing. About three or four inches our first night at Lobuche and then another two inches yesterday afternoon. Both days were sunny to start and then gave way to big dark cumulus clouds with thunder and lightning to finish. The snow hasn't made the walking any more difficult for those of us with ski poles, boots and gaiters. The ultra-bright new snow surface, combined with intense high-altitude sunshine, can be hard on uncovered skin or eyeballs, but all of us are taking great care in those departments.
New snow down in these parts doesn't necessarily mean that the upper reaches of the big peaks are getting it, but one can hope. There isn't much question in my mind that the normal Nepalese route to the top of Mount Everest is easier and safer with ample snow cover. Particularly if it will be a busy and "crowded" season as this one shows every sign of being, then it will be best to have the loose rock covered with snow and frozen firmly in place. We can worry about such things more in a month or so. For now though, I won't mind if it snows each afternoon.
These last days on the trail have been extremely busy and congested, not quite like Interstate 5 through Seattle, but busy as heck with foot traffic nonetheless. Much of the Khumbu Valley is focused -in these weeks- on the Everest business, and as we come within a day or two of the mountain, all of that "traffic" becomes concentrated on a single segment of trail. Our expedition is one of perhaps thirty trying to move tons of gear by porter and yak-train to the head of the valley right now. Additionally, numerous and large trekking groups along with Everest climbing teams are all on the same trail and in the same few teahouses now. That isn't all a bad thing. Last night, the dining room of our Lobuche teahouse felt something like a school reunion for me, what with Scottish David Hamilton -the leader of the Adventure Consultants team- showing up. I'd last seen him in December in Antarctica. Ang Dorje, who has been living with his family in Eastern Washington and building wind turbine towers since I last saw him on Everest, was in the room. So was Austrian Walter Laserer, who was skiing around the upper reaches of Alaska's Kahiltna Glacier when I bumped into him in July. There was Lobsang, who'd led a trek I was on in the year 2000. Passang, who'd led the Hillary Step and been key to my tagging the top in October of 2006, was over standing by the stove.
Yesterday, I accompanied Ed Dohring on a round-trip hike from Lobuche to Basecamp. His GPS calculated that we moved over 11 miles in the process, and we did it in pretty good time, considering that we stopped nearly every 200 feet for me to say hi to another friend or acquaintance from the mountains. It can be a lot of fun, but at times it can be overwhelming to meet casually and between yak horns and tails for a moment with a climber or Sherpa that I've shared life-shaping expeditions with. Ed Dohring is now on his way home, as was planned all along. We finished his trip with that exploration of Basecamp, which is already quite impressive with tents popping up in every direction. While there, we sat outside eating plates of rice (our Sherpa team already has things up and running and ready for the team's arrival tomorrow) and gazing up at the jumble of the Khumbu Icefall. We could see the Icefall Doctors pushing the route of ladders and rope in the upper "popcorn" section, perhaps a third of the way through the Icefall. We dropped back down to Lobuche in the swirling snows and rejoined the team for a last night together. Ed and Erica said goodbye to each other this morning, as he left for Namche and we left for Gorak Shep.
A gorak is a big black bird that lives up high, a lot like a raven. Gorak Shep then translates to "dead raven," which doesn't truly do the place justice. Or maybe it does. Not much of a "town" up here in this large, sandy, dusty flat spot on the lateral moraines of the Khumbu. The place is important to trekkers, as it is the jumping off point for the short hike up Kalapathar. KP -at around 18,500 ft- is the lowest part of a ridge which merges into steep and sharp Pumori, and when one finishes hiking all of that ridge that can be hiked without specialized tools, one can get a big and famous view of Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse. Or... one can go to an internet cafe... at 17,000 feet and 25 rupees per minute... the web is in the Shep.
Our team is spending a final night on the trek. Tomorrow we'll go into Everest Basecamp and begin focusing more on the climb.
RMI Team Arrives at Everest Basecamp
April 9, 2009
5,343 meters
by Dave Hahn
Coming into the teahouse dining room this morning under low, cloudy skies with a trace of new snow on the ground, it was obvious that we were each ready to be finished with trekking. Enough of the team was battling sniffles or tummy troubles that we were all getting borderline paranoid about sharing germs with so many others in these common spaces. We were ready to make it to our own basecamp and our own dining tent... we were anxious to meet our Sherpa climbing team and get started on a big climbing project.
But for all of our restlessness, Gorak Shep hadn't been that bad a place for our team. A number of us hiked up Kalapathar yesterday evening in order to catch the sunset. In contrast to the ample daytime traffic for this sought-after destination, by 5 PM there was only a handful of folk left on the hill and these were hurrying down while we strolled up. The afternoon had been cloudy with periodic snow showers, but the higher we got, the more the clouds fell away from Everest and Nuptse and Pumori. We took picture after picture as the light changed and then trotted down in the dark when it had all been expended.
We joined the flow of traffic around 8:30 this morning for what we knew would be a relatively short and easy climb into basecamp. The low cloud seemed to muffle sound and it was almost a relief to have our field of vision minimized so that we could concentrate on walking instead of gawking at the great peaks. Our path was, at first, along the rock and dirt of the lateral moraine and then finally we dropped down onto the glacial surface itself for the last half hour into camp. We passed plenty of fully dedicated trekkers, bent over and gasping for breath and I was reminded of how much importance is placed, by so many, in simply getting to Everest Basecamp, with no thought whatsoever of climbing the mountains above. I felt a little sympathy over the diminished views for these folks, but then the clouds began to break and lift as we reached the first tents. By the time we marched into our own camp, we could see plenty, including the rough and intimidating Khumbu Icefall stretching up toward the Western Cwm.
We could also see that our Sherpa team had been hard at work in preparing our camp. We greeted them, as well as Ed Viesturs, Jeff Martin and Linden Mallory who'd come ahead yesterday to help get things in order. We wrestled with duffle bags for a time and moved into neat and new First Ascent tents. I made a quick exploration of a few of the surrounding camps to say hello to old friends but then I hurried back to my own camp for a lunch with my team. We strategized a bit and laid out a few of the normal ground rules that make living so closely for so long, not only possible but enjoyable. Then we gathered outside with the entire team, including basecamp personnel and climbing Sherpas and then each person introduced themselves and said a few words. Some of us chuckled to hear the casual delivery the older veteran climbers gave to their extensive resumes. It is funny to realize that we are in a place where someone might just forget to mention that time they climbed K2 or Ama Dablam or Kangchenjunga. Peter Whittaker reminded one and all that our top priority on this trip would be safety- for which he got plenty of agreeing and understanding nods in return.
Then it got cloudy and a bit snowy again as most took the opportunity for a quick nap. I enjoyed scattering my junk in my own tent and plopping down in the middle of it all, drifting off to the thunder of avalanches as the glaciers around BC pushed one railroad-car-sized chunk after another over great drop-offs. We are in the midst of a crazy tapestry of tents and boulders. At any given time, one can hear cooks chopping veggies, shovels scraping gravel, rocks being moved from place to place, a few tinny FM radios playing Nepali music and an occasional live voice breaking into song. As peculiar as it may sound, this already feels like home and I have to make myself remember that I was anywhere else for the past ten months.
The Amenities of Everest Basecamp
April 10, 2009
5,343 meters
Ed and Peter cut perlon cord at Basecamp while rigging their equipment for the ascent into the Khumbu Icefall
by Dave Hahn
We survived the first night without a roof over our heads. Quite comfortably, by all accounts. There were no dogs barking in the night, no heavy boots clunking down wooden hallways to latrines, none of the endless coughing fits coming through the thin walls of trekking houses. Instead, we had easy breezes, the quiet rustle of comfy down sleeping bags and moonlight coming through our tent ceilings. Oh yeah, and occasionally the violent thunder of avalanches... but that didn't truly bother us. We know we've picked a safe place for basecamp far enough from the vertical walls of this enclosed valley.
The day has been spent sorting gear, talking over plans, napping, reading, eating and getting to know our Sherpa teammates. We've got great strength and experience in our Sherpa team, and we'll depend mightily on them during this trip. I'm not aware of any team attempting the mountain this season that won't be reliant on Sherpa help. Some may claim to be going with minimal support, but they will still be heavily dependent on the Sherpas who fix the route through the Khumbu Icefall, to say nothing of the route above. This is not to say that, of the many talented non-Nepalese climbers assembled here at the foot of the hill, none would be capable of climbing the mountain without Sherpa aid, but the simple fact is that such climbs are not attempted in this day and age on this route on this mountain.
There is often confusion among those not versed in Himalayan climbing as to who Sherpas are and what their various jobs may be. I'm often unnerved back home to hear people say, while hiking or working hard, that they'd sure like to have a Sherpa along to carry their pack or to do their digging. Such comments are usually made in jest and are probably for my benefit when folks know that I have spent time in Nepal and Tibet. Nevertheless, they tend to sell the real Sherpa people short.
Referring to someone as "Sherpa" is to say that they are from a tribe of mountain people in a specific region of Nepal. It is not a job designation. It doesn't simply mean "porter" and it definitely doesn't mean "servant." Early on, when the pioneering Himalayan expeditions were discovering the amazing work ethic common to the Sherpa culture, these men were trained as high-altitude load carriers. But almost from the start, there were plenty of individuals -notably Tenzing Norgay who excelled at the art of climbing, who eagerly grasped its strategies, and who exhibited just as much ambition to reach summits as any Westerner.
By this 2009 Everest season, one cannot correctly make more than a few broad generalizations about who the Sherpas are on this mountain. Many may still be farmers the rest of the year... many may still fulfill the simple yet essential role of high-altitude porter... but then there will also be a fair number of excellent mountain climbers with superior strength and skill on rock and ice who are being counted on to guide individuals and lead expeditions. Some will struggle with English, but will then surprise the heck out of you when they turn out to speak French, Korean and Japanese just fine. Some will never have been out of these valleys, but increasingly others will turn out to have traveled the world; to be putting their kids through college in Canada, India or the U.S., to be web-savvy, literate and politically astute.
Away from the Himalaya, the assertion is often made (by people who, I feel sure, mean to honor this group of climbers) that Sherpas are universally strong and across-the-board gifted with a physiology that makes high-altitude climbing a snap. True, many Sherpas have less trouble acclimatizing than those who visit these mountains from elsewhere, but it probably does Sherpas more honor to recognize their limitations than any perceived inherent advantages. They don't live on Mount Everest. The highest commonly inhabited villages are usually only around 12,000 ft to 14,000 ft in elevation. They don't have three lungs and two hearts... or any other crazy adaptation that makes climbing easy. The really humbling thing for me is to realize that my Sherpa partners are working just as hard as I am when we are clawing our way up some slope in difficult conditions with heavy packs. That climbing is difficult for them -not easy- and that they go out to do it anyway, day after day without whining, indeed while smiling and laughing. It isn't just what we see on the mountain either. For a bunch of days we walked through rough farmland where every single rock was neatly in place, where fields were endlessly being tended to, where houses were simple but always in good repair. The work ethic was obvious, uncommon and admirable.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not implying that the First Ascent team will be on holiday here. When the Sherpas we're partnering with cook and carry water and hack out tent platforms from the Lhotse Face and fix rope and get hard work done in dangerous conditions, sometimes we'll be right alongside them. And sometimes they'll be doing it while we rest or get other jobs done. And obviously the Sherpas won't be doing it for free. Money is a huge motivator in this part of the world, and expedition work turns out to produce some of the best opportunities in all of Nepal. But money doesn't adequately explain the smiles and the warmth and the friendship that our Sherpa partners will share with us on this trip. We'll try to be worthy of that friendship.
Training for the Khumbu Icefall
April 11, 2009
5,343 meters
by Dave Hahn
The clouds were blowing the wrong way today. From East to West is somewhat uncommon during the normal pre-monsoon climbing season. But oh well, it was an enjoyable day in any case. The morning chill didn't last long at all, it was nearly t-shirt weather by the time we'd finished breakfast and the several inches of snow which had fallen in recent days began to melt fast.
Tents are going up all around us now as more and more teams show up on the scene. Our nearest neighbors are Korean and Danish. The Koreans have a neat tradition of conducting group calisthenics each morning just before the sun hits the camp. Today I felt quite lazy and antisocial, sipping my morning coffee and listening to the BBC in a big down coat while watching the Koreans bond and stretch. Our First Ascent team did a little bonding and stretching today as well, but at a much more civilized hour. At ten in the morning we all marched for 10 minutes over to a little obstacle course of ladders and ice towers for some practice at rigging up and staying safe. We've got our sights set on the Khumbu Icefall now as the next big goal - the Icefall Doctors are close to having the route complete as far as Camp I and it won't be long before we are moving along and up through their maze of ladders and ropes. But we'll ease into that. The route through the Khumbu is unlike any other climbing route in the world. Great technical climbers and glacier travel experts from elsewhere will not have seen anything like this before. And such is the case within our team. Practice in walking ladders with crampons and protecting ourselves by properly clipping into fixed ropes is a good thing. When one gets to a real passage through the Icefall, one must be fast and efficient at all of this, so today we repeatedly crossed a ladder just a few feet off the ground. And then we tilted it up and crossed at forty-five degrees. Finally we tried a little vertical stretch with the ladder, all the time enabling to protect ourselves against a fall (or a collapse of the ladder) by smartly attaching ourselves to safety lines. As expected, it was a blast to finally be walking on snow with an axe in hand. Everybody seemed a little excited to kick crampon points into ice or to pull on a rope or two. It felt like climbing.
After lunch, Erica and I suited up again for an afternoon glacier tour. Just for an hour, since we didn't want to overdo the exercise at this still new altitude, we tramped around on the glacier away from tents and people (and well below the icefall). We stomped up and down little walls and explored corridors within the folds of the glacier. I took Erica to a few of the places I'd marked in my GPS over the years where I'd found oddball souvenirs like busted wooden ice-axes and oxygen bottles marking the basecamps used for the original attempts on this side of Mount Everest. I was startled by the changes in the glacial surface over the course of just one year. My first trip to this side of the mountain was in the year 2000 and over the past nine years I'd gotten familiar with a number of landmarks... boulders, ice ridges and towers that stayed more or less the same, streams of water on and within the ice that tended to form up each season and follow roughly the same course, that sort of thing. But this time, Erica saw me shaking my head a lot and turning my GPS this way and that (which doesn't actually help much with a GPS, by the way) because everything seemed radically different. Large, flat, frozen ponds sit where ice ridges had thrust up sixty and seventy feet previously. New stream courses seem to be everywhere and the formerly orderly flank of the medial moraine we all camped on for years is unrecognizable. I can only assume that a massive volume of ice has disappeared from the glacier due to melt in the past year.
Erica and I came back into camp. She headed for the afternoon round of "Dirty Clubs" a mysterious card game that Gerry Moffatt inflicted on the team during the trek. No money changes hands, but the daily losers have to perform all manner of humiliating public stunts. I made the rounds, admiring the organizational work that basecamp managers Jeff Martin and Linden Mallory have been accomplishing while we played on the glacier. The Eddie Bauer, First Ascent/Rainier Mountaineering Inc. Basecamp is shaping up. The word is that the hot shower may be operational by tomorrow.
Now there is still enough time for a quick nap before dinner... except the light is just getting good and small avalanches keep crashing down off of the West Shoulder, Lho La and Nuptse, forcing me to keep scrambling out of my tent to watch. So much to do...
Climbers Receive Puja Blessing
April 12, 2009
5,343 meters
by Dave Hahn
The clouds blew in the right direction today. In fact, everything lined up just right in most ways today. It was an auspicious day... so judged by our Sherpa team after a careful reading of the Tibetan calendar. Auspicious enough that our Puja ceremony was held today. Doubly Auspicious because it was Easter Sunday. Thrice Auspicious because it was the nicest day we've had in a week.
Peter Whittaker revealed that he'd stayed up last night with a few of the Sherpa team in the kitchen to decorate Easter eggs. Not so surprisingly, the Sherpas had not gone through that particular ritual before and Peter said they fully got into the task, coloring boiled eggs and attaching bright stickers. They were excited at the convergence of Easter, the planned Puja and a Sunday to boot. Peter kept all of this to himself and arose at 5 AM to hop down the bunny trail to his partners' tents and quietly salt the area with Easter eggs. He said he was surprised to run into another rabbit out there secretly doing the same thing. Linden Mallory had his own egg planting plans for the morning and was busily hiding colored plastic eggs with prizes within.
After breakfast and before the Puja began, the team (those who had not been bunnies) chased around searching for eggs. Jeff Martin and Linden made things interesting by mentioning that two of the eggs held special prizes. Ed Viesturs quickly tracked down the one that granted its discoverer the free drink of his choice from Gorak Shep. It took Seth Waterfall a bit longer to hone in on the bright blue egg that held the $20 cash prize.
And then it was Puja time. The Puja is a ceremony quite important to our Sherpa team, and thus to us as well. In it, we ask the blessing of the mountain gods before setting foot on this sacred -and dangerous- mountain. A lama came up from Pangboche in order to read the correct prayers and chants. Our Sherpa team had worked throughout the morning to prepare a stone chorten as a sort of alter for the ceremony. Incense and juniper were lit as a way of sending fragrant smoke upward in offering. Partway through the three hour observance, a prayer mast was erected and flags unfurled in all directions. Our First Ascent team sat drinking tea and taking pictures of the colorful scene... but also contemplating the seriousness of an undertaking that requires so much blessing. The latter stages of the Puja involve a good deal of celebrating and toasting and tossing of rice. Finally, everybody grabs a big handful of Tsampa (barley flour) and tosses half of it in the air while saving half to smear on the faces of ones climbing partners. As you'd expect, this gets out of hand... and into hair, cameras, eyes, ears and everything as one and all laugh, shake hands and fist bump.
Our Sherpa team then invited us to join them in linking arms for a last half hour of carefree dancing and singing. We sang along and nobody seemed to mind that we didn't know either the words or the dance steps.
The word is that the last 200 meters or so of the route to Camp I are giving the Icefall Doctors a special challenge. We are hoping each day now to hear that they've forged some sort of passage. Tomorrow we resume our training at the foot of the Icefall. We'll be rested, blessed and ready.
Carry High, Sleep Low - Everest Ascent Strategy
April 13, 2009
5,343 meters
Peter, Melissa and Ed walk through the blue ice features of the lower Khumbu Icefall
by Dave Hahn
We looked like a totally different crew at breakfast this morning. Part of that was because it was still slightly dark when we had breakfast today... we were up early for Icefall training. But when the light happened to hit a face here and there, it showed freshly shaved mugs and clean, fluffy hair. We neatened up yesterday afternoon, testing the shower.
When I first began coming to Everest, in 1991, we wouldn't have dreamed of such an extravagance. Or perhaps back then, we simply thought seventy days of grubbiness was required to properly test a summit wannabe. We all wanted to be Everest "hardmen" in the classic mold. Or maybe with some classic mold. Nowadays, of course, it is clear that we can't possibly measure up to the legends of the Everest game by accumulating filth. Cleanliness is in. And besides, it just doesn't seem all that difficult anymore to set aside one propane tank for an on-demand heater connected to a barrel full of water attached to a tiny electric pump, which all results in a hot stream of water coming out of a showerhead near the top of a tent built for such a purpose.
Our clean team walked out of camp this morning at 6 AM. Ten minutes later, we'd stepped into crampons and were trudging up and over ice rolls and ridges, bound for the start of the climbing route. Our Sherpa team had beaten us to it, having rolled out of camp at 4:30 AM. Seven of them fired up the newly established Icefall route to establish our Camp I at around 19,900 ft. Two more, Tschering and Mingma, went to CI but then continued on all the way up the Western Cwm, claiming some prime real estate up there at 21,300 ft for our Advanced Basecamp (aka ABC, aka CII, aka "Tschering and Mingma kicked butt"). The rest of us contented ourselves with a good stretch of the legs, climbing 90 minutes out of camp to reach the first ladders and fixed ropes, which we practiced on for a bit before returning. It was a good reminder for all that we are new to these altitudes and that it is cold out on the glacier before the sun hits. But nearly everybody came down jazzed and excited to get after the rest of the Khumbu Icefall in the coming days. The Icefall is an intimidating place, but it is also quite beautiful in the early morning light.
Resting up this afternoon, we watched as a number of teams pulled into basecamp. Within a few days, the gang will all be here, but for today we were happy to see the Alpine Ascents team pull in with a bunch of guides we've all worked alongside of for years. IMG got here before us, and they are just a stone's throw away with a bunch more of our friends. Russell Brice came through camp yesterday and reported that his big HimEx team is doing well in their slightly separate basecamp twenty minutes down the trail. There have been a few sightings of the Benegas brothers, Willie and Damian and it will be fun to connect up with them again for some milk tea. Henry Todd is rumored to be on the approach. The season is on and all the usual suspects are gathering.
Climbing In The Shadow Of Legends
April 13, 2009
5,343 meters
RMI Guide Seth Waterfall
by Seth Waterfall
Greetings from Everest Basecamp! I still have to pinch myself to make sure I'm really here. To come here and climb has been a longtime dream for me, but it's only been the last four or five years that I thought it would be possible. I never really imagined I'd be doing so as a part of this amazing team.
For me personally, this couldn't be a better opportunity. I get to pester Ed Viesturs with pretty much any question I want about climbing in the Himalaya, and learn how to guide these peaks from Dave Hahn. I can't really see me ever having access to this kind of brain trust again in my guiding career. To add that in with climbing in gear that we have all helped develop from the ground up makes this truly a once-in-a-lifetime trip.
It was just over a year ago that I was doing a normal guiding rotation at RMI. For me, that has meant starting in May on Rainier, then heading to Alaska to work on Denali then back to Rainier until August, then I head over to Africa to guide on Kilimanjaro. When my boss Peter Whittaker invited me to be a part of this team, I had no idea what it would lead to, yet here I am at Everest Base Camp getting ready to head into the Western Cwm.
This is our third day in base camp and I'm still trying to judge the scale of the mountains here. I'm used to the feeling of getting my bearings in an unfamiliar mountain range. It's one of the best parts of climbing somewhere new. With no trees or buildings or anything familiar to give you reference, you can get vertigo trying to approximate distances or elevations. Typically, the novice will underestimate distances drastically. I've spent enough time in the mountains though to have a healthy respect for this trickery.
The difference here is that there is no grander scale. When I first saw Everest from Namche Bazaar, I couldn't believe how big it was or how far away we still were. Now that we're closer and the satellite peaks of the Everest massif block the summit from view, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even more intimidated.
But if there's one thing I've learned over the years from all of my mentors and climbing partners, it's how to tackle big objectives. In a sense, this one is no different... wait, what am I saying?! It is different. It's the biggest mountain in the world. Step by step, that's how we'll do it. With a healthy respect for the mountain.
In a few days, we'll head into the icefall for our first real physical test of the trip. I'm really psyched to put the boots on and get the crampons and ice axe out. My job on this trip is really just getting started. I can't wait to get going.
Viesturs & Hahn, Lifelong Friends, First To Test Icefall Route
April 14, 2009
5,343 meters
Dave checks in with the team on the radio
by Dave Hahn
Two in the morning rolls around fast over here. It did today, at least. That is when I got up to stuff a few last things in my pack and meet Ed Viesturs for breakfast in our dining tent. I think we both were focused and keyed up for a journey through the Khumbu Icefall and thus were not too picky about breakfast. Instant coffee and rice porridge did the trick for me. We walked a little before 3 a.m., at first in some fog, but then under stars and a big moon by the time we'd gotten our crampons on at the start of the climbing route. Ed graciously allowed me to go first so that I could set a pace I might live with and complain less about.
I'll admit that my natural tendency might have been to be a little insecure over having Ed Viesturs, one of the world's great aerobic athletes, two steps behind me where he could see just how feeble and weak I might turn out to be on any given day. But ...the short sleep, the rice porridge and bitter coffee must have worked the perfect magic, because I didn't feel feeble and weak as we crossed the first ice ridges. I actually felt ready to go climbing ... ready to feel my heart and lungs ramp up, ready to get some sort of burn going in my leg muscles.
The plan was actually two plans that came together. I swear I don't have any great love for the Khumbu Icefall. I wouldn't generally go through it without good reason, but when I hope to guide someone through it, I've come to value previewing the darn thing first myself. It can be wildly different from year to year (and from the beginning of a climbing season to the end), and I like to know where the hazards are and where reasonable rest breaks might be hiding. Ed, with his goal of going for the summit without oxygen, has to continually push himself in the weeks and months leading up to that attempt. He needs and wants all the exercise that he can squeeze in ...preferably at altitude. And even better if he can preview the Icefall route and get a little gear up to our newly established Camp 1 site. So our schedules converged and it seemed to make good sense that we go together, despite his need for speed and my need to not be humiliated. We both had light loads of gear for CI and our standard guide's pack-load of emergency and rescue gear in case we either got ourselves in trouble or came upon someone else inclined that way.
We could see about a dozen headlights some distance ahead of us, but we reeled those in before too long and passed a team of Sherpas that were carrying heavier loads than ours. We didn't talk as we climbed by headlight and moonlight ... I doubt I'd have been capable of talking and there wasn't any need for talk. It was a time for thinking and doing. I thought a bit about how I'd met Ed Viesturs in the summer of 1985 on Mount Rainier. He would have been starting his third year of guiding then, and I was a wide-eyed and fairly naive aspiring climber. I took a five-day climbing seminar with Rainier Mountaineering, Inc. and Ed was the junior guide on the trip. He must have done something bad, because when it came time for choosing rope teams for the summit bid at week's end, Ed got me. I was strong enough, having just spent a first winter working in the ski industry - and before that I'd swum competitively at college ("competitively" being used loosely here), but I didn't know anything about big mountains or how to tap into the strength I had for them. That climb was memorable. We were well up the Ingraham Glacier and taking a break when another guide with a different team busted a big crevasse bridge and took a huge fall. That guide was Eric Simonson, who is camped just a hundred meters away from me right now and who turned out to be a great friend and mentor. I didn't know Eric then though, and so when Ed tried to get his rope team moving in a hurry in order to go up and help with the crevasse extrication, I believe I protested -pointing to the unfinished peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my hand. (I'm sure I didn't protest vocally since, although Ed wasn't famous back then, he was still formidable.) Long story short, Eric lived, I didn't get to eat my sandwich and we didn't make the summit. I was hooked. I became a guide with RMI the very next summer.
Ed and I, although we worked together for some years at Rainier, didn't do a whole lot of climbing together. Partly because before too long, his expedition career took off in a big way… mine took off a little later and in different ways. We come at things differently. Ed relies on hard-won fitness, VO2 Max, pre-trip training, and a legendary ability to calculate and get shrewd in the big hills. I bring mountains down to my decidedly less athletic level through repetition, constant practice, pigheaded determination and never-ending fear of failure. Sometimes the results of the two methods can be similar.
Like today in the Icefall. I thought we made a pretty good team, and I took a lot of pride in that when we rolled into the Camp 1 area three hours after we'd begun. I never imagined, 24 years ago, that Ed and I would be bouncing over ladders and scrambling up icewalls together on Mount Everest all these years later. It was a blast. And it was cold up there at 19,867 ft. before sunrise at Camp 1. We cached our gear and began to beat feet down. It can be tricky to keep up the concentration required so as to not misstep, catch a crampon or poke through a crevasse bridge on a fast descent of the Icefall, but it can be equally dangerous to go slow in a place where big things tend to fall down around you if you linger. We did have to do some lingering though. Ed and I encountered about a hundred of our best friends ... Sherpas from various teams who were either carrying loads or guiding climbers. We'd look nervously at the big ice towers tilting above us, but we'd stop to exchange pleasantries anyway, remembering which trips we'd done together and promising to catch up over tea in some safer place.
Ed and I were kicking off crampons at around 9 a.m. in bright sunshine down at basecamp. We both expressed relief at having satisfied some of our curiosity about the glacier's surprises and our own fitness to tackle it again. We'd come down in time to see the rest of our team suiting up for ice climbing practice and rope technique review taught by Seth Waterfall, Peter Whittaker and Jake Norton on the glacier close to camp. I passed the rest of the day with adrenaline in my veins and a smile on my face. The plan is for a few others to check out the Icefall tomorrow.
Close Call with Avalanche at Camp I
April 15, 2009
17,500 ft.
by Seth Waterfall
Base Camp is a busy place these days as all of the teams have arrived and the route through the icefall is now open. In the daytime climbers and trekkers are constantly milling about camp, checking in with friends and other teams to see what everyone's plans are. It's quite a scene.
Since the Icefall Doctors completed the route to Camp 1 teams have been busy staking claims to the prime sites. At least one team has sent climbers to spend the night there thus starting their first acclimatization 'rotation'. The Sherpas in our team went to Camp 1 the day the Icefall Doctors completed the final leg of the route and marked off an area for our camp there. Today our team carried loads of gear to the camp. This accomplished two things. The first and most obvious is to transport some of our gear further up the mountain. The second is to aid our acclimatization by climbing to almost 20,000 feet before returning to Base Camp to recover.
This was my first trip through the icefall in it's entirety. Of course I've heard about it, read about it, and have had plenty of time to obsess about it over the last 6 days. But there's no way to really get a feel for it other than climbing through it. I have climbed on plenty of glaciers. In fact I've spent weeks on end living on glaciers. But climbing through an icefall, where the glacier drops off of a steep slope, picks up speed and breaks up into crevasses (you can fall in these) and ice towers called seracs (these can fall on you) is not a normal or common thing, even for a mountain guide.
So we got up at 2:15 am this morning and started our climb at 3am. There's two reasons to start this early. One is to get ahead of other people that may slow us down in dangerous sections. The other is to climb in the nice, cool temperatures of the night and avoid the oppressive heat of the day. Well, I must admit the 'cool' night time temps here are really ridiculously cold so getting out of my sleeping bag was the first crux of the day. From our camp it's about 45 minutes to the first big crevasses. The Icefall Doctors use aluminum ladders to bridge crevasses. On Rainier we also use ladders to cross crevasses the only difference is that on Rainier we'll use two to three ladders in a season, here there is about 35 ladders crossing crevasses and climbing up and down seracs. The Doctors do a great job of making things as safe as possible in the icefall. Of course there's the ladders, but they also place tons of rope on the route so you can always be clipped in and safe from a big fall.
Once in the icefall itself there are precious few places to safely stop for a break. The glacier is always shifting and moving so you really don't know when a chunk of ice may come crashing down. Your best bet for safety is to move quickly and to climb in control. Fortunately our team was able to stay fairly close together owing to our early departure. There were not many people for us to get caught behind and separated. We did manage to sneak in a couple of rest breaks, though we did make excellent time and we arrived at Camp 1 at the top of the icefall just before 7:00 am.
Camp 1 is a tricky place to camp. It is sandwiched in between the steep faces of Everest's West Ridge and the north face of Nuptse. Both sides of the valley are prone to ice and snow avalanches. The trick there is to position your camp so as to mitigate the danger from both sides of the valley. Also the climbing route from Camp 1 to Camp 2 currently avoids the big crevasses in the center of the glacier but passes directly under some avalanche paths on Nuptse. We were discussing the relative merits of two different campsites and where the climbing route will be the safest when a large avalanche came ripping down off of the summit of Nuptse. To our shock there was a large group of people on the climbing route, directly under the avalanche. Fortunately most of the snow and ice from the avalanche landed in the 'moat' between the glacier and the steeper slopes of Nuptse and the folks on the route, including some Sherpas from our team were only blasted with a 'powder cloud' from the avalanche. Still, this was a scary event and a reminder to be ever respectful of the power of the mountains.
Good Preparation at Basecamp Critical for Success on Everest
April 16, 2009
17,500 ft.
By Dave Hahn
These are busy days at basecamp. The trail into camp is still quite full with trekkers, porters and yak trains. Most, although not all, climbers have now reached base, and the Puja poles with their colorful webs of prayer flags now form an intersecting canopy over the entire area. Each morning, teams of Sherpas are heading up into the Icefall carrying loads and a few teams have their members sleeping up at Camps 1 and 2 already.
I'm not in a big hurry to get through the Icefall with Erica just yet. The route, although complete when I checked it out the other day, could still stand to be tracked in and improved somewhat. And I'd just as soon have my seventeen-year-old client as ready as possible when we go through to Camp 1 for the first time. So our plan has been to keep training and acclimating ... which, it turns out, is not a bad way to pass the time in this place. Yesterday, while half-a-dozen of the team made the early start and tagged C1, Erica and I got a full night's sleep, ate a fine breakfast, and then set out for a good day of walking. We made our way down to Gorak Shep, banged a right turn up into the hills, and began to climb Kalapathar. The weather was perfect throughout most of the day and our views were unlimited and improving as we climbed. We could look back to the peaks that had lined our path on the trek in, with Thamserku, Kangtega, and Ama Dablam in the distance. Tawoche, Cholatse, Nuptse and Pumori were big and beautiful a little closer in. To the east, Lingtren, Changtse and a big, dark, high pyramid by the name of Everest were stunning. From the top, Erica and I could see the South Col and part of the Lhotse Face. I was surprised when a Slovenian climber near Kalapathar's summit recognized me from the time in 1997 when we were alongside one another on Vinson in Antarctica. But such meetings are not uncommon here.
We cruised on down to Gorak Shep for a drink and a rest at the outdoor tables, chatting with trekkers while watching a few soaring birds. We rallied for the hike back up to basecamp and compared notes there with Ed Viesturs, who'd gone for the same circuit a bit earlier in the day.
Today was generally a good rest day in basecamp, which means meetings for those of us who endeavor to figure out schedules and strategies and future meeting possibilities. Erica and I did bust out of camp for a fine walk in the lower glacier before lunch. I love getting out there to explore ... note that I normally refer to walking "in" the glacier near basecamp, whereas anywhere else in the world it would be normal to talk about climbing "on" a glacier. In this particular section of the Khumbu, which is devoid of snow cover, one walks up and down hidden gullies and waterways in the ice. I like to get out to easier walking on a medial moraine of rock and then to find a new way home through the ice with a different gully each time. This time I was able to show Erica a few old logs that had been used for crevasse bridges in the days before ladders. These, of course, had originally been placed up in the Icefall and had been carried down with the passage of decades. Even so, the logs still clearly bore the crampon scars of whichever famous climbers had scrambled across them.
After lunch, our camp was quiet with napping and a few board games. I joined Peter Whittaker, Jeff Martin and Linden Mallory for a short walk to Damian Benegas' camp, where an initial team-leader meeting had been called for. There was plenty of handshaking and backslapping among those gathered. All of the usual suspects of South Side Everest climbing, plus the former North Siders who've all given up on the Chinese restrictions on entrance to Tibet-The big players-IMG and HimEx, Adventure Consultants and Jagged Globe were there, along with Croatians, Russians, Kazakhs, Koreans, Irish, Spanish, Swiss and Canadians. Willie and Damian Benegas went over the group business with input from those assembled. We tried to figure out radio frequency overlaps and attempted to pool resources for rescues and rope fixing. The gang agreed to meet tomorrow to build a helipad to the west of camp. I helped myself to popcorn and pimento-stuffed green olives from the Benegas table while the big business was conducted and the hors d'oeuvres were sadly being overlooked. The olives were tasty and the meeting therefore a great and friendly success.
Sherpa And The Culture Of Nepal
April 17, 2009
17,500 ft.
Nima Dorjee Tamang, hoping for 4th Everest Summit
by Jake Norton
Sherpa. It's a name that we hear with increasing frequency in popular diction worldwide.
But who are the Sherpa, and the sherpa, for that matter? The answer to this is as complex as the country in which they reside.
Let's begin with a bit of context.
The nation of Nepal, one of the poorest in the world in terms of per capita GDP, is arguably one of the richest in terms of geographic and ethnic diversity. A mere 54,000 square kilometers (about the size of Illinois), it ranges geographically from the tropical Indo-Gangetic plains (Terai) in the south to the crest of the Great Himalaya, the highest mountains on earth, in the north. So short is the span from low to high that one can literally sit on the back of an elephant in the Terai, gazing at endangered rhinos, and see, some 90 miles distant, the snowy crest of the Himalaya rising above the haze of the tropical plains.
Not to be outdone by its geography, Nepal's human diversity is rich and complex as well. In its small footprint reside some 25 million people from 36 different ethnic groups speaking 36 (or more) different languages and dialects. From the Indian ethnicities of the Terai to the Tibetan peoples of the mountains, the Gurkhas of the center to the Lepchas of the east and the Thakurs of the far west, the countryside of Nepal rings with diversity.
The Sherpa, so often discussed if not totally understood, are one of these many ethnic groups in Nepal. Crossing over the high Nangpa La (Pass) some 700 years ago from Tibet, the early Sherpa nomads found in the Khumbu Valley a rich region with lush vegetation, flowing rivers, and the possibility of a life far easier than their nomadic one in Tibet. They settled in, making the valley which drains the slopes of Everest their home.
When asked who they were, the early Sherpa would reply, as is common in Tibet, with the region from which they came. Their answer: Shar pa, or "east people." Nomads originally, the Sherpa had come with their yak across the plains of Tibet from the eastern edge of the Plateau, perhaps near Kham. Over time, shar pa turned into Sherpa, their tribal name, and also last name.
Centuries later, when the first Western explorers began their attempts on the high Himalayan peaks, they employed Sherpa as porters to help move equipment on the mountains. From George Mallory to Sir Edmund Hillary to our First Ascent Team, the Sherpa - strong, hard-working, ever-friendly, impeccably kind and loyal - have been a mainstay of Himalayan climbing, with only a small handful of teams getting anywhere in the high peaks without the hard work, diligence, and dedication of these remarkable mountain people. So deep has been their connection to mountain climbing in the Himalaya that the ethnic name Sherpa has come to mean any Nepali who works in the mountains.
However, not every sherpa is, in fact, a Sherpa. Confused? Our team of Nepalis, our sherpa, hail from no less than 4 different ethnic groups: Rai, Gurung, Tamang, and, of course, Sherpa. All have vast experience:
- Maila Tamang, Camp 2 cook, with several expeditions and one summit of Everest under his belt
- Nima Dorje Tamang, hoping for his 4th summit of Everest on this trip
- Kumar Gurung, a veteran expedition cook since 1994, on his 15th Everest expedition
- Damber Rai, a seasoned mountain man, on his 7th Everest expedition
All these men, Tamang and Rai, Gurung and Sherpa, work hard, day in and day out, and all are contributing deeply to our efforts on the mountain, just as they are for the 30-some-odd other expeditions on Everest this spring.
Simply put, we couldn't do it without them, and our thanks are beyond words.
Dhanyabhad.
Team Readies For Move To Camp 1
April 17, 2009
17,500 ft.
by Dave Hahn
There were lots of heavy boots trudging by the tents in the dark this morning. Climbers and sherpa bound for the Icefall, naturally. Not from our camp today though. It was another packing/rest day for our team. Seth Waterfall and I took the opportunity to get our climber out on the ice pinnacles after breakfast for some more training in rope techniques.
Erica is looking more comfortable with each session of rappelling down and jugging up the lines we fix. While out there in the middle of the glacier, we heard (and felt) a few big rumbles as ice avalanches cut loose in various places. One tumbled down off Everest's West Shoulder and obviously crossed the Icefall climbing route, luckily missing any climbers in the process. That one certainly pointed up the need for a slightly better and more protected route in the region, and I was encouraged to hear that Willie Benegas may have found just such a route a little farther out toward the middle of the Khumbu Icefall. We shall see whether his discovery is accepted and improved by the Icefall Doctors responsible for fixing ropes and ladders. The Ice Docs are a great bunch of guys. We had them over for a small gift of hats and T-shirts yesterday evening, and we heartily thanked each of the seven men who have been risking their lives to find us safe passage through the big jumbled glacier pouring out of the Western Cwm. We were all astonished when Ang Nima mentioned that he'd been climbing on Everest since 1975, when he worked for Chris Bonington's famous Southwest Face expedition.
Since Gerry shot that beautiful and frightening footage of an avalanche crossing the climbing route above Camp 1 we have received lots of questions and comments about such events. That particular event was likely the result of a snow cornice breaking up near Nuptse's summit at 25,000 ft. The cornice -an overhanging snow deposit- may have built up due to strong prevailing west winds in the night and then busted loose when the first strong rays of the sun hit it in the morning, causing it to settle and fracture. Due to that type of process, we have to worry about "new snow" avalanches even when there hasn't been any "new snow" falling from the sky. An ice avalanche, by contrast, is a piece of glacier breaking loose and cascading down. These are scary. They are also a very normal part of the way glaciers move. One cannot predict when a chunk of glacier has decided that it has hung around long enough and that it is now time to thunder down on whatever is below (chunks of glacier -more properly "seracs"- are not made of light, fluffy snow, but instead of dense ice the consistency of concrete). There are a number of "hanging glaciers" threatening the West Shoulder side of the Khumbu Icefall, as I mentioned, but we also need to be quite careful of the seracs that make up the Icefall itself... a hundred foot high tower of ice collapsing a hundred feet upslope can be difficult to get out of the way of. To most of us, there is something slightly more menacing and inescapable about an avalanche dropping in near freefall for 5000 ft. off the West Shoulder though. I suppose that it is like choosing to get hit by a slow bus rather than by a sports car at top speed, understanding that both bring a fair amount of discomfort. Our various routes do get "dusted" from time to time, as Gerry's video showed, with no actual debris crossing the climbing route, but a big and dramatic powder cloud engulfing those on the track and likely causing them to hit the deck and cover up for a minute or two. Our best strategies for dealing with avalanches on the lower part of the mountain involve moving as quickly as possible through known hazard areas and looking for alternate routes (as Willie apparently did today) when we can. We go early in the day, before sunrise, because this affords us some protection from certain types of avalanches, but it doesn't solve our problems with serac fall. Glaciers move in the night, just as they move in the day, and so their chunks continue to get pushed off randomly rather than when we'd like them to. Getting an early start just feels a lot safer in a world of frozen bridges and towers. The footing can get sloppy later in the day and the heat can get oppressive when the high-altitude sun gets bounced around enough in a concave valley.
So when our first team of climbers (Ed, Melissa and Peter) move up tomorrow, they'll go early and they'll try to move at a business-like pace… and they'll look after one another on the move to Camp 1, in addition to checking in by radio with those of us at basecamp. We take the hazards of this lower mountain seriously, which is why we've "waited" a week before setting sites on sleeping at Camp 1. Best to be acclimated and ready to use all of one's fitness for this particular push.
We built up that fitness a little more this afternoon by hiking down to the approaches to basecamp for a building project. Many teams gathered, perhaps a hundred climbers, in order to build a helipad. We don't want to use the helipad for helicopters ... they tend to crash up here in the thin air and hard rock, and we all live in soft shelters that perform poorly when subjected to shrapnel. But of course, if there is an emergency evacuation that a helicopter may be the correct tool for, we want the pilots to enjoy a flat and stable pad of rock. So we all moved rock around for an hour while laughing, breathing heavily, and catching up with long-lost pals from the mountains.
Plenty more Pujas took place today ... the gods have to be at least a little bit impressed with all of the offerings and pretty flags and fragrant smoke. Perhaps they'll mind those seracs and cornices for us while we get the safest possible routes established.
Viesturs and Whittaker make camp on the Western Cwm
April 18, 2009
17,530 ft.
by Dave Hahn
It seemed as though everybody was on the move today. When I looked out of my tent at 4:15 AM, there was a line of headlights strung out like a Christmas parade through the icefall. Some of those lights belonged to our gang. The "first team" of Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs, along with a couple of the camera crew, got out early and were making their way toward Camp I. They are bound for a "rotation" up the hill, sleeping at CI tonight and possibly at ABC (CII) tomorrow night. That ought to work pretty good for them, although it won't necessarily feel so good. A first night at close to 20,000 ft. is usually good for a headache and some frustrating insomnia. Then a first night at 21,300 ft (ABC) will be good for... let's see, a headache, some more insomnia, and more of everything that is uncomfortable and mean about new altitude. These rotations up high can't be avoided though. Not if one is serious about eventually trying to spend nights at 26,000 ft above sea level, like we are. I'd hazard a guess that when they come down, Ed and Peter will be pretty happy to rest at basecamp again for a few days... which is also an important part of acclimating. It may be oversimplifying things to say that those bound for the summit just need to mix up intensely hard work and ample rest, time at extreme and less extreme altitudes, and endure terror and boredom for two months... but it does run something like that.
I was looking out of the tent at 4:15 AM because I was putting on my own boots for an important run up to the midpoint of the Khumbu Icefall. At 4:30 AM, I got together with Seth Waterfall, Erica Dohring, cameraman Kent Harvey and producer Cherie Silvera in the mess tent where we each slammed a few hot drinks and bowls of porridge before stepping out into the last shreds of starlight and moonshine. We were walking by 5 AM on what I've come to consider a fairly important mission. Let's call it the Khumbu Dress Rehearsal. I've already explained plenty of the reasons why the Khumbu Icefall is not a smart place to dilly-dally... while also pointing out that the rapid gain in altitude and the difficult climbing make humankind very much prone to dilly-dallying there. When guiding, I want my climbers strong, acclimated and familiar with the weird skills needed for the Icefall... BEFORE they step into the Icefall for real. It is not a good place to have a client or partner stumbling around with exhaustion, obviously, since most footsteps in the Icefall have to be precise in order to avoid crevasses and cliffs. And the worst possible way to come into Camp I for a first night there would be on one's hands and knees, begging for mercy, oxygen and water. That does happen from time to time, but being so spent can make one a prime candidate for fatal altitude illness.
As we chugged up the first ice hills and watched the light begin to hit the highest peaks, it was already gratifying to see how much stronger Erica was than during our initial forays up the glacier. This "dress rehearsal" was undertaken in the hopes of giving Erica the necessary confidence for climbing through to CI... but equally important for Seth and me was our need to watch Erica and gain our own confidence in her abilities. Before we risk our own lives in accompanying her toward her goals, we need to believe she is ready to reasonably go after them. It is a delicate balance. But Erica was doing a lot of good balancing herself as she stepped over bottomless crevasses and kicked up ice-walls on her spikes. Not to say that she had an easy time of it, just that her difficulties seemed no different than anybody else's in the same awkward places. In our second hour of climbing, we moved up the "popcorn" section, which is just a bunch of SUV sized ice chunks heaped against one another like... popcorn... actually.
Erica and I reached the our goal for the day, the "Dum" which is the old Sherpa name for the dump... as in gear dump (in the old days when it took a lot longer to negotiate the Khumbu Icefall, the mid-point was a significant load-carrying goal and even an intermediate camp from time to time). Seth, Cherie and Kent were already there and welcomed us with gloved fist bumps and cheers. Since, at 7:40 in the morning, we were still without the heat of the sun in the Dum, we just took a quick food and water break before declaring the "up test" a success and beginning the "down test".
We began to deal with a lot of traffic, both up and down and this was actually an important part of the test (although I definitely had not arranged with the Russians, Kazakhs, Croats, British, Koreans, Americans and assorted Sherpas to meet on these particular ladders at this particular time). Everybody stayed patient and pleasant and with some careful downclimbing we reached the lowest part of the Icefall and walked into the warm sunshine. Peter, Ed and the team already at CI had been listening out on the radios to make sure we were ok, and it was with great pride and relief that I told them to shut off and save their batteries... we were going to be fine.
Erica passed her exams. She is ready for CI and I'm fully confident that she'll get there with adequate strength reserves. Toward that end, we'll maybe go hiking one more time, rest another day and then come at Camp I ready for that all important first rotation. Oh yeah... that's where they keep the headaches... can't wait.
RMI Teams have Diverging Agendas
April 19, 2009
17,530 ft.
by Seth Waterfall
Another beautiful day at Everest Basecamp. The weather so far this season has been really great. We've had traces of snow some nights but most days have been warm, sunny and the climbing conditions have been, as my friends say, 'splitter'.
Dave, Erica and I took advantage of the conditions today and went for an acclimatization hike. We went down the Khumbu, out of Basecamp and towards Pumori a ca. 23,000 foot peak located across the glacier from Nuptse. The trail below Basecamp was moderately busy with climbers, trekkers, porters and yak trains. Hiking the trails around here with Dave is always fun because he invariably runs into someone he knows, usually several people. Today we ran into a British gent who had done some scientific work on several of the artifacts that Dave and team had recovered when they found Mallory's body on the North Ridge of Everest in '99. They had never met face-to-face but had known of each other for a few years. I couldn't think of a more appropriate place for the two to meet.
On our hike we passed through Pumori Basecamp and then walked out across a rocky ridgeline. At a high point on the ridge we were rewarded with spectacular views of Nuptse, Lhotse and Everest. After getting the requisite photos Dave and Erica headed back to camp for lunch while I continued on to Camp 1 on Pumori. From there the views were even more spectacular. I could see all the way from Basecamp, up the icefall, through part of the Western Cwm (although Nuptse blocks most of this), up the Lhotse Face to the South Col and then I could follow parts of the South East Ridge of Everest to the Summit. It was very cool to be able to see almost the entire climbing route. It also gave me a great visual representation of why it takes about two months to climb this mountain. It's a long way from basecamp to the summit!!!
The rest of the team is doing great as well. Ed and Peter had spent last night at Camp 1 and today they moved up to Camp 2 (Advanced Basecamp). They called on the radio in the morning and reported that all was well and they called again when they had reached ABC. Melissa made her way through the icefall in the early morning hours, climbing her way from Basecamp to Camp 1. Everyone took advantage of the great weather today.
The team is spread out on the mountain for the next few days but that's neither unexpected nor a bad thing on a long expedition. Our schedules will overlap again soon and we'll all be together and that will be great. But for now it's nice to have a little extra room in the dining tent.
Dave Hahn Preps For Climb To Camp I
April 20, 2009
17,530 ft.
Jeff Martin and Pasang Tendi Sherpa sorting equipment and supplies for tomorrow's load carry up to Camp II
by Dave Hahn
A few gusts of wind plowed through camp early this morning. Not enough to really test our First Ascent tents, just enough to remind that we, and those tents, will get all the test we can handle soon enough. On several mornings so far, we've seen big streamers of cloud and snow being ripped from high on Lhotse and Nuptse, betraying some fierce winds aloft. But on just as many other mornings, we've looked up at calm and still summits just begging some eager overachiever to come up to play. Of course, should someone come up to play right now, they'd be dealing with radically cooler temps -even in calm conditions- than we hope to experience in a month or so (when it will still be cold enough, thank you).
Normally, the winters in these parts don't produce a lot of snow. The pattern is for the Everest region to be raked by cold, jet stream winds through much of winter and spring. Nobody I know wants to be going for Everest's summit when the jet is near. The summer monsoon, which hits in June, (and not in May, please) is the phenomenon bringing big moisture -in the form of snow- to these mountains. The monsoon is not a popular climbing season since most climbers don't enjoy the avalanches that accompany big snows in big mountains. When we come over here for the Spring, or pre-monsoon, climbing season, the hope is that we can get our acclimatization/rope-fixing/load-carrying cycles completed in the tail-end of the windy/cold winter season. There is then normally a period of relative calm when the jet stream pulls north away from Everest and the monsoon hasn't yet moved in. Ideally, we jump all over that hypothetical window in the second half of May and get our carcasses to the summit and back. Some years the window is open for weeks... some years the window is open for fifty-seven minutes.
I've been encouraged so far this season to believe that the big peaks aren't continually being blasted by an organized jet stream stuck in the vicinity. Less wind up high means the route can be fixed earlier and people can start going for the summit earlier, thus alleviating some of the hazard that would exist if everybody is forced to go for the top in one narrow and congested window of opportunity late in May. We do receive excellent weather forecasts via our satellite email system, but at this early stage of the season, there isn't much to be gained by obsessing over the weather. Working, as we are, down low on the mountain and within giant valleys like the Western Cwm, we don't need forecasts much. If the weather is good, we climb, if the weather is bad we either sit or descend... simple.
Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs took their half of the climbing team up above ABC today for an exploration of the starting zone of the Khumbu Glacier. They got a good look at the immense and icy Lhotse Face from its base at around 22,500 ft. and then returned to ABC... working high, sleeping low... it is a repetitive theme in smart acclimatization. Melissa Arnot did the same thing today down at Camp I after her first night there. She tested the ankle that has been giving her trouble and previewed the route to CII for a little distance before getting back to rest another night at CI. She'll hope to join her team at ABC tomorrow.
Way down here at basecamp: Erica Dohring, Seth Waterfall, Kent Harvey and I have been packing and preparing to make the big move to Camp I tomorrow morning. Ang Kaji will be part of the crew, since Kent the cameraman has far more gadgetry than can be reasonably carried in one pack. Technically, we are resting today, but as usual, we are all keyed up and jittery and ready to get this party started. We sat with Linden Mallory and Jeff Martin, strategizing and coordinating. I laid out a plan that could put us up the hill for the next five days. We went "shopping" in the supply tent for yummy and familiar goodies from American supermarkets. We packed a few things for the Sherpa loads that will go up tomorrow. I talked with Tendi about whether to go the old route (from two days ago) in the icefall, the new route (from a day ago), or the new, new route (from today, detouring a section of the new route that fell out yesterday). We've got fresh batteries for our radios and an order in with Chef Kumar for an early breakfast.
We are physically fit and rested. It is time to get in the game... weather permitting.
Icefall Collapse Delays Departure
April 21, 2009
17,530 ft.
by Dave Hahn
The juniper and incense were lit; the smoke was going up to the gods, the prayer flags were waving. I buckled the chinstrap on my helmet, stuffed my big down parka and threw my pack on my back. It was just light enough, at 5 a.m. on the button- that I could turn off my headlight to look around at my partners. Erica was ready, her harness was done up correctly and her pack looked nice and neat. Kent had his gear good to go as well; Seth was coming up from his tent, looking loaded for bear. We were about 12 seconds from walking toward the Khumbu Icefall and Camp I. But then I saw Tendi talking urgently into his radio as he walked toward me. He paused, looked up and told me -with that classic slashing motion of the finger across the throat- "Icefall is finished."
There'd been a collapse somewhere up high on the route. My gut tightened as I then asked Tendi if anybody was trapped or injured. He talked into the radio a bit more in the Nepali which I surely should understand after so many years spent in Nepal... but sadly do not. Tendi finished and translated, "Nobody was in the collapse as far as we know... all of our team is safe, but the Sherpas have all turned around. They can't get through." I then looked up at the dots spread out along the route in the dim pre-dawn light. Sure enough, most of the dots were now moving the wrong way... or at least the dots with radios.
We took off our packs and loosened our helmets. It was an odd moment, emotionally. We were keyed up to go climbing; to take on some risk and discomfort... and now it was clear that the morning wouldn't involve either, so there was relief. But there was also disappointment. We each wanted to get an important mission accomplished. I felt like laughing at the situation as I undid my harness. I'd spent the last half hour wolfing down sugary porridge and strong coffee... I was wide-awake and jacked up. And now all there was to do with all that energy was gaze out at another spectacularly beautiful morning coming on. Kent Harvey didn't waste a second; he started shooting sunrise shots and counting himself lucky to be up to see it all. In fact, thirty minutes later I looked at Kent next to his tripod and he still had his helmet on. He was capturing everything and fully captivated himself.
I told Erica not to worry about the last minute change to our schedule. She has been on some big mountains; she does know that these things happen. I just wanted her to see it all the way I do, in a positive light. A day's delay doesn't hurt us in any way... unless of course we should spend that day fretting. There is no sense fretting. A collapse in the Icefall is beyond our control, like a lot of things that might happen on a big mountain. I always figure that if some feature in the Khumbu needs to come crashing down, then by all means it should come crashing down -when nobody is under or on it. Get it over with. And the Icefall Doctors are great at cobbling together alternative routes. They'll just need a day, most likely. And we really can rest on this day, now that we are all prepared, packed and ready. We'll be stronger and more ready tomorrow.
At 8 a.m., Linden Mallory got through to ABC on the radio, informing Peter Whittaker and his team of the "closed" route below them. As expected, this information did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm for their own plans well above the trouble zone. Peter and Ed Viesturs were setting out to help pioneer the route to the base of the Lhotse Face. There are usually some crevasses to be probed out, marked and avoided in this uppermost part of the Khumbu Glacier. If they are successful at getting a safe set of tracks up to the "Bergschrund" (the giant crevasse separating the live ice of the moderately angled glacier from the static ice of the steep Lhotse Face) then it will be a big help to the teams of Sherpas intent on fixing rope on the Face in the coming days. Melissa Arnot had gotten an early start out of Camp I and had reached ABC without any apparent difficulty shortly after the 8 a.m. call.
The trip goes on. Take #2 for us tomorrow... the alarm is already set for 4 a.m.
Viesturs & Whittaker Work Route to Lhotse Face
April 22, 2009
17,530 ft.
Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs navigate the crevasses of the Khumbu Glacier
by Peter Whittaker
When trekking into Everest Base Camp (BC) two weeks ago, it felt high, rugged, and hostile. Man, what a different perspective this morning, as Viesturs and I returned to BC after 5 days at Camp 1 (19,000') and Camp 2 (21,200'). What fun to enjoy the creature comforts that we did without for the last few days...thick air (yes, 17,500' feels thick compared to 21,000'), a shower, a shave, and a Coke. It never ceases to amaze me how much I appreciate the little things that we typically take for granted. A bit of suffering and "doing without" gives great contrast to our relative comforts of BC, where living on a pile of rocks and ice can seem quite luxurious.
Our 5 days on the mountain went well and we accomplished all we set out to do on this rotation. Our night at Camp 1 was uneventful though light on sleep, as we listened to icefall and rockfall crash down from Everest's west shoulder and Nuptse. Camp 1 is in a good place but you never know "if" or "when" the big one might decide to come down. At daybreak the next day, fueled by high-octane caffeine, we blasted out of there and 2 1/2 hours later arrived at Camp 2.
Camp 2 is in a much nicer place on the lateral moraine of the Khumbu glacier and is free from objective dangers...icefall, rockfall, etc. We still slept poorly, though not from worrying about things falling from above, but from the significant altitude jump we had made from BC to here...about a 3,500' increase over the last 36 hours. Altitude symptoms affect everyone, even Ed Viesturs, and I was happy to know I had a partner to share my mild discomfort with. The next two days we made forays up to 22,000' on the southwest face of Everest and to the base of the Lhotse face. These two morning climbs were not only great for acclimatization, but let us soak in the amazing beauty of the world's highest peaks. We would start walking by 8 a.m. before the sun crested Lhotse, when the entire Khumbu is arctic blue and silent...and COLD. Then, within the hour, the brilliant sunlight would ignite the snow, rock, and ice around us and our world not only brightened but warmed up considerably. Up here there are two sources of heat...what your body generates and the sun, and you quickly learn how to maximize both. At the end of our stay at Camp 2, we were feeling pretty good. Our bodies had adjusted to the altitude and we were falling into the pace and cadence of high-mountain living.
Ed and I are now back here at BC for 2-3 days of rest. Melissa stayed at Camp 2 for another day of acclimatization, and Dave Hahn and his team just headed up to Camp 1 for their first rotation on the mountain. I'm really pleased that all team members are on track and making steady progress.
Next we will head up for another rotation up high, which will include spending a night at Camp 3 (23,500'), climbing above to about 25,000' and then descending all the way to BC for more rest prior to our final push. We are one month into this expedition and so far, so good. Each day is its own challenge. My mantra is "short-term focus on a long-term goal." One step at a time, literally. But hey, I'm down here at BC resting my body and my mind, so I'm going for another Coke.
Melissa Arnot's Ankle Recovers For Trip To Camp 2
April 23, 2009
17,530 ft.
by Melissa Arnot
It always amazes me how much of a temperature extreme you can experience in the mountains. The last few days have been really good for me, as I left Basecamp and made my way to Camp 2. At 5 a.m. this morning, I woke up at 21,000 ft. to the sound of wind whipping at the tent door and a light frost coating the inside of the tent from my nighttime breath. As I sluggishly pulled my boots on and fidgeted with the frozen ends of my crampon straps, I shivered a little and squinted out to the first morning light, hitting the glacier well below me. A cup of spiced cider, and a small internal battle about whether or not to leave my Igniter Jacket on (I shed it), and I was out the door, crampons communing with the ice in a way that makes me smile to hear. The crunching is like a secret language that the crampons speak to the ice in, and though I don't always understand it, it is something familiar and comfortable for me, a feeling of moving and being stable at the same time.
This morning ended my first rotation to Camp 2, and I am finally feeling that the climbing is starting now. My preparations for this trip started so long ago, when Camp 2 was only a small glimmer in the future, and a memory from last season. Now it is fully upon us, and this season is forming its own voice each day. I am here this year with a different eye and a different attitude than what I had last year. I enjoy thinking back to my trip and all of the joys and learning that it provided me...but this year is shaping up to be quite different.
About two weeks ago, on the first few days of our trek in, I twisted my ankle. Frustrated, I tried to remember that this expedition will last for months, and certainly there is time in there to heal. As the weeks have snuck up on us, I have been reminded that things don't heal so fast at 17,500 ft. My first morning walk out into the Icefall I turned back, the pain in my ankle causing me to wonder if I was doing more harm than what was needed at this early point in the trip. A few days rest were followed by another failed attempt to get to Camp 1, and a whole new round of frustration. I came down to Basecamp and went to the Himalayan Rescue Association Clinic for a professional opinion. I know I am stubborn, but as far as I can tell, there is no need to hurt myself to climb this mountain. The kind and professional doctors at the clinic did an exam, while I held my breath, and they hypothesized about the injuries...sprain, bone chip in my foot, and most surprisingly, a possible crack in my fibula. Fortunately, none of those injuries warrants a complete stop in activity. Little can be done up here, and as long as the pain is tolerable, I received the go-ahead to keep climbing. The boots that I am using are actually providing good support and, interestingly, the climbing downhill is the least painful and most stable.
With this news, and a new humbled attitude, I finally made my way to Camp 1, a little slower than I would have liked, but without further harm to the ankle. Once I was in the tent at Camp 1, I took a deep breath and a grateful glance at the mountain surrounding me. A small smile captured my mind, as I looked at the ramen packages littering the tent. It is easy to forget about the ankle as I start to melt snow for my first of many packages of dehydrated, salted noodles. The tent is so hot in the midday, even at 19,800 ft., that I have to sit in the snow to keep cool. I laugh a little to myself as I think of what climbing means to me, and how silly this must look to anyone who hasn't been here. My day at camp is made up of eating noodles, sitting in the snow, and reading candy bar wrappers to see which ones are gluten-free (so maybe I can share with Dave Hahn, who is gluten-intolerant). I go to bed at 6 p.m. and then wake up twelve hours later to get to Camp 2. Peter, Ed and Jake are already at Camp 2, a few days ahead of me due to my change in plans. We spend a day there together, before they head down to Basecamp. I need one more day to acclimatize before rejoining them. My day spent alone at Camp 2 was a lot like the day at Camp 1, making piles of food that I have read the wrappers for and ones that still need to be investigated. The wind picked up in the afternoon, forcing the hot daytime temperatures to merge into a cold evening. I close my eyes in the tent, and wait for the alarm at 5 a.m.
On my way down to Basecamp this morning, I passed by Dave, Seth and Erica, poking their heads out at Camp 1. The morning light is still well below them, but they are getting ready to go for a little walk. I poke my head into the tent and see the ramen packages, this time smiling because I don't have to eat them today. I continue my way to Basecamp, mostly in the shade of the mountains around me. The last 30 minutes, the sun wins the battle, and the temperature suddenly becomes unbearably warm. I stop to put on some sunscreen and take off a layer, happy to have only a few minutes left until I reach Basecamp and glad to have finished my first rotation.
Dave Hahn's Team Reaches Camp 2
April 24, 2009
Camp 1...19,900'
Camp 2 (aka ABC)...21,202'
by Dave Hahn
A couple of days ago we hit an important benchmark, and had a successful day for the team. It was just as we did the previous morning we set out, only this time we actually left Basecamp. Everybody else did too...I've never seen quite so many in the Khumbu Icefall. Since it was effectively "closed" yesterday, the traffic of two days was wedged into one.
I was very excited for the great job that Erica was doing - but I'll admit that the crowding and congestion in dangerous places was something I was continually uncomfortable with. I suppose it was business as usual in the busy season - but as I said - I hadn't seen things quite so bad before. From small teams that seemed unacclimatized and unskilled blocking the route, to massive Sherpa teams of 30 and 40 coming down all at once.
Sure, there were plenty of the usual encounters with friends. I was happy to see Apa Sherpa gunning for his world record 19th Everest summit. There were Peter Whittaker, Ed Viesturs, Jake Norton and John Griber, who we hadn't seen for the better part of a week. And as usual it was fun to run into Vern Tejas, Scott Woolums and a sampling of the great cast of characters that Everest attracts every spring.
Mostly though, I kept my concentration on my small tight team of Erica, Seth, Kent and Ang Kaji. Our training and patience paid off. Even with the numerous hold-ups, we pulled into Camp 1 at 10 a.m., having spent a respectable and reasonable 4 hours and 45 minutes in the big jumble. I was especially proud to find that we had enough reserve energy to blast quickly through the dangerous avalanche zone near the top of the Icefall and the start of the Western Cwm. It was a great feeling to be in the Cwm itself - back on the glacier surface instead of continually being under large, heavy and unstable things. By that point, we'd found the sunshine and warmth and it was clear that we had passed our first big test on the road to the summit. And how!
At Camp 1 we climbed into the tents to escape the big reflector oven heat of the Cwm at midday. It took a few hours of running stoves to melt enough snow for the water we badly needed - but then we had not much else to do - just rest, relax, acclimate!
The following day our Sherpa team had the real acclimatization of the day. Lam Babu and Tendi were part of a cooperative team of Sherpas from different expeditions that set out for the arduous and important task of setting fixed ropes on the Lhotse face. They succeeded in a big way, fixing not one but two parallel lines to 24,000 ft. This will allow safer flow of traffic on the steep blue ice of the Lhotse face. Lam Babu and Tendi also sited the First Ascent Camp 3 location - an important milestone where flat spaces big enough for a tent are few and far between. The alternative - hours of chopping with an ice axe on a 40 degree slope - is best avoided.
We saw the tiny dots inching up the Lhotse face from Camp 1 at the other end of the Western Cwm. Our day was easy-and a relief after a windy and mean night. We were hit repeatedly with cannon blasts of wind rocketing down the 3,000 ft. face of Everest's west shoulder. The wind was noisy - and a strain - threatening to flatten our tents and uproot us from our moorings. Kent Harvey came out of his tent, smiling about the good sleep he'd gotten - but Seth and Ang Kaji didn't get a wink, Erica was somewhere in the middle, as was I. Even so, we took advantage when the wind quit in the morning-brewing up coffee and then stretching our legs with an hour-long walk up the Cwm. We knew we wanted to be back in camp before the sun made work in the Cwm unbearable.
It was good to see Gerry Moffatt and Melissa Arnot getting an early start down from ABC. They were bound for Basecamp and showers and comforts that our team isn't really missing yet. We kept in radio contact with Peter Whittaker and Linden Mallory down in Basecamp throughout the day.
Today we fired the stoves at 5 a.m. and left Camp 1 by 7:30 a.m., bound for ABC (Camp II). The route from C1 goes seemingly right under the summit of Nuptse. I know that isn't actually possible, but it is physically difficult to bend one's neck back far enough to take in the 5,000 ft. of vertical relief straight up to the summit.
We crossed a half dozen easy ladders over crevasses, and then got on "easy" terrain, clomping up the glacier in our crampons. Our biggest challenge seemed to be getting out of the way of the many friendly Sherpa on the route. The guys going up had come all the way from Basecamp under heavy loads, the guys going down had already emptied their loads at ABC, and so were moving fast down to Basecamp and smiling a lot.
Erica moved along as if she'd been to ABC a number of times. At such points I have a tough time reminding myself that she is seventeen - and an even tougher time remembering what I was capable of when I was seventeen (not this - but sometimes waking up on time and perhaps dressing correctly).
Erica is not the only 17-year-old on Everest this year. In fact, two "Johnnys" were both camped within 100 meters of us last night -one with Damian Benegas and one who is working with Scott Woolums. And they both appear to be doing great. But I'm pretty sure that Erica is the first 17-year-old that I walked into ABC with.
Erica, Seth, Kent, Ang Kaji, and I hit camp at 10:30 a.m., and celebrated with round after round of Tang toasts. We're here for 2 nights and I'll tell you all about the place tomorrow.
Team Hahn test themselves past ABC
April 25, 2009
Camp 2 (aka ABC)...21,202'
by Dave Hahn
Advanced Basecamp sits along a rocky moraine overlaying dense glacial ice.
The rock comes from Everest' immense and steep Southwest Face and a few million avalanches. Once at the base of the Face it is plowed into a neat ridge by the motion of the Khumbu Glacier. I suppose though, that the ridge is only neat in geological terms. Yesterday as we walked the 30 minutes from the tent at its lower end, to our tents near the moraine's upper end, we were treated to views of old sneakers, pots, pans, shredded tents and crushed stoves mixed in with the rock and ice. Fifty seven years worth of Advanced Basecamps in the same slow moving place have made this spot one of the worst on the mountain in terms of ecological damage. A number of those decades of mountaineering were before any ethics existed governing which items should and shouldn't be left in the hills.
Our camp was already up and running and deluxe by Camp I standards. There we were cooking in our tents - here we have Maila, the Camp II Chef, in a comfortable dome dining tent with chairs. We rested through much of yesterday afternoon when it was hot enough to fry eggs on the tents. When the sun ducked behind Nuptse, we each came out in our down suits to watch the light fade on Lhotse and Everest.
It would be normal, after a first night spent at this altitude to do some damage control. Somebody would, quite reasonably, have had a terrible night of headaches and insomnia and would be packing their gear at first light for a fast escape. Not so with our gang. In the cold 6 am shadows this morning, Seth, Kent and Erica emerged looking well rested and comfortable. Along with Ang Kaji, we ate a quick breakfast and then got out for a hike to the foot of the Lhotse Face. I wanted the team to wear their down suits - since that is what we'll wear on the next rotation when we actually tackle the Lhotse Face. We could see several dozen climbers on the new ropes on the Face - and way up high - between Camp III and the Yellow Band at 25,000 feet - we could see dots representing today's fixing team. One of those dots was our own Nga Tenji, pitching in to further the route. Nga Tenji made it all the way to the South Col, at 26,000 feet, staking out a site for our High Camp before heading back to ABC.
My small team climbed perhaps a 1,000 ft above ABC, to 22,000 ft and were treated to new views of Cho Oyu, the worlds 6th highest mountain, 20 miles distant. Nobody felt like doing cartwheels or jumping jacks at the new altitude - but such tricks weren't required. We were perfecting our one and only most important trick: walking higher when walking lower is easier. And we did fine with it. We didn't concern ourselves too much with the next big hurdle - we'll get on the Face next time, after a Basecamp rest.
For today the morning hike was enough. We spent the afternoon tinkering with the solar charging and radio systems at ABC, while drinking liter after liter of water -always trying to counteract the dehydrating effects of high dry air. Tomorrow it will be back to the comforts of Basecamp - provided we watch every single important and awkward step down through the Khumbu Icefall.
Noisy, Windy Night at Camp 2
April 26, 2009
17,350'
by Dave Hahn
Somehow we kept busy all afternoon at ABC yesterday. Seth Waterfall figured out and fixed problems with the solar panels that the radio "base station" was dependent on. Then he figured out how to make the antenna and base station talk to each other a little better so that ABC could dependably have radio communication with anywhere else on the mountain. Kent Harvey then suggested a little foray out on to the ice just west of camp, which Seth and I found quite interesting. As I've said many times, there is little or no snow from the past winter on Mount Everest. The glacier surfaces are down to old snow and ice; everything is melting out and exposed. Within just a few minutes of poking around, we were finding old and intact oxygen bottles from the 1960's and 70's. Treasure. I have to catch myself every now and then...remembering that not everybody has an oxygen bottle collection...but I do. I love finding old bottles and then matching them to legendary expeditions and climbers of the past. Some of the bottles I've found over the years will eventually be in museums, none will ever be on eBay...they mean too much to me (although they severely challenge my living room decor). As Kent and Seth and I continued to crunch around the glacial surface with our crampons and heavy boots. I came upon a cardboard box, looking... a lot like a damp heap of trash on a 21,000 ft glacier. But when I folded over this particular trash, it said in big black letters "1975 British Everest Expedition". While this wasn't the kind of treasure I could reasonably burden my living room with, it was none-the-less very special to me...in a trash-picking sort of way. I'd already been thinking of the 1975 British Everest Expedition...all day, in fact, as we'd gone for our hike under the great Southwest Face that the '75 BEE famously climbed. All morning I'd been straining to understand again how Chris Bonnington's boys had managed to get up something so steep and foreboding. And out there next to that soggy box I began blathering on about Doug Scott and Dougal Haston and Peter Boardman and Pertemba and that post-monsoon hardman climb, until I could see Kent and Seth's eyeballs rolling back in their heads.
We trudged back over the ice-rolls to our ABC and an afternoon of minor chores in camp. Word came via radio that Nga Tenji had reached the South Col with the rope fixing team and was figuring out a place for our highest camp. He reported strong winds up there, and that certainly seemed to be the case by the time Erica, Seth, Kent and I gathered for dinner in our big dome tent. The strong winds were finding their way down into the Western Cwm. We each went to bed knowing that it would be a noisy night.
And it was. There was the noise of great waves of air periodically rolling down a mountainside...then the frantic flapping as a wave would crash on the 50 tents just uphill from us, and finally the noise of the wind blowing on our own tents and trying to flatten or remove them. But while we couldn't exactly sleep through it all, we could at least relax in the knowledge that we'd diligently done our chores in anchoring and properly securing our strong tents. Poking our heads out into the gusty morning at 5:45 AM, we could see many surrounding tents that were radically different in shape from the previous evening, but our camp had been largely spared. I told Erica not to worry too much about the sleep she'd missed out on in the night. We were going to basecamp...land of good naps. We geared up and crammed a little breakfast and coffee. The wind still whipped around us as we climbed into our crampons. I was interested to see high cloud covering the sky at just about the level of Everest's summit. We've had so many days begin with nothing but pure blue skies that it seemed eerie and frightening to have a sudden change in the pattern. As we thanked our chef and walked out of camp, I could see a silver lining to the cloud cover. I knew that it would make our time down in the Icefall a little more comfortable by blocking out the morning sun...perhaps it would even make things safer.
Ang Kaji, Kent, Seth and Erica let me lead on down the Western Cwm. We passed plenty of the usual "Sherpa Army" moving loads all the way from BC to ABC and then running back down empty. And we began to pass our own gang as they made their way up from BC to take our places up high. Ed Viesturs, Jake Norton, Peter Whittaker and John Griber each seemed to be making fine progress after their 4AM start down low. We moved through Camp I and then down into the chaos of the Icefall itself. I knew it hadn't been just the wind keeping me awake in the night -there were also plenty of wayward thoughts of things that could possibly go wrong with our descent. It would be another big test for Erica's skill and stamina. I didn't let her take the test alone, of course. I pestered her to clip this rope and unclip that one, step fast on that ice chunk before it collapses, step over here to let the Sherpas pass, do this and don't do that...QUICK! And Seth watched and pestered her from behind. She was probably wishing we'd just let her plug in her iPod to drown out all the excess coaching. But she passed another test with flying colors. We radioed Linden Mallory at basecamp just after 10AM to let him know our team of five was out of danger and headed for food, friendship, thick sleeping pads and the low, fat air of 17,500 ft.
Clues to Past Expeditions Found in Glacier Above ABC
April 27, 2009
17,350'
Seth Waterfall back at base camp to write today's dispatch
by Seth Waterfall
Dave, Erica and I are enjoying a day of rest after spending the last four days acclimatizing at Camp 1 and Advance Base Camp. We had an excellent rotation and are feeling healthy. It's nice to come down and get to actually rest our healthy bodies as opposed to needing to recover from an illness or injury picked up while climbing. I know I had the best night of sleep since Namche last night.
On our last day at ABC, Dave, Erica and I climbed to the base of the Lhotse Face for acclimatization purposes. We'd headed out early, made good time up and back, and were left with most of the day as free time. Well, mostly free. Dave and I spent a fair bit of time repositioning the solar panels that power the radio and LED lights at ABC, and I re-tethered our radio antenna. After those chores, we had some true free time. My tent was calling, but Kent, the cinematographer climbing with us, wanted to do some filming out on the glacier. Somewhat reluctantly, I grabbed my crampons and met up with Dave and Kent. As soon as we'd walked a few hundred feet though, I was amazed at Dave pointing out two oxygen bottles partially buried in the ice. I'd just assumed that the camps had been so cleaned up and combed over that you'd never be able to find stuff like this anymore. Not so. As I began carefully chopping away at the ice around one bottle, Dave grabbed the other one, a leftover from an expedition from the early seventies. As we freed the second bottle, we were both impressed at what great shape both were in. In fact it appeared that both could still be holding oxygen. Good thing we didn't just hack away around them with our ice axes! The second bottle appeared to be from an American expedition and was stenciled with the phrase "AVIATORS ON OXYGEN" and was stamped with what looked like a date from 1970. I can't wait to do more research on this once I get home. All in all, we found four bottles that afternoon dating from the mid-sixties to mid-seventies. Not bad for an afternoon of "Goraking". Check out today's video feed, which was shot by Kent while Dave and I were scavenging the glacier like little kids.
Now we're resting at Base Camp and the other part of the team is starting their second acclimatization rotation. Yesterday Ed and Peter moved up to ABC, bypassing Camp 1. Today they have climbed to Camp 3 at just over 23,000 ft. They are returning to ABC to spend the night. Melissa spent one extra day here at Base Camp. She left here early this morning and will meet up with the guys at ABC. All told, the team is doing great. For me, I can't wait to start back up the mountain again, but I could probably use the rest and it does feel good to sleep in a little.
A Rest Day at Basecamp
April 28, 2009
17,350'
Pasang Tendi Sherpa organizing sherpa loads to be carried up to Camp III and Camp IV
by Dave Hahn
The first day and night down after an Everest climbing rotation are great for enjoying the novelty of comfort and easy living again. But it isn't really until the second night back down that I normally get full and renewing sleep. And looking at Kent, Seth and Erica over coffee this morning, I'm guessing it was similar for them. We all seemed back to our normal selves again today, ready to make plans and preparations for climbing again.
Toward that end, during breakfast out in the sun, we began sketching a big calendar of the next four weeks. There are plenty of blanks on it still, naturally... and of course a big question mark or two at the end, but I was pleased to at least be building a framework out into the all-important second half of May. I consider it a great luxury to be down merely resting rather than recovering (which can be a much less predictable process). I'm crediting that distinction to my strong, fit and patient partners... but also to my experience and past mistakes in this arena. I'm guessing that we did just enough up high this last time around... not too much, not too little. It is all too easy for me to remember the many trips that formed my learning curve on which I wasn't satisfied to come down the hill until my throat was bleeding, my head was pounding, and my muscles were pulled.
This is better. And I find I can illustrate the elusive "big picture" with the help of a calendar and some colorful marker pens. Pacing is everything in a two-month-long "race." My partners didn't fight me on any of this stuff (making me worry that my own slow learning curve could possibly have been avoided by employing a bigger brain). Erica settled in for a morning of schoolwork. Kent went to fiddle with his cameras and Seth had reading to do. We'd already made good use of yesterday in showering, shaving and leveling our tent platforms, so today was just plain old good rest. That is what they were doing up at C2 today as well. And perhaps it was the plan all over the mountain, as I didn't see very much traffic in the Icefall this morning. Our Sherpa team didn't rest today, but then they were up early enough and moving fast enough that by my morning survey, they were well out of sight and on their way to C2 already.
By afternoon, I was in the mood for struggle and conquest, and so I sought out renowned Scrabble player Justin Merle in the IMG camp. We tussled for a bit (alas, no bingos) before the better man prevailed. And then it was nice to just share afternoon tea with my longtime friends Mark Tucker and Eric Simonson. HimEx leader Russell Brice and Monica, his team doctor, showed as well for an unplanned and relaxing chat. Linden Mallory completed the party when he came to make sure that the "Sirdar" meeting was taking place as scheduled. Far more important than our tea party, this was a meeting of the Sherpa team leaders and dealt with figuring a plan to fix rope -and soon- on the summit terrain. While I may seem smug about taking the longer road and viewing the bigger picture, and all that, in order to get to the summit in the easiest and safest way -three weeks down the road- I'm anxious to have others start pounding away urgently at the door to the top... NOW!
There are plenty of strong and ambitious people here, and I don't want them all going to the top when I want to go to the top. It benefits everybody to have the door to the summit open for a longer period... and it will benefit my team to have that route pounded in and well-tested. Those who desire more challenge and more bragging rights back home can go early when it is colder and meaner. I wish them luck. Kick big footsteps, please.
Now if the first night down low was novel and the second was restful, I wonder what the third will be like... Will I soon be able to brag about having achieved the perfect basecamp rest day? Ambition takes many forms.
Supplemental O2 Necessary For Most Above Camp III
April 29, 2009
17,350'
by Dave Hahn
We dragged out an oxygen bottle to practice with, just after breakfast. It does take a little practice, by the way, to get good with the systems we rely on up high. Today we were just familiarizing ourselves with how the regulators attach to the bottles, how the hoses attach to the regulators, and how the masks attach to the face. I like doing this sort of run-through down in the thick air on a rest day in the sunshine so that when we have to get up in the middle of the night at a bajillion feet above sea level with cold hands and dim brains, we can maybe muddle through and get our hook-ups and flow-rates right. It all seemed reasonably simple this morning, and each of my little team put the gas bottle carefully in their pack, the mask on their face and some goggles or glasses on their eyeballs, and then took the rig for a test drive around camp.
Over the radio, we could hear the gang with Peter Whittaker up above as they were taking another stroll on the Lhotse Face. It all sounded like it was going well as they checked in with one another and pointed out interesting features along the route. We heard that Jake Norton was coming down to BC to deal with a chest cold and, like most news, we immediately sorted it into its good and bad components. The bad news: Jake would need to slow down long enough to get well. The good news: Jake is a smart, strong guy who knows how to shake a typical, run-of-the-mill expedition illness out of his system, and we won't mind having him around in BC.
Erica Dohring and I went for a glacier walk after lunch. I do want her following the slacker example that Seth and I set for getting quality rest during our BC downtime. She is a voracious reader, which ought to qualify her for a fine life of expeditioning. I'm impressed with the way she orders her time, alternating between books for fun, books for school, and the odd movie on a borrowed iPod Touch. That is good resting, and it is important, but I also wanted to mix in a little exercise clambering around in the glacier today. I'm a big believer in keeping the legs stretched and the reflexes tuned for making awkward steps. We went out for about two hours, finding our way to a medial moraine and then hiking down-glacier with an occasional semi-frozen stream crossing to negotiate. I'm trying to teach Erica to violently knock over every fragile pinnacle of ice and balancing rock that she encounters...for no particular reason...and she is rapidly gaining skill in this department.
The late afternoon is gray and overcast with a hint of snow flurries. We've gotten so used to the thunder of avalanches now at BC that it takes a particularly loud and violent one to get us out of the tents for a look. At the moment, though, it is quiet and cold enough that the team is starting to find their way to the dining tent for hot drinks, gossip magazines, and card games. Tomorrow, we'll be a little busy preparing for the mountain again, and my guess is that we will be torn between lazy thoughts of staying indefinitely in BC and antsy thoughts of getting up where the action is again.
Behind The Scenes: Keeping Up With The Climbers
April 30, 2009
17,350'
by Jake Norton, Expedition Photographer
It sounds pretty romantic, and lots of people envy my job. And, I must admit, I'm pretty happy with what I do for a living, and count my blessings every day. But working as an expedition photographer is not always a piece of cake. This goes for me shooting stills, as well as Gerry Moffatt, Kent Harvey, and John Griber shooting our video footage. While I cannot speak exactly for them, I can give an idea of what my days on the hill are like.
Being a photographer on an expedition does not really put you into a special category. There are no chairlifts or trams waiting for us; we must climb the mountain just like anyone else, acclimating, moving up and down, and capturing images along the way.
Along with the standard equipment all of us - Ed, Peter, Melissa, Dave, Seth - carry on the hill, I also have my photo equipment. I've always been a Nikon shooter, and this is my 6th Everest expedition using Nikon gear. So in my pack is a Nikon D300 camera, chosen for its superior image quality complemented by reasonable size and weight. In addition to the D300 body, I have a handful of lenses: a Nikon 18-200mm, Nikon 50mm, Sigma 10-20mm, and a Nikon 80-200. This selection gives me a fantastic range while keeping the weight reasonable. I also bring along my Nikon SB-800 flash unit and an SC-28 remote cord for filling in faces and dark areas in this contrasty environment. Oh, and of course, extra batteries, cleaning supplies, a variety of filters, and a tripod.
My personal M.O. on all expeditions has always been to disrupt the flow of climbing as little as possible while shooting. Certainly there are times when the environment and risk enable me to set up shots and choreograph the scene. But, more often than not, my style is to catch what I can by moving ahead of the climbers and capturing them in real time, in real situations. (You can imagine trying to ask climbers in the Khumbu Icefall to stop for a few minutes under tons of tilting seracs while I compose a shot - not even nice to contemplate!) This style, while my preference, creates some challenges, as I am in a constant game of leapfrog, setting up a shot, shooting, repacking my gear, and shuffling ahead as fast as possible to get ahead of the climbers and find the next spot for a good image. Not easy, but it is an added challenge I strangely relish.
The other challenge with expedition photography is the need to be constantly thinking, looking around at the terrain with a creative angle, trying to find a new perspective on the environment at hand. While this terrain is so spectacular that pointing and shooting often works, the nut for me to crack is how to find a new perspective, how to tell a different story in a single frame and show what perhaps has not been shown before. This requires constant attention to the task at hand, for moments missed may never come again. But, again, this is a cerebral game which adds depth and enjoyment to the climbing at hand.
When looking at the end of the day, I must admit I long a bit for the days of film. Way back then, in the late 1990s, we'd shoot film during the day, pack it away after sunset, and the day was done- but, no longer. Digital, despite its great benefits, has caused quite a bit more work for us photographers. When the day is done, I now take my compact flash cards into our production tent, fire up my solid-state Asus laptop, download my images onto a hard drive, make a backup copy on another drive, and then edit the day's work. Select images are spotted for dust and blemishes, captioned, resized, saved to a thumb drive, and handed over to our field producer, Cherie Silvera, for transfer via satellite phone with the day's text and video dispatch.
It all makes for a long day, to say the least, but, I wouldn't change a thing about it. I love the honor of capturing the amazing people on our team and the stunning environment, and the chance to share those images and moments with a greater audience. It was, many years ago, images by Ansel Adams, Galen Rowell, Barry Bishop, and other greats of mountain photography that first inspired me to tread in the mountain realm. Their images shared with me a place I could scarcely imagine, bringing a new world to my doorstep in Topsfield, Massachusetts. It was through their lenses that a passion was discovered and ignited within me, and my one hope as I photograph our team and our climb is that I may share that same sense of wonder and enjoyment that hit me long ago.
Enjoy the images, and climb on, wherever your trail may lead...
May 1st - Team Pays Tribute To First American Ascent
May 1, 2009
17,350'
Jim Whittaker on the summit of Mt Everest May 1, 1963
by Jake Norton
I probably shouldn't have accepted the toast from Dave Hahn...after all, red wine with antibiotics to treat a deep-seated chest infection is perhaps not doctor recommended. But, how could I pass it up?
It was nearly 10 years ago that Dave and I and three others - Conrad Anker, Andy Politz, and Tap Richards - stood on a lonely patch of rock at nearly 27,000 feet on Everest's North Face, each in stunned silence, for lying at our feet were the remains of a legend, a hero, a mystery: George Leigh Mallory. He and his climbing companion, Andrew Irvine, had disappeared 75 years before, virtually without a trace, some 800 feet below the summit.
Yup, this is definitely an anniversary worth toasting, antibiotics or not.
That day was, and is now, the most poignant day in my climbing career, far surpassing the fleeting moments I've spent on top of the world, or on top of other peaks around the world. Far removed from personal achievement, our discovery of Mallory was a collision with history, a step back in time, and a humbling, welcome reminder that our goals and accomplishments, successes and failures in the mountains - and in life - are predicated on the efforts of remarkable people who came before. We are, as I wrote in Issue 1000 of Trail & Timberline Magazine, standing on the shoulders of giants.
Indeed, as I sit in my basecamp tent reflecting on May 1, 1999, I can't help but think about my predecessors on this side of the mountain...May 1, 1963, when Jim Whittaker and Nawang Gombu (clad in Eddie Bauer down) struggled through deep snow and blasting winds to stand on the summit of Everest, Jim becoming the first American to reach the top. (Two years later, Gombu would reach the summit again on an Indian expedition, becoming the first person to reach the summit twice.)
Whittaker and Gombu's ascent was made no less impressive by the tracks that came before: Hillary and Tenzin in 1953, the Swiss in 1956 and the oft-forgotten Swiss expedition of 1952, which put Raymond Lambert and Tenzin Norgay within 800 feet of the summit. And, of course, their tracks were only made possible by the reconnaissance expeditions of '50 and '51. And, those, in turn, were enabled by the efforts of the pioneering Everesters of the pre-World War II expeditions of 1938, '36, '35, '33, '24, '22, and 1921. None of those would have happened without Sir Martin Conway, the Duke of Abruzzi, Fanny Bullock Workman, General Bruce, Sir Francis Younghusband, John Noel, and countless others who pushed the limits years before. And...the tracks go back through the ages, each generation standing on the shoulders of the giants who came before.
To some, that may be demoralizing...to them, the idea that someone had climbed the route before takes something essential away from the enterprise today. For me, however, it is far from demoralizing, and rather is invigorating. To look around me high in the Western Cwm, and see hidden in the layers of snow the footsteps of Hillary and Tenzin, the toil of Whittaker and Gombu, the inspiration of those who came before...well, it inspires me to push on against the demon of the day, against the gnawing forces of inertia, lethargy, and the want of comfort, rest, food, and air. Seeing the giants in these hills, the things they accomplished and all they endured, pushes me onward, upward, and forward.
May 1, 1999, was an amazing day, a direct interaction with one of the many giants on whose shoulders we all stand. Tonight, perhaps another toast...
Everyone Safe And Accounted For After Avalanche In Khumbu Icefall
May 2, 2009
21,201'
The offending serac - hanging on the West Shoulder some 3,000 feet above the route through the Icefall
by Dave Hahn
Camp 1 couldn't have been quieter last night. There wasn't a puff of wind to rattle the tent fabric. No dogs barking, no trucks shifting gears, no loud parties and no roosters crowing when our 5 o'clock alarm went off. Breakfast took about an hour...not because we read newspapers...but more because our little propane canisters barely want to burn when they are cold. So we put our boots on with our sleeping bags on our laps, and we put coffee powder in our cups, and stared at a pot of icy water waiting for a puff of steam. After a few hot drinks, some cereal and a little pre-cooked bacon... it isn't so hard to throw open the tent doors and greet the day. I watched the mere hint of a cloud cap play around Lhotse summit, in an otherwise clear sky as we stuffed our packs.
Today was basically our...tag team...day. Those up the hill were dropping down while we were moving up to take control of the heights.
As planned, Peter Whittaker came through first so that he and I might have a few minutes face-to-face in order to figure out the timing of our various pushes for the mountaintop. My team of Ang Kaji, Kent, Seth and Erica marched out of Camp 1 at 7 a.m., leaving me to my meetings and the small chore of knocking down our tents for safekeeping.
Peter strapped his helmet on and dropped down towards basecamp. Ed Viesturs and John Griber weren't far behind. As I packed up the last tent and stepped into my crampons, I saw Gerry, Melissa, Lambabu and a handful of sherpas bringing up the rear in their strategic withdrawal to basecamp. We chatted for a few minutes as the sun finally found Camp 1.
A half hour later, I was cruising up the middle of the Western Cwm alone - feeling pretty good about the day and my strength...when I heard familiar voices in panic on my radio. I stopped and turned around...now sickeningly aware of an avalanche roaring somewhere down valley...out of my sight. I barged in on the radio - trying to get some clear accounting for where the slide was hitting and who was involved. Others closer and with a view began to do the same, and I shut up. I told myself I could run to the scene - the popcorn in the lower half of the icefall - in 45 minutes, but that would be for some worst case scenario that I hoped would not come to pass. I stood in the Cwm waiting through the tedious process of various teams taking attendance on the radio. My mind kept darting back to the morning in 2006, when my own radio attendance efforts came up short, and I realized I lost a friend to the Icefall. This time the headcounts came out right. It was a near miss and too close a call, but everybody was all right. I continued my walk to ABC, still intent on catching my gang. I still felt healthy and hopeful...but I didn't feel nearly as bulletproof or in control anymore. With vast walls of ice and rock surrounding me, in the world's greatest cathedral, I missed my strong, humble friend Phinjo. I'd trade a thousand pretty mountains so see his smile again...but it doesn't work that way.
Viesturs and Whittaker Establish Camp 3 at 23,400', as Team Hahn Wait out Today's Storm
May 3, 2009
21,201'
by Dave Hahn
That little puff of cloud on top of Lhotse yesterday was a gathering storm. Not a bad storm we are told - no cyclone out of the bay of Bengal, no jetstreams trying to push over mountains, tents and people. But any fool can see that the skies are now full of moisture. There are clouds at all levels, and every 30 minutes or so, there is a snow shower. This isn't all bad in my book - as I've said, a carpet of snow on the Lhotse Face will just make it safer (now a meter of snow is a different animal entirely - lets not go there). Pre-storm, if anyone had been careless enough to drop a carabiner or water bottle from Camp III, it would have rocketed down the ice at terminal velocity, seeking grey matter (helmeted or otherwise) on the ropes below. My hope is that a little texture over the blue ice will make the Face safer and footing easier.
I'm all about easy. Just this morning, when it was cold and snowy outside after breakfast, I invited birthday boy Kent Harvey and his camera into my and Erica's tent, to show him how we pass time in a storm. It was our rest day anyway - so being forced by the weather to focus on puzzles, books and I-pods didn't seem odd to me. I've long considered such skills to be the mark of a good expedition climber - the ability to do nothing, when nothing is what should be done. For active (or hyperactive) Type A climbers this requires an acceptance and a faith that there will be an abundance of physical abuse and over stimulated synapses, all-in-good-time... like, say, tomorrow.
I've made a career out of interspersing corpse-like downtime with long, brutal, unfair, unrelenting sessions on my feet/crampons/skis/snowshoes/etc. It works. It is sustainable.
I'm satisfied after 18 years at 8,000-meter peaks, that my job here is not to compete with the Sherpas at load carrying or route fixing. I've decided that I can do a better job of concentrating at guiding. Within reason.
Today, just when it got ugly, mean and nasty out, with the tent walls shaking and rough snow pellets, peppering everything - just when it seemed proper to turn up the head tunes and guide by hiding from reality - I became aware that all was not right.
Ang Kaji and Tendi were concerned about several dozen Sherpas trying to get heavy packs to 26,000 feet in this intensifying storm. Specifically - they were worried for four of our own team - the guys who were buying me the ability to sit on my butt, a mile below the battle-zone. It was obvious that Ang Kaji and Tendi were gearing up to walk in the storm. They meant to get to the base of the Face - to help out with thermoses of tea and water for Sherpas who battled their way back down in wind and blowing snow. I thought about things for 12 seconds, before declaring that I'd join them and Damian Benegas on the mercy mission. I thought of how little emergency gear sherpas bring on a carry - I thought of how much emergency gear I have surrounding me in a tent. I thought of how very few storms could keep me from reaching the Face if I threw on a First Ascent down suit, and if I pulled on some goggles, and pressed the right buttons on my GPS. Word came up quickly via radio from Lambabu that my services weren't really needed. And I knew that. I also know that the best climbing Sherpas have an admirable pride that this is their mountain, on which they solve their problems. But my client was safe at ABC and I happened to have time and energy and a New Mexico EMT license. And I admire guys like Tendi, Ang Kaji, and Damian who are hardwired to look after others and to make things come out right in the mountains.
We went. And it was no big deal. Our climbers and everyone else's had wisely turned in the storm. We ended up sitting in the sun at the base of the Face as the guys came staggering off the rappel ropes.
I didn't do anything - except watch tired men smile when Tendi handed them tea. I'm calling it a good day.
Summit Push To Begin May 8th For Viesturs, Whittaker & Arnot
May 4, 2009
17,350'
by Melissa Arnot
The chatter of Sherpa staff waking up and getting going is the first thing I hear, then the sun hits the tent and it is time to get up. Basecamp is a busy place, but I always think of it as the place that is ruled by the rise and set of the sun. As soon as the sun hits, it is too hot to stay in the tent and once the sun recedes, it is too cold to stay out. I like the simplicity of that; I don't have to think too hard about where exactly to be.
If all goes well and the weather holds, this will be our final rest before the summit push. There is still so much to do, but plenty of time. At Camp 3 on the last rotation, it was a great test of how things will work, and what still needs to be done. Today, I look through the gloves that I can choose from for the summit bid. I scan my climbing clothing, seeing what needs to be washed one last time and what is ready to go. I count out the energy gels that I will use for the summit push, and tuck in a few packages of fruit snacks for good measure. Looking at all of this equipment, it is hard to imagine that in less than a week it will be tucked onto my body and my back, on my way to the summit.
Of course, so much has to line up. A week seems close, but in reality, it is still a world away. The weather has to be good, but also we have to feel good as climbers. Your body has to be strong and your mind open to the challenge that is ahead. On the summit push, I need to stay healthy, avoiding any stomach bugs or head colds that might be trying to come my way. If everything does line up, then you have to be open to the mountain's terms. If I have learned anything, it is that you have to come prepared with health and strength but also humility and openness. Nothing is assumed. You have to be prepared to take this experience and enjoy each step of it, knowing that the mountains will give you exactly what they want to - that is the beauty of it.
These are the thoughts that are roaming through my mind as final preparations are being made for the summit. Somewhere between being aware of what the mountain is telling us, and which gloves I should pack, I realize that all the preparations (the mental and the physical) are the part of the experience that I value so much, the part that I can take with me on the next adventure. But for now, I will focus on this adventure.
Dave Hahn and Team Test Themselves on Lhotse Face
May 5, 2009
17,350'
by Dave Hahn
Another early start had us walking toward the Lhotse Face at 7 AM. That may not sound terribly early, but the Western Cwm is still deep in cold shadows at such an hour. Seth, Kent, Erica and I all wore down suits... Ang Kaji was dressed casually, in comparison, but that had more to do with making fashion statements to the many other Sherpas out for a day of hard work than with truly acknowledging the cold temps.
This was to be a major test for my little team. I know that I have gone on and on about the difficulties and dangers of the Khumbu Icefall, since that has been the test we've concerned ourselves with for weeks, but it is difficult to exaggerate the seriousness and significance of the Lhotse Face as a next major hurdle for Everest climbers. We intended to go high... so high that success would shatter altitude records for Erica, Seth and Kent. We intended to go long... I conservatively predicted a 9-hour day to tag Camp III and return. And we meant to push back a whole mess of fears that might pop up from the great exposure and unnatural dependence on rope and equipment. I thought I saw some of that fear dragging on Erica as we made the 1.5-hour uphill trudge to the base of the Face. Since she'd gotten a trifle quiet and seemed to be laboring awfully hard to keep my pace, I wondered what was going on. I guessed that this all fit into a pattern of slow starts we've made on otherwise great and productive days, but as I looked up the North Face of the fourth highest mountain in the world, I knew she had to be a bit intimidated. I was intimidated. In brand-new sunlight, one could trace the route for the day by watching tiny dots struggling upward. None of them was moving very fast, and all of them looked extremely vulnerable and precariously placed on the steep sheet of ice.
I sent Ang Kaji, Seth and Kent ahead, since it wouldn't be particularly useful to have five climbers entering the awkward traffic flow together. This took a little of the pressure off Erica, but as we neared the base of the fixed ropes, she still seemed not quite up for the day. I had no alternative or lesser test to offer her and she knew that, but I wondered briefly if she might just quit the whole thing before we crossed the bergschrund and committed to the wall. I dealt with my own shaky nerves by wondering about hers. My life would get a lot easier and safer if she dropped her Everest ambitions, but that doesn't mean that I wanted her to. Within a few more minutes, we were clipping in to the first ropes and climbing a near-vertical ice wall to get on the face proper, and there wasn't room in my brain for hypothetical questions. This was a place for some instruction and encouragement, but also for adrenaline kicking in and making a difference. Mine was flowing... I was excited to be using chest and shoulder muscles to haul myself up the ropes; I was amped to kick crampon points into hard blue ice and see them hold for another upward step. Obviously, Erica was coming alive as well. We made steady progress up some of the steep, unrelenting pitches at the base of the wall. Suddenly, I heard Seth calling out a warning on my radio. I couldn't see him up above, but he let me know that a helmet had just passed him at a high rate of speed, heading my way. I shouted to the climbers around us and then, sure enough, we all watched as a helmet came clattering and bouncing about ten feet to one side of the ropes. It didn't seem particularly lethal, but I considered it a good warning of the types of threats we needed to be on guard for on this day.
Erica was fully awake when we came over a steep roll and could finally see the tents of "Low Camp III." While still 45 minutes of hard climbing away, and then a full hour from our tents at "High Camp III," the vision acted to spur her on. It helped when I told her that she'd passed the altitude of Aconcagua and that she was now setting personal records with every step. Improbably and unexpectedly, we ended up in fun social setting on the first carved-out tent ledges of Low Camp III. The seventeen-year-old So Cal Johnny, guided by Scott Woolums, was just ahead of us and the seventeen-year-old Snowbird Utah Johnny, guided by Damian Benegas, was just behind us. Both teams were doing the exact same thing for the day... tagging CIII, but when we all gathered on the ledge, they had already reached their goal, while Erica and I were taking a break on the way to ours. The ledge had been great, a chance to take off the packs without worrying about them tumbling down should we let go. And the company had been great, but Erica and I needed to climb another hard hour of unknown ice walls and bulges. Via the radio, I knew that Seth, Ang Kaji and Kent were already up there and about to descend. We set out and eventually met Seth and Kent carefully picking their steps downward. We could have turned then, but I wanted to get the most out of this practice day, and to her credit, Erica was eager to see High CIII.
We finally pulled in to find Ang Kaji, Tendi and one of our Camp II cooks working away at Camp III to stabilize and secure the tents there. As we took our packs off, we were handed a couple of cups of hot grape Tang, fresh off a camp stove. This was most welcome, as our throats were good and parched by the 23,900 ft. elevation. The Sherpas finished up their work and got moving downward as Erica and I finished our break. We geared up for the descent and I could tell that something was dragging at Erica again. I asked as we began carefully downclimbing and she told me that she wasn't clear on how we were going to get down safely... she'd never been more terrified of anything in her life. As I looked out at the ridiculously vast expanse of air beneath us and the tiny tents of ABC far, far below, I came close to laughing. Of course, I assured her that we were going to get down safely... that I was going to watch every move she made and that we were going to be fine... but I was chuckling to think of what crazy things a 17-year-old Arizona girl could possibly have done in her life that would rival the stupidity of climbing halfway up Lhotse. Terror was justified and appropriate. But we found our way down anyway. Slowly and carefully, since this was all new. The hours were getting long, but I was considering that to be a good thing too. We needed such challenges for the tests ahead... like the Yellow Band, the Geneva Spur, the Balcony, the South Summit and the Hillary Step... none of those would be tackled on short and easy days, so make this one long and arduous in preparation.
We were back to ABC by 5 PM and comparing notes with Kent and Seth. Each of us was tired and gulping down hot cups of tea to soothe our dry throats. But we were plenty satisfied with having passed our test... and excited at having seen a new world a long way up a mountainside. Seth mentioned how strange it had been to be so far above everything and to still look over at the untouched bulk of Everest soaring to impossible heights next door.
Enough for one foray though. We left ABC this morning for a well-deserved BC rest and a reunion with the rest of our team. The Icefall was blissfully uneventful and uncrowded this morning as we made our way down its rickety ladders and shifting blocks. I was stunned to see the avalanche debris from Everest's West Shoulder covering the climbing route down just about where one might have assumed they'd escaped the clutches of the Icefall itself. Our team and several others had certainly gotten lucky three days ago.
Word comes that a few climbers may have touched Everest's summit today. The intention had been for a number of Sherpas from various teams to pool their labor and fix the route, and the last word we had was that they were quite close to achieving that. That is a great thing and brings us all a little closer to success, but I'm still focused on my team's victory yesterday. Everest can and will wait.
"Game On" As Team Preps For Final Push Up Everest
May 6, 2009
17,350'
Melissa Prepares for Final Push Up Everest
by Dave Hahn
Sure enough, the rumors turned out to be true. Several climbers made the summit yesterday. By modern standards, this would be quite early for success on the Nepal side of Mount Everest. It is a good thing, without question.
I've overheard gossip and squabbling as to whether the proper emphasis was placed on doing a thorough job of fixing rope as opposed to just tagging the top first, but for my purposes it doesn't matter so much either way. The door is open to the top and others will move that way with greater confidence and determination now. The route will improve with the passage of each set of boots. My hope is that a few weeks of relatively stable weather will allow a steady trickle of climbers to get up, get down and get moving on to whatever they've scheduled next. Traffic jams up high on Mount Everest are a bad thing. That is as obvious as can be, but jams are an especially bad thing for those of us who are trying to guide the mountain. Safely guiding big mountains often boils down to keeping one's team moving at a business-like pace (for various reasons including conservation of body heat, conservation of bottled oxygen, conservation of daylight and conservation of good weather and luck). Few things mess with that business-like pace more than hanging out on a 28,000 ft. rope in the dark behind a line of climbers you don't know while they learn things about themselves and each other that they should have learned at sea level.
Good, strong, skilled climbers may bob and weave through such traffic jams...forging detour routes and forgoing use of the rope in some sketchy places in order to get by. And those same climbers can usually endure lengthy delays without losing fingers, toes and noses because their fitness and abundant experience in really cold places will protect them. But those who try to guide normal folks through such jams had just better hope they get lucky. Not it. We'll wait, thank you, until the crowds have had their shot at the big top. Sadly we'll miss out on some of the hype...the fame ...the fortune. The world may be completely over the yearly Everest summit mania (and justifiably so) by the time Seth, Erica, Kent and I get around to heading that way in earnest.
The confirmation of the early success hit us after a first luxurious night back down in basecamp. And like I said...it was all good news. But as you can see from the previous paragraph, I rationalize and blow my own horn and justify my own slow methods in order to remember that. I've gone on and on about the importance of resting in basecamp, but it should also come as no surprise that it is hugely anticlimactic after days spent up in the tricky and interesting zone. Maintaining focus can be difficult when life gets soft again (basecamp "soft" being used as a relative term now...not to be confused with someplace actually warm, clean and well endowed with furniture). The other half of my team is composed of good, strong, skilled climbers and they are gearing up for the summit and getting set to head out the door. Our paths are diverging after six weeks and I'm prone to summit-bid-envy. We are still weeks away from our own guided bid and in need of a last difficult acclimatization round before the summit. Patience is a pain in the neck sometimes...but I keep in mind that screwing up an Everest summit bid is a bigger pain in the neck. I keep in mind that the goal is not simply to get myself to the top or to chase Apa Sherpa's numbers (18 summits and counting...not exactly low-hanging fruit, ripe for the picking). My goal is to guide a climber (Erica) who has earned a decent shot...to introduce a deserving guide (Seth) to the holy grail of mountain guiding...and to stun the world with the imagery a consummate cameraman (Kent) can capture up that way when given half a chance. We'll take our rest and take our time and be as absolutely ready as possible when our own summit window opens in two weeks.
Expedition Teams Respond To West Ridge Avalanche
May 8, 2009
17,350'
The massive avalanche of May 7th crashes down the West Shoulder of Everest and onto the climbing route
by Dave Hahn
I believed I'd imagined Kent Harvey's call to me at ten minutes to four in the morning. I didn't have any alarm set; it was a rest day coming on and I was sound asleep in my tent. So fully unconscious that Kent called me several times and when I finally responded, I had no idea where I was or what was going on. It was dark, and as he suggested that something had happened that I might want to be concerned with, I finished rubbing my eyes and zipped open my door. The beauty of the scene seemed unreal and impossible. The moon had set, and the sun wasn't close to being up, but there was starlight on the Khumbu Icefall, Nuptse and the great bulk of Everest's West Shoulder. Kent was saying that he'd just seen a fairly large avalanche come down the Shoulder-sending a cloud of debris across the Icefall-and he was concerned that climbers may have been caught. I listened to him, but I was having trouble taking my eyes from the bright planet perfectly framed above the Icefall and bracketed by the mountains. I did manage to look down and left enough finally to see several small strings of headlamps, just where I knew the avalanche had to have come down. I turned on my radio, taking a guess that my friends at IMG had people in the area. I listened to Mark Tucker calmly and carefully check in with his Sherpa team to find out that they were ok...another near miss; and his Sherpa team was able to tell him that the only other team in the area was also ok and that everybody was going on with their climb.
I related this to Kent...stared at the planet again for some time and then went back to sleep in my warm down bag. In the morning, we all looked up at the troublesome serac on the West Shoulder to gauge its stability. The same huge fin of ice had been threatening all week. It had sent down the major avalanche we'd earlier reported which caught some of our team on their way to basecamp while I was pushing up to Camp II. In the morning light, it appeared hideously undercut and I don't believe any of us expected it to last through another day. I went so far as to take "before" photos of it. But to my knowledge, no Everest climbers did anything different yesterday morning because of the serac. It wasn't like the Icefall route would be closed by any proclamation; there wasn't some safer way to go instead. This isn't the only mountain we frequent that has chunks of glacier ready to fall, and I for one have mistakenly pronounced dozens of crazily tilted hotel-sized ice-blocks in danger of imminent collapse only to watch them hang on for months.
But this serac sent down a handful of lesser slides as the morning progressed...enough to keep our attention focused...and our cameras ready. I wanted the thing to come down. I certainly didn't want to walk under it again in its decaying state. At 10:35 AM it did come down. I was sitting in my tent doorway, and I didn't need to fully look at Everest's West Shoulder to know that this was the big one. In this valley of avalanches, the quality of noise was easily different and distinct for this particular slide. I fumbled with my camera and began shooting. I didn't see the tiny dots representing climbers in the avalanche path. Partly because they may not have been visible down in the rough terrain of the Khumbu Icefall, and partly because I was totally mesmerized by the power and majesty of the white explosion I was witnessing. I kept taking pictures as the cloud engulfed basecamp. I knew it was only a cloud...we were nowhere near close enough to be hit with actual debris, but it was ominous and disturbing even so. It rolled over us like a volcanic ash-cloud, blotting out the sun and rocking the tents back and forth in its wind while pelting us with a "snow" of overly large ice crystals. And then, quite quickly, it was gone and what remained of any mist in the air was quickly burning off in the bright sun. I assumed that it had been a lucky day...that what needed to happen had happened and that nobody had been affected.
It is possible that I went on in this belief for a full twenty minutes before word began to filter around that people had been caught in the avalanche. I began putting on my climbing boots and quickly loading my pack...by then, word had it that it was an acquaintance of mine of several years and many mountains. My friend had been caught along with his client and the Sherpa working with them. I saw Willie and Damian Benegas going past our camp, both speaking into their radios. There were a number of Sherpas moving toward the start of the Icefall route, including Tendi and LamaBabu from our own team. Seth Waterfall was ready before me and stood patiently as I finished up my climbing harness, then we started walking fast and I joined the ongoing radio scramble to get men and equipment to the accident scene. Since IMG's Sherpas and clients were descending the route at the time and were very lucky to come through unscathed, they were among the first to report the situation via radio, and so all other teams migrated to the IMG frequency. This seemed right since Mark Tucker and Ang Jangbu Sherpa at the IMG basecamp had shifted into their familiar role in bilingual crisis management. Seth and I checked in and learned that HimEx was offering up a full rescue pack cached near the start of the route. Russell Brice came on the radio, directing us to the gear. We loaded up heavy packs full of oxygen, sleeping bags, medical equipment, and rescue hardware and began climbing. We listened as various expedition leaders, guides and Sherpas reported in and offered up a mountain of resources. This from supposedly competing companies-none of whom had any reason to think that their own staff or customers were involved or injured. We began to feel the sense of community that is so often overlooked or ignored in modern media coverage of the Everest "scene." And we began to feel the intense sun that we normally avoid working under at midday. The glacier surface was brilliant in its new coat of "snow" from the avalanche and seemed to be reflecting 100% of the sun's radiation onto the skin I hadn't had time to protect in my dash out of BC. Within minutes under the big packs, we were covered in sweat.
It turned out that a descending Indian team was instrumental, along with IMG's Sherpas, in getting my friend and his client out of a crevasse that the avalanche had pushed them into, but now the radio chatter was focusing on the Sherpa that had been with them. He was missing. Willie and Damian Benegas (Argentinian-American brothers leading two different Everest teams) were among the first Western professionals on the scene, and we relied on their reports of the situation as we continued to climb. My friend, badly hypothermic and shaken, was being placed on a stretcher as Seth and I arrived in the blast zone. We dove into the medical supplies we carried in an effort to help stabilize him. Seth concentrated his efforts then on escorting the remarkably unscathed client down. Willie Benegas and a strong team of Sherpas worked to get the stretcher down, as I then went up to join Damian and perhaps 20 Sherpas who were searching for the missing man. After 15 minutes or so, I was encouraged to hear Willie describing my friend as "combative" enough that they could no longer carry him on the litter. He preferred to walk, as it turned out, and of course that was a fine outcome.
At the "point-last-seen" I was amazed at the bravery and high energy of the searching climbers. Damian and a British guide were roped up and jumping crevasses in an effort to reach islands of glacier that might offer better views. The Sherpas had fixed ropes down a series of steep, debris-strewn ice gullies and were exploring every crevasse and alcove along their path. I kept looking up at the origin of the avalanche, where it appeared that a tooth had been broken from some massive jaw. Unfortunately, there were still other teeth, and the searchers were clearly in a terrible position should a second slide follow the path of the first. I checked my watch and my radio to confirm that two-and-a-half hours had passed since the avalanche. I began asking the team to suspend the search. The missing man's boot, with crampon still attached, had been found close enough to his last known whereabouts that we were each haunted to imagine the power of the wind that had hit him. His pack was eventually retrieved some 100 meters distant. The clues only made it more difficult to quit. The Sherpas all agreed that there was now no chance of finding a buried man alive. They agreed that it was time to quit and move to safety. But they wouldn't. Nobody wanted to be the first to leave. Tendi and LamaBabu continued to twist in ice screws and rappel into crevasses..."Just this last one." But they couldn't find the 31-year-old father of two. Knowing how many of them were also fathers, I insisted that they quit-eventually they listened to me, to their own leaders and their own valid concerns.
We walked down through the ice rolls and ridges of the lower glacier without much talking. Dozens of good folk had come out from basecamp and stood on the ice ridges with water and tea for the search teams. Upon reaching basecamp, the teams melted back into a tent village composed of twenty different expeditions, but not without a number of quiet handshakes and a hundred expressions of thanks. To each other...to a missing man's sacrifice...to the good luck of survivors.
Team Hahn Prepares for Last Rotation at Camp III
May 9, 2009
17,350'
by Dave Hahn
A messy weather picture has got most teams pulling back from immediate summit bids. That isn't so strange at this point of the season. It is not quite awful weather and not quite good weather...tough to commit a bigger team to a resource-burning summit bid without a bit more stability. And we hope that stability will be on the horizon soon, but in the meantime...
My team of Seth, Erica, Kent and Ang Kaji can still head up for our final acclimatization rotation and we will tomorrow morning. The days are still shiny and blue each morning with messiness creeping in near midday. Wind, clouds and some snow showers roll in and down here in Basecamp, we retreat to the tents. But none of that should keep us from hopping up to ABC and making an effort to sleep at CIII in these next few days. Whereas just a day ago, it seemed unreasonably tough to gear up for this mission, now that the decision has been made we are each eager for it. The only thing worse than actually taking risky, uncomfortable action at high altitude for four or five days is sitting down in BC contemplating it. We are now set to get on with it. There will be a few significant tests to this round. The first will be our effort to go directly from BC to ABC without a night at CI. It means getting up just a bit earlier and walking just a bit farther than we have, so far, but my guess is that we are capable of it. Then, it will be important to improve on our past performance in what will be our second climb up the Lhotse Face and to withstand the weirdness of a first night close to 24,000 ft. We'll test out our oxygen systems in the place they were designed for and try to work out any kinks before the summit bid.
Despite the avalanche accident and a day that was anything but restful - smack in the middle of our time down low...we are now well rested, healthy and ready to get our work done. I believe that Peter Whittaker's team actually has things a bit tougher now, having to keep their edge for an imminent summit bid while patiently waiting a few more days in Basecamp. This kind of thing happens a lot in mountaineering, they will do fine with it.
Team Hahn turns around after slow pace to ABC
May 10, 2009
17,350'
by Dave Hahn
If you follow mountaineering much, you already know that climbers often don't do what they said they were going to do. And I assure you that there are good reasons for such contradictory and inconsistent behavior. For instance, yesterday I said that I would lead my sub-team of Erica, Seth, Kent and Ang Kaji in an effort to get up early and go on up the hill to ABC. I lied. We did get up early...at 3AM...and we did give it a try, but then we came back down to BC.
It was a beautiful night and each of us got up and out of the tents professing to have slept well. There was a massively full moon lighting things as we swallowed coffee and rice porridge. There weren't any headlights already in the Icefall, and in fact we were the first to venture onto the route this morning. This didn't surprise me as many potential summit climbers are well down valley in the tea houses right now, taking a rest before their final bids on the mountain. Their Sherpa teams have, for the most part, already carried all the equipment that is needed for those final bids. So things are quiet on the climbing route at the moment and we seem to be the only folks still thinking of going up for practice and acclimatization. Being slightly out-of-synch with the general mob is exactly to my liking though. As we strapped on our spikes, I was pleased to contemplate cruising through the Icefall route without any traffic considerations. I led the way and began to experience a strange fringe benefit of being first. The glacier kept popping and snapping with my passage...sometimes playfully, sometimes with a rifle-crack that made one want to duck and cover. Lots of daytime melt water runs on the surface of a big glacier in Spring and it freezes solid in cracks and seams at night...whoever puts weight on it first breaks the new bonds. Knowing this intellectually and being surprised out of your socks by a loud CRACK on a quiet night are two different things.
We'd been walking for just a half hour when the International Space Station whizzed through the dark sky over Lhotse's summit. Out to the West, the full moon was crashing dramatically to earth over Cholatse's summit. It was yet another very beautiful morning. But we all knew something was wrong, just the same. We weren't coming close to our intended pace for the day. Our initial hope was that Erica was just having a slow start, but after a couple of hours, it was clear that she was having more of an "off" day that we needed to pay attention to. Her knee was aching from an old twist and every awkward step up in the ice was a little slower as a result. These things happen to all of us...even when we've got big plans for the day. We'd already passed through the big avalanche scar on the route and were in the "popcorn" section when I did the math and figured it just didn't make sense for us to try getting to ABC as planned. We'd all be too tired, overworked and dehydrated from so much extra time spent out on the trail with packs on our backs. Better to get on back to BC, have Erica's knee checked by the HRA docs and with a green light, go for it again tomorrow...hoping for an "on" day. It was a little strange to be back in basecamp in time for the regularly scheduled breakfast with the gang, but I don't see it as too big a setback. Certainly not as big a setback as a grindingly slow day through the Icefall would have been. The rest of our team is still in a holding pattern, trying to get over minor ailments and trying to get enough exercise in so as to stay sane in this weather-waiting period. Luckily for their sanity, things clouded over and got cold, mean and nasty for the afternoon at BC. It is easier waiting for good weather when one feels like one is actually in bad weather, but of course the weather perceived from basecamp is not always the actual -and more significant- weather at 8000 meters. It doesn't take too much imagination and extrapolation today though to believe that things are rough and grim at 8000 meters, but rumor has it that climbers are camped at the South Col and gunning for the summit tonight. Good luck to them...if they happen to do what they said they were going to do, that is.
Team Answers More Questions
May 11, 2009
17,350'
Question #1:
Written by erstad17 on May 1, 2009
As a Nikon shooter myself, I'm proud to see the Nikon name at Everest. Is there a specific reason why you wouldn't go full frame? Do you carry a backup to the D300?
Answered by Jake Norton on May 11, 2009
Hi erstad17...good to hear from another Nikon shooter! As for the full frame issue, I'm not personally against full frame, but have not gone that direction for a couple of reasons. First, I personally do not see a huge benefit to full frame, it being a somewhat arbitrary size anyway; I find the DX format to take a little getting used to at first,
but now quite familiar and good. But, more importantly, I use the D300 (and used the D200 previously, and the D100 before that) primarily because of size and weight. Both, of course, are major issues when shooting on Everest. The "prosumer" Nikon (digital) line has always treated me quite well, with exceptional performance in the extreme cold, with
a great balance of weight and quality. I do have backup cameras with me - a D300, D200, and D100 in case I'm really in trouble - but do not carry them with me all the time. Again, finding the balance with weight, space, etc. Thanks for your questions, and keep shooting!
Question #2:
Written by Grizmtn on April 28, 2009
Thanks for all the great footage and comments. Allows folks like me in faraway Montana to get a glimpse at a fascinating other world through the eyes of experts. Question for Dave Hahn: Since you were involved in the search for evidence of the Mallory & Irvine expedition, and the finding of Mallory's body, do you think the north route has been
scoured enough (hopefully not by treasure hunters) to have discovered Irvine and the sought after camera if they were there, or is the area complex and difficult enough that Irvine's remains may be hiding in some nook of the yellowband?
Answered by Dave Hahn on May 11, 2009
Hi Grizmtn. There probably is still more to be found high on the north side regarding the Mallory and Irvine mystery. Just as you say, the area is complex and difficult enough to keep plenty hidden, including Andrew Irvine's remains and whichever camera(s) he and George Mallory had with them on June 8, 1924. I trust you use the term "treasure hunters" as
I do, with tongue-in-cheek when it comes to those exploring Everest's North Face. A dumber way to get rich has yet to be conceived. I still feel that Irvine's remains may be hidden on a ledge within the Yellow Band but I doubt I'll risk my life again to confirm that. That said, it is hard for me to imagine a better season for searching than this dry one.
Jake Norton and I covered some good ground (rock) in our 2004 Yellow Band search, but due to snowdrifts, we can't categorically say that those same ledges didn't still hold clues to the mystery. Best Regards, DH
Question #3:
Written by GB on April 25, 2009
It's exciting following the climb through the dispatches and photos. Does the beauty of the mountains ever stop you in your tracks and make you want to look around in awe at your surroundings? How do you respond when climbing with a client or climbing partner? Safe climbing!
Answered by Seth Waterfall on May 11, 2009
Hello GB. Thanks for following our expedition. I can safely speak for the team when I say...heck yeah, the beauty of the mountains stops us in our tracks! Fortunately, this style of mountaineering allows for plenty of time to soak up the surroundings. But in fact it is very necessary to be aware of what's going on around you at all times when you're in the
mountains, especially while guiding. I regularly encourage my clients to avoid just looking down and following my boot prints. One needs to be aware of everything going on around you and a good team member is always looking out for everyone.
Question #4:
Written by T-Dawg on April 25, 2009
Quick question: do the Sherpas get acclimatized well before the expedition teams arrive? Also, after watching the video about waste collection, and yeah, this is a little gross, when at ABC or when you all reach HC, what happens when "nature calls"? Do the Sherpas bring up latrine tents or do you bust out the shovel? I'm sure some inquiring minds are wondering.
Answered by Seth Waterfall on May 11, 2009
T-Dawg, the Sherpas on our team arrived about one to two weeks before us. That plus the fact that they, for the most part, live at a much higher altitude than us 'westerners,' gives them a head start on acclimatizing. That said, they are definitely predisposed to be more adaptable to altitude, but the mechanism there is poorly understood. There's no doubt, however, that these guys are tough as nails.
Now to your question about 'number two.' In my experience, every popular mountain has its own rules regarding waste disposal. Here it is no different. The rules just change depending on where you are on the mountain. At base camp, the waste is removed and dealt with down the valley. Higher up on the mountain this is not practical, and the waste is deposited in a crevasse in the glacier.
Question #5:
Written by DrewEvansPhoto
What do you all do during downtime like this, besides heal and rest?
Answered by Seth Waterfall on May 11, 2009
Hi DEP. We all do different things to relieve the boredom of rest days. With the advent of video iPods, the game is totally different and movie watching is an indescribable pleasure. Of course, reading is great and we've got a little book exchange and tons of magazines. We also eat, play cards, fly our one kite, play Frisbee, and make fun of each other mercilessly. That's all in addition to helping maintain
the camp and taking care of ourselves. It's just tons of fun at base camp.
Team Stays Positive As Storm Pummels Upper Everest
May 11, 2009
21,200'
Jet stream winds whip fresh snow from the summit of Nuptse under the light of a full moon
by Dave Hahn
It is like a ghost town up here at ABC. We don't mind a bit, having fought half the day to get here from Basecamp. Most others were struggling to get elsewhere. There is a storm sumo wrestling with the exposed summits of Everest and Lhotse today. Since this one is coming out of the west, 25,000 ft Nuptse gives us some protection down here in the Cwm. We still get good strong belts of wind and blowing snow, but we know it could be a lot worse at Camp III and Camp IV in this pattern. Our friends up at the South Col - hoping for a break so as to ring the summit bell - didn't get a break. They were forced to retreat this morning just as we were tentatively moving up. We were tentatively moving up because that seemed like the smart way to be with a 4 AM sky full of clouds, a couple of inches of new snow on the ground, and untested legs in our crew.
It didn't take long at all for Erica's legs to prove they were ready for climbing today. I could hear her crampons digging in just a few steps behind me for all of the first dark hour-she was cruising over the same ice that had defeated her 24 hours earlier. I focused on other problems. The big one was the misbehaving cloud ceiling. It was steadily dropping as we climbed and the morning light came on. The more I could see, the less I could see. When we took the first short break it was snowing, and I polled my team as to whether they thought it would intensify. There were six of us today - the five usual suspects (Seth, Erica, Kent, Ang Kaji and me) plus Maila - the Camp II cook who had been enjoying a brief Basecamp vacation from one of the toughest jobs on the hill. Maila thought-as we all did-that the snow was just getting started, and that there wasn't much point in going on. None of us wanted to be doing the braille thing through a Khumbu Icefall whiteout. And there definitely weren't any takers for a stroll in close to the Nuptse avalanche chutes beyond Camp I, with serious snow coming down.
So we very nearly called it quits at 5 AM, before getting into the worst of the Icefall. The retreat plan was sound - and we hated it. This acclimatization round is important - it is our "tryout" for a summit bid. We want the extra strength, skill and confidence that may come from it. We can't really get that by going an hour out of BC every day. And the calendar is moving on to the phat part of May. We want to be ready. We decided to hedge our bets-pushing onto the middle of the Icefall - another hour along, for a final call on the weather.
In that next hour, the snow quit and the clouds lifted. We knew the storm wasn't finished, but we saw our little window of opportunity for scampering out of the Icefall and past Nuptse, and we were determined to take full advantage.
Long story short - our little gamble worked. We arrived at ABC at midday excited as kids (even those of us not quite kids anymore). Excited with storm adrenaline, excited to have put things on the line, and to have made correct climbing decisions, and to feel the fitness we didn't have 5 weeks ago.
We called down to BC to boast - but also to be assured that the rest of our team is coping well with their summit holding pattern. They are not alone in that - as I said, we've got ABC pretty much to ourselves - and we barely had to make room for other climbers today on the route. Most are lower. Most are waiting for summit weather.
Whiteout Stalls Trip To Camp III
May 12, 2009
21,200'
by Dave Hahn
This was a great day for staying put. That said, it sounded like everything outside our little tents was moving around. The forecast called for snow and wind - the reality was exactly that. I was wide-awake at 5:40 a.m., listening to what sounded like a 20-minute train derailment: an avalanche pouring off Everest's Southwest face. Several times I zipped down the tent door, only to see that we were still in the milky midst of the turbulent powder cloud thrown off by the slide. I knew the actual debris couldn't possibly hit ABC - but it was a reminder to me that it wouldn't be a day for wandering around. The decision had been made the night before that our expedition business would be put on hold. No Sherpas shuttling supplies or camera memory cards-no members going on upper mountain "hikes" in a whiteout.
My gang was due for an ABC rest day in any event, but lack of morning sun and abundant frost shaking from tent ceilings kept us all deep in our sleeping bags this morning. Pathetic as it may sound, we were too lazy to even get up and begin resting.
Once up and about, we were granted breaks in the cloud that allowed us to dry our gear and view the mayhem up on the heights. Huge ribbons of snow and cloud tore back and forth across the mountain faces and circled us. The Niagara Falls noise of it all eventually became accepted background to our head tunes and reading.
Not much thought was given to an Everest summit today. Our radio traffic with BC just confirmed that the rest of the team was wisely pushing back climbing plans. It can be difficult deciding whether marginal weather should dictate climbing plans. Thankfully, that is no longer a problem. Real Himalayan storms don't invite calculation and outfoxing. Rather, it is an obvious time for patience, for rehydration, for resting and recharging,,, and the tying down of loose objects.
Excitement Builds...Team To Launch Summit Bid Tomorrow
May 13, 2009
21,200'
by Jake Norton
I'm scared of Mount Everest. There, I said it. In fact, I'm scared of most mountains I climb, even ones like Rainier which I've climbed close to 90 times. But it's a fear which I embrace and welcome with each new climb.
My fear began in 1984, when I watched Winds of Everest, a film about the first American ascent of Everest's North Side (incidentally, it was led by Lou Whittaker, and his son, Peter, climbed above 25,000 feet on the expedition). The opening narration by John Denver reads:
In the eternal lives of mountains, the ambitions of men are as insignificant as the snow that swirls from their rocky ridges. The lives of man are transitory...the mountain is everlasting.
It's a notion that has never been lost on me, a constant reminder that mountains do not forgive complacency, that any peak - no matter how familiar, no matter how many times you have climbed it - can be a deadly, dangerous place. Fear, in the mountain realm, is a good thing.
I've been to Everest before. My first trip here was to the Northeast Ridge in 1999. This is my 6th expedition to Everest, my 8th to an 8,000 meter peak. I was able to sneak to the top of Everest by the Southeast Ridge in 2002, and the Northeast in 2003.
In many ways, this is familiar turf, a comfortable stomping ground. One would think, then, that gearing up for our summit bid would be simple, devoid of much thought, anticipation, or trepidation about the days to come. But that is far from the case.
We've all read the press reports that love to tout today's Everest as a "walk up," "a highway," and the like. Sure, the mountain today is not Hillary and Tenzing's Everest, or Whittaker and Gombu's. It's changed considerably over the years-a little physically and a lot in how it's climbed. However, the reality is that it's still 29,035 feet tall, there's no tram or escalator (yet), and to get to the top one must still put one foot in front of the other for 12,000 vertical feet above basecamp.
As I prepare for our summit bid, that reality is never far from my mind.
I gaze up at the Icefall looming immediately out of camp, and see its hazards. It was only a week ago that it claimed a life. Gotta be ready to move fast there, as always, but maybe even a bit faster this time. From there, the Western Cwm presents little danger - aside from oppressive heat at times - but I know its couple of miles of length can take a lot out of a climber, and I'll need to arrive at Camp 2 feeling strong - lots of mountain above that.
The Lhotse Face - a couple thousand feet of steep snow and ice - is made more approachable with fixed lines, but still a place for caution. Falling rocks are one hazard, and simply missing a clip or taking a fall are other real hazards. No complacency there, I tell myself, remembering the climber who died in 2002. Climb strong, safe, and smart.
From Camp 3, it gets more serious. Approaching 8,000 meters - the famed death zone - both the mind and the body suffer, and there's still a lot of mountain to climb. While I've been fortunate to always perform well up high, I never kid myself into believing it will be easy. A myriad of things can go wrong - a stomach bug, cold, infection - can all take you out of the running. Above Camp 3, we're in down suits, breathing oxygen; communication becomes more difficult, peripheral vision obscured. And ahead lie the Yellow Band and Geneva Spur...neither overly technical or challenging, but made at least interesting given their location. No mistakes here either. It's a long way down!
Finally, the South Col, Camp 4, 26,000 feet. Not even a glimmer of relaxation here. We'll pull into the Col in early afternoon, brew up, lie down, and in a handful of hours begin walking again, in the dark, up the Triangle Face and toward the summit. It's a long day from the Col... perhaps 4 hours to the Balcony at 27,500 feet. Another 2 hours or so from there to the South Summit, 28,750 feet. And then it gets interesting: here's where things most often begin to unravel. From the South Summit lies the most exposed and technical terrain of summit day, if not of the entire climb. And there are bottlenecks: find yourself up there with a crowd, and you can wait for an hour or more to ascend the Hillary Step and get to the top. There's no passing lane; standing room only.
But then you finally hit the top. Celebration! Elation! Congratulations! And then the realization that the top is only 1/2 way...there's still 12,000 feet of dangerous terrain between the top and bottom. No champagne yet, not until every team member - Nepalis and Westerners alike - are safely back at basecamp. Never let your guard down...the mountain doesn't care about your ambitions.
Sure, I've climbed Everest before. I'll be with a strong team with ample experience. The weather looks reasonable. But, despite all that, I still have a lot of trepidation. I'm scared of Mount Everest...and I'm happy to be.
Team Viesturs, Whittaker, Arnot Arrive Camp II As Team Hahn Returns To Basecamp
May 14, 2009
17,500'
Seth on the final acclimatization rotation before their summit bid
by Dave Hahn
We are back down in the lap of luxury...aka Everest Basecamp. Our final round of preparation is finished; next time up will be for all the summit marbles.
The last couple of days at ABC were somewhat surreal. Yesterday morning, I came out of the tent at 6 AM fully expecting to still be in the middle of the storm we'd been enjoying for days. The forecasts had called for the same bit of jet stream to be snaking back and forth over the range, with continued potential for big snowfall. But as I looked up at the Lhotse Face, trying to decide whether we'd go for our planned sleepover at Camp III, the storm was nowhere to be seen. Certainly, the absence of this big snow and wind event was a good thing...but I was confused nonetheless. Was it a trap? Was it the well-known "sucker hole" phenomenon, wherein a break in the clouds lures climbers (also known as suckers) up to some place where they will be more vulnerable when the real storm rolls back in? I wanted my climbers-Seth, Erica and Kent-to get the exercise and confidence that would come with another attack on the Lhotse Face, and ideally, I wanted them to have a night up there near 24,000 ft. But if we were merely in a lull in the storm, and we cranked on up to Camp III… well, then I could all too easily envision a little too much experience being gained, holding on all night as a hurricane tried to separate us from the wall… and perhaps some good frostbite experience the following morning as we tried rapping down frozen ropes in a gale. So to get back to the point… I stood there at ABC yesterday morning, looking at exactly the calm conditions I'd been hoping for all night, and I chickened out.
Seth was poking his head out of his tent and watching me chew on all of this in the shadows. He seemed to understand and agree with my concerns...we hadn't actually planned to do this CIII sleeping rotation without support and because no Sherpas had been able to get up from BC through the storm of the past day, we would essentially be undertaking the push with just Ang Kaji's help. Kaji is very capable, but the workload included an unknown (but most likely significant) amount of digging to get a storm-ravaged Camp III back in condition for our stay. "Sleeping" at Camp III is already an experience in misery...it is debatable as to whether humans actually acclimate to 24,000 ft. (as opposed to just dying cell by cell and becoming accustomed to that)...but I've always felt that it was useful to get the first shock of such an uncomfortable night out of the way before any summit bid. But add a few other shocks to that practice night and people can get so badly worked ok that they are not in any way, shape or form ready for the summit push the following week. SO by the time that Kent stuck his head out of his tent, I'd firmly decided that we would NOT attempt Camp III on this calm and pretty morning. Over breakfast, I explained that we'd just go for another hike to the base of the Lhotse Face. Since I was prone to frustration over how nice the weather seemed and how little we were taking "advantage" of the day… I tried rationalizing for my partners so that they might avoid such glum and unproductive thoughts themselves. Perhaps it wasn't a "lull" in a storm at all… perhaps it was the beginning of the big shift toward better weather that everybody had been waiting for. And without a run up the Lhotse Face, we had still managed to cobble together a pretty decent acclimatization round at ABC while nearly all other teams were sitting down valley, fretting over forecasts. Ang Kaji, Seth, Erica and I were all still healthy, we had all of ABC to ourselves (each team had basically left just one caretaker/cook per camp), and yesterday turned out to be nothing short of a stunningly nice, calm, warm day with an awesome sunset… not really the kind of stuff to get frustrated over.
This morning we came on down toward BC. Carefully, since there hadn't been much traffic and the route through the Western Cwm was disguised by a few inches of new snow. Crevasses were lurking and just begging to be revealed by a misstep of my size 14.5 boots in the new powder. Then we came to the first Sherpas working up from BC and they got the benefit of our tracks while we enjoyed theirs. Ed Viesturs and Peter Whittaker weren't far behind with our first summit team. They'd come up through the Icefall and reported that a big chunk of the route had fallen out with a collapse near the glacier's center. I wasn't too concerned for our proposed descent since Peter's team had alerted the Icefall Doctors to the problem. We took a rest at old Camp I with summit-bound Melissa and Gerry, along with most of our Sherpa team. Looking around at the remaining tents belonging to other teams, I was amazed at how destructive the storm had been. Poles were broken, whole tents were uprooted and displaced, tents were half buried and squashed… Camp I was a widespread mess…. So I was pleased to find our First Ascent tent, intact and well anchored… apparently ready for the next storm.
We bid our teammates good luck, donned our climbing helmets and dove down into the Khumbu Icefall. Sure enough, when we reached the collapse in the middle, Icefall Doc Ang Nima from Dingboche was already swinging his trusty hammer and fixing new rope with a partner. They'd cobbled together a fine detour that we took full advantage of. As usual, it was sobering to see the expanse of glacier (two acres?) that had simply caved in, but I was satisfied with the timing of the event. The glacier is welcome to do whatever it wants in the dead of night...just settle down for morning, please. My gang settled into Basecamp by about 11 a.m., about the same time that our teammates were getting to their new home at ABC...we'd pulled a neat switch. I'm sure that Peter, Ed, Melissa, Gerry, Jake, and John Griber were anxious as anything to get up there and get on with their climb, while we were pleased as punch to head for the showers and thick camp mattresses of BC again.
Mentally Preparing for the Summit
May 15, 2009
21,200'
Melissa and Peter practicing with the oxygen masks at Camp II
by Melissa Arnot
Waking up at 3:30 a.m. is never easy, especially at 17,500 ft. Somehow though, as the alarm went off yesterday morning, it was easy to rise. The wind was blowing gently, making the tents speak - I think they were saying "get outta here." As I began crunching through the icefall, the normal adrenaline kicked my pace up a notch, but also the excitement for what is ahead. Even though I have been through the icefall many times, this time it feels different. I am hopeful that when I come back down, I will not have to go back up again - this is our summit push.
As I wind through the ice blocks and snow-covered crevasses, I have to admit I am filled with a new kind of trepidation. Mt. Everest is the tallest mountain on this earth, and even in normal conditions it would hand me a challenge. This year has been different though, as it has been filled with some extra challenges. I wanted to attempt to climb without supplemental oxygen, and that certainly added an unknown element to the trip. I have had many questions for myself since I made that decision, the biggest of course being: "Is it possible?" Early on in the trip I injured my ankle and that has really slowed me down, not just physically but mentally as well. I really feel like I need to be 100% to try to climb without O2, and as the trip has gone on, it has become clear that this isn't the case. At any rate, climbing Mt. Everest will still give me a great challenge and there is still so much work to be done.
As I lie in my tent resting at Camp 2, I think about the climbers surrounding me. It is certainly humbling to be around some of the world's best (and strongest) mountaineers, as well as the cameramen who work twice as hard as any of the climbers. It is also pretty special to see Erica attempt to tackle a goal so large. At times I have to remind myself that she is really one of the only people here who isn't climbing for a profession, and I admire her strength and adaptability to work with this group.
Today is a rest day, and my mind is already playing with the thoughts about summit day - how will the weather be, will I feel strong, how can I be an asset to the team... But summit day could still be days away, so for now I will quiet my mind, rest my body, and let the gratitude I feel for where I am right now wash over me.
Team Hahn Getting R&R at Basecamp
May 16, 2009
17,500'
by Seth Waterfall
Today is our fortieth day in Base Camp. Everyone is still hanging in there, mentally. Mostly due to our huge store of snacks and games. I won't lie though, living in a tent for this long is a tough prospect, even for seasoned mountain guides.
Soon enough we'll be heading back up on the mountain for our summit bid. Erica, Dave and I are getting pretty excited for it. Our last rotation on the mountain presented some challenges but we're all healthy and in good spirits. After a few more days of rest we should be all set to go for it.
For now it's all about resting, hydrating and eating here at BC. The trick is to get a good rest without letting the legs stiffen-up too much. We do this by going for little hikes around camp. It always ends up as a tea-fest though as whenever you go by a friend's camp they invariably invite you in for a cup and a snack.
Today camp has finally started to thin out. The weather is starting to look good for summit bids and every morning a few more teams have headed up. This works to our strategy as we are trying to summit after the main push of climbers. This is so that we avoid big traffic jams on summit day. It's all a timing game for us now.
So until we leave for the summit it's going to be an endless stream of candy bars, Scrabble, card games, potato chips, iPods and sleeping. Not necessarily in that order. Soon enough we'll be heading back up, leaving the luxuries of Base Camp behind. It won't be too tough for me. I really can't wait to get a shot at the summit. All we need is a bit of good luck and some nice weather.
Dave describes what teams are up to
May 17, 2009
17,500'
Click arrow to listen to Peter & Ed's Summit Day Updates:
Ed Viesturs en route to South Col
by Dave Hahn
This was the third day of rest for my team. We began it in the usual way, by collecting outside the dining tent for coffee in the sun. Except this morning we sat in light fog until the sun finally burned it all away. Even in fog, sitting on a few thousand feet of ice, it wasn't uncomfortable as now we are past mid-May and temperatures are relatively mild. Kent Harvey, Seth Waterfall and I are by now on pretty much the same internal clock... Erica, being a teenager and therefore presumably in need of more sleep, sometimes still needs a morning yell when the breakfast gets served. With the fog gone, we watched Melissa Arnot work her way safely down through the lowest part of the icefall. She is feeling better and we figure a couple of days BC rest will make her a strong addition to our upcoming summit bid. We could hear Ed Viesturs and Peter Whittaker from time to time on the morning radio, working their way up through the Yellow Band and ultimately the Geneva Spur, the final barrier guarding the approach to the South Col. They, along with Jake Norton, Gerry Moffatt, and John Griber, reported calm and easy conditions on the Lhotse Face and it was obvious they were making fine progress on their way into high camp. Tendi and Lama Babu spent last night at the South Col, building up the camp for the rest of our team and even scouting the first few hours of the route to the summit to make sure that the fixed ropes were still useable after last week's snowstorms.
Erica Dohring and I went for a light hike toward civilization after breakfast. We didn't go all the way to Gorak Shep as neither of us wanted that much (or that little) civilization at this stage of the game, having gotten quite used to basecamp living and not requiring too much more than that before the summit. But the trail toward Gorak Shep is still useful. Basecamp is in a dead-end valley... there really aren't any exits, save some very burly climbing routes that might take one up Pumori, Lingtren, Khumbutse or Nuptse... or of course, one could wander up the Khumbu Icefall, but we only intend to do that one more time. The trail down-valley toward Gorak Shep was the next best thing for us on this morning. We still need to rest and recuperate from our pushes to high altitude, but then we also need to stretch our legs for this final push to the highest of altitudes. We were relieved to note that the trekker traffic had greatly diminished on the trail, along with the yak trains and porters... not that we don't like yaks, trekkers and porters, just that it is easier walking on an empty track now that the season has moved along. Erica and I got just far enough down the trail to enjoy an unobstructed view of Everest's rocky summit pyramid. Before heading back to Base, we sat watching the mountain for a time, not picking up any of the usual signs of wind... no cloud plume spawned by the summit, no streamers of snow. It all looked pretty serene and contrary to the forecasts, which still call for winds of 40 and 50 knots on these days. It gave us hope that our first summit team will luck out with calm conditions tonight so as to launch their final push. Most of the other teams are in the camps behind and below them now, lining up for what could be a busy four or five days of Everest summiting. We hope they all succeed and that the Jet Stream drifts far to the North in our next days of rest.
We are torn between fully imagining the challenges and discomforts that our first team faces, now that they are safely tucked in the tents at Camp IV, and giving our imaginations a break (since we'll face all of those same challenges ourselves soon enough). Tonight will be an interesting time. Linden Mallory will do the important work of staying up through the night, here at basecamp, so as to monitor the first team's progress. They don't have to go for it tonight. Winds may build up on the Col and prevent an attempt, but our gang would still have the ability to hunker down and wait a day for better conditions. But of course, the clock is now ticking... the team is now breathing bottled Oxygen (with the exception of Ed Viesturs) and using up resources -to say nothing of brain and brawn cells... We hope they get their break soon and jump all over the opportunity.
Ed and Peter Going for Summit!
May 18, 2009
26,200'
Click arrow to listen to Weather Report from Peter:
Dave digging deep for creative inspiration with today's dispatch
Hahn at Basecamp, Awaits News From Summit Team
May 18, 2009
17,500'
Wind found its way right down into Everest Basecamp today, flapping tents, tarps and prayer flags indiscriminately. The upside to this was that the air stayed quite clear and sparkly throughout the day, without any haze or smoke creeping up-valley from Nepal's inhabited regions.
Those of us down for rest knew by breakfast that the team at the South Col had not left their camp the night before on a summit bid. Peter Whittaker reported that the winds had actually decreased as the team approached their "go-no-go" decision point in the night, but that clouds had enveloped the peak of Everest and that snow had fallen in the night. Ultimately, Peter said that the poor visibility had torpedoed any attempt last night and that his team would put their hopes into a new bid this evening.
The Col team is spending the day at rest close to 26,000 feet above sea level. This shouldn't hurt their chances for climbing well: in fact, an opportunity to catch up on hydration, rest and feeding will probably make them stronger-provided that they are availing themselves of the bottled oxygen supply from time to time. But that supply isn't unlimited, by any means, and "kicking back" at 8000 meters isn't simple or easy. We are all hoping that tonight will be the night for the team to break free of the tents and go for a climb. Wind and weather need to cooperate, and the game may get a bit more complicated in terms of timing and traffic flow. Our climbers will not have the route to themselves, as several other teams will have made it up from Camp III to the Col today. But I'm certain our team has anticipated that and will make whatever adjustments are needed to avoid bottlenecks and jams.
Down here in Basecamp, it has been a day for reading, reviewing weather reports, playing games and mostly sitting inside, out of the wind. Linden Mallory (our Basecamp manager) went for one of his traditional fast hikes at midday. Tom (the video dispatch editor) experimented today with various odd beard configurations before scrapping the whole thing in favor of the clean-cut look. Erica and Seth went for the post-lunch-leg-stretcher-walk down along the glacial moraine toward Gorak Shep. Melissa is once again enjoying good health and a day to chat with her friend Amber (up to volunteer for several days with the HRA clinic next door). Cherie worked her normal morning magic with sat-phones, emails and BGANs in order to keep the team connected with Eddie Bauer/First Ascent headquarters back in Bellevue, WA. Kent Harvey tinkered with his cameras and heeded my monotonous advice to rest, rest, and rest a little more. Any day now, we'll spring back into action and put in one heck of a hard week of climbing... promise.
Whittaker, Viesturs and Team - Summit!
May 19, 2009
Descending from the Summit:
Safely Back at Camp 4:
All Team Members Safely Back at Camp 4 After Successful Summit
Voicemail 12:48 a.m. PDT -
Hi RMI, it's Linden calling. It is 12:42 a.m. your time - here in Basecamp.
We just got the radio call that our entire team is back in Camp 4. They are settling in for the evening and are going to descend to Camp 2 tomorrow.
Everyone made it back safe and sound. It sounds like they are happy to be back and in fine spirits.
We will give you another update tomorrow when they get closer to Basecamp.
Group on Top at 8:00 a.m. - Nepal Time
All Five First Ascent Team Members and their Sherpa team were on the summit May 19, 2009 at the following times (Nepal Time):
Peter Whittaker - 8:00 a.m.
Jake Norton - 8:00 a.m.
John Griber - 8:00 a.m.
Ed Viesturs - 8:50 a.m.
Gerry Moffatt - 9:15 a.m.
They are descending to Camp IV now. More video, audio, and pictures to be posted in the morning.
Congratulations!
May 21: Team Hahn Currently at Camp III, Readying for Summit Push
May 20: First Team Returned Safely to Basecamp
Team Hahn Readies for Summit Push as First Team Descends from Summit
May 19, 2009
17,500'
Peter and Ed congratulate each other on reaching the summit of Mt Everest
by Dave Hahn
Lots of Puja smoke in the air this morning at basecamp, lots of banging pots and cheering. Lots of people walking around with radio antennae held high. Lots of people smiling but bleary-eyed at having monitored climbers through a long night. I guess it was an exciting day for everyone in basecamp...the estimate being that at least a hundred climbers from perhaps 10 teams had gone for the summit overnight, but of course I know for certain that it was an exciting day for those of us on the RMI team.
Not only were we ecstatic to hear each of our climbers check in from the South Summit, the Hillary Step and the Summit in good time and in good strength, we are now more fired up than ever for our own attempt on the top. It was a day of meeting with the Sherpa climbers that will accompany us; taking a final close look at the extended forecasts and a day of getting packs rigged for climbing once again. In between all of that, my team kept listening in to make sure the summit gang was descending safely. Before lunch, we managed to put everybody through the shower one more time and got a little fluff back in the hairdos. I scraped off my fourth beard of the trip...not sure which number Seth and Kent were scraping off, but they were looking sharp and clean...and ready to go. Melissa and Erica are also eager, healthy and packed for an early morning Icefall transit.
The entire summit team is safely tucked away back at high camp now. They'll spend the night there before resuming the descent. We'll meet them at ABC tomorrow at mid-day. Ours is the normal up-at-3-breakfast-at-3:30-walk-at-4 plan...climbing straight through to Camp II with only a pause for rest at Camp I. I expect we'll get some good stories out of the summit team as we share ABC for the night. The following day, they will undoubtedly be down in BC while we take our single rest day at ABC. Then we move to CIII and on the 23rd of May up to CIV...making us ready for a shot at the top on May 24th.
We discussed our priorities today, along with our perceived strengths and weaknesses. We each know the points in the next week at which we'll need nothing but good luck to achieve our goals. We know who is guiding, who is filming and who is climbing and we all are aware that this climb will push of us to our limits. But we are ready. We want to try to climb the highest mountain in the world.
Team Hahn Departs Basecamp: Tough Decisions Made
May 20, 2009
17,500'
by Dave Hahn
My team laughed its way through a 3:30 AM breakfast and hit the trail promptly at 4 AM. We trudged along by headlight with the glacier snapping and popping away, signaling again that we were among the first of the day to challenge the Khumbu Icefall. Traffic was sparse since most climbers are higher on the mountain now and going higher still. We represent the tail end of those bound for the summit.
I was pleased that my team was moving well...little talking was required as we switched off our headlights and clawed our way up and down the little ice walls that have now become familiar on the approach to the Khumbu. Subtly at first, and then a bit more obviously as we came into our first rest break, Erica's pace began to falter and things didn't seem quite so easy any-longer. This was perplexing at first, since conditions were perfect, the terrain was relatively easy and Erica's health was excellent. As planned at this point of the climb, where the Icefall steepens and the avalanche hazard to a group increases, I asked Seth, Melissa and Kent, along with Ang Kaji, to go slowly ahead. We'd stay in contact by radio. Erica and I finished our rest and moved upward, but by then, it had become clear that Erica was losing confidence in her ability to climb the mountain. Such moods come and go for climbers and I hoped this one would go soon. We determined to climb on up through the "Popcorn" section of the glacier and to reevaluate our situation at the Icefall's midpoint. Through the Corn, I was happy to see that Erica's strength and skills were intact... but clearly she had the weight of the world on her shoulders with some heavy decision-making going on. Her million dark thoughts were spawning a hundred or so in my own (less nimble) mind. I stifled the urge to "argue" Erica into an Everest summit attempt as we walked. I wouldn't do such a thing for an adult... I certainly couldn't begin anything of the sort for a seventeen-year-old. Everest is too dangerous a game... I've seen too many people die here... people who were rock-solid in their determination to climb the mountain while knowing full well the risks they took on. An individual's motivation for such a thing must come from within... not from their guide. I'd let Erica wrestle her own (very legitimate) demons. But that meant that I needed to take my own mind off of her demons for a bit, and so I climbed along with one eye on my client and one eye on the sun's first rays igniting the surrounding peaks. Seth, Melissa, Kent and Ang Kaji had prudently waited for us at the mid-point to check on our progress... and to make sure we negotiated the latest collapsed bridge on the way into the "Football Field". At first we just rested, ate and drank... the typical break. But then we came to the bigger stuff and Erica and I made the decision to descend. The mountain just seemed too big all of the sudden... the way they sometimes do. Erica decided she wanted more years, more mountains and more miles before next taking on Everest's summit and I certainly couldn't begrudge her any of those things. I barely scratched my way up the mountain for a first time at 32 years... I could not have done it at 17. We sent the others on up to CII and Erica and I worked our way carefully down to safety.
As we down-climbed, both our moods brightened...much as my ego would have inflated with another great summit guiding triumph, I was plenty satisfied that six weeks of good, safe climbing was instead followed by a smart and mature decision. We listened to my radio as yesterday's summit team made ready to leave the South Col on their descent to basecamp. All sounded well with them and we looked forward to seeing them down low. Our own team made their way on up to ABC.
Back in camp, I tried to rest away the bleary feeling that comes with 3 AM starts and I set about making new plans for my gang's summit bid. Latest forecasts show that a storm may encroach on our 24th of May attempt...so we may just can the proposed rest day at ABC on the 21st and move up for an earlier bid on the 23rd. I still hope to be of use to my teammates. I want Kent to get his camera rolling on the most spectacular vistas I've ever witnessed. I want Seth and Melissa to tag the top and I suppose now that my priorities have shifted and that Erica is safe in basecamp...I want to touch the top again myself. And so I'll move to CII on the 21st, and CIV on the South Col on the 22nd (they'll move to CIII tomorrow and then the Col on the 22nd, so we'll all be there together for an attempt on the night of the 22nd)
At least that is the plan. We shall see how my legs work. We shall see how the weather flows and how the luck breaks. Stay tuned.
Team Hahn Accelerates Summit Bid Plan
May 21, 2009
Advanced Basecamp
by Dave Hahn
We had something of a celebration dinner in BC last night. As Peter, Ed, Jake and Gerry made it all the way down from the South Col to regale us with summit stories.
After all that, it was strange as anything to get up by myself early this morning - and to eat breakfast alone. I have become accustomed to nearly constant companionship in the past few months.
I walked out of basecamp and into a cloud at 4am. This didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling - despite the fact that the cloud had kept overnight temperatures mild, and visibility was fuzzy at best. I like my glaciers frozen solid, and the lower Khumbu icefall was soggy this morning. The high humidity had me dripping sweat and the soggy-ness had me worried that snow bridges would collapse under my crampons. Life got better when daylight began to roll around and found me climbing out of the tops of the clouds. I was delighted to have the whole place to myself. It wasn't until I nearly reached Camp I that I began to meet dozens and dozens of very heavily loaded sherpas coming down along with the foreign climbers they guided to the summit in the preceding days. My work for the day became "congratulations" as I ran into many friends - tired - a little beat up from wind, cold and sun - but obviously content to have just completed their great goal of recent months... years... lifetimes. At Camp I, I made contact via radio with Linden at BC and Seth at ABC. Linden let us know the latest forecast and we all agreed that May 23rd was shaping up as our best summit chance. This meant that Seth, Melissa, Kent and Ang Kaji needed to rally at ABC in order to get on up to Camp III. We'd go ahead with the plan that had us all moving to Camp IV tomorrow. This was fine as all at ABC were sounding strong and ready. A quick check of my own watch showed that I was actually enjoying a day of good strength as well. I got my pack on and walked easily up the Western Cwm to ABC. I didn't reach the camp in time to see my teammates before their Camp II departure, but having made it up from BC in 5 hours, I was satisfied nonetheless.
Through the morning - our Sherpa team collected at ABC, and I was able to strategize with Tendi and Lambabu. I also got to hear their stories of the big summit day on the 19th and was quite impressed with the massive amount of work our Sherpa team had contributed. Tendi himself had spent 5 days at or above the South Col and on summit day he'd heroically initiated a rescue for an exhausted climber from another team. He ran out of oxygen himself in the long and arduous process of getting the man safely back to the Col. The rescue ended up involving a number of teams - ultimately Jake Norton and John Griber from our own team geared back up and finished their own marathon day by climbing back up to aid in the rescue effort. I began to understand where a few of the coughs I was hearing at dinner last night had originated.
My afternoon at ABC was spent resting - the midday heat was nearly unbearable - and preparing for a few hard days of climbing. My team reported good times on the Lhotse Face today and all were moving into Camp III tents in plenty of time to get their own rest for these next make or break days.
Team Hahn Summits!
May 22, 2009
29,035' Summit
May 23 - 6:00 pm Nepal Time: Happy, Tired Team Will Overnight at ABC
11:55 pm Nepal Time: Team Hahn leaves South Col for Summit
10 pm Nepal Time: Getting Ready to Walk at Midnight
8 pm Nepal Time: Weather Update, Gearing Up
5 pm Nepal Time: Update from the South Col, Winds Still High
12 pm Nepal Time: Team Checks In, Prepares for Potential Summit Push
8:05am, May 22, Nepal time: Dave Finally Has Other Team Members in Sight: Progress report:Dave Hahn checking in, as he makes his way up from Camp II to catch his team at the South Col/ Camp IV
Voicemail Message from Basecamp
(5/23/2009 5:00 p.m. Nepal Time):
Hi,
This is Linden. It's 4:15 a.m. your time and 5 pm Nepal Time. The team reached Camp II about
1/2 an hour ago. They are resting and doing well. They will return to Basecamp tomorrow.
Email from Basecamp
(5/23/2009 10:45 a.m. Nepal Time):
Hi there,
The summit team including Dave, Seth, Melissa and Kent have arrived safely at the South Col. They plan to spend a few hours resting and evaluate the weather conditions before making the
decision to spend the night at Camp IV, or descend to Camp II. As soon as we hear from them we will post a new entry.
Gerry
SUMMIT!!! 5/23/2009 6:20 a.m. Nepal Time:
At 6:00 am Nepal time, RMI's second team of climbers reached the highest point on earth! All four climbers, and five sherpas made the summit despite deteriorating weather. Congratulations to Dave Hahn, Melissa Arnot, Seth Waterfall, and Kent Harvey.
They will be descending to Camp IV, and we will keep you posted on their progress.
5/23/2009 5:42 a.m. Nepal Time:
Team at the South Summit. Temperatures not too bad but the winds have picked up.
Email just in from Basecamp
(5/23/2009 2:45 a.m. Nepal Time):
"Team apparently passed the Balcony at about 1:35am - but we didn't have direct radio comms. So far so good... they are still heading up!"
Team Hahn left Camp IV/ South Col at midnight Nepal Time en route to the summit.
We will post updates here as we receive new information.
Stay tuned...
Second Summit Team Back Safe at Basceamp
May 24, 2009
17,500'
Dave Hahn
I was perplexed this morning at ABC. Shouldn't a night's sleep have healed all wounds and refreshed me enough to seize one more Everest day? But as I lay -uncomfortably- in my sleeping bag at 5:30 AM, rubbing my eyes, stifling coughs and wondering why so many muscles hurt...I remembered what we'd accomplished the day before and why we deserved every bruise, blister and affliction in return. I could hear my team starting to stir and stuff sleeping bags -in between prolonged bouts of coughing. I made myself get up and get packing and coughing since we only had to put in this one more hard and dangerous morning. Get down through the Icefall this last time without a trip, a stumble, a busted rope or ladder, an avalanche or collapse and then we might start reflecting on how nice it had been to stand on top of Mount Everest the previous day. In the early morning shadows, I could see Kent, Melissa and Seth going about their packing business with puffy faces and grim determination. We didn't say much to one another about how knees and backs hurt... or about the blasted cough. Like I say, we deserved it all and we knew it, we'd climbed good and hard for several days and to top it off, we'd tacked on the vertical mile of descent from high camp the afternoon following the summit. As horrible as it all felt at 21,300 ft, none of us had any questions as to how much worse it might have been to be waking at 26,000 ft on this morning.
The cough bordering on retch was a direct result of breathing bottled oxygen for several days. The gas had done the trick... none of us had even a hint of frostbite and we'd all turned out to be strong enough when it counted... but all of that O% humidity oxygen had irritated the heck out of our sinuses and throats and already it was considered normal for either the speaker or the listener -or both- to pause in any conversation for coughing fits, groans and spitting. We'd have made an entertaining foursome as we tightened our climbing harnesses, cinched our spikes and shouldered our packs... had anybody still been around ABC to watch. But the place was largely devoid of Western climbers by this morning. It was mostly Sherpa crews tearing camps down and constructing massive and uncomfortable loads for carrying. Our own packs were heavy enough, but nothing compared to the awkward loads we were seeing. We walked out of camp, silent, pre-occupied with our Icefall descent... but surprisingly limber. Now that we were up and rigged for climbing again, we quickly shook off the elderly affectations of the early morning.
The night before, in between coughs, we'd each admitted how surprised we were to have actually made the summit. Apparently, we'd each written off the possibility at several junctures... but each had then gone on just the same, hoping for a break. The stormy afternoon and evening on the day we'd battled our way up to the South Col wasn't exactly compatible with summit climbing. But as we sat in our tents listening to the wind, we knew we didn't have any options for either waiting or canceling the bid in favor of some future attempt. It had all come down to this one... and so we meant to make the best of it. When the winds did drop and we got out to climb at midnight, we may have been surprised, but we were also ready. We set out, six Sherpas and four members in identical down suits. Most wore clear goggles or glasses since the wind was still present and still capable of freezing eyeballs. We could see several teams up on the headwall we needed to climb, strings of headlights moving -but not very quickly- upward.
We passed the other climbing teams, one by one, as we went up the face in the night and just as dawn was beginning to the East we overtook a final team at 28,000 ft and felt fully in control of our pace and destiny as we took on the South Summit. As daylight came on, I knew it was one of the prettiest mornings I'd seen from up high. But I didn't reach for my camera. The morning was pretty because there were clouds at many levels and in many directions. I didn't take pictures for the same reason I wouldn't if I saw a large tiger coming my way with fangs barred. It was clear that our good weather window was closing and we needed to move fast and hard if we wanted to squeeze in a summit. We felt the full force of the winds as we crested the South Summit, but all were strong and all nodded their heads when I pointed across the crazy traverse topping the Kangshung and Southwest Faces and leading to the Hillary Step and the summit. We went for it, but even before we'd scrambled up the Hillary Step, clouds had covered the mountaintop. Visibility was poor at 6:45 AM when we stepped up to the summit. Most of us kept our packs on, knowing our stay would be short. It was not a day for photos and flags... just a few handshakes and hugs and we were out of there. We made quick time back down through the storm to high camp. Lucky.
And sure enough, this morning we were lucky again. The Icefall barely put up a fight for our final passage. The ladders were solid and the ropes held. Basecamp, our friends and a world of comforts... along with a few more coughs welcomed us off the mountain.
Life at Everest Basecamp
May 24, 2009
17,500'
Linden Mallory
There are two distinct sounds that jar me away from the day to day life at Basecamp and instantly remind me of the sobering landscape in which we are living. The first starts as a low grumble, like a distant roll of thunder moving up the valley, then turns to a deep guttural roar that shakes through camp. It is as if the mountains themselves are groaning under the weight of their icy loads and they shift to ease their burdens. At the head of the Khumbu valley and surrounded by a full 270 degrees soaring peaks, Basecamp is ringed by steep flanks of rock, ice, and snow. The panorama surrounding Basecamp is stunning as some of the world's highest peaks rear up directly above. Beginning with the hanging glaciers flowing from Pumori's almost perfect conical summit, and stretching over Lingtren, Cholatse, Lho La Pass, Everests' West Ridge, the Khumbu Icefall, and Nuptse's impressive West Face, the Himalayas dwarf Basecamp. And from these faces comes the deep groans. It is the sound of falling ice and rock as the glaciers hanging high on the mountains above calve off, sending tons upon tons of ice crashing down the faces below. From Basecamp the first distant grumble echoes across the valley, growing in intensity as the falling chunks gain speed, breaking apart as they hit the mountain sides and dispersing into fine clouds of billowing ice crystals. These clouds of ice blast across the valley floor, like the smoke from a canon as it discharges its deadly load, billowing up in boiling white curtains that rushes through Basecamp.
The second sound is so sudden that I often question whether I heard it at all. It is a quick and sudden, loud, sharp crack. It passes through camp like a bolt of lightening, often leaving me clutching my morning cup of coffee, a bit startled and shaken. The Khumbu Glacier, upon whose edges Basecamp sits, flows in an incessant icy march downward from the peaks above, continually adjusting and repositioning itself. With water this results in a continuous flow, but with ice, it is a jerky, spontaneous, and unpredictable dance downward. The ice reaches the point where it can no longer bear the tension and in a loud crack it readjusts itself, however imperceptibly to the casual observer. These creaks and cracks that run through the ice underfoot can be muffled, occurring deep in the ice below, or alarmingly loud, their vibrations running through the ice and startlingly me from sleep. However harmless they are in retrospect, they never fail to startle, always causing me to pause and look around. The bustle of activity that makes up Basecamp can distract from the reality of the place. It is a short-lived settlement on a continually shifting sea of ice and rock. Five months ago, when I came to Basecamp during the waning days of November to establish RMI's Basecamp location for the First Ascent Expedition, the site I stood on was almost undistinguishable from the other parts of the glacier. A few flat stones positioned a bit too precisely to be random, a couple of icy shelves suspiciously sized to fit a tent, a half collapsed rock wall, were the only clues to the excitement and activity the place had seen six months before, and would see again soon. Instead of the gathering of nylon tents I see around me now, Basecamp was a frozen desert. Dunes of ice strewn with a blanket of rocks, like a stormy sea whose waves were frozen in the midst of a tempest.
Yet now, the same place is a hub of activity, a village of clusters of brightly colored tents, connected by narrow paths, continually flattened by the boots of climbers and the hooves of yaks that pass along them. Above hang strings upon strings of prayer flags fluttering in the winds. Their bright colors never cease to mesmerize me, breaking apart the drab palette of grays and whites that surround us. Friends and other expedition members stop by to say hello, and the days pass, settling into a routine that borders on normality. Despite falling into the habit of day to day tasks at Basecamp, the distant roars of the mountain sides and the loud cracks that race through Basecamp instantly remind me of the reality of this place, of the immense size and power of the mountains at whose feet we live. Soon, all of this activity will retract back down the glacier, back down the valley and disperse across the world. The stormy frozen sea will continue to buck and roll and gradually the ice will reclaim its shape, leaving few clues of its recent past. The deep roar of ice fall high on the mountain sides and the sharp cracks of the ice itself will echo across an empty landscape of ice and stone.
Second Summit Team Back Safe at Basceamp
May 25, 2009
17,500'
Dave Hahn
I don't think I've ever seen an Everest season end so early or so abruptly. It began snowing hard at basecamp at around 6 AM and that has continued without pause for the entire day. Cyclone 02B out of the Bay of Bengal is the likely culprit. That was the same "depression" that prompted my summit squad to speed up our attempt, and in fact to go a day earlier than we'd originally planned. That all worked out, just barely, but I must admit that as we walked down the Western Cwm early yesterday morning under temporarily clear skies, I wondered what all the rush had been for. No wonder anymore. This is a big storm and our forecasts say it hasn't actually arrived yet... the whole cyclone may track right over Everest in the next few days.
Due to the hard and smart work of our Sherpa team, we are sitting pretty. They managed- during our summit push- to take down every non-essential piece of gear from the Lhotse Face to the Khumbu Icefall. After the summit, when Seth, Melissa, Kent and I thought we had a big chore in getting our tired, coughing bodies down to ABC for the night, the Sherpas we'd gone to the summit with began tearing down Camp IV and putting it on their backs. They put in a huge, and with the value of hindsight, essential contribution in getting everything off the South Col before the bigger storm. This allowed our entire team, members and Sherpas alike, to be off the mountain and safely in basecamp by yesterday afternoon. According to Lam Babu and Tendi, just a handful of loads remain at ABC. While in logistical terms, this means that the expedition isn't quite finished and some of the guys will have to brave the Icefall for a final roundtrip, in the greater scheme of things... as I say, we are sitting pretty. If it intends to snow and snow and snow, then the Western Cwm could get extremely hazardous from an avalanche perspective. It is far better to have a team at the bottom of the mountain waiting until things are safe enough to go up rather than to have a team halfway up the mountain waiting until things are safe enough to come down.
This doesn't mean that we aren't worried and concerned for our friends on neighboring teams who were caught in a less advantageous position. But yesterday evening, we were simply elated to be all in one safe place ourselves and to be newly successful. As we finished up dinner, happily comparing notes on the trip's two summit days, it was clear that the Sherpa dining tent next door was the more happening venue. The cheers were getting louder and louder, the singing and stomping of feet more enthusiastic. One by one, the team members found excuses to leave the dull tent and flee to the festive one. Since I'd put in about three hard days at altitude without significant sleep, I snuck past what was surely the best party in the entire valley and made for my own little hovel of a sleeping tent. I was not bothered in the least to hear the celebration go on for hours as I lay comfortably dozing in the dark.
Nobody seemed the worse for wear in the morning as we huddled near a propane heater for our snowy breakfast. Not a lot got done today as we mostly took shelter and tried to catch up on food and drink. Linden Mallory, our hardworking basecamp manager, kept plenty busy with inventories and packing lists. The afternoon showing of "The Bourne Identity" on laptop had the dining tent jam-packed and silent. If the entire team is ready for beaches and jets and home, one couldn't quite see that today. We'll pack up and get walking soon enough. The gang is just happy to be together... and very aware that, while a cyclone spins overhead, none of the other teams that left BC so urgently in recent days are flying out of the Khumbu Valley.
Cyclone Slams Everest, Team Evacuates Basecamp
May 27, 2009
11,296' Namche
Dave Hahn
The cyclone pushed us out of Everest Basecamp. Early yesterday morning, it tried to crush us in our tents. Heavy, wet snow was falling at the rate of perhaps three inches per hour. Everything was getting buried fast... tents, yaks, climbing gear. It was tough to tell just how much accumulation there was since the ground is so uneven to begin with at BC, but it was common to be thigh deep while attempting to get from one tent to another. We'd eaten breakfast in our comfy dining tent, insulated from the storm, when Lam Babu suggested (politely) that we think of leaving. It was becoming impossible to maintain the camp in the continuing storm and it didn't seem farfetched that we'd soon reach a depth of snow in which we could no longer walk to escape down-valley.
Each team member went back to his or her soggy tent for a rushed packing effort. It definitely wasn't an optimal way for leaving the mountain. Ideally one would like to have everything dry before it gets stuffed and duffled for a trip to Kathmandu. Ideally, it would be great to be standing over an expanse of spread-out gear so as to figure what will be needed on the trek out and what won't be needed until Kathmandu. Ideally, one would know that the bags were going to get yakked out in the next couple of days... enabling one to make onward travel plans that included said gear. Except... there wasn't time, space or heat for anything like "ideally". We hunched over in damp tents, pushing damp gear into damp duffle bags and we weren't so sure when we'd see them again because the last yaks we'd seen fleeing basecamp were in snow up to their horns.
It made good sense to leave anyway, but we determined to do it as a team and to make noon the exit hour. A skeleton crew of Sherpas would remain at the gear dump formally known as Basecamp. At the appointed hour, Seth, Melissa, Kent, Cherie, Jake, Erica, John, Tom, Gerry, Lam Babu, Kaji and a handful of others (it was tough to see who was who with all the matching jackets, hats and goggles in heavily falling snow) followed my lead out of camp. The escape trail was surprisingly well-packed by people and packless animals in the preceding hours. I looked back often through the storm to make sure all were safely in the parade behind me, and I tried not to stop. We meant to go five hours down to Pheriche, but that depended on everybody staying strong and not rolling an ankle or knee in the powder.
It all went fine as we trudged down through the landmark villages of our long-ago trek in; Gorak Shep, Lobuche, Thukla... and finally Pheriche... all in much whiter condition than we'd seen them seven weeks ago. In Pheriche, we walked out of the storm to experience the novel INDOOR comfort of Nuru's Himalayan Hotel. Long forgotten appetites came back, coughs mellowed in the marvelously humid air, and real sleep was had by all... 14,000 ft sleep, not the 17,500 ft version that we'd been calling sleep for so long.
And today dawned without much sign of the cyclone. The sky was blue again and the mountains were white again. We hit the trail and within a short time we were actually out of the snow and onto the dirt. Then there were trees... then green trees. And next there were flowers... and flowers in trees. The rhododendrons of Deboche and Thyangboche Hill were in bloom and beautiful. We walked up hills and down hills and along hills until we reached good old Namche Bazaar. Civilization as we know it... with internet and commerce and tourism and comfort at the easy to love altitude of around 11,500 ft. In two days, we'd come down what had taken us approximately 8 days to go up... long ago... in the Spring, when we were younger.
We'll walk to Lukla tomorrow and we will begin hoping for cloudless flying weather which might get us to Kathmandu sooner. And we'll just hope that our wet duffels find us before the contents rot... Life is not, by any means, trouble-free as yet but it is sure getting easier.
Team Returns to Kathmandu
May 30, 2009
Dave Hahn
What a difference a day or two can make. The team walked out of Namche and down through the farms and fields of Phak Ding the other morning. In short order, we'd gone from snow, ice and rock to wheat, barley and happy little kids in school uniforms crowding the trails. Erica Dohring and I took the standard six hours to cover the walk from Namche to Lukla under mostly cloudy skies. Compared to the Lhotse Face or the Khumbu Icefall, the stroll to Lukla is not terribly difficult...but sure enough, it ends with uphill just when most tired Everest enthusiasts would prefer for it to be downhill. Through good luck, we didn't get a downpour until we were in the Lukla suburbs and heading for the inn. Our gang was assembled in a spacious and warm dining room, already shuffling cards and drinking tea and settling in for the "airstrip hang" that begins and ends so many of the climbs we frequent. That is the point at which you've done all that you can do with your legs and it is now up to weather and pilots to figure out the rest. I believe our team was ready for the hang to take days since the post-cyclone pattern seemed a lot like pre-monsoon already (translation: clouds giving way to clouds) Pilots in these mountainous regions are known to favor visibility and smart passengers don't quibble with that preference.
We wiled away the afternoon, looking out on the rainy strip of tarmac without much angst over schedules...it being our belief that the team duffels were still buried in basecamp snowbanks anyway and that onward travel without some change in that status was going to be limited. Lam Babu burst the duffel-induced-lassitude around dinner when he announced that he'd received word from Tendi that all of the loads had actually left basecamp as of that very afternoon. We went to sleep in Lukla once more believing that it was possible to get a little lucky on weather. And sure enough, yesterday morning came around sparkly and clear...so much so that during breakfast we watched four planes buzz in and out on the tilted strip. Lukla airport is something similar to a sinking aircraft carrier. There is just room enough for a short-takeoff-and-landing plane to touch down at the lowest end at full speed, flying upward...reverse prop pitch in a rush of air and noise... Jam down the speed to nothing and then quickly taxi into a little corner at the top of the apron so as to get the heck out of the way of the next plane. The aircraft tend to land and takeoff in waves of three and four at a time, every two hours or so (allowing a Katmandu roundtrip) and our scheduled flight was to be part of the second round. Clouds showed up and gathered on the peaks and began to fill the valleys...but not enough to spoil our day. Our flight went off without a hitch or a hiccup and by 11 AM we were checking into hotels in big and dusty Katmandu.
Haircuts, shaves, neck massages, showers, internet, taxi-rides, telephones, televisions...it all came flooding back, just like that. At least a version of it all came back...Katmandu amenities are not exactly the modern comforts that we are spoiled with at home, but they are very welcome, none-the-less. We won't actually head for the international airports without the aforementioned duffels and those -we hope- are on animal backs approaching the Lukla outskirts right now...but then they are subject to the same delays as people (cargo planes don't do any better in mountain-filled clouds) In any case, we expect to be on bigger (less weather-dependent) airplanes in a few days time, winging it over the Pacific. The climb is over. The team still has a few fun get-togethers, including a big dinner with the Sherpa staff this evening, but for the most part now, we go back to being on our own.
There is souvenir shopping and tourism (yesterday happened to be the 56th anniversary of Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary's summit...there were festivities and observances), but then there is also just plain easy hotel lounging. We've all got tons of catching up to do on current events and email. Personally I don't mind the slow pace of waiting for duffels...it isn't simply that the past 10 weeks of Everest climbing were hectic and charged with danger and the fear of failure, it is usually the 10 weeks before that as well, when Everest hangs in the future and must be constantly and vigorously prepared for. By contrast, this after-Everest-and-before-home-limbo-period is quiet and slow-paced. The monkey is off the back for a little while...the rat has been fed, etc. etc.
It may be time to go back and read up on the Everest experiences of the teams that surrounded us for the past season...or to peruse even our own accounts (now that it all can be put in some perspective). Such study and reflection may give us closure...-or possibly aggravation- one never knows...but it will be time to wrap up our thoughts on Everest 2009 in any case. We've all got other mountains -of one sort or another- to climb in the near future.
My hope is that in sharing our trip via text, photos and video, we've given an honest and entertaining glimpse of a place and experience that enthralls us. Having accomplished our personal goals of challenging a big, dangerous and magnificent mountain while keeping safe and coming down as friends, I also hope that we've succeeded in our "business" of demonstrating conclusively that Eddie Bauer is back in the expedition game... to stay.
Thanks very much for following the trip through to its end and for the many thoughtful and friendly comments that have been passed our way.
Climbing Team
-
Peter Whittaker
Expedition Leader/ First Ascent Team Member -
Dave Hahn
Climb Leader/ First Ascent Team Member -
Melissa Arnot
First Ascent Team Member -
Ed Viesturs
First Ascent Team Member -
Seth Waterfall
First Ascent Team Member -
Erica Dohring
Climbing Team Member
Production Team
-
Gerry Moffatt
Head of Production -
John Griber
Camera Operator -
Kent Harvey
Director of Photography -
Tom Grimshaw
Editor/Data Manager -
Jake Norton
Photographer -
Cherie Silvera
Producer
Climbing Sherpa Staff
-
Lama Babu Sherpa
4 Summits of Everest -
Chongba Nurbu Sherpa
9 Summits of Everest -
Nima Dorjee Tamang
3 Summits of Everest -
Nawang Lakpa Sherpa
5 Summits of Everest -
Nim Gyaljen Sherpa
3 Summits of Everest -
Pasang Dawa Sherpa
3 Summits of Everest -
Chhetar Sherpa
3 Summits of Everest -
Mingma Dukpa Sherpa
2 Summits of Everest -
Pasang Tendi Sherpa
5 Summits of Everest -
Nga Tenji Sherpa
3 Summits of Everest -
Tshering Dorjee Sherpa
1 Summit of Everest -
Pemba Nuru Sherpa
6 Everest Summits -
Ang Kaji Sherpa
2 Everest Summits -
Kaji Sherpa
2 Everest Summits -
Pasang Gyalzen Sherpa
1 Summit of Everest
Climbing Sherpa Assistants
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Pasang Dawa Sherpa
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Kami Nuru Sherpa
Camp 2 Staff
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Maila Tamang
Camp 2 Cook
1 Everest Summit -
Yuvaraj Rai
Camp 2 Assistant -
Dawa Jumba Sherpa
Camp 2 Assistant
Basecamp Team
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Linden Mallory
Basecamp Support -
Jeff Martin
Basecamp Support -
Ed Dohring
Basecamp Trek Member
Basecamp Staff
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Lhakpa Tsheri Sherpa
Basecamp Manager
3 Everest Summits -
Kumar Gurung
Basecamp Cook Homar -
Damber Rai
Kitchen Assistant -
Sanchar Tamang
Kitchen Assistant -
Chakrey Tamang
Kitchen Assistant -
Jahar Man Rai (Jetha)
Kitchen Assistant -
Raj Rai (Raju)
Kitchen Assistant
Itinerary
Travel Days - March 25 - 26: Most climbers and trekkers fly to Kathmandu via Thailand with a possible overnight in Bangkok. During your flight you will cross the International Date Line and travel time is approximately three days.
Day Three - March 27: KATHMANDU • 4,383 feet
Arrive in Kathmandu. We are transferred to our hotel for some rest and recovery before our evening welcome dinner and reception. Overnight at Yak and Yeti Hotel.
Day Four - March 28: KATHMANDU • 4,383 feet
Situated in a bowl shaped valley in central Nepal, Kathmandu is the largest city in Nepal and the cosmopolitan heart of the Himalayan Region. Today is our first chance to explore Kathmandu's rich and diverse culture with a city tour including the Boudhanath Stupa, Pashupatinath, and Swayambunath - the Monkey Temple. The rest of the day is spent enjoying the city and local cuisine. Overnight at Yak and Yeti Hotel.
Day Five - March 29: PHAKDING • 8,700 feet
Today we fly to Lukla, the village where our trek to Everest Base Camp begins. From here on out, there are no more vehicles or roads, just a network of villages connected by trails. After we meet our Sherpa team, we start trekking along the Dudh Kosi River as we travel to Phakding. We spend the first night sleeping in tents with the sounds of the river and mountains all around us. Overnight in tents.
Day Six - March 30: NAMCHE BAZAAR •11,300 feet
Hike to historic Namche Bazaar, the gateway to the high Himalayas and the Sherpa communities central meeting place. If there was an urban Sherpa center, this would be it. This is where lowland porters bearing supplies meet the highland Sherpa and Tibetan people who have journeyed over high passes from many miles away to trade food and supplies for their home or village. We'll have time to visit the village's three small museums, a stupa, monastery, several cafes (locally known as bakeries) and many well stocked stores. Overnight in lodge.
Day Seven - March 31: NAMCHE BAZAAR •11,300 feet
Today is an acclimatization day in Namche. We relax and explore the village in addition to taking a short hike to the surrounding villages of Khunde and Khumjung to visit the historic Hillary School and Hillary Hospital. Overnight in lodge.
Day Eight - April 1: NAMCHE BAZAAR •11,300 feet
Acclimatization day in Namche. Overnight in lodge.
Day Nine - April 2: DEBOCHE • 12,325 feet
Today we climb to Tengboche, the largest Sherpa monastery in the Khumbu area. This is where we will see a clear view of Mt. Everest, Lhotse (the 4th highest peak in the world), Nuptse and Ama Dablam. We then head down to Deboche and a quiet campground in the fir and rhododendrons forest. Overnight in tents.
Day Ten - April 3: DEBOCHE • 12,325 feet
This is an acclimatization day in the Deboche area. We walk back up to Tengboche, which has an important Buddhist monastery, the largest gompa in the Khumbu region. Tengboche will also have a panoramic view of the Himalayan range, including the well known peaks of Tawache, Everest, Nuptse, Lhotse, Ama Dablam, and Thamserku. Overnight in tents.
Day Eleven - April 4: PHERICHE • 13,950'
We hike to Pheriche via Pangboche. We follow the Imja River which flows directly east of the village, to a large Sherpa village in the valley, at the foot of Ama Dablam. We visit the Pangboche monastery to receive a blessing from the local Lama before continuing along the river to Pheriche. Overnight in lodge.
Day Twelve - April 5: PHERICHE • 13,950'
We stay another night in Pheriche to get acclimated and to visit the clinic of the Himalayan Rescue Association. From here, we take a day hike up the Imja Khola valley to Chukung (around 15,500') to visit the Italian Research Pyramid that helps to track the current weather conditions on Mt. Everest. Overnight in lodge.
Day Thirteen - April 6: LOBUCHE • 16,175 feet
Ascend to the town of Lobuche below Lobuche Peak. Our trail will pass through the Sherpa memorial on the top of Thokla pass. We are now above tree line traveling in the alpine zone, and the trail will likely to be covered with snow from here. Overnight in tents.
Day Fourteen - April 7: LOBUCHE • 16,175 feet
The plan for today is take it easy - a little rest and relaxation before moving up to 17,000'. Overnight in tents.
Day Fifteen - April 8: GORAK SHEP • 17,000 feet
We follow a glacial moraine on our hike to Gorak Shep. Gorak Shep is a frozen lakebed covered with sand that sits at approximately 17,000', and is the last outpost en route to Base Camp. It is the final acclimatization stop on our trek to Everest Base Camp from Lukla, following what the Dalai Lama dubbed "the steps to heaven." In addition to visiting Gorak Shep, we climb nearby peak of Kalpatar(18,450') to get some stunning views of Mt. Everest and the surrounding peaks. Overnight in tents.
Day Sixteen - April 9: EVEREST BASE CAMP • 17,575 feet
We complete the last section of our trek, and soon we find ourselves at Everest Base Camp. Everest's summit cannot be seen from Base Camp as the camp's position allows nearby Nuptse to block the view of Everest. In order to get views of Everest within the vicinity of Base Camp, many trekkers climb Kala Pattar (18,300 feet). We will climb this either in the afternoon or possibly the next day to get a great view of the summit of Everest.
Days Seventeen to the Completion of Climb - April 10 - May 30: To Be Determined:
The itinerary from here on can vary greatly. The next weeks are spent negotiating the Khumbu Icefall, entering the Western Cwm, and climbing to Camp 2 and then 3. The number of days this will take our group will vary due to weather, getting acclimated, the number of caches we make, and figuring out how many days we should spend at each camp. RMI guides will use their vast mountain experience, knowledge, and decision making abilities to maximize each climber's chance of summiting Mount Everest.
Trek Out Day 1 - May 31 (estimated): PHERICHE
Everest Basecamp (17,775') to Pheriche (13,950').
Trek Out Day 2 - June 1 (estimated): NAMCHE BAZAAR
Pheriche to Namche Bazaar (11,300')
Trek Out Day 3 - June 2 (estimated): PHAKDING
Namche Bazaar to Phakding
Trek Out Day 4 - June 3 (estimated): KATHMANDU
Phadking to Lukla (9,350'), flight from Lukla to Kathmandu. We are transferred to our hotel for some rest and recovery. Overnight at Yak and Yeti Hotel.
Trek Out Day 5 - June 4 (estimated): KATHMANDU
Contingency Day
Travel Days - June 5 - 6 (estimated):
Return flight from Kathmandu to USA