Entries from Expedition Dispatches
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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