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Buenas Tardes from Ecuador; Today is a rest day in between climbing Cotopaxi and Cayambe. We traveled north through the Avenue of Volacoes on the Panamerican Highway this morning, heading closer to our next climbing objective: Cayambe. We stopped in Quito for lunch and to say goodbye to our teammates Robin and Sean, who successfully climbed Cotopaxi with us as part of the Cotopaxi Express trip. We had a blast climbing with them, and are sad to see them leave. After lunch we continued north to the oldest hacienda in Ecuador, Guachala. We are settled-in for the evening in this relaxing atmosphere, and we will rest up for Cayambe. Tomorrow morning we will head to the world-famous Otovalo market in the morning, before driving up to the climbers' hut on Cayambe to stage for our summit attempt. I will give update again tomorrow.

The day began under grey and overcast skies, as opposed to the pattern we've all come to accept of sunny mornings and cloudy afternoons. Nothing much has come of those grey skies, so far, and in fact, Kaji Sherpa made a carry to the South Col at close to 8000 meters and reported calm and easy weather conditions. We expect Sherpas from several of our neighboring teams to fix rope from the Col to the summit in the next few days if the weather stays calm, which would be a huge benefit to all teams, naturally. We have just started to focus intently on our daily weather forecasts since we'll now be poking our noses up to heights where it all matters. Other than Kaji, the rest of the climbing team took it easy in basecamp, playing cards and horseshoes and packing for the coming rotation up the mountain. We've all been amazed, fortified... and simply stuffed by Kumar's culinary wizardry in the basecamp kitchen.

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.

Tashi Delek!

Last night we got to spend the night in a very special place - a traditional teahouse with views overlooking the oldest monastery in the Khumbu Valley - the Pangboche Monastery. We had a very quiet and serene night since we were the only team staying there. We woke up early, had our usual coffee, pancakes, some version of eggs (plain omelette? Veg omelette? Fried eggs? We like them all!) and got to walking.

April is one of the busiest months in the Khumbu Valley with Trekkers and Everest climbers all making their way to base camp. While we were one of the few teams walking downhill, we passed team after team after team heading up. A highlight of the morning was FINALLY seeing a baby yak. We’ve been keeping our eyes out and have seen some yak teens but today we got to see a full on baby fluff! We watched him stumble between his mama and another yak and even buck and get a little sassy from what we suppose was a bug or some other nuisance. The cutest.

After nearly five hours of walking, we arrived back in Namche. And boy, does it feel good. We’ve run into lots of friends and fellow climbers, we had a big lunch at Eat Smart (our favorite non-teahouse food of the trip!) and spent the afternoon enjoying the excited energy of this little city during the climbing season. We’re so happy to be back at Base de Camp Teahouse that has hot showers in the room and some pretty incredible views.

One more day of walking to Lukla tomorrow. It’s hard to believe this trip is nearing its end.

RMI Guides Jess and the Lobuche team

Hola amigos! Team Cuy Frito woke up a little earlier than yesterday to load up the bus and make our way to Cerro Fuya Fuya at 14,000 feet for another acclimatization hike. We walked through some clouds but stayed dry and had ourselves a swell time. We finished our day with a team dinner at the quaint hacienda Intiyaya and are now organizing gear to head to the climbing hut on Cayambe tomorrow. The search for Cheetos was fruitless today but hopes are high that we will track some of that orange goodness down as we visit the Otavalo market tomorrow for some souvenir shopping and to pick up some last minute snacks before heading to the mountain. Morale is as high as the Andes and we are all looking forward to the adventures to come. Hope all is well back at home and hasta luego!

RMI Guides Dustin Wittmier & Michael Murray

Monday, May 15, 2023 - 8:00 pm PT

It was a windy, snowy day at 11,000' Camp. The kind that had us happy to linger in sleeping bags until late. Eventually we rose and put some energy into solidifying camp before we plowed through a bunch of hot breakfast burritos. Weather days are for spending in tents so we spent a fair amount of time horizontal, welcome after yesterday's effort. As the afternoon wore on we were ready for movement so we got to building some walls to deflect the wind and make life a bit more pleasant. Much like building with adult legos, made out of snow. So now we have quite a habitable spot, a good thing since this weather system may stick around for a few more days.

RMI Guide Pete Van Deventer

An early start, a few van rides, and a quick flight have landed us in Cheget, at the foot of the Caucasus Mountains. It ends up being a pretty full travel day getting here, but we had enough time to walk around town, sample some local beverages, and gawk at our high elevation surroundings. The pace here is much slower than in Moscow. Tomorrow we’ll hop on a chairlift in town and do some walking around at altitude...should be pretty nice. RMI Guide JM Gorum

On The Map

It's another splitter evening on the Kahiltna Glacier. Our team worked hard this afternoon and it all paid off when we rolled into camp here at 9400' and enjoyed a few hours basking in the sunshine and casually building camp. Our group is becoming skilled in campsite construction, and we are sitting quite comfortably here in our massive snow fort. With Ski Hill out of the way and in the past, we are all looking forward to our move to 11,000' tomorrow. The team is doing well, spirits are high, the weather forecast looks promising, and we are all excited about the progress we've made and the climbing still ahead! RMI Guide Mike Walter & Team

On The Map

Hi RMI this is Linden Mallory calling from 8,500’ on the Kahiltna Glacier on Denali. We woke up this morning to a pretty gorgeous day up at 14 Camp. We packed up camp and headed downhill. Definitely big loads leaving 14 Camp but we managed to fit everything into our packs and our sleds and motor back down the route reaching 11 Camp mid day. We dug up a small cache that we had left there with excess gear, trash and supplies that we didn’t need higher on the mountain earlier in the trip. We packed that up and moved it into the back of our sleds and kept moving down the glacier. We got to about 8,500’ here on the Kahiltna Glacier just above Ski Hill which is just about 700’ above what is actually considered the true Lower Glacier. It was quite warm by that time of the afternoon and it was just getting a little too exciting to cross all those crevasses. We decided to set up shop here just above Ski Hill and cooked up a big dinner. Now we are waiting for the temperatures to drop and we’re watching some clouds blowing from the south of the Kahiltna Glacier. These clouds basically insulate the glacier so they keep the warm temperatures down here and don’t allow things to freeze. So we're not really sure how it's going to shake out for us tonight. If the clouds recede and it clears up we're going to pack up in the middle of the night and try to make it to Base camp by tomorrow morning. If these clouds stick around and it stays warm and the snow bridges across the crevasses don't freeze, we will just be hanging out here until conditions improve. So we will check in tomorrow and let you know how it goes. Take care. RMI Guide Linden Mallory

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.