Generations on Everest - The Climb



	07.13.03		Generations On Everest Re-cap Written 10:00 AM; July 13, 2003; Spokane, Washington Update: May 21, 2003; Summit Day One by one, beams of light from our headlamps cut through the darkness. Pemba sat up near the door of the tent, found the pot, lit the stove and began melting ice for water. He was quick and efficient. Pasang Gelu tucked the bottom of his sleeping bag under himself to avoid knocking over the stove and leaned back against the tent wall, while Jess and I sat up and started fumbling with clothing and gear. Within 20 minutes, Pemba had a steady boil bubbling in the pot. Jess and I poured hot water into our cups, which were full of oatmeal. We ate it, like it was our last meal. Our Sherpas preferred their own food. First they made a sweet tea and then mixed in tsampa, barley flour, until they had an eatable paste. After the four of us were done eating, we each had a cup of hot tea, which completed our midnight snack. After pulling on my boots and fastening my neoprene overboots, I wiggled into my climbing harness, and then checked to ensure we had at least 2,200 liters of oxygen in each tank. After what seemed like endless false starts, everyone was dressed, hooked-up to their oxygen system and ready to leave the tent. The wind had picked up during the night. Although the weather had been perfect when we went to bed, when we left the tent at midnight the wind was blowing 10 to 15 miles per hour and snowing about an inch an hour. I was the last to leave the tent. Jess was putting on his crampons, while I searched under the fresh snow for mine. Even though we had modified our neoprene overboots in Spokane to fit our crampon bindings, it wasn’t easy to get them to stay on. Finally, at the risk of frostbite, I removed my gloves and was able to hold the front bail tight enough to the welt for the bindings to take hold and stay put. Jess and the Sherpas were ready to go as I tied into the rope just behind Pasang Gelu. Jess was tied in 30 feet behind me, while Pemba followed in the rear. I’m not in the habit of climbing in bad weather, especially at extreme altitude. The decision to make a summit attempt that day or wait for better weather had to be made as we left the tent. If we went for the top and failed because of bad weather, the chances of another summit attempt were slim. Once we used up the oxygen at the high camp, it would be very difficult to get more from Advanced Base. “Pasang,” I said. “What do you think? Do we have a chance in this weather?” “The winds aren’t too bad,” he replied. “And with the snow, the temperature is warmer. We should go.” I didn’t like it. But then again, he had been on the route before and knew the terrain. He was an experienced Sherpa. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Okay,” I agreed reluctantly and looked at Jess. He gave me the thumb’s up. Emerging from the dozen tents pitched above ours, numerous Chinese climbers were getting ready to leave camp. Their headlamps cut through the falling snow as they donned crampons and tied into their ropes. “Pasang, get going,” I said. “We’ve got to get on the ropes first.” He took off quickly, following an old, frayed fixed line that ran diagonally up a ramp of loose rock and compact snow and ice. We climbed steadily at two to three breaths per step. Ten minutes into the climb, I heard Jess shout for us to hold up. His crampon had popped off his boot. Wearing bulking down clothing and an oxygen mask that prevented him from seeing his feet, I knew it would be faster for two of us to work on the crampon. I quickly dropped back to help and held the front binding bail in place, while Jess snapped the back binding onto the large heel welt. We were on our way again within minutes. Although there were many vertical steps of rock 10 to 30 feet in height, it was not difficult to follow the ramp. Not only were the rock strata close to horizontal, which produced good holds for our hands and feet, the ice was perfect for crampons and ice axe when needed. I kept looking above me to determine how far we were from the Northeast Ridge, but the beam from my headlamp would just reflect off the snowflakes. There was no distinction between rock and sky in the pre-dawn hour. About an hour into the climb, I noticed Pasang was weaving slightly and having difficulty keeping a reasonable pace. I caught him at a short vertical rock wall to ask him if he was okay, but one glance told me the story; he was climbing without a headlamp because he had left it at camp; had taken off his expedition mitts because he couldn’t grab his ascender; and, the main reason for his slow pace, he was not using bottled oxygen. His mask was stuffed into his pack. “Pasang, I know you’d like to climb Everest without oxygen, but this is not the time,” I said. “You’re putting the whole team at risk. Put on your oxygen or turn back.” He didn’t argue. I took off my pack and found my extra pair of gloves, then helped him with his oxygen mask and regulator. As I adjusted the flow of Pasang’s oxygen, Pemba climbed up to us and took the lead. I told Pasang to come last, and then went second, followed closely by Jess. Pasang brought up the rear and, based on his pace, was obviously having difficulty with the altitude. Jess slowed his pace to shine his headlamp where Pasang needed help. At 2:30 AM, we reached the top of the Northeast Ridge. The wind was still blowing steadily and there was about two inches of fresh snow on the rock. Despite the hour, I could make out distinct shapes and landmarks on the ridge close by. We walked along the ridge crest on hard packed snow for 50 yards before ducking beneath a tall rock outcrop. There, huddled beneath a rock overhang in a fetal position was a climber. I thought at first he was bivouacked there, but then, after shining my headlamp to his face, realized he was dead, frozen in place, his hands clutching an old oxygen bottle. Pemba stepped over the dead man’s fluorescent green Koflac boots, which still had crampons attached, glanced back at me as if to say, “I bet you didn’t know he was here”, and moved on without a word. I followed, thinking how close we are to his fate. A few seconds later, I heard Jess exclaim, “Whoa! Did you see that? I thought he was sleeping!” We passed the First Step, a minor rock obstacle, without a problem. Two hours later we were at the bottom of the infamous Second Step, a 90-foot vertical rock wall, hung with a dozen old, multi-colored ropes and a 15-foot aluminum ladder near the top. The Chinese had put the ladder at the most difficult section during their 1975 ascent. It was still in good condition. The Second Step is technically the toughest section of the climb, if it is climbed without the use of ropes and the Chinese ladder, which of course, isn’t done. So difficult is the ridge at this point that it’s here where it’s believed Leigh Mallory and Andrew Irving, two British climbers who attempted this route in 1924, turned back and were never seen alive again. Mallory’s body was eventually found by the 1975 Chinese expedition near our high camp on the North Face at around 28,000 feet. Irving’s body has never been found. I thought the Sherpas would have trouble ascending the fixed ropes up the steep wall, but they didn’t. The four of us were on top of the wall within a half hour, just as dawn broke. Above us, about a quarter mile and 500 vertical feet, was the summit, taking shape in the early morning light. Ten minutes up the ridge from the Second Step, we stopped to eat a candy bar and drink some water. Fifty feet below us was another corpse and our second grizzly reminder that even a minor mistake could be fatal at this altitude. Jess, Pemba and I were feeling warm and strong, but Pasang was still a concern. He hadn’t picked up his pace by using oxygen and seemed spaced out. We would have to keep a close eye on him. The Third Step was nothing more than a few short vertical steps. We climbed these easily and then continued up a 400-foot snow and ice slope on the summit pyramid. Even though some parties had stayed on the ice along the ridge, we followed the main route that led out over the North Face and traversed a series of rock ledges. These backtracked and led us to the Northeast Ridge again and less than a hundred yards from the summit. To the east were immense cornices, gigantic waves of frozen ice that seemed ready to crash and cascade down the Kangchung Face at any moment. To our right was the North Face, a steep, wind scarred rock face cut by icy gullies from top to bottom. We walked along easily on the slightly upward sloping ice, taking care not to get too close to the corniced ridge, but staying away from the North Face as well. Thirty feet from the summit, I waited for Jess. Together, we walked the last 20 feet to the summit of Everest. I didn’t fight back the tears. There was a lot of stress built up inside me that seemed to want to climb out right there. It had been a long journey from saying, “yes, I’m going”, to standing on top, but it was worth the trouble. Unfortunately, Ed had died, but that led to Jess being invited. Then I had to tell his mother, which was tougher than climbing Everest. And, I couldn’t just walk off from my job without making arrangements. The summit released them all. It was the first time I had ever cried on the summit of a peak. And, Jess cried with me. After four unsuccessful expeditions, taking over a year and a half of my life, I was finally standing on top – with my son, who was not even born when I made my first attempt on Everest in 1981. At 20 years of age, Jess had become the youngest American to summit the highest point on earth. It was blowing hard, snowing and the visibility was cut to a few hundred feet. The temperature was around 20 degrees below Fahrenheit. Despite the bad weather and virtually no visibility, we were elated to be there. Jess and I hugged and congratulated each other, and then each of us grabbed Pemba and hugged him. Pasang Gelu was still five minutes away. Pemba pulled from his pack a string of brightly colored prayer flags, a Buddhist tradition for significant events. He attached them from another expedition’s previously placed anchor, and then strung them 15 feet to the summit. They were in line with a dozen other strings of prayer flags that had been placed throughout the years. Meanwhile, I pulled out my digital Nikon and took a few photos of Jess, then he and Pemba, on the summit. I couldn’t take my gloves off for too long for fear of frostbite, so I took only a few more photos before putting the camera away. After what seemed like an eternity waiting in the cold and wind, which was probably only five minutes, Pasang Gelu joined us on top. We congratulated him, let him enjoy the moment, and then started our descent. At the first rocks, both Jess and I grabbed a few small, fist-sized pieces of gray limestone, put them in our packs and continued on our way. Despite the continuing storm, the descent was much easier and faster. Just below the summit, on the rock ledges that traversed back to the Northeast Ridge, I tried descending without bottled oxygen. My mask’s bladder, that exchanges oxygen with the natural air, had filled with ice and was pulling my mask off my face every time I looked down or moved my head. Not only was it annoying, it was dangerous. Within minutes, I found myself getting dizzy. Jess noticed the change in my coordination and yelled at me to put my mask back on. I did so, but the mask, with the full bladder of ice, made my trip down the ridge a potential disaster. At the Second Step, we encountered 30 to 40 climbers, mostly Chinese, who were having a difficult time climbing the ropes. One Chinese woman in particular couldn’t seem to negotiate the step-over away from the ladder onto a newly laid rope. Other climbers were literally stacked up behind her waiting for her to make the move so they could take their turn. The Chinese climbers were stacked-up like cordwood. They were not about to move aside and let us descend. We couldn’t wait there for hours, so I grabbed an old rope and hand-lined down alongside the group, weaving in and out of them. Some of them were more than gracious enough to step aside, but some were not. It took me just a few minutes to reach the bottom. I continued down the ridge along the fixed lines to get out of the way of the 10 to 15 climbers still waiting to start up. I couldn’t see Jess, but I knew he would be behind me shortly. Pemba and Pasang Gelu ended up far behind us. They were uncomfortable with hand lining down old ropes, so had to stay at the top of the Second Step for almost two hours. I was running out of oxygen when I came upon a climber sitting in the snow on one of the ramps. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I’m alright,” he said, “but my partner down there has a broken leg. I’ve radioed down for a rescue group and they’re sending one up. I’ll be staying with him.” Even in my hypoxic state, I knew that a rescue crew was a long shot. There was no one left at the high camp and the rest of us were barely able to get down ourselves. Even if a rescue team did get mobilized, the terrain made it impossible for more than one person at a time on the rope. I looked at the climber below me and could see that he was moving, but not on two legs. He was scooting along holding his one leg hanging down over the side of the rock ramp. I climbed down to him. It was a British climber who we had met earlier at Base Camp. “What did you break?” I asked him. “My ankle. How does the route look down there?” he asked. I walked past him and could see he was above one of the 10 to 20-foot drop-offs. Fortunately, not only were there a few of the old ropes our group had used on our ascent, there was now a new 8 mm perlon line that the Chinese had just put in as they ascended. “Are you in a lot of pain? I asked. “It hurts quite a bit,” he admitted. I usually carry injectable demoral, but had mistakenly left it at the North Col. But as I thought about it, I realized it was probably best he felt the ankle, rather than eliminate the pain. Besides, no one was going to be able to get him down off that ridge - but himself. He needed to be fully awake and cognizant of his situation. The altitude and terrain would prevent anyone else from physically carrying or supporting him. I was almost out of oxygen and needed to move quickly to get to our cache of oxygen we had left on the way up near a landmark called “Mushroom Rock”. If I didn’t get to the cache, I would be in serious trouble. Without oxygen, the chances of getting cerebral or pulmonary edema would rise dramatically. “Your teammate said there’s a rescue crew coming. I have to keep going. I’m almost out of oxygen. Good luck.” I hated to leave him. But he would either make it down under his own power, or perish. There was no in-between. This wasn’t Mt. Rainier. At 28,500 feet, there was no room for error. Evidently, he had been at the bottom of a frayed rope. He and two other climbers were putting their weight on it. Perhaps the rope had broken; maybe someone had slipped. Regardless, one of the climbers above him had fallen on him, breaking his ankle. A half hour later, Jess also came upon the injured Brit. His training as a guide made him want to stay with the climber, but he was completely out of oxygen and had started to feel hypoxic and in serious danger. When he caught me an hour down the ridge, Jess was distraught with worry. “I didn’t want to leave him, Dad,” he said, “but I was out of oxygen. What should I have done?” “There was nothing more you could do, Jess,” I said. “His teammates will do what they can, but it’s really up to him to get down. There’s not a rescue team on earth that can get him off this ridge. If we had stayed with him, there would be three victims, not just one. “ (Footnote: The next day, a team of British Royal Marines met the injured climber at high camp, where he had dragged, rappelled and slid down to. From there the marines helped him down to Base Camp. Considering where the accident happened and what he had to do to get down, the British climber came out of his ordeal quite well. His tenacity and strength was remarkable and kept him alive and moving. His two teammates that stayed with him incurred frostbite on their hands and feet.) Both Jess and I had picked up new bottles of oxygen at our cache and were feeling better, although close to complete exhaustion. We were at the point on the ridge where the route intersected the ramp that led down to camp. As we rested for the final descent, Pasang Gelu and Pemba caught up. All together again, we descended the ramp to camp and arrived at noon, 12 hours after beginning our journey. The weather had improved slightly and it was warmer at the lower altitude. I didn’t see any mobilization of men for a rescue crew, but I knew that would take time. We were at camp long enough to have a quick cup of tea, pack our gear and start down. The descent to 25,700 feet took hours. We were completely exhausted and every step felt as though my legs would buckle under the heavy load. We encountered a multitude of climbers and Sherpas ascending the ropes to high camp. Climbers from Korea, Russia, the United States, Romania, France and a dozen other countries were nose to tail, slowly making their way up. We had to down-climb long sections of the route without the protection of the fixed rope to get around the climbers. Late in the afternoon, we finally got past the last of them and descended into camp. The four of us were done in. An Irish climber we had befriended at Advanced Base boiled water and made tea for us. Jess ended up sleeping in his tent for the night, while I finally struggled to my feet and moved to our tent just 30 feet away. But, it was a major effort. The next morning, May 22, the Sherpas packed up and left early. They were headed to Advanced Base Camp and wanted to get there before the sun heated the slopes. Jess and I loaded up with everything that was left and started down an hour later. The loads were heavy and awkward. Just short of the North Col camp was a 20-foot hill. I had to rest twice to get over it and into camp. Within four hours, we had reached the North Col. After brewing a cup of tea and hydrating, we loaded our packs with more of our gear that we had left at the North Col a few days before and began the last leg of our descent, the 2,000-foot drop down the face to Advanced Base. Several hours later, punctuated by many rest stops, we walked into camp. Twenty-one thousand feet felt like sea level, but we were so exhausted it was difficult to appreciate the difference. We were down and, most importantly, without frostbite or injury. After a day to pack gear and rest, the entire team of six Sherpas, one Tibetan cook boy and the two of us descended to base camp. The yaks followed with the gear the next day. Two days later, we left Everest base for Nepal and home, the end of one great adventure and the beginning of many more. John Roskelley BACK TO TOP



	06.30.03		Generations On Everest Re-cap Written 10:30 PM; June 30, 2003; Spokane, Washington Update: May 18, 2003 through May 22,2003 A window of windless weather finally arrived on May 18th, but it was short-lived. In fact, it lasted only a day. This didn't matter. Most of the teams believed the window would last longer and began their final summit push from whichever camp they were sitting out the storm. While most teams had descended to advanced base camp to wait out the wind and had to use the 18th to move back to the North Col, Jess and I had stuck it out on the Col during the six days of windy weather. Unfortunately, we were beat from our efforts climbing in the wind on the 17th, so had to use the best weather day of the expedition as a rest day. As we relaxed in the warm sunshine, Jess and I watched Pemba, Lila and Pasang Gelu, along with numerous other Sherpas from a dozen or so expeditions, move food, oxygen and supplies to the two higher camps. It was the first day we could actually sit outside on the North Col and relax in the sun without a coat. The sky was a brilliant blue and not a breath of wind moved along the ridge. After carrying his load, Lila, returned to the North Col around 4:00 PM with the good news that the tents were pitched at Camp IV (25,584 feet) and Pemba and Pasang Gelu had carried to Camp V (27,200 feet) with crucial supplies. Based on this information and a prediction of excellent weather, Jess and I decided to move up to Camp IV the following day. On May 19, we were awake by 5:30 AM. It took an hour to get dressed in the confined space of the two-person tent. Jess put on his full down suit over insulated underwear, while I wormed my way into down pants and a down coat. Sometime during the night, the wind had made a remarkable come back. It was now blowing steadily across the ridge at 20 to 30 miles per hour. Knowing it would take us at least six hours to climb the 2,500 feet to Camp IV and with no place to hide from the wind, we dressed in full summit regalia. We ate a breakfast of instant oatmeal and drank numerous cups of tea, before hefting our loads of personal gear onto our backs and starting up. By this time, it was 7:30 AM. In those two hours, the camp had come alive. With summit fever at an all time high, the climbers and Sherpas who had arrived in camp on the 18th were packing loads and heading up the ropes. As we left the protection of the monster serac that protected camp, the wind immediately hit us. Not like on the 17th, where it was difficult to take a breath or even stand up, but hard enough to make climbing up the ridge a serious test of endurance. Jess and I climbed at a snail's speed. It was as fast as we could manage at such an altitude with our 50-pound loads. As I neared the 25,000-foot level, I began counting two, then three breaths per step. I would do this for a hundred steps, then rest. Even at that slow a pace, we were able to stay in front of most of the other western and Asian climbers. There were, of course, a few young, well-acclimatized Sherpa "tigers", who were hired by the commercial teams for their strength and speed at altitude. They would scramble up the ropes behind us at twice our pace, sweating heavily under massive loads of tents, food and oxygen bottles, to finally pass us, then disappear into the wind-blown snow and broken rock above. Years ago, I would have gone after them in a friendly competition to see who could reach the next camp first. But, at 54, the thought of competition was mostly in my mind and no longer backed-up by legs of steel. In fact, just getting to the next camp was a challenge. By mid-afternoon, we finally reached the lower series of camps at 25,000 feet. It was here the Global Extreme team and several other expeditions had pitched tents prior to the ten-day storm. Every tent had disappeared during the storm, along with oxygen bottles, bags of food and any other gear stored inside them. Their Sherpas had pitched new tents and, once again, they were occupying the camp. This area of the ridge seemed to be a vortex for wind and a desperate place to camp. There are areas on every mountain where wind is literally sucked over cols and ridges and into voids of rock and ice because of the ridge and gully placements. On Everest, this was one of the worst. I now knew why our Sherpas had decided to camp higher on the ridge in the rock. The only downside was we still had another hour to go before reaching our camp 600 feet higher. The low-angled ice slope we had been climbing ended at the 25,000-foot level. Above, the ridge was a series of short rock walls, cut through by gullies filled with loose gravel and boulders. Even though a fixed line was in place up the ridge, it was frayed and risky to use. It was more of a route finding tool, rather something you'd want to grab a hold of. Finally, after an hour of clawing our way up the ridge, I looked up to see Pemba waving to us from one of our two tents. Each of the tents was pitched on rock platforms that had taken hours to make big enough and somewhat level. They were securely fastened by guy-lines anchored to 100-pound boulders. In addition, a climbing rope was strung over the tops of the tents as an extra precaution. By the looks of the tattered remains of five or six nearby tents, it was obvious to me this was also a windy camp. Once there, we took off our packs and gladly crawled into our tent. Within a few minutes, we had organized our foam mats and sleeping bags and were flat out on our backs, resting and trying to get more oxygen into our lungs. We hadn't been this high before on this trip. Neither of us was well acclimatized. It felt as if I was sucking air through a narrow straw. In the tent was an oxygen bottle, two regulators, two masks and a "splitter", a device that would allow both of us to use the same bottle of oxygen as we slept. Jess connected everything up and we started using O2 at one liter per minute. Immediately, I felt as if I had been shot in the arm with adrenaline. Even Jess remarked it was like we had dropped back to advanced base. Jess took on the chore of cooking, while I tried to get a few minutes sleep. As usual, we hydrated first. After several cups of tea and bouillon, he served a noodle and tuna fish dish, which hit the spot after an all day ordeal in the wind. By the time we were through eating and filling our water bottles with hot water to stick at the bottom of our sleeping bags, it was 8:00 PM. A few minutes later we were in our sleeping bags and Jess was soon fast asleep. The winds had picked up into the night and by 1 AM were gusting around 60 to 70 miles per hour. The flapping of the tent walls and the howl of the wind on the ridge woke us. It was so intense, we could hardly hear each other speak over the noise. Around 2 AM, when the winds seemed to be peaking, Jess turned on his headlamp, rolled towards me and said, "Dad, do you think we should get dressed and put our boots on. If this tent goes, we're going to have to bail." I thought about our situation and his question for a few seconds and then replied, "Yea, let's put on our down gear and boots, just in case." I think he was surprised. Normally, I wouldn't have given something like this a second thought. But in those few seconds, I remembered a tragedy on Mt. Dhaulagiri that occurred in 1979. While in Kathmandu that year, before trekking into Gaurishankar to attempt that unclimbed peak, Jim Morrissey and I visited three French climbers in the local hospital. One was the extreme skier, Sylvan Sudan. The three of them had been badly frostbitten on Dhualagiri and were being treated before flying home. They had been at the high camp at 25,700 feet, waiting to go for the summit with two other climbers. Extreme winds had pinned them down. That night, Sudan, his girlfriend and the other climber, who were in one tent, got out to help stabilize the second tent. The two other climbers they were with were inside trying to weight it down and keep it from blowing away. As they finished their job and were struggling to get back to their own tent a few yards away, a gust of wind, strong enough to flatten the three climbers, hit the camp. The tent with the two climbers inside disappeared over the edge and down the Southeast Face. They were never seen again. Sudan's tent blew away as well, taking all their gear, including their boots with it. They survived by sliding down a snow gully in their down booties to a rock cave, where they spent the night. The next morning, they were rescued by another team of climbers, but suffered severe frostbite to their hands and feet. I knew the camp and the cave. I had spent 10 days pinned down by high winds at 24,600 feet on Dhaulagiri, before moving up for two nights at the 25,700-foot camp. We made the summit, but I felt at times our tent, pitched in the same spot as the French, was going to be blown away as well. I knew then, after talking to Sudan, my fears had been justified. Early the next morning, the wind slowed to a mere 30 to 40 miles per hour. I fully expected us to stay put and wait for calmer conditions, but the Sherpas were anxious to move up to the next camp and get off the ridge. Obviously, they knew something I didn't. Camp V, perched high on the concave north face, was slightly more protected from the winds howling out of Nepal then the protruding and exposed north ridge. This day was different. From here, Jess and I would be on bottled oxygen. It would be a new experience for me, after 30 years of climbing or trying to climb the highest peaks on earth without it. Using bottled oxygen went against everything I believed in for all those years. But I knew from climbing to 25,700 feet the day before that, as poorly acclimatized as I was to the higher altitude, it was probably the best decision. It hurt my ego to put it on, but once I experienced the strength and warmth it created, I didn't want to take it off. Other than unwavering determination, these two elements were what I needed to keep going. The route from our campsite zigzagged up the ridge, weaving through bands of rock to avoid any short vertical walls. We stayed on the ridge crest for about 400 vertical feet, before traversing toward the North Face along slightly inclined ramps. Within several hours after leaving camp, we had caught a line-up of climbers and Sherpas making their way slowly upward. As usual, there was a disparity in speed, with many of the Sherpas able to move more quickly than the expedition members. Once past a long line-up of Chinese and Koreans, the four of us, Pemba, Pasang Gelu, Jess and I climbed fairly quickly around the 100-foot vertical bands above our ramp system and into the huge amphitheater of the North Face. From there, the route ran straight up through mixed snow, ice and rock to the camp. Tents of various sizes, colors and shapes were pitched along a series of downward slanting ramps. Few of them were level and there were far more teams than campsites. We were one of the lucky groups. Pemba had a cousin working for one of the four Japanese teams on the route. He had made arrangements with his relative for us to use a Japanese four-man tent, which had been placed several days earlier. It was perfect and we didn't have to spend hours building two platforms for our tents. We had reached our high camp at 2:00 PM, only six hours after leaving Camp IV. At camp, the four of us removed our crampons and found a spot in the tent. There was ample room for three of us to lie down, while Pemba sat in one corner and melted ice for tea and water bottles. Jess and I still had oxygen left in our two bottles we had climbed with that day, so we gave one to the Sherpas to sleep on, while we used the other. Each pair of us had a splitter, so we could use the same bottle. At 1/2 liter per minute, the bottles lasted until we left for our summit attempt at midnight. Dinner for Jess and I consisted of a cup of soup, a cup of tea, a candy bar and some licorice. The Sherpas ate their customary diet of tsampa, baked barley flour, which they mixed with their tea. It smelled so good, Jess and I had a cup of it as well. Now I know the Sherpa secret to strength and stamina - tsampa! Word filtered down to our Sherpas that the Chinese were going to get an early start. "Just how early?" I asked. They didn't seem to know, but said we should get up at midnight and leave around 1 AM. That seemed late to me. With as large a group as the Chinese had, I knew they would plan an even earlier start. "I'll wake everyone at 11," I said firmly. "We have to be on the route before the Chinese or anyone else. That means we have to be out of the tent no later than twelve." The Sherpas didn't like it, but didn't complain. They probably figured I'd sleep right through the time. This far into the expedition, they should have known I'm an early riser and had a habit of sleeping very lightly. Each pair of us put our feet into the two sleeping bags, pulled the unzipped bag over our bodies and covered as much of our upper body as possible. We were still fully dressed in down suits, down pants and coats. With four climber's body heat warming the inside the tent and very little wind outside, the tent's temperature stayed fairly comfortable. I think I slept intermittently, perhaps between the hours of 6 PM and 10 PM, but it wasn't much. After checking my watch at 10, I didn't bother to go back to sleep. Jess was in a deep coma, just like a typical college student. I could hear the Sherpas breathing heavily. They were sound asleep. It was peaceful to just lie in the dark and think about the next ten hours. This was it. We would either summit the following morning or walk away empty handed. The chance of another summit attempt, if this one failed, was in the realm of me becoming President. Not good. "Pemba! Pasang! Hey, Jess. Wake up. It's time." Next week: May 21, 2003 – To the summit BACK TO TOP



	06.08.03		Generations On Everest Re-cap Written 8:00 PM; June 8, 2003; Spokane, Washington Update: May 8, 2003 through May 17,2003 As Jess and I watched the two Toyota Land Cruisers, carrying Dick, Jim, Lorraine and Dan, disappear down the Rongbuk Glacial plain, we knew it was going to be tough to focus on the climb for a few days. Our partners had been a source of strength and encouragement. To watch them leave left an emotional void that would be difficult to overcome. The winds were obviously still scouring the upper slopes of Everest. Any fresh snow that had fallen during the previous days was now gone. Everest’s north slopes were again mostly rock, with a few gullies of water ice. Even the West Ridge, usually deep in snow, was showing signs of gray, hard water ice. The next morning, Jess and I left base around 9:00 AM, fully loaded with personal gear. Gusts of wind blew down valley into our faces as we made our way toward the cut-off trail leading up the East Rongbuk to Interim Camp. We made good time along the seven miles of trail and 2,000 vertical feet of elevation gain and within three hours were sitting in a 20-foot by 20-foot Chinese army tent left at Interim Camp by a commercial expedition. Although it was drafty, it provided protection from the wind and cold for a few minutes to eat lunch and relax. A half an hour later, we were back on the moraine trekking toward Advanced Base Camp (ABC). This would test our resolve. Although I had made the trip in one day the first time, it was not easy. Thirteen miles from base, with an elevation gain of 4,000 feet, made for a long, difficult day. By the time we reached camp, both Jess and I were beat and more than ready to take a rest the following day. Upon arriving at ABC, Gopal, our Sherpa Sirdar, informed me that Pemba had climbed to the North Col that day. He had bad news. Our large Moss tent had lost it’s rain fly during the ten days of wind, but was still standing. Unfortunately, the North Face Himalayan Hotel, with my down coat, down pants, high altitude sleeping bag and miscellaneous climbing gear had disappeared. This could have been the end of my trip, but with Jim and Dick’s climbing gear still at ABC, I could still put together a complete climbing kit, including a similar sleeping bag. It seemed as though good fortune was with us. Dick’s tent at ABC had actually disappeared. It had taken off in the wind. The Sherpas, fighting to keep several of the tents from being destroyed, watched it bounce once in the rocks, drop Dick’s gear bag out the broken the door zipper, then fly off down the glacier. I had already removed his sleeping bag before the storm, or that would have disappeared with it. The tent Jess and I were sleeping in prior to the high winds had also been damaged. A Russian tent a hundred yards above our camp had taken off in the wind loaded with gear, landed on an Irish tent nearby and broke it’s poles, then bounced into ours, ripping it across the top with two protruding ice axes and broke some of its poles. The Sherpas had collapsed the tent and put rocks on it to hold it in place. But we were the lucky ones. The Chinese, who were camped in an exposed place near the glacier, had every one of their tents destroyed or damaged. The Koran Black Yak Expedition, just below the Chinese, lost all but one tent. Literally, a hundred tents of all makes and models were destroyed during the ten-day storm. At the North Col and camps above, the devastation was total. Jess and I carried to the North Col on May 11, to put personal gear at 23,000 feet and re-acclimatize to the higher altitude. As we walked to our remaining tent, a Sherpa from another team said there was a tent in the crevasse just below our camp. I held on to his arm and leaned out over the 50-foot deep, 20-foot wide gap in the glacier. Stuck between the walls of ice on a snow shelf, deep in the crevasse, was our Himalayan Hotel. It looked twisted and broken, but maybe, just maybe, my gear was still inside. Jess borrowed a climbing rope from the Royal Navy team nearby, while I placed a couple of 3-foot pickets on the downhill side of the crevasse. Within a few minutes of setting up the rappel, I was on the snow shelf next to the tent. I tied the tent to the end of the rope, yelled for Jess and the Sherpa to haul it up and watched it slide up the icy wall. I followed quickly, using my crampons and jumars to get up and out of the crevasse. Although the tent was a loss, all my gear was still inside. Our luck was holding. The next day, four of our Sherpas carried tents, food, oxygen bottles and miscellaneous gear to the North Col. While they were there, they pitched a smaller two-man tent to replace the Himalayan Hotel. The camp was again ready to occupy. On May 13, Jess and I, along with Pemba and Pasang Gelu moved to the North Col. The weather reports we had received from the Outdoor Life Network Expedition and from the Northern Irish group indicated there might be a good weather window on May 16 and 17. Even though the winds were still howling at the Col, we knew it was important to be in position when and if the weather turned good. May 14 was too windy to move up the ridge. Jess and I stayed hunkered in our tent, while the Sherpas descended to wait out the storm at ABC. Little did we know it was going to be a long wait. For the next three days the winds tore at the Col. Jess was antsy to move somewhere, either up or down, but I convinced him that 23,000 feet was a good place to be while the weather fluctuated. At least we were acclimatizing to a higher altitude and, if the winds abated, we’d be in position to move up quickly. The Sherpas joined us again on the evening of the May 16. Again, weather reports indicated there would be a change in the weather as the jet stream moved off the mountain and further into Tibet. On the 17th, we packed our personal gear for our move to 25,700 feet. Pemba and Pasang Gelu took off right after breakfast, while Jess and I cooked and waited for the sun to warm the air just a bit more. Hidden behind a large serac, our camp on the North Col was sheltered from the direct wind, but we could tell from the gusts around camp that it was blowing hard on the upper ridge to the next camp. As Jess and I left the protection of the serac and dipped into the lowest point of the Col, the 60 to 80 mile per hour cross wind hit us hard, literally sucking the breath out of our mouths and knocking us to one side. It was difficult to even stand, let alone climb up the ridge. The fixed line was singing and flying in a great horizontal arc from the fixed points as we tried to make our way up the route. It was risky to continue because of the possibility of getting frostbite. I caught Jess on the fourth fixed rope and told him I thought we should turn around. “Jess,” I yelled over the wind, “It’s too risky to keep going right now. Let’s go back to camp for a few hours and see if the wind doesn’t die down.” He didn’t like my suggestion, but acquiesced. There were thirty climbers on the ridge and they weren’t turning back. Why should we? My answer was simple. Everyone has to use their best judgment and do what they think is right. “We can’t make decisions based on what the other guy’s doing,” I said. “We’ll end up dead.” Back in camp, we boiled some water, relaxed in the large tent and wondered if the wind would die down. Sitting in the warm sun behind the protection of the serac, it seemed as though we were in a different world. We could see the climbers on the ridge fighting for every inch of elevation. There were even some, like us, who had decided to quit and return to camp from even higher on the ridge than we were. But after an hour in camp, Jess insisted on going back up the ridge. We picked up our loads once more and headed up. The winds were still ripping across the ridge horizontally. At times, we had to drop to our knees to keep from being blown off. Not only was it bitterly cold, but it was also wearing us down. Just as we reached the last steep section that led to the first camp at 25,000 feet, still almost two hours from our camp, our two Sherpas, who had left five hours before, came down the ropes to where we were resting. “The winds are too high,” Pasang Gelu said. “We couldn’t put up a tent. We have to go back to the Col.” By this time, almost every Sherpa or climber who had started out that morning had turned around. We had fought the wind for four hours between 23,000 feet and 25,000 feet for nothing. It was the low point of the expedition. The worst part about it was that my gut feeling that morning, after our first foray into the wind, was to stay in camp and wait for a day. But I had let myself be talked into going. I swore to myself this wouldn’t happen again. The next day, May 18, was perfect. Pemba and Pasang Gelu got another early start and reached 25,700 feet in four hours. They pitched two tents and camped for the night. Jess and I took a rest day and recuperated from carrying on the ridge the day before. Finally, the weather looked as though it was cooperating. Next: High camps and the summit BACK TO TOP



			05.22.03 Advanced Base Camp: 21,000 feet. 05.19.03 25,700 feet. 05.16.03 23,000 feet. 05.16.03 23,000 feet. 05.11.03 Advanced Base Camp: 21,000 feet. 05.09.03 Advanced Base Camp: 21,000 feet. 05.04.03 Everest Base Camp: 17,000 feet. 05.03.03 North Col: 23,000 feet. 05.02.03 Everest Base Camp: Tibet 17,000 feet. 04.27.03 Update From Dick Bass, Everest Base Camp: 17,000. 04.20.03 Everest Base Camp: Tibet 17,000 feet. 04.16.03 Advanced Base Camp: 21,000 feet. 04.14.03 Advanced Base Camp: 21,000 feet. 04.08.03 Everest Base Camp: 17,000 feet. 04.05.03 Everest Base Camp, Tibet – Everest base camp: 17,000 feet. 04.04.03 3:00 p.m.; Friday; April 4, Everest Base Camp, Tibet – Everest base camp: 17,000 feet. 04.02.03 5:35 p.m.; Wednesday; April 2, Everest Base Camp, Tibet – Everest base camp: 17,000 feet. 03.31.03 4:30 p.m.; Monday; March 31, Rombuk Glacier – Everest base camp: 17,000 feet. 03.30.03 8:30 p.m.; Sunday evening; March 30, Tingri, Tibet 03.28.03 4:40 p.m.; Friday evening; March 28, Nyalam, Tibet 03.27.03 3:47 p.m., Thursday, March 27, Nyalam, Tibet 03.25.03 Tuesday 8:00 a.m. 03.20.03 A young Monk in the Bangkok Airport (Jess).

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