Thursday, June 19, 2008

Everest Wrap Up....

Dear Friends

(This is the last blog, and below, the final account "Summit & Descend!")

For people that have the slightest sense of adventure, and are inspired by the hardships that the human spirit will endure in the quest for success and achievement, then it is hard to resist having a fascination with the world's sacred roof top Mt. Everest – referred to by the Sherpas as "Chomolungma" (or Goddess Mother of the World).

For me, that fascination began when in 1992 I felt compelled to go and see Everest for myself. And in the true spirit of adventure it was only right that I made that approach deep into the Himalayas, via the same 150km trek from Jiri to Base Camp that pioneering expeditions led back in the mid 1900's in their quest to be the first to reach the top of the world.

I climbed to the top of nearby Kalar Patar which at 5,540m was for me a personal best; it would be the closest I could ever get to Everest without actually ever climbing it.

I would never in my wildest dreams have thought back then, that some 16 years later, I would be returning in my own personal quest to reach the summit.

Oh, the stir of emotions I felt when reaching the South Summit and seeing for the first time, the spectacular Hillary Step leading up to the final summit ridge. And then of course the realizing moment just after 11am on the 21st May 2008, when I took the last final steps up onto the summit of the Goddess Mother.

These last 2 months have been a fantastic journey and I only hope that you also have felt the same. I have enjoyed immensely writing these blogs for you all to share in the adventure first hand, and perhaps feel somehow, that you too also reached the summit of Everest there with me.

Again, I must especially thank you all for your great words of encouragement and support that I received via email, text message and the guest book – your contributions gave me the strength to endure those many days I cursed of the relentless fatigue, exhaustion, headaches, nausea and lack of appetite – it was worth every darn moment!

Also to the community of Maryborough (where I went to High School and where Graham and Dawn, my parent are from), I will make sure that next time I am in town to share the experience with you all in a slideshow night.

"What next?" you ask.

Well there are still plenty of challenges out there so don't worry about that; I'm a long way off quitting yet!

For yourself, I do really hope that by following along with my climb to the summit of Everest that it has been an inspiration to set your own personally challenging goals.

Aim high! Just as we did on Everest. Break your goal down into smaller goals, and go about achieving those, one breath, one step, one day at a time. Persevere. Endure. Keep your eye on the summit. You'll get there!

Keep in touch and please do contact me anytime for a chat, or with any questions or inquiries you may have, or just to share in the next adventure. I would love to hear from you.

" Without risk, there is no adventure"

Take care . . . David

Email : flatsprings@hotmail.com

http://www.spiritofeverest.com

Final Account - Part III (Descent)

Views from the Top!

It was about 11:15am or so as I made the final steps onto the snow summit of Everest.

It summit was particularly crowded, but colorful with other climbers, most of which were unrecognizable in their puffy down suits, clad behind oxygen masks and large mirrored goggles. There were cheers of celebration; people hugging, calling loved ones on sat phones, taking video footage and candid pictures that could be taken back home to friends and family as memorabilia of this most precious and joyous moment.

I recognized both Zhangbu and Anselm and we embraced each other in a hug of congratulations and celebration. "Yes, yes, we've made it!"

I was not sure if I would cry, having anticipated this moment for several years. But gee…that sure wasn't necessary. "I have just reached the top of the world!" I thought. "You beauty!"

As I scanned the horizon from the summit, I could see other climbers ascending up from the Hillary Step; many bent over, resting with weigh on their forward foot as they took their final steps.

Looking to the west, there was only blue sky; now void of any peaks higher than where I stood - they were all now far below. Clouds were dispersed amongst their flanks, but moving up the valleys quickly.

A few feet from where I stood marked the descent down the opposite side of Everest into Tibet. It was the top of the NE ridge which could be followed all the way down to the expansive Tibetan plateau below.

Over my shoulder to the east, cloud blocked any view. I was vaguely conscious just how quickly this cloud moved in since arriving at the summit only just a short time before. I had a brief, oxygen deprived thought back to the tragedy of 1996 and the photo in the book "Into Thin Air" that showed storm clouds also gathering on this very same side of Everest. It played on my mind a little, however at this moment the clouds did not appear ominously, threatening enough as they did in '96 to distract me from taking in the moment.

Jamie arrived at the summit and was well spirited. I joked about what took him so long! Anselm and I sat on the top for a bit. We took more pictures and did a bit of a pose shot on the summit yielding our ice axes high in the air as you do! I watched Zhangbu and he could not wipe the shy smile from his face; his chance to summit today surely the pinnacle so far of his young climbing career.

After a few more photos, we had done what we came for and I called to Anselm that we start heading down.

(Unaware at the time, but after reviewing photos taken as we turned to descend, I was to learn that it was 1:07pm when we left the summit. Amazingly, we spent almost 2 hours on the summit when my normal philosophy would be to get to the top, take a few quick pictures, and get the hell out of there).

Fatigue & Altitude Sets In

We wouldn't of traveled more than 30m or so down the summit ridge and I suddenly felt exhausted. This really caught me be surprised. Was I really this tired? I knew that I had to be extremely careful. 80% of high altitude mountaineering accidents happen on the descent when oxygen deprived climbers are tired and dehydrated. I was determined not to become a statistic.

Continuing on several hundred meters along the ridge, I was absolutely stoked to recognize an approaching climber; it was Andy. "You bloody rippa!" I said in a muffled voice beneath my oxygen mask.

I had not seen Andy since leaving the South Col late last night. He had been behind me the whole way and I might of assumed that Andy was moving too slow on the ascent and decided to turn back. He proved me wrong and I was so pleased he did! I looked back over my shoulder to see how close he was to the summit, and knew he would make it!

We chatted briefly and gave our best wishes. Then Anselm and I continued our descent.

A further 100m on we came across another climber we recognized – it was the guy in the blue down suit who was moving terribly slow on the ascent early this morning, and whom we had trouble passing. (We were to learn later he was Korean).

A number of Sherpas were crowded around him. We overhead their conversation, speaking sternly to the Korean guy……

"You must go down! You must go down!" The Korean seemed defiant not to listen.

"You must go down!" Frustration and anger could be heard in the Sherpas' voices.

"You don't have enough time. You must go down!"

The guy swaying from side to side raised his arm slowly to point towards the summit. He mumbled some words. It seemed he was adamant to climb up to the summit despite the advice of the Sherpas.

He stepped forward, tripping on an oxygen bottle in front of him that the Sherpas had just changed over for him. It was apparent he was not thinking clearly and at this late hour in the day, and at the slow pace he was moving, the Sherpas knew he was seriously risking his life.

Anselm and I continued on. A further 50m along the route approaching the Hillary Step we came upon another climber, a young guy, maybe 25 years old or so, being escorted by his Sherpa. This climber was stumbling down the route tripping over himself and fumbling with the fixed lines.

His Sherpa looked back at us realizing they were slowing our descent, and his glance said it all about his client's inability to function properly.

I turned back to Anselm and said I was afraid to watch this guy descend the Hillary Step as there was every chance he would slip on one the most exposed section of the route…..and….sure enough, he did; his crampon failing to gain purchase as he moved over the smooth rock surface. Fortunately however, his Sherpa had properly attached the climber to the safety line preventing a fatal fall several thousand meters down the south west face.

At the bottom of the Hillary Step we managed to pass the two of them, and came up upon another situation in which two guys standing across the route were having a discussion about oxygen – from what we could make out, it seemed that one guy was asking the other for oxygen.

(As it would turn out a 44 yo. Swiss guy by the name of Uwe Gianni Goltz who was attempting to summit without oxygen today, died, likely due to symptons of HACE – High Altitude Cerebrel Edema. It is believed that the guy we saw here at the bottom of the Hillary Step asking for oxygen was Uwe).

I was somewhat surprised about all these other climbers we were now coming across that were getting into trouble. The approach to the top was so perfect in every respect it seemed for everyone, but now, on the descent and high up on the mountain still, Everest was now in control! Our motivation was fueled to get down faster to much lower and safer altitudes!

From the bottom of the Hillary Step we climbed across to and over the South Summit to commence the steep descent down the SE ridge to The Balcony. (Photos taken here later confirmed the time was 2:01pm).

Rescue at 8,700m

Barely over the crest of the summit, we now came upon a group crowded around another climber on the ground who was clearly in trouble.

Anselm and I observed. The climber at the center of all the attention was Sultan; a young guy from Oman attempting Everest who we had hear about, and had passed once in the ice fall. He was easy to recognize; the Oman flag blazed across his hat, and the front and arms of his down suit.

It was still day light but we were conscious that it was getting later in the afternoon and were all still very high and exposed on the mountain. Instinct was telling us we have to keep moving down, but the rescue was blocking the route. There was no chance to pass on this steep and exposed ridgeline. We dare not risk venturing from the fixed lines, so we anxiously waited for an opportunity.

We sat down and continued to watch the rescue unfold. Sultan looked well gone, passing in and out of consciousness. He was certainly incapable of following the instructions of his rescuers so, with rope attached, they forcefully dragged him down. No time could be wasted. Every precious moment of the rescue was depleting everyone's final oxygen reserves – us included.

Anselm and I both checked each other's remaining oxygen and decided it would be wise to conserve what we could. We each turned down the flow to 1L/min.

Meanwhile, Andy caught up with is. We spoke briefly, then Andy spotted an opportunity to bypass the rescue, and he quickly took the lead in doing so. We followed immediately behind along with two of our Sherpas who had also caught up with us by now. We were not sure where Jamie and the other Sherpa off our team were at this time. They would still be back up above us coming down.

Down the South Ridge

The further we descended the more tired I felt. "Keeping moving down" I kept telling myself. Descending remained instinctive.

I moved, often awkward, down over the rock bands. I glance quickly and see the Sherpas are behind me.

Anselm was about 100 yards in front of me; plodding along and taking frequent short rests. I was moving with a similar lack of grace but nothing could distract my descent.

Further along in front of Anselm was Andy. He appeared to be holding himself well and now seemed to be the strongest in the group.

Andy reached the Balcony, followed shortly after Anselm. One by one they each descended down the snow face to the right of The Balcony and disappeared from my view.

I reached the Balcony but from here, could not see the other guys. "How can that be?" I thought.

Climbing Alone

I turned down the snow slope plodding along continuing to take frequent rests. I reached the first rock band at the very top of the south face and then suddenly become aware just how dark it was; complete and utter darkness. I felt truly alone.

As I scanned my headlamp down the route, I was shocked at what I saw; a mass of tangled lines going off in every direction, down the face into darkness.

"How can this be?" I thought. Coming up the route last night there seemed only one obvious fixed line. I start to ponder just which line now is the correct line to follow down.

Doubt started to penetrate my thoughts and churn over and over in my mind….

"Am I off route?"

"But I can't be"

"Have I got lost in the dark?"

"That's not possible!"

"Why then?"

Judgment told me to choose what looked like the newest looking lines and assume these that would guide me to the bottom of the south face to camp. I moved down accordingly to this method.

Down, down, down…..

The Dark Side

I swept my head from left to right and back again constantly assessing the route. I was distracted by something bright out to the left hand side. "Ah, could it be another climber?" I thought.

I shone my headlamp back in that direction, and sure enough, there was a climber in a light blue suit. Oddly though his face was somewhat hidden, as he sat motionless propped between two rocks; legs straight out in front of him and leaning back slightly.

"What was he doing there? Resting? Why there at this time? Why so close to the trail? There is no else around??"

I took another glance this time observing that he was motionless, his position appearing though so neatly composed in a partially upright position. I then realized, of course, that this was a dead climber; most likely from a prior season.

The sight of the body did not did not bother me. This was Everest to which there is a brutal, unforgiving dark side.

I continued to move down; still hazily focused on the distant faint glow of camp far below.

The pack in which I had my oxygen bottle keeps falling off my shoulder. The valve on the bottle protruding from the pack is getting stuck in the fixed lines. I am frustrated and have to stop and take off the pack to free it - it is using precious time and energy that I just don't have right now.

"The oxygen mask; it won't stay on my head. I cannot breath. It's not working" I keep saying over and over again to myself.

I get to a point where I find the mask more of a hindrance now. It was not offering any relief it seemed; leaving me constantly short of breath, until such time I would find myself gasping for air. I tear the mask from my face and let it hang around my neck. I can only assume I am out of oxygen.

I continue down, down, down – one rock band ledge at a time, often slipping on the loose scree underfoot; but this had to be progress.

Travellers in the Night

It was not before too long that ahead of me I saw a figure moving down in the darkness! It was a climber; clearly without a headlamp moving down the rocks and scree on the butt of his down suit. I was unwaivered by the sight of him and simply accepted the fact he was there.

He too seemed driven by the same instinct I had to keep moving down. He did not look around despite me now keeping my headlamp shined on him offering light to his otherwise dark world. I took comfort in his presence if nothing more.

We climbed down for what was probably several hundred meters in altitude. The route started getting steeper and eventually he stopped. There were just three elements to our discussion. We exchanged names. We asked each what teams we were climbing on. And lastly, he asked me for oxygen!

I indicate I have no oxygen to give "I am out also" I told him, holding the mask now dangling around my neck.

He asked again for oxygen, and I responded the same and apologized I had nothing to offer.

We were both out of oxygen and with that realization, without any further conversation, we up and recommenced our descent. It was that simple.

For hours I have not checked my watch to check the time, but now I could see a steady stream of headlamps were ascending up from Camp 4 in our direction. These headlamps were obviously climbers starting out tonight on their summit attempt. This suggested it was somewhere between 8~10pm.The headlamps of the ascending climbers provided us with a further and closer reference point to descend towards.

Eventually I passed these oncoming climbers, and as I did so, looked down at the front of my suit – I was completely frosted over with ice – the bright red of my down suit almost unrecognizable. I think how shockingly ghostly and exhausted I must look to these approaching climbers in the dark of night.

Continuing on, I reached the bottom of the South Face where it transitions to a large snow field that slopes gently down to camp 4. The proper trail was visible in the snow. There were fixed lines in place, but being so exhausted I chose not to use them in what seemed a relatively lower risk section of the route.

In passing another oncoming climber, I stepped slightly off trail to the left and instantly fell into a hole up to my waist.

The oncoming climber was briefly terrified to see me fall, and quickly offered assistance throwing the safety line to help me get out. I was not phased at this point. Still on auto-pilot, my mind shifted immediately to getting to camp. I climbed out and offering a wave of thanks to the other climber, continued towards camp.

Reaching Camp

Reaching the outskirt of camp at the South Col, I was confronted with a mass of similar looking tents sprawled out over an area about the size of a football field.

I was now challenged with having to figure out which was our team's tent which I compelled to reach. It almost seemed too difficult a task to be bothered with. I was so exhausted by this time, having been climbing now for near 24 hours without any sleep and on just one liter of fluid. I was tempted to lie down and sleep on the rocky ground where I stood. I was so exhausted "It looks so, so comfortable" my mind was telling me.

I considered it. "No, I can't" I thought. "If I lie down I will not wake up".

"No, I can't! No! Get to the tent! No!"

"Maybe just a quick nap?"

"No! No don't. Get to the tent!"

"Go on. get to the tent!"

Thankfully instinct got the better of me to head for the tent for safety. Across the Col I staggered in the general direction of where I thought our tent to be.

Reaching the tent I called out "Andy, Anselm are you in there?".

I received no response.

Again…."Andy, Anselm are you in there?"

"Yeah, we're in here!"

They guys unzipped the tent door and I rolled inside. It was great to see them as silly as they looked with oxygen masks still strapped to their face!

I removed my crampons and brushed off the ice covering my down suit. The guys offered a hot orange drink which tasted so wonderfully good. It was the first fluids I had drank perhaps in 12 hours or more. They also assisted and offered a fresh bottle of oxygen on which I could now rest. I held the mask to my face and took some deep, slow breathes.

Checking my watch it was 9:37pm; I had been climbing almost 24 hours since leaving for the summit yesterday evening. I was surprised to hear that Anselm reached the tent not a great deal earlier than I did, and Andy I think about 1~1.5 hours earlier.

We chatted a bit about where Jamie and the Sherpas were, and about what we saw and what happened on our descents. No doubt we would share those same discussions in a lot more detail over the coming days, but right now I just wanted to sleep. I did; shortly thereafter, for what was without a doubt, one of the best night's sleep I'd ever had!

I would wake tomorrow, stoked on the thought of having summited Everest :)