tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3440218638783279152024-02-20T08:58:15.331-08:00Everest Attempt 2013The thoughts, experiences, and random musings of Dave Mauro as he attempts to climb Mt Everest, thus completing the Seven Summits. Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-91447803031400347092018-06-09T10:33:00.002-07:002018-06-09T11:45:00.090-07:00The #1 Bestseller taken from this blog.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">If you enjoyed this blog you should check out the book it inspired.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="712" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5dpix0lJ36kGGzhA6TLG8NV3VeBnBpphTSP8A8oKTT4E7VDXB5d8erw8ws8_fu4-ONFYYmJk89RnHwtqOzDwBM0AwPTqU4pnLBfWbPfC2cj_OqAao7p841f28TAHkAn3ZRizj8gUZ-iE/s640/cropped+%25231++June+3.jpg" width="412" /></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Altitude-Journals-Seven-Year-Journey-Highest/dp/1544500491/ref=redir_mobile_desktop?_encoding=UTF8&dpID=519fXUH%2Bm1L&dpPl=1&keywords=the%20altitude%20journals&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&qid=1524159731&ref=plSrch&ref_=mp_s_a_1_1&sr=8-1"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Buy it here!</span></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-13463021466047917452015-09-27T11:47:00.002-07:002015-09-27T16:08:46.674-07:00My review of the movie Everest.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnZBGPr9-QVxWfjdSToCodHdZ_3Fe9Q8_ts6BuRVZGxt7lTnTsvrqM078if3FafMhPCptvhFeQQW3mm1akb7IlUuku3FZ6jLGFYyN3xx2Z9XdzlDchp4fYbbMneyB-s8iGJYDjjbljvBQ/s1600/Everest+movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnZBGPr9-QVxWfjdSToCodHdZ_3Fe9Q8_ts6BuRVZGxt7lTnTsvrqM078if3FafMhPCptvhFeQQW3mm1akb7IlUuku3FZ6jLGFYyN3xx2Z9XdzlDchp4fYbbMneyB-s8iGJYDjjbljvBQ/s320/Everest+movie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOHS-mxn0RQ">Click here for movie trailer</a><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I saw Everest last night at the local IMAX. Here is my take on the movie: We went with the 3D option and there were a few parts where that effect was used in fun ways, but all in all I think your money is better spent on the 2D version. </span><br style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">First of all, the movie implied a greater number of climbers than actually existed on Everest during the 1996 season. 50 climbers attempted Everest that season, a number then considered dangerous and unsustainable. Krakauer's book should have</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> scared climbers away, but instead ignited the imagination of adventure seekers world wide. 800 individuals attempted Everest in 2013, the year I climbed it.<br />The movie showed drinking and dancing going on at the camps. While that may have been the case then, I saw none of that when I was there. Today's Everest climber is a serious athlete who has trained hard for months and wouldn't think of giving away any physical advantage.<br />There were scenes where tired climbers struggled into camp 2 (21,000) and strapped on an oxygen mask. We didn't see bottled O's until camp 3 (23,600).<br />That said, the entire depiction of the route was spot on. No doubt much of the footage was genuine, but scenes up high would have to have been built out in a studio and/or incorporated computer generated imagery. I was stunned by the accuracy of the Tenzing and Hilary steps. Even the slope of accent at each leg of the route was genuine. Big kudos for that. If you see this movie you will quite accurately see what an Everest climber sees on the south side route.<br />The storyline is well known to readers of Into Thin Air. But the script seems to also consider the sometimes contradictory account of climber Anatoli Boukreev as told in his own book The Climb. I appreciated this aspect as it allowed for Boukreev's heroics ,which are well documented outside of Krakauer's book, and Krakauer's failings, which were omitted in his own account.<br />The acting is solid. Josh Brolin should take home some awards for his portrayal of Beck Weathers, the brash Texan who was three times left for dead. Jason Clark did justice to Rob Hall, Kiera Knightly was fantastic as ever, Emily Watson did a excellent job of handling some of the heaviest drama as Helen Wilton, and Elizabeth Debicki played a marvelous Dr. Caroline MacKenzie .<br />The musical score worked well with the varying levels of intensity, the script was true to the kind of dialogue you would hear in any climbing camp, and the parts where conjecture had to fill for lack of any survivors' account seemed fairly speculated.<br />Two thumbs up!</span></span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: black; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-83940100061985248442015-06-08T18:41:00.000-07:002015-06-08T18:41:14.734-07:00If you are seriously considering an attempt on Everest...It took countless hours for me to research the many aspects of preparing for my Everest climb. Since time a clever bunch of folks put together a site that can save you a good deal of hunting around.<br />
If you are seriously considering an attempt of Everest you should check this site out.<br />
<a href="http://www.winfieldsoutdoors.co.uk/everest-guide/"><span style="color: white;">http://www.winfieldsoutdoors.co.uk/everest-guide/</span></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="page-header" style="background-image: url(http://www.winfieldsoutdoors.co.uk/everest-guide/images/mount.png); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; box-sizing: border-box; height: auto; margin: 70px 0px 20px; padding-bottom: 9px; width: 1070px;">
<div class="row" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-left: -15px; margin-right: -15px;">
<div class="col-5" style="box-sizing: border-box; float: left; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 458.328125px;">
<a href="http://www.winfieldsoutdoors.co.uk/everest-guide/images/logo_03.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"></span></a><div class="logo" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-left: 30px; padding-top: 20px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="main-title" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-top: 45px;">
<div class="row" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-left: -15px; margin-right: -15px;">
<div class="col-2" style="box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 183.328125px;">
<div class="img1" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-left: 50px; margin-top: 20px;">
<img src="http://www.winfieldsoutdoors.co.uk/everest-guide/images/snow.png" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; vertical-align: middle;" /></div>
</div>
<div class="col-8" style="box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 733.328125px;">
<div class="title" style="background-color: black; box-sizing: border-box; color: white; display: inline-block; font-size: 35px; font-weight: 600; padding: 15px 60px; text-transform: uppercase;">
DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES ?</div>
</div>
<div class="col-2" style="box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-family: 'Open Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 183.328125px;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-51528233635397161822015-05-19T06:11:00.001-07:002015-05-19T06:11:13.241-07:00One Sherpa Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMhCSQ5XXujd-oCckrJiMH9_Dm9mmdJClYO58rV8czJ8jkgaVSqd6-elLItZ_g8OuaRQQ2IFZDTpodQHRk3XrVsTI7mTqtqbVgqtmwhCGXDzXrcFW7jOEB6ISvT9MasEk27zeEBoSFtsF/s1600/IMGP0584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMhCSQ5XXujd-oCckrJiMH9_Dm9mmdJClYO58rV8czJ8jkgaVSqd6-elLItZ_g8OuaRQQ2IFZDTpodQHRk3XrVsTI7mTqtqbVgqtmwhCGXDzXrcFW7jOEB6ISvT9MasEk27zeEBoSFtsF/s320/IMGP0584.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Dear Readers,<br />
I hope you have been well and found your own exciting adventures in life. Remember that book I promised to write???? I finished it a month ago and it is now in the hands of my Editor (Release pigeons and cue victorious soundtrack). Not sure of the date, but my book should publish sometime in the next 12 months. I'll let you know.<br />
<br />
In the mean time I invite you to follow my current adventure at this link:<br />
<a href="http://onesherpahome.blogspot.com/"> One Sherpa Home </a><br />
<br />
I have launched a relief effort to rebuild the home of Mingma Chhring, the Sherpa who has my climbing partner throughout the Everest expedition. The tragic earthquakes that rocked Nepal this last month destroyed Mingma's home in the village of Phortse and I plan to take a scrappy band volunteers there this October to build a new home, one engineered to withstand earth quakes, for Mingma and his family. Start to finish, we aim to do this in 9 days work. I will blog the effort, post photos and video, and give you a much deeper understanding of the Sherpa people and their way of life. So follow along. Let's go!Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-88639922751455313882013-09-22T10:59:00.000-07:002013-09-22T10:59:12.256-07:00A book is forthcoming. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_E5hE9E8ZoJIdnK5QPVAL30uxS_M84wWalZZfuf7Vb2HtFQqAJAqzhel1MAtxBmrsZwioFsUCbhkdwAX4Mz3o6xeP118gGiwAhGlNRSxrJsvqe5busVJ5cV3uiBIhRv9LieAQylV-lmd/s1600/Writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_E5hE9E8ZoJIdnK5QPVAL30uxS_M84wWalZZfuf7Vb2HtFQqAJAqzhel1MAtxBmrsZwioFsUCbhkdwAX4Mz3o6xeP118gGiwAhGlNRSxrJsvqe5busVJ5cV3uiBIhRv9LieAQylV-lmd/s1600/Writing.jpg" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Readers, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I have begun writing a book. It will feature my experiences during each of the Seven Summits climbs. More important still, it will tell the story of my life between them; how I learned to love again, to believe in myself again, and the myriad forces which conspired along the way to end this adventure. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you have enjoyed this blog please check back here in a year. I plan to have the finished work completed and available by then. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am just beginning the process of seeking out a Publisher. It is my hope that one of the approximately 33,000 Readers of this blog is in that business. If you are, and have an interest, please reach out to me at <a href="mailto:kilgoretrout22@comcast.net">Dave's Email Address</a></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">All the best, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Dave Mauro</span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-49979976151647382682013-06-17T21:41:00.001-07:002013-06-17T21:41:43.716-07:00This is how it ends. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYtlhfT-hS2Swy6pEIhgbPx5EK_fRUPlt626CKkwYTeEOxJ3j-tyMbCvT_UMvN1-KqHn2AObFLGTUOfUyIhm-8GmZ2OimACVrLTTRAK9MXPpq50VTwDJrU6Tt9yqWODmqOPRUzSA28ydz/s1600/P1000917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYtlhfT-hS2Swy6pEIhgbPx5EK_fRUPlt626CKkwYTeEOxJ3j-tyMbCvT_UMvN1-KqHn2AObFLGTUOfUyIhm-8GmZ2OimACVrLTTRAK9MXPpq50VTwDJrU6Tt9yqWODmqOPRUzSA28ydz/s400/P1000917.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our flight landed in Seattle at 1:35 in the afternoon. Ty and I claimed our duffels in the International Baggage Terminal and accompanied them through Customs. As he was connecting to another flight and I was not, we would part company at this point. It caught me by surprise that this was Goodbye. I felt like I should have had something memorable to say, but my sleep-induced stupor left me as groggy and confused as Ty had looked when we met below the Hilary Step. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Let's get together again some time and not do this," he quipped. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah," I agreed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We hugged and turned separate ways. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was riding the escalator up from the satellite tram when it occurred to me Lin would almost certainly be waiting at the top. I felt my senses lurch to life. I had spent so many hours imagining this moment, hoping it would not be diminished by the baggage of failure on the climb, and now I was seconds away from seeing her sweet smile. I tried to improve the horrific state of my hair, but my hand trembled too much to accomplish anything. She would be in costume, as has been her custom meeting me upon my return from each prior climb. What would it be? A Yak? That would be fair after my dressing as a Penguin the last time I picked her up at an airport. The stairs began curling over the top and I could see the faces of the first few people. Then straight ahead, a few feet back, she stood draped in pink veils and exotic shawls. It was Lin's interpretation of a Sherpa woman, and though it looked more "Genie in a bottle" I could not have been more taken. Lin held a sign announcing my accomplishment, OUR accomplishment. I gathered her up in my arms while the people next to us speculated aloud as to what "7 Summits" stood for, and in that instant all we had risked and any rewards that may follow did not matter. We were together and safe and done. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGxb7c9RjA15axAQgqI3EBL4TBdTfnwN1Y9mzwa2JpBSinhUDVcDN44gesFqX3BX7o-u4ihOkC0yxEBE2HAYxNIXBBVGxp-Z6VUwVWtJ-U-GErPUUlhV0dBSQGXEMdEfnOGl7y9R1u2QI/s1600/P1000907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGxb7c9RjA15axAQgqI3EBL4TBdTfnwN1Y9mzwa2JpBSinhUDVcDN44gesFqX3BX7o-u4ihOkC0yxEBE2HAYxNIXBBVGxp-Z6VUwVWtJ-U-GErPUUlhV0dBSQGXEMdEfnOGl7y9R1u2QI/s400/P1000907.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">P.S. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have some links I would like to share with you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here are three short videos from the incredibly talented Elia Saikaly. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/33885751">The Trek to Everest Base Camp.</a> </span></span>This was filmed last year. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/45145519" style="background-color: white;">Everest Base Camp.</a> Also filmed in 2012, this is footage of Base Camp only. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://vimeo.com/67992157" style="background-color: white;">Time Lapse of climbing Everest.</a> This was filmed throughout the 2013 Everest Season. It is AWESOME! The second frame is of our Camp 2 site. The American flag is the same one raised by our Air Force Team Members at the summit. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://radio.foxnews.com/2013/06/11/usaf7summits-these-3-air-force-airmen-just-climbed-mt-everest/#.UbeQFJetNd0.facebook" style="background-color: white;">Three of our Air Force Team members appearing on Fox.</a> I feel so much pride when I watch these guys. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://kpug1170.com/the-zone/dave-mauro-climbing-mt-everest/" style="background-color: white;">Myself, doing an interview on The Zone sports radio show.</a> Sorry about the sound quality, we did this over the phone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youralaskalink.com/good-morning-alaska/slider/Ty-Hardt-209949461.html?m=y&smobile=y&clmob=y&" style="background-color: white;">Ty appearing on Anchorage TV</a> Who would have thought he owns a suit?!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKlVeziqT4M">Myself crossing a ladder in the Everest Icefall</a> </span>The Dave-cam returns!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYj3Dt1OCYI" style="background-color: white;">POV shot while I crossed a crevasse.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ5zlJiKyck" style="background-color: white;">Above the Icefall.</a> Me. Note the reassuring self-talk. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So many thank you's; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My family; Lin, Trevor, Chase, Mom, my Step-Dad, Dad, and sisters Michelle, Noelle and my climbing partner Ty. You believed in me. You believed in my journey. You sweated the moments. You celebrated the summit. I can never thank you enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My Friends; Sonia Alexis, who led the cheer and kept the practice in order while I was away. Chuck Blair, who added much needed levity. John Hanrahan and Rick Kaiser, who convinced me to keep writing. Carol Masheter, who helped me believe I could do it. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Pastor Mike Unverzagt, who provided spiritual counsel. Phil</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Drowley, who coached my mental preparation. Mike Locke, who designed my physical training. Dr. David Netboy, who consulted on various physiological aspects of the climb. Acupuncturist Timothy Lamb, who stuck needles in my person to remedy the various self-inflicted wounds I suffered throughout training and the climb. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My Readers; Sharing this experience was central to what I hoped to do. As I left for Everest this blog had almost 500 page views. It is now approaching 30,000. You view this blog from the United States to China, Russia to South Africa, Australia to Finland, and many other countries around the globe. You have been generous with your comments. loyal with your visits, and watchful into all hours of the night. We climbed Everest together. You and I. And I am grateful to have had you on my Team. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-34461503180089316192013-06-12T21:40:00.000-07:002013-06-12T21:40:55.563-07:00The Everest Ledger.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rFrlgBzBl04GAmPjVdbPhtL-brtoND-UtCVLxq1EbPOD8L5AtY627NqXuA6YbOMsht8HHHdooduXKMa14wNW4XJYmfoDtD7Op6FQTKrdXvlCNo9ZHGYHbM5gMJPdKyz6OaqbulnOqA0O/s1600/reduced+Thamel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rFrlgBzBl04GAmPjVdbPhtL-brtoND-UtCVLxq1EbPOD8L5AtY627NqXuA6YbOMsht8HHHdooduXKMa14wNW4XJYmfoDtD7Op6FQTKrdXvlCNo9ZHGYHbM5gMJPdKyz6OaqbulnOqA0O/s400/reduced+Thamel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thamel district in Kathmandu.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Three days passed before our gear duffels arrived in Kathmandu from Lukla.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">In that time Ty and I allowed ourselves the consumption of whatever food and drink seemed even mildly amusing. The French Open was underway so we passed many hours watching it on the television in our room. Ty is a huge tennis fan. He would wake at 3 a.m. to see a certain match broadcast live.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I watched mostly so I could entertain myself, floating fictional red herrings about each player. “I understand Federer was recently photographed kicking a dog,” I would offer casually. “Sharapova has a dwarf named Juan Pedro in her entourage,” I said as she took the court, then adding “always carries a loaded crossbow.” Unless the match was already a blowout Ty rarely rose to the bait.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 17px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I frequented the hotel spa for massage, had my first shave with a straight razor, and caught up with my blog. We did not go to the Monkey Temple, or the Palace. The activity board in the lobby offered everything from zip line rides to river rafting. Ty and I passed on all of them. We were done. We just wanted to go home. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 17px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The four hour flight from Kathmandu to Dubai delivered us into a world of modern amenities that hummed with vibrance, even at one in the morning. The contrast to everything we had known for the last two months was unsettling. The ticket agent at the Emirates Airline counter took pity on our confused and bedraggled state. “You cannot ride in economy class on this flight,” he informed us in a deadpan fashion. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why is that,” Ty asked, alarmed we had somehow been bumped. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because we have upgraded you both to Business Class,” the agent quipped with a smile. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 17px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I ordered a Bloody Mary as soon as the jet lifted off. Lowering the motorized privacy screen that separated my recliner from Ty’s, I asked “Have you got any Grey Poupon?” The flight attendant brought us warm towels and shaving kits, slippers and eye shades. After breakfast she made each seat into a fully prone bed with sheets and pillows. I settled in to sleep off as much of the fourteen hour flight as possible, but my mind would not quiet. It needed to make a final accounting of things before critical information was lost in the comforts of the life I would return to. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our team suffered the tragic loss of DaRita Sherpa. This will be with us. Frostbite injuries claimed a few toes and fingers. Pulmonary Edema afflicted two of us, necessitating helicopter evacuation. One hybrid climber, a woman from China, suffered some manner of mental breakdown after descending from her failed summit bid. She had to be carried to the helicopter pad, despondent and limp. In exchange, 12 of 23 IMG Climbers realized a personal dream, summiting Mt Everest. A fair bargain? Certainly not. How could it be? That said, most everyone involved would choose to do it all over again. Indeed, several will. This is perhaps the greatest mystery of Everest. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">But the costs of an Everest expedition cannot be viewed in sum anymore than the benefits. Both reside on the personal ledgers of the individuals who chose to take part. For all the talk of “Team”, Everest remains very much an individual endeavor with rewards differing climber by climber. Still the question remains as to what precisely those rewards are. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have read the opinions of those who believe it is all done for “bragging rights” or status. This is pure none sense. There is no amount of ego large enough to get a climber to the summit of Everest. Period. I will stand by that the rest of my days. One might show up with such designs, but he will quickly be slapped to the ground. Better he should lie and save the money. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ironically, I found most Everest climbers, at least ostensibly, to be climbing for someone else; a cause, a charity, a fallen friend. In as much as rewards are derived from this they probably take the form of quiet satisfaction. Admirable, but still not enough to balance the costs. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I press Climbers to explain themselves the rewards are illusive, often becoming sand passing through their fingers. George Mallory once put it this way;</span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">
</div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“People ask me, 'What is the use of climbing Mount Everest?' and my answer must at once be, 'It is of no use.'There is not the slightest prospect of any gain whatsoever. Oh, we may learn a little about the behaviour of the human body at high altitudes, and possibly medical men may turn our observation to some account for the purposes of aviation. But otherwise nothing will come of it. We shall not bring back a single bit of gold or silver, not a gem, nor any coal or iron... If you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won't see why we go. What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life. We do not live to eat and make money. We eat and make money to be able to live. That is what life means and what life is for.” </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">For myself, I will say it this way; <i><b>I stayed true to my path.</b></i></span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have long told my sons it is more important in life to know when you are on your path than to know where it is going. It is as if you were blindfolded, walking a gravel path that winds through an open field. You would have to listen for the sound of the rocks beneath your shoes. Life tells us when we are on our path, if we find the peace to listen. We wander off it now and again, but can find our way back if we move with care and an alert ear. This path represents a best-case scenario for your time here. It incorporates the precise unique combination of gifts you have been given. Parts of it will not make sense at the time. You must trust they are essential and eventually will ring true. And while there is no way of seeing where it is taking you, you may rest assured you are getting there under the best possible circumstances. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was meant to climb Everest. It was on my path. I enjoyed many rewards along the way and I’ve tried to share them in these pages. But to me the greatest reward was being able to stay on my path, even when it stretched skyward to the highest point on earth. </span></span><br />
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-50081283276000131052013-06-09T22:07:00.000-07:002013-09-27T08:50:16.018-07:00Leaving the Khumbu.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshygS-dklCIJHlu2uGmFNXDv9lP8kYfuCFMzJV-oK-vxuJer4jeOihCShc7sfkWUIz-ZHk6lI8q8IqsrC36DnnzzGXhiHgBe8xCHHGVasxA814ank7KOkNY2KafDrSxRb5EGOUecAi90c/s1600/Bridge+of+sighs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshygS-dklCIJHlu2uGmFNXDv9lP8kYfuCFMzJV-oK-vxuJer4jeOihCShc7sfkWUIz-ZHk6lI8q8IqsrC36DnnzzGXhiHgBe8xCHHGVasxA814ank7KOkNY2KafDrSxRb5EGOUecAi90c/s320/Bridge+of+sighs.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The trek back down the Khumbu Valley descended into summer. Dirt patches we had passed next to village homes on our trek up now flourished with rich green vegetables. Yak herders struggled to keep their trains moving as an abundance of trailside temptations lured the beasts to graze. Many cottage entryways had baskets of flowers set out to dry for tea. These were the milk and honey days for a people who endured a hard life the rest of the year. Soon their men would be returning from the expeditions they had worked on the various Himalayan peaks. Husbands, Fathers, Brothers, Sons. A fortunate few will have made enough money to support their families clear through to the next climbing season. They would tend their gardens, play with their children, and remember those who had not returned. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma is one such Sherpa. As a premier climbing Sherpa, he is paid quite well by IMG. It is also common for clients to tip their Sherpa. I did so for Mingma, and he seemed pleased with the level of my gratitude. I also gave him my Minus 40 Degree Marmot down sleeping bag and the portable DVD player we had shared during my stay at EBC. I asked Mingma about his post-Everest plans as we sat next to my tent saying "Goodbye." He said he would probably guide some other climbs after the monsoon season. In a culture where most men make $3 a day to carry freight on their backs, Mingma can collect several thousand for a month of Guiding. It must be very difficult to say "No", having young children and knowing the number of years he can do this will be limited. But May will be the month I worry most for Mingma as he returns each year to Everest. I will remember our time together at the top of the world, how he shook my hand then abandoned the gesture for a full out hug. We shared something timeless as partners in the Grand Wager. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IVKU7tsS3jjcE1JqIABs6tI2xVJU9ez-7oQ8w2jPNM2Y5mhVXUtiSIWy8-f5RZgK8himGitVQkZGaqIRkekFIxMNTOlO-0Wck99cRSBBoJa3_rRC4_xnxhz3-CMM7-pourgUEnXnVdJU/s1600/reduced+Ipod+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IVKU7tsS3jjcE1JqIABs6tI2xVJU9ez-7oQ8w2jPNM2Y5mhVXUtiSIWy8-f5RZgK8himGitVQkZGaqIRkekFIxMNTOlO-0Wck99cRSBBoJa3_rRC4_xnxhz3-CMM7-pourgUEnXnVdJU/s400/reduced+Ipod+lady.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jangbu had assigned a young Sherpa named Lakpa to escort us as far as the airstrip at Lukla. Ryoko, the lone female member of our Classic Climber corps, rounded out our foursome of happy trolls. We indulged ourselves in ways we could not so many weeks ago as we trekked up. We ordered fried chicken for lunch at one tea house, then waited while the cook harvested a bird that never saw it coming. We took time to snap photos and spin every prayer wheel we passed. An old Sherpa woman approached me while I rested on her stone wall, curious about the I-pod I was fidgeting with. I placed a speaker bud in her left ear and selected <i>The Longer I Run</i> by Peter Bradley Adams. She became very animated, smiling broadly. The Sherpa woman painted a horizontal stripe in the space above us with her open hand. To her, the music was suddenly everywhere. A moment later she directed my attention to a small goat standing next to her home. A trade was being offered. I smiled, nodding my declination. Then I removed the ear bud and patted her weathered hand. She took my hand in turn and bowed to meet her forehead with the back of it, a deeply personal gesture in Sherpa culture. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Air Force Climbers had left EBC the day before, while I waited for Ty to exit the Ice Fall. We had missed the opportunity to see them off and hoped to catch up in Lukla or Kathmandu. It would not be. Four of the six had summited Everest. Collectively, the team had now summited each of The Seven Summits in honor of the fallen and returning service men and women of the USAF. They had struggled through the entire epic adventure to find the funds and support for each mountain. At times met with indifference by commanding officers, they were now going home as heroes. They represented all that was remarkable about the kind of person who serves in the United States Air Force and had already been invited to the Pentagon as well as various Television appearances. <a href="http://youtu.be/CP6v_WkO7-s">http://youtu.be/CP6v_WkO7-s</a></span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We shuffled into Lukla after three days trekking, easing through the village past a counterfeit Starbucks, a counterfeit Hard Rock Cafe, and a counterfeit McDonalds called “YakDonalds.” We ran into Llama, the kitchen worker who did laundry at EBC, later that evening. He was wearing a soccer uniform and very intoxicated. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I have been playing the football and now I am drunk to watch the football,” he announced gleefully, gesturing toward the television at one end of the dining room. Llama had always worried about us each time we left EBC for the Ice Fall. He liked to hug each climber, affixing what he saw as a protective shield. Seeing him finally relax and cut loose that night impressed upon me just how great a stress the past weeks had been for Llama. It had not just been the Climbers, or their families and friends. Everyone had lived this thing. Everyone. And now it was over. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We boarded our flight out of Lukla the next day. As it sped down the runway I prepared myself for the drop off the cliff. I had read that aircraft here typically go into free-fall until the thickening air and air-speed combine to support proper flight. One last thrill. But we lifted off in orderly fashion with a few feet of runway in reserve. In an instant we were already cruising thousands of feet above the lush green hills tumbling down from the highlands toward Kathmandu. I reached out to the seat in front of me and slapped Ty’s shoulder. He just nodded without turning around. We both knew. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SHe1NjMGj3m1psVhNqx4jO8klzCwPio_wx2plGmS6mcC4ia910_twpI15Aq9blFdeOH8Q1lqcwGntQBUtaQUOxWLW9ah4HYjM5QDt6UBCP4v8WL7PGrN5AGuDxDDGPk9WDktrv_0KHiE/s1600/reduced+Lukla+airstrip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-SHe1NjMGj3m1psVhNqx4jO8klzCwPio_wx2plGmS6mcC4ia910_twpI15Aq9blFdeOH8Q1lqcwGntQBUtaQUOxWLW9ah4HYjM5QDt6UBCP4v8WL7PGrN5AGuDxDDGPk9WDktrv_0KHiE/s400/reduced+Lukla+airstrip.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-75790204712561699512013-06-04T15:52:00.000-07:002013-06-04T15:52:04.724-07:00Done.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXHHRSUdJIGfBLL5gyqTj_UtpJT7RAbhoerZXt9WU32v5afv-zJbvXteLe2FbB1KdZphIUy1In0K5k_GNfhgEBFFQHF3j8R-5L2bUSpVbLROpxLNem8G7iub-HXK5oMCji8qak8cPPV4l/s1600/reduced+trek+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXHHRSUdJIGfBLL5gyqTj_UtpJT7RAbhoerZXt9WU32v5afv-zJbvXteLe2FbB1KdZphIUy1In0K5k_GNfhgEBFFQHF3j8R-5L2bUSpVbLROpxLNem8G7iub-HXK5oMCji8qak8cPPV4l/s640/reduced+trek+down.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trek out.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I called Lin back after talking with Noelle. We tried to have the conversation we had both been looking forward to, but I could not find the mood after the conflict with my sister. We chatted about the climb and agreed it was good to be done. Then I felt consumed with fatigue and said I was going to get some sleep. But before I could do so, Paul, the Austrian member of the team, brought me a can of beer and suggested I join the others celebrating near the Comm Tent. This I did, and was glad of the choice, but the combination of two month’s sobriety, altitude, and exhaustion combined to deliver me into a state of almost immediate intoxication. I fell asleep in a folding chair still holding what remained of that first beer. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Waking a short while later, I shuffled off to my tent. I looked into the warm yellow glow of the rainfly as I lay there considering the climb. It did not seem real. Not yet. Any satisfaction for having summited Everest was pushed back by a greater force. My immediate sensations were flooded with a deep gratitude that I had won the right to live the rest of my life. I would get to see my children marry and have children of their own. I would get to grow old with Lin, holding hands like each day was a prom date. I could crab fish, mountain bike, perform Improv, and write. I could return to the work I love as a Financial Planner. I would see Summer and cheese burgers, candles and campfires. I had not realized how completely these things had been set aside. Nothing was on my calendar post-Everest, but now I was free to fill it up with the pile of chips being slid back across the table toward me. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The camp cook’s assistant, Llama, made money on the side doing laundry for Climbers. For 2,000 Rupee (about $16) he would wash, dry, and fold a garbage bag of dirty clothes. I sorted out the worst of my garments and delivered them to him with a Hershey bar meant more as an apology than gratuity. Llama loaned me a tiny mirror from his kit so I could shave, then he filled the cistern for my shower. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The on-demand water heater popped to life as propane and spark came together within. I had showered only twice during the expedition, with the water temperature touching extreme ends of the thermometer with each experience. But on this day a satisfying warmth fell upon me, and steam filled the tented walls. Large flat stones had been gathered to make a shower floor. Their texture felt pleasing against my bare feet. I stood beneath the water sensing something close to comfort, examining the ravages of altitude upon my naked body. There were bruises, cuts, a swollen knee. Much of the muscle mass I had spent months building was gone, consumed by my body through weeks of burning more calories than I could eat. In all I had lost 30 pounds. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I walked out of camp the next morning to meet Ty and Lakpa as they disgorged from the Ice Fall. I had checked with Big Boss the night before and he confirmed they would be coming down from camp 2 in the early hours. Spring had arrived, so even at 17,000 feet the morning temperature was warm enough to sit out in short sleeves. I perched on a boulder tall enough to afford a clear view of the trail and waited. They appeared an hour later, looking tired but happy. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Gimme that pack,” I said to Ty. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No. I gotta finish this thing,” he answered with a prideful smile.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We walked together back to IMG Base Camp, discussing the events of the last few days and came to agree that, for the most part, things had happened as they should have given the circumstances. All was good between us and we were now free to celebrate the achievement that had brought us closer than ever. </span></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-2197206093495538382013-06-02T13:22:00.000-07:002013-06-03T20:05:41.022-07:00She may have saved my life. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSemEM5gJpKasdV86ab_SJ-IkO0clWOwaNyVa4YElpOB1cu-w49JKp4lrcQKL70lj2VElNULDaVFZ6UrbM_zR6_-yKdE6HA34j1yHQIhL6Ak6XBP-xLeagIOdKI_M_yq0lTOR-vcMxoLr_/s1600/TP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSemEM5gJpKasdV86ab_SJ-IkO0clWOwaNyVa4YElpOB1cu-w49JKp4lrcQKL70lj2VElNULDaVFZ6UrbM_zR6_-yKdE6HA34j1yHQIhL6Ak6XBP-xLeagIOdKI_M_yq0lTOR-vcMxoLr_/s1600/TP.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Back home in Bellingham Lin had spent the many nervous hours of my climb with her Sisters. They walked a waterfront path, pausing to sit at a bench dedicated to their Father (one of my Angels). She burned her cellular minutes well into overage, calling my Mother, calling Noelle, taking calls from others seeking some kind of update on Ty and I.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had seen my Attorney before leaving on the expedition. We updated my Will and reviewed the disposition of beneficiaries. I drafted letters to my Boys and described my wishes for any Memorial Service that may follow. Recognizing the extraordinary value of life insurance, in this particular instance, I purchased the maximum allowable from a number of providers. A full questionnaire was typically required for coverage over a certain level so I was careful to buy up to, but not over, this amount. Any inquiry would smoke out what I was up to, and I already knew from past experience that an automatic rejection letter is generated for Climbers with a history of exceeding 17,000 feet.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Though I refer to Lin as my "wife" we are not legally married, so it was necessary to provide for her in the event of my demise. Feeling it important that she know the details of these provisions, I had sat Lin down and gone over the sums and sources of what would become hers if I should die. She was very uncomfortable with this. We barely got through the conversation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the many things I love about Lin is her willingness to be quirky, even random. One such quirk is her belief that the disposition of one's toilet paper roll has some baring on whether they will come into money; paper unrolling from the top brings financial windfall, paper unrolling from the bottom blocks such providence. And so it was in this unique circumstance, the life insurance money, my struggle above the South Col, that Lin realized she could protect me from home with the simple act of reversing the toilet paper roll in each bathroom. She did so, and I am here today to write about it.</span>Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-73033042670822723052013-06-01T12:23:00.001-07:002013-06-01T12:23:11.533-07:00Chase on.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl1aOlVLLkkziYWIh6P5JRD30gfutWqrC6WxXxYusFijAUHlwxTAsczsyyO4TTa92NIJWNNGLjnMgQ_IPpQIBU5FbL_d1m7q6YTfXwkcmr_3Y280l-wgOmmRQvWa0UqbPveoWy0MvHDCG/s1600/reduced+rappel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRl1aOlVLLkkziYWIh6P5JRD30gfutWqrC6WxXxYusFijAUHlwxTAsczsyyO4TTa92NIJWNNGLjnMgQ_IPpQIBU5FbL_d1m7q6YTfXwkcmr_3Y280l-wgOmmRQvWa0UqbPveoWy0MvHDCG/s640/reduced+rappel.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself, rappelling from the south summit. (camera lens cover partially frozen shut.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kyle, one of the Air Force team members, was the first ascending Climber I passed. He was only a few minutes from the top. “Congratulations,” he offered, then adding “be careful with your eyes, it’s freezing up here.” I nodded agreement and slapped his shoulder. “Congratulations!” Kyle would turn out to be right. As daylight arrived everything in my vision had a milky appearance. I put my goggles back on and suffered through the fogging issues. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were halfway down the Hilary Step when I came head to head with ascending Climbers. They were lined up as far back as I could see. If we backed up and waited for the Step to clear others would arrive and it might be hours before the three of us could descend. Even with extra O2 that would be too long. We had already awakened the Dragon and the race was on. Mingma pressed forward, clipping past ascending Climbers as he swung around them on a ledge barely wide enough for one. Myself and the Assistant Sherpa followed suit. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was impossible to know who was who with all the gear we were wearing. At one point I had both arms around an ascending Climber, holding the fixed line on either side of him. Neither one of us had room to advance so we just stood there on the ledge, our noses nearly touching. Then I noticed a plethora of sponsorship patches adorning his down suit. I knew a team mate from my Antarctica Expedition was climbing Everest with Jagged Globe and he was particularly well sponsored. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Guy,” I asked at point blank range.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Guy Manning,” I confirmed, still disbelieving the odds that would have us meet up in such a way at such a place. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Dave Mauro,” I said.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh! Congratulations, Dave,” Guy offered with an extra squeeze. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Same to you! You’re almost there. Kick its ass,” I encouraged. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Right-O,” he agreed, then we went our separate ways. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I would later learn Guy had frostbitten several toes and had to be </span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;">heli-vac'd out from Camp 2.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I paused a few minutes below the Hilary Step to recover from an inartistic rappel. Further down the cue I spotted Ty waiting for his turn to go up. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Hey little Brother,” I greeted him. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Hey.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I tried to make small talk, but Ty seemed totally in game mode. That made sense. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Congratulations,” I said, adding “The Step is fun!” Then I continued down. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">By my estimation Ty was two and a half hours behind me at that point. By the time I reached the South Col he would probably be four hours back. Not a problem. That would still put him square in the middle of what was considered decent progress. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The sun was coming up now, so we paused to take a few photos and put on our glacier glasses. The rappel down to the Balcony went surprisingly quick. We continued descending toward High Camp, taking breaks to drink and breath, arriving at the South Col about 7 a.m. Camp Chief Phanuroo congratulated me as we walked to my tent. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I give you until 8:30 to drink, rest, eat then you go down,” he said as more an order than request. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“OK,” I agreed, not liking it but having accepted these terms many days in advance. The next 90 minutes passed quickly. I crawled slowly from my tent, unconvinced I had the strength to continue all the way down to Camp 2. Mingma helped me into my gear, set the oxygen flow rate to my mask. The heat was coming on in the Western Cwm. Temperatures began to soar as the sun rose, making my down suit a sweat box. I opened leg and chest zippers to let some air in but this seemed to make little difference. There were delays caused when traffic ascending to the South Col met descending traffic on the only fixed line crossing beneath the Yellow Band. We waited and tried to make our water last. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Various items shot past us down the Lhotse Face as we rappelled; a helmet, a water bottle, an oxygen canister. The careless handling of these things spoke to the level of exhaustion suffered by all Climbers. I was past running on fumes. Even the supplemental oxygen (which we were encouraged to keep breathing all the way to Camp 2) seemed to have no effect now. I had devolved into a Troglodyte, a stumbling drooling beast incapable of higher thought. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I staggered into Camp 2 about 2:00 p.m., wanting only to drink a liter of water and collapse. But something I overheard on Mingma’s radio changed that. Ty was just then arriving back at the South Col. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I made several inquires with IMG Guides and Expedition Leadership. I was told Ty had encountered difficulties descending. He had been administered Dexamentasone, Niphedipine and Diamox by one of our Guides, who then accompanied Ty and his Sherpa, Lakpa, down to the South Col. The Dragon. Though he seemed to be in stable condition a complete “nose to toes” examination was being conducted on Ty. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’ve looked at all the findings,” Big Boss Greg Vernovage later reported to me, “and to me Ty just looks like a tired Climber. Nothing more.” It was decided Ty could safely stay the night at Camp 4 with the benefit of the meds he had already taken plus an enhanced O2 level. Aaron, an IMG Guide, slept in the tent next to Ty that night, keeping a close eye on his condition, which Ty would later describe as being nothing more than a vision issue. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I should have checked on Ty before leaving the South Col. I could have had Mingma raise Lakpa on the radio. Then I would have known something was wrong. This is my regret. That said, there would have been nothing I could do about it. At that point I no longer had the oxygen or strength to go back up. My own Dragon chase was on so I could not even wait there for him. “Ty had two Guides and four Sherpas around him,” Greg later told me, “he was in good hands, doing just fine, and the last thing I would have needed at that point was another Climber getting sick waiting around. We would have kicked your butt down the mountain.” I had no reason to believe anything was wrong as I left Camp 4. I <i>expected</i> Ty to be several hours behind me. Still, I wish I had checked. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">That night at dinner all Climbers at Camp 2 were told they would descend the following morning to EBC. I said I would be staying behind until Ty arrived at camp 2. No one challenged me on this at the time, but later I was visited by Mingma, then Max, making the case that I really needed to descend the next morning. They made equal cases for the best interest of my own health and expressing confidence that Ty was doing fine and would join me at EBC the day after. I considered this.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It also haunted me that we had not been able to speak with family since leaving on the summit bid, a bid that had been pushed back a day. Ty and I had found IMG’s communication to be lacking at times. What if they had not posted our summit delay? What if they had not posted our summits? What if family had spent the last several days not knowing what became of us? I could call Lin and Noelle from EBC and make sure they knew we were fine. I decided to descend. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As planned, Ty descended to Camp 2 as I retreated to EBC that next day. At some point Ty briefly picked up the cell signal for CMCC, a Chinese Cellular carrier. He sent Noelle a text reading “Coming into Camp 2 on a Chinese Carrier. The last few days have taken a lot out of me.” In Noelle’s heightened state of concern, she mistook this to mean Ty was being carried in on some kind of Chinese gurney. As soon as Lin answered the phone she told me to call Noelle. “Ty is being carried into camp 2 on a stretcher,” she said. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What?’</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“He sent Noelle a text. He’s hurt. She is really upset. Call her now.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But I’ve been following his situation and nothing like that is going on.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Just call Noelle.” </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the mean time Noelle had called IMG owner Eric Simonson to get to the bottom of things. This set off a chain reaction of calls between Expedition Leadership, Guides, Sherpa, and Medical staff, most of which can be summarized as “What the hell is going on with Ty?!” </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As soon as Noelle read me the actual words of Ty’s text I knew what he meant. I had seen sporadic signals for CMCC on my cell phone at camp 2. But when I explained away this misunderstanding she quickly refocused on why I was talking to her from EBC when Ty was still up at camp 2. I explained his delay getting down to camp 4. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You left him behind above camp 4,” she asked with outrage. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well. Yes. But no. Sort of,” I stammered. I tried to explain the Dragon chase, our differing pace, and IMG’s summit day strategy but she was having none of it. Our word choice quickly deteriorated. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88mFPNZbbwuHA8JiCla7IOZzUqwp28mNBCp8_-nyGwOKBbzY0_WActOb9UTm-xTwFA1FetcH8DVrB6qXWtGFidL0MzKX4JmcP4YI7UCV5Ds2sh_idEgHwSbM1sbCaM9Th93auD6bIRXl9/s1600/reduced+daybreak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88mFPNZbbwuHA8JiCla7IOZzUqwp28mNBCp8_-nyGwOKBbzY0_WActOb9UTm-xTwFA1FetcH8DVrB6qXWtGFidL0MzKX4JmcP4YI7UCV5Ds2sh_idEgHwSbM1sbCaM9Th93auD6bIRXl9/s640/reduced+daybreak.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daybreak from 29,000 feet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-67381641127551334302013-05-31T05:32:00.000-07:002013-05-31T05:32:49.250-07:00Tomorrow has come...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9J-eDYDfVv2QW5Jl7fLLmiNJ762El_Z_Yv87_ZRxXi44K23I1ZkvLHko1ipBMiAt6JOApccD7sjiNBPgD8hO_JkM6x2SJnigS1TYmJq_hX62U7KxM9WHSEK3UISSIhwzMUY-s5pxzYv-/s1600/crescent+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9J-eDYDfVv2QW5Jl7fLLmiNJ762El_Z_Yv87_ZRxXi44K23I1ZkvLHko1ipBMiAt6JOApccD7sjiNBPgD8hO_JkM6x2SJnigS1TYmJq_hX62U7KxM9WHSEK3UISSIhwzMUY-s5pxzYv-/s400/crescent+moon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">"Tomorrow has come like it's drunk on the blood of the men who have dared to be there."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>-Jakob Dylan - Valley of the Low Sun.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
</div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A string of perhaps 60 headlamps were already reaching up the side of Everest. The Indian Army had gotten out ahead of me. We would have to deal with this through the night. Mingma introduced me to the young Sherpa who would be carrying my extra bottle of oxygen up to the South Summit. We would climb as a trio, spelling one another in the lead as we clawed upward. My Khumbu cough had gotten bad enough to bring on back spasms. I launched into an episode as we stood there next to my tent. My Sherpas waited patiently, then helped on with my pack. It was going to be a slow start for me. I could feel it. At age 50 I was no longer able to bounce up and hit it. My body needed to be put on notice, reminded, then coaxed along for the first hour. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We started off easy, passing a few climbers here and there as we found our rhythm. I tinkered with my harness, pack, and oxygen system until it all felt right. The half moon set a light glow to the snow. The stars were brilliant and vast. Soon the wind fell off to almost nothing and the only sounds were those of our respirators and the bite of crampons into ice. We caught up to a slow line of eight climbers and left the fixed line to pass them. Then we eased out around another ten climbers as the route entered a particularly steep section of the Triangle Face. We were cooking now. My legs felt solid and the rest of my body seemed to have come to the party. There were groups of four, groups of eight, and a few pairs. Somewhere along the way we passed Ty, though I was not aware of it at the time. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We reached the Balcony a short while after a large team had arrived there. It was about 10:30pm and the moon had swung around the other side of Everest. The mountain’s silhouette against the stars was the only way to tell what kind of climb was above. It looked astoundingly tall and steep. We changed oxygen tanks quickly, getting back out on the route ahead of the group, and settled in behind a solo climber working his way up the long demanding pitch to the South Summit. He fatigued after forty minutes and waved us by. At this point I looked up the mountain and, noting no headlamps, realized we were all alone. We were the highest humans on the planet, and would remain so for the next several hours. Something inside me relaxed for the first time that night. I took a moment to look up at the stars. I could almost feel their light touching me. I found myself smiling. "Wow," I wondered aloud from behind my mask. I took a moment to admire Mingma’s climbing ability, as he free-handed his way up a rock cliff before us. I thought about my loved ones and all the people who had believed in me. Tears began to come, but I held them back. There was still plenty of hard work ahead. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">In spite of the bottled oxygen, the effects of altitude eventually crept in as we labored higher. My right foot was going numb with cold, so I turned up the electric foot warmer for that boot. Our pace became more difficult to maintain. I was stopping to breath hard now, unable to keep a continuous cadence. The South Summit had disappeared somewhere in the stars and seemed to be running away from me. I felt a moment of doubt creep in. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are 5 deceased members of our Family that Lin and I refer to as our Angels. We believe each spends time by my side during critical moments of any climb. I paused for a rest and touched on each of these in my thoughts. The doubts slipped away. An hour later we crawled up over a rock ledge and Mingma announced “This is South Summit.” </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took off our packs to rest, and I got out my thermos of hot tea to share while Mingma and his Assistant changed my oxygen tank. We took a brief break to eat and drink, then set out again. Even in the darkness I could recognize we were on the Cornice Traverse. I was trying to recall the order of what landmarks were still ahead, but my brain just could not manage the task so I abandoned the effort. “We are working on this project all night,” I told myself, trying to release the urge to measure our progress and simply exist in the moment. Then Mingma stopped before a series of large boulders and gestured like a Tour Guide “This is the Hillary Step. Very famous.” Even in my addled state I knew the Hillary Step and what it meant. Mingma then scampered up and over the landmark with the agility of a Romanian gymnast. I stood there a moment, remembering where he had placed his feet, how he had used his hands. “You can’t just muscle this thing,” I told myself, “You’ll blow out your arms and never see the summit.” This was rock climbing again. I started up the first rock the same way I had seen Mingma scale it, but had to modify for our differing reach. My crampons wanted to screech down the surface of the icy round boulders, so I created a wedge-like force with one hand braced out to the side. I took my time with each hand a foot placement, testing for surety before weighting it. Mingma looked down from above, shouting encouragements as I advanced. I had read about a rock at the top of the step that Climbers must cowboy-straddle to get over. There is a crack to the right that looks like an inviting alternative for foot placement, but a Climber will almost always find his boot becomes wedged in it. This is quickly followed by flailing and exhaustion. When I came to this rock I knew what I must do, but executing was another matter. To straddle the rock I would have to commit fully with a belly flop onto it and hope I did not slide off backwards. My form ended up being more “beached Manatee” than cowboy straddle, but I made it. A few moves later I was above the Hillary Step. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At this point I remembered my good friend, Phil Drowley, telling me how he began laughing when he got past the Hillary Step. He knew he would summit at that point. I started to weep. My goggles had frozen over several hours earlier, so I was climbing without eye protection. The tears froze immediately to my face and eye lids, leaving my left eye partially frozen shut. I knew I was taking a chance by climbing without eye cover, I had read about Climbers freezing their corneas, but felt I had no choice when it came to navigating the technical aspects of the upper mountain. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We climbed for another twenty minutes up a gradual snow slope, passing several cornices along the way. Then I saw a pile of prayer flags. Mingma insisted that I clip into a safety line that led up to them. We took those last ten steps together, like Hillary and Norgay, then Mingma invited me to sit down on the highest point of planet earth. “This is summit,” he announced warmly. It was 3:43 a.m. on May 20th. The sun would not come up for another hour and by then the summit would be crowded with other climbers. But for now we had the pinnacle to ourselves. I looked off into the darkness at lights below and far away. The stars were a bowl that wrapped around us from above. On one side Everest fell out across all of Tibet, still fast asleep. On the other side it stretched down into Nepal. </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took several photos of the Sherpa that had carried my extra oxygen. It was his first Everest Summit. Then Mingma snapped some pictures of me as I held up images of family members and a banner for The Boys & Girls Club. In those short moments of wearing only a liner glove, my right index and middle fingers began to freeze. I knew how quickly digits could be lost on Everest, so I cut short other plans for celebrating the summit and concluded by releasing a small quantity of my Brother’s ashes. I had hoped to make a call home from the top of Everest, but my cell phone showed no signal. In all we spent 20 minutes at the Summit, and while I did feel the weight of the moment I could not sense its measure. I was simply too exhausted. It was like being paid in a currency you do not understand; Only when it is spent completely will you know its full worth. I promised myself to spend this moment wisely. </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHnvvkiT5-4i19yuAOdm2Bmpg5gxWSReNyQRd9NCQw7ZKx_7rN5z1_uCXDuwiXO0bbbGUnFNHnB6W1zApngllzdo330DBh7Bq2jzfq0yfdJu2v_xJsUwKW1tBihIBNb8B7HoHI_5u8cHR/s1600/reduced+Lin+on+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHnvvkiT5-4i19yuAOdm2Bmpg5gxWSReNyQRd9NCQw7ZKx_7rN5z1_uCXDuwiXO0bbbGUnFNHnB6W1zApngllzdo330DBh7Bq2jzfq0yfdJu2v_xJsUwKW1tBihIBNb8B7HoHI_5u8cHR/s640/reduced+Lin+on+top.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My moment.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-88854616215607884452013-05-29T04:04:00.001-07:002013-05-29T04:04:42.071-07:00The Grand Wager.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2N7xNORgqvoWPb0Ly_TNnz99wpqWgDgwqBKJZzro_dNbWlyrv9azIzY5p_ryNL-ii2Lgr2ARBJU6Dfmgw1wPD3dYH9IF1MeHvS-uLyNH_D2i1OzKY__LI4yxU3A3C4Ovnbw-3YmPlsLxK/s1600/reduced+decent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2N7xNORgqvoWPb0Ly_TNnz99wpqWgDgwqBKJZzro_dNbWlyrv9azIzY5p_ryNL-ii2Lgr2ARBJU6Dfmgw1wPD3dYH9IF1MeHvS-uLyNH_D2i1OzKY__LI4yxU3A3C4Ovnbw-3YmPlsLxK/s640/reduced+decent.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full Battle Gear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">From the moment a Climber decides to attempt Everest, he is required to make certain payments to keep his wager alive. First comes the money. Depending on the Guide Company and various other options, this might be $50,000 to $100,000, all paid in advance with no hope of refund under any circumstances. The bet is on. He next makes numerous physical payments in the form of training for hours each day, six days a week. There are payments involving the purchase of expensive equipment, lost wages and forgone vacation time, evacuation insurance and costly vaccines. There are psychological payments, taking the form mental fatigue, the doubts of third parties, and the painful two month absence from loved ones. None of these are negotiable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But the final payment a Climber must lay on the table is his life. To think one could leave the South Col without doing so would be delusional. If he wishes to wager he can stand on top of the world, a Climber must go all in, betting his todays and tomorrows. This is an easy notion to view in the abstract as one prepares for a climb many months away, but the weight becomes awesome as the last few minutes pass prior to leaving the tent. I watched Ty closely during those minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The wind was blowing harder than the forecast had suggested. If it persisted there would be no making the summit and lives would likely be lost. But we were going. Ty was leaving at 7pm with the first group of Classic Climbers. It was 6:50pm and his Sherpa, Lakpa, had stuck his head into our tent several times already, trying to keep Ty moving along. I could see the nerves winding up through the expression on Ty's face. His eyes were wide, brows raised. There was a sense of resignation. He was making that final payment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"We can do this," I told him. "24 hours from now we will be down at camp 2 with an Everest Summit under our belts. We are strong enough. We have the skills and the support. We just need to keep a clear head and execute," I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Ty nodded in agreement, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. I could almost see him staring at the mountain of chips he had just slid out onto the table. We hugged, then he slipped out the tent door into the darkness. I thought about the call I had made many months ago, the call where I invited Ty to be a part of this climb. Did I regret it? Would I feel better right then had I not invited Ty into this situation? No. Ty was suppose to be here, probably for the same mysterious reasons I was.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The next hour passed quickly and soon I too was making the Grand Wager. I was nervous, but felt at peace with the decision. From the moment Everest had first called me, as I rappelled down the face of Carstensz Pyramid, it had always accompanied a feeling of warmth and positive energy. I was prepared, had a game plan, and had tested both with success through the course of the rotations. I looked one last time at the photos in my pocket; My wife, Lin, sons Chase and Trevor, my Mother, and a recently deceased friend. I examined a small plastic bag with my brother's ashes in it, then returned it to the pocket. Pulling the oxygen mask over my face, I stepped out into the night.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-30546592478397550562013-05-28T04:38:00.000-07:002013-07-07T09:29:29.042-07:00My Brother's Keeper and the Dragon chase.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjI5ztP_ewEVmhXgwJScVx8lyI9Y9XCyuSITbLmSJ2KZlftBkSSnxJmDPrYPupl7VZf7Mm7mmSAvC4Nmf-c3hXNh4SvckSxhHwSt9hrHmPY5z95DdTQPKrpUf2mi7PdksCpsnFRyX9RscS/s1600/reduced+c4+to+summit+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjI5ztP_ewEVmhXgwJScVx8lyI9Y9XCyuSITbLmSJ2KZlftBkSSnxJmDPrYPupl7VZf7Mm7mmSAvC4Nmf-c3hXNh4SvckSxhHwSt9hrHmPY5z95DdTQPKrpUf2mi7PdksCpsnFRyX9RscS/s400/reduced+c4+to+summit+view.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The South Col, looking up Everest.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The IMG game plan for summit day had been articulated to each of us ahead of time. At each instance it was also made clear that any exceptions to that plan would indeed have to be exceptional. What would happen, and how, had been worked out over many years of Everest expeditions, many successful years, and the tinkering was done. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Climbers would leave the South Col in three waves; 7pm, 8pm, and 9pm. Central to this staging was the intent to avoid any large crowds, especially "The Indian Army." The Indian Army was a very large team composed of personnel from the Indian Military. They climbed together in a slow pack that was often impossible to pass. Though they were polite Mountaineers and willing allowed themselves to be overtaken by faster climbers, circumstances rarely afforded a stretch long enough to do so safely. The IMG 7pm Team was composed of the slower Classic Climbers. It was our hope this would get them out ahead of the Indian Army, which was believed to be leaving later in the evening. The 8pm Classic Climber group was the solid core of the Classics, and the 9pm Classic launch was a select group of the four fastest IMG Climbers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Each Climber would leave the South Col with a fresh bottle of oxygen, then stow that bottle at the Balcony, exchanging for a fresh bottle. Those, like myself, who had opted to purchase an additional bottle would change out again at the South Summit. We were to each climb at our own pace, accompanied by our Sherpa, as our ability, health, and oxygen permitted. This is a critical point. Just above the South Col, a Climber enters "the death zone." At this altitude, by any medical definition one likes, a Climber is dying. He may be dying slowly. He may be dying quickly. But he is dying. Therefore, it goes without saying that every effort should be made to limit one's stay in the death zone. Waiting for other Climbers, climbing in pairs, or lingering for that sunrise summit photo are strictly discouraged. You get up and down as quickly as possible. Period. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As the acclimation rotations passed in the prior weeks, it had become clear to me that Ty and I had very different climbing paces. He was strong, as always, but my preparation had focused on speed. This typically saw me arriving back at camp one to two hours ahead of Ty. Add an extra bottle of oxygen to that and I could be expected to spend three to four hours less in the death zone than Ty on summit day. I could no more ask Ty to speed up than he could ask me to slow down. Either choice would incur unnecessary additional risks. I tried to get out ahead of this by announcing we would not be able to summit together, explaining the pace issue to Ty and Lin, who then passed it along to Ty's wife. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Ty's wife is my younger sister, Noelle. She, more than anyone, shouldered the heaviest load of stress, having both her husband and brother on this climb. To offer some measure of comfort, Ty and I each pledged, as we had done on past climbs, to look after one another. This made every bit of sense on those prior climbs since we were self-guided; no personal Sherpa, no Western Guide, no medical staff and radios to base camp. But on this climb, with very different circumstances to consider, an insistence on climbing side by side would <i>increase</i> each of our personal risks. I spoke with our Guides and Expedition Leader, Greg Vernovage, about this and they concurred that Ty and I should climb separately at our own pace. In any case, as soon as we were placed in separate launch times for summit day the issue was settled; Ty would leave at 7pm, myself at 8pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Most stories about Everest end at the summit. It is a convenient point of closure. Yet it is widely understood that most accidents/deaths occur during the descent. There is little question fatigue plays a huge role in this. As well, mental acuity suffers during descent as a climber relaxes, having accomplished his goal. But more serious still is the fact that a Climber, by reaching into the altitudes of the South Summit and higher, awakens a physiological Dragon within himself. This Dragon, breathing the fatal threats of HACE, HAPE, and other sudden illnesses, will then chase that Climber all the way down to Camp 1. It is for this reason IMG insists that a Climber returning from the death zone to the South Col rest there for not more than 90 minutes before then continuing to descend. In spite of everything a Climber has been through, the Guides, Sherpas, and staff of IMG insist that he continue down all the way to camp 2 that same day. It is a grueling, but necessary, demand. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Consider Roger. One of the strongest Classic Climbers on our team, Roger arrived at EBC having taken 3 months off to nothing but climb and live at high altitude prior to the expedition. Confident and fit, he evoked images of Robert Duvall's character in Apocalypse Now. After successfully summiting Everest with our 8pm wave of Classic Climbers, Roger returned to the South Col feeling tired but healthy. In the 90 minutes that followed he contracted HAPE and his lungs began to fill with fluid. As the staff there treated him, he lapsed into HACE with fluid starting to fill his brain. In a matter of moments he went from being a strong, healthy man who had never taken anything stronger than aspirin, to then forcing down Niphedipine, Dexamethesone, and Diamox. He continued descending with help, yet still had to be medivaced out by helicopter a few days later. The Dragon had caught him. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So that was the plan. Leave the South Col, tag the summit, then run like hell for lower elevation. Here is what happened...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-75948735697637461162013-05-27T22:26:00.001-07:002013-05-27T22:26:24.033-07:00On the wings of bottled oxygen. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kx4TPyJaRh4Bvk011SQCbbVJ3d21CO3e8c3nl2zChGiAu9EJVfDgTdGKdGZozmfelxf4lX9yYyh2fyW_8wQ1cfuLCyU0bxwGuceyC8TuLUtOiVVZfEYGBlgzFhw1FkuFjGfKBje4I0NN/s1600/reduced+Ty+arr+C4+palm+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8kx4TPyJaRh4Bvk011SQCbbVJ3d21CO3e8c3nl2zChGiAu9EJVfDgTdGKdGZozmfelxf4lX9yYyh2fyW_8wQ1cfuLCyU0bxwGuceyC8TuLUtOiVVZfEYGBlgzFhw1FkuFjGfKBje4I0NN/s400/reduced+Ty+arr+C4+palm+tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ty arrives at the South Col.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Virtually all of Camp 3 over-slept. Even the Sherpas. We had worked so hard moving up the Lhotse Face the previous day, and rested so deep with the aid of bottled air, that our slumber was impervious to alarms of all manner. “DG”, my tent-mate began stirring around 4 a.m.. I pulled down my mask. “What time is it,” I asked. My alarm was set for 3:30 and had apparently been going off every five minutes since. “Oh, THAT,” he commented, somehow having not resolved the mystery of the noise.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The O2 masks tended to gather condensation and then purge through a valve at the base. This moisture spilled out onto my down suit and sleeping bag all night long, creating a sheen of frozen drool. I snapped it off in large chunks and tossed it out the tent door. The dry air had long ago warn bare the lining of my sinuses so they partially filled with blood each night. The first order of any day was to clear this. But the rush for time left me unwilling to seek out appropriate means and thus the right sleeve of my thermal shirt was employed, giving me the appearance of an extra from a slasher movie. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took a surprising amount of time to do ordinary things. The short leash to my oxygen tank required constant accommodations as I put away my sleeping bag and donned boots. A Sherpa ducked his head into our tent to see if we needed hot water for tea or breakfast. A short while later he returned with my bowl of instant Cream of Wheat half filled with cold water. Unable to find my spoon, I gave it three quick stirs with my index finger and drank it down. Breakfast over. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Such things might ruin the start of a day under normal circumstances, but we had bigger issues on our minds. On this day we would climb the remaining 1,000 feet of steep ice up the Lhotse Face, then traverse across to the Yellow Band, then the Geneva Spur, arriving at camp 4, the South Col, by late morning. Though several hours would pass, we would not likely sleep before launching a 24 hour summit attempt that evening. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Remarkably, Mingma and I were the first team members on the face. But, still weakened from the illness of the prior day, I struggled to find our rhythm. My pack did not feel right. I had a finger “go cold” which required warming. I was breathing too hard, flailing too much. Other climbers passed us by and I felt my ego growl. Still holding my frozen finger in his warm bare hand, Mingma asked me what was wrong. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My oxygen bottle is leaning to one side,” I said.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Mine too.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am moving slow.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“We have plenty of time.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t feel strong.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I will turn up your oxygen.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">He did so and the effect was immediate. When depleted muscles receive oxygen, a tingling sensation accompanies it. I could feel this move down my legs like tiny crystals tumbling through a pachinko machine. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was breathing 4 liters per minute of oxygen, a third more than most other climbers. We would take five steps up and stop to rest. My legs recharged immediately. Five more steps. Then ten steps at a time. We were on the traverse. Then came the Yellow Band.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">From a distance, the Yellow Band appears as a lightly colored stripe in the otherwise dark composites that make up Everest. It is steep and thus holds almost no snow. This means climbing the bare rock with the precarious points of steel crampons. There are fixed lines for protection from falls, but little else is apparent to counsel the means by which a climber ascends. I witnessed several methods of dubious logical construct being employed, with the result often being an exhausted climber hanging like a tuna in a net. A complete mental shift is required. The linear approach of mountain climbing must be shed. “I am now a rock climber,” I told myself. Instead of relying on the rope, I looked for hand-holds. Instead of toe-pointing the tiny ledges before me, I reached out sideways to form opposing compression. I thought of my climbing coach, David Hutchinson, and the calm voice he used to call advice up to me from below. <br />
“See if you can get a few fingers around that rock above and to the right,” I heard him say. “Use the legs, not the arms,” he added. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We traversed upward to the Geneva Spur, rested for a bit, then scaled it easily. Twenty minutes later Mingma and I arrived at the South Col. I looked around and recognized much of what I saw from the stories I had read; the steep drop off either side, the wind-straffed rocks, the abandoned camp sites, the demoralizing face of Everest looking down from above. There were bodies. I did not see them, as doing so would have required a deliberate hike to the far side of camp and something about that felt disrespectful. I did not wish to gawk. Like the others scattered about the climb above us, these bodies all rested in uncovered graves, the only dignity imbued upon them coming from the choice to bow one’s head instead of clicking a camera shutter. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was shown to my tent by Phanuroo, IMG camp chief for the South Col. He was enthusiastic and remarkably lively. I wondered how this was possible until noticing a clear tube snaked up his nose, which led back to a mini canister of O2 in his day pack. I ate an MRE of Chili and two GU packets, glad to find my appetite returning. Mingma returned regularly to bring more water and check on my condition. These first few hours were critical in seeing if I would recover or breakdown in the 26,000 ft elevation of the South Col. I lay still for a few hours breathing bottle oxygen in the tent. As my strength recovered I began to feel restless. I had packed my inflatable palm tree along as a lark, so I pulled it from my pack, inflated it, and tied it down next to my tent. The whole enterprise of the climb had become so intense, so serious, that I felt a little whimsy was in order. In the end, people just looked confused. Fair enough. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ty arrived a bit later and was shown to our tent. Together we spent the remaining nervous hours saying very little. Just breathing. Together. Breathing. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-65995658637633685322013-05-25T08:51:00.002-07:002013-05-26T00:20:41.785-07:00Dizzy on the Lhotse Face.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdU6jz9rSndVZsEdSkufb0yZfWYzJ09Ck4GKTet3DDJMTyAMe7KPLONdW31W-wCDXW3_uXmx1yywd8zk_xfMOJ2U3BKplr4l8gLEKG6S9o8nugnBFnChSMO3T8GcjboaXDOtzBdgjMX5l/s1600/reduced+camp3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNdU6jz9rSndVZsEdSkufb0yZfWYzJ09Ck4GKTet3DDJMTyAMe7KPLONdW31W-wCDXW3_uXmx1yywd8zk_xfMOJ2U3BKplr4l8gLEKG6S9o8nugnBFnChSMO3T8GcjboaXDOtzBdgjMX5l/s400/reduced+camp3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp 3, carved into the Lhotse Face. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Wave 2 left for camp three the morning of May 18. Some troublesome G.I. problems interrupted the first stages of my ascent up the Lhotse Wall but I thought little of it as such occurrences come and go with frequency at high altitude. Mingma and I settled into our regular aggressive pace as we carved out the first 2,000 feet of gain up the steep ice, then stopped on a small ledge to rest and hydrate. Gibby, one of the Air Force climbers, soon joined us on the ledge. Trained as a “PJ”, Gibby’s job is to jump from airplanes and provide medical aid to wounded soldiers on the ground. He is a kind and generous man who again and again engaged his skills to help Classic Team members who fell injured or ill in the course of this expedition. Gibby and I were both clipped into anchored protection as we stood there looking out across the vastness of the Himalayas. Suddenly I began to feel dizzy. “Gibby, there’s something wrong with me,” I said as my vision narrowed. I sat down and began breathing hard. Gibby asked questions as he held me steady on the ledge. He radioed one of our Guides, Aaron, who was ascending the wall not far below. Together they encouraged me to drink more liquids as Aaron radioed EBC leadership for medical consultation. HAPE and HACE were quickly ruled out. A new bug had hit camp 2 a few days earlier and my symptoms matched. A climber stricken the prior day confirmed experiencing dizziness which passed quickly, and said he was now back at 100%. I began to feel better as we rested there and talked things through. As descending would take more time than moving up to a wider ledge, we agreed that I would continue higher to a flat shelf where I might lay down for a bit. If I did not improve, I would have to go back down to camp 2, perhaps ending my Everest climb. </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We climbed for another 30 minutes to the shelf, where Mingma found a generous space for me to stretch out. Gibby sat next to me. A few other team members joined us for a rest as they ascended the face. All had been monitoring our earlier radio transmissions and asked how I was doing. I ate most of my lunch and swallowed another liter of energy drink. By the time Ty joined us I was feeling much improved. Again Aaron consulted with EBC and received approval for me to continue up to camp 3 where my condition would be closely monitored. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I felt strong as we resumed the climb, making good time the remaining 1,000 feet to where our tents sat, carved into the side of the Lohtse face. Myself and another sick climber were quarantined in a tent by ourselves. As camp 3 is the point where all climbers begin breathing bottled oxygen, we too strapped on our masks and, flowing at 1 liter per minute, relaxed in the luxuriance of breathing. It occurred to me the tearing down process was now complete. When one can experience rapture by the simple act of breathing, life can only get better. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">That evening I was visited by our lead Guide, Max. He explained that certain risks to the heart are incurred when taking Azithromiacin at high altitude. So that medication was off the table. Max gave me an initial dose of Cipro to take if my symptoms revisited during the night and also left a radio I could use to raise him or EBC if more urgent developments arose. Fortunately, neither were needed. I slept well with the aid of the oxygen and woke feeling better. </span></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-42810699707900921002013-05-24T07:07:00.002-07:002013-05-24T07:07:31.833-07:00Launching the Summit bids<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsxz3G7T8ttxiqODi3NIxwkW9-aYfeu84mQa8aw3pfUBNXLvNbbMqJCZvOjuHMFQ32ml8yMh53Ssh5qUbS4Z8_yH0I9EN8HwKtFvLgQRvgoQSwB9GiV8ajiqOe0-oFQ_o9Cc5UeQtGyuk/s1600/reduced+dining+tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsxz3G7T8ttxiqODi3NIxwkW9-aYfeu84mQa8aw3pfUBNXLvNbbMqJCZvOjuHMFQ32ml8yMh53Ssh5qUbS4Z8_yH0I9EN8HwKtFvLgQRvgoQSwB9GiV8ajiqOe0-oFQ_o9Cc5UeQtGyuk/s400/reduced+dining+tent.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic Climbers in their dining tent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A plan took shape that would see three successive waves of IMG climbers make summit attempts. The first of these would be the Hybrid Group of eight climbers, plus 4 of the strongest Classic climbers. This team was dispatched to the higher camps, arriving at the South Col on May 16 with plans to make a summit push that night. The second wave consisting entirely of Classic climbers, inclusive of myself and Ty, would arrive at high camp the evening of May 18 to attempt the summit that night. And the third wave, finishing out the Classic climbers, would arrive the evening of May 19 for their summit bid. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Having made the long hard climb directly from EBC to Camp 2 in the course of rotation three, we all knew and dreaded the first leg of our summit positioning. But this time was for real. It was not training or conditioning. This was part of putting ourselves in a place where the many years of dreaming and preparation could be tested. The excitement was palpable. Though the dread of passing through the ice fall weighed heavy, we could find comfort in the realization this would be the last time we would climb it. Mingma and I visited the Punja Altar before leaving EBC, as has been our custom prior to previous trips into the ice fall. I leave the chanting to Mingma. It is my job to toss rice on cue. The air was thick with the scent of smoldering juniper, a fire that will not be allowed to extinguish until all Climbers and Sherpa have vacated the mountain at season's end. Daily temperatures had warmed enough in the time since arriving at EBC to meaningfully increase movement within the fall. Ladders used in the second rotation were crushed miserably between fallen seracs. Parts of the route had been completely redirected to avoid the fields of refrigerator size ice blocks now piled on the path we had once trod. Open sky directed our attention to the now missing “ice cream cone” serac that had dominated one section as a landmark. Where had it fallen? There was no sign of it. Probably it had tipped over and been consumed by the crevasses working their jaws tirelessly at its base. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the trek continued from the ice fall, past the area that had been camp 1, direct sunlight filled the Western Cwm. The walls of Nuptse, Everest, and Lhotse reflected this heat down upon us, quickly raising the temperature from the low 20’s of the ice fall to 90 degrees fahrenheit. Even after stripping away layers of clothing, the inescapable heat sapped our strength and slowed our progress up the long valley to a halting infantry march. Our only comfort was the knowledge that we would have a full rest day the following day, May 16. Wave 1 advanced to high camp (South Col) as we moved to camp 2. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wave 1 left high camp that night in very windy conditions. The forecast suggested these winds would abate as the night went on, but they did not. All climbers were turned back short of The Balcony, a small flat notch almost 2,000 feet above the South Col. Several of them returned with frost bite injuries. Two of the Classic climbers descended to camp 2 as they no longer had enough bottled oxygen to attempt the summit. One of these climbers, acknowledging the mountain had won this time, continued down Everest the next day, bound for home. The other climber, Dan, made arrangements to obtain a new supply of oxygen and make a second attempt several days later with Wave 3. The two Classic climbers who remained at the South Col had each purchased an extra bottle of oxygen in advance and so had the means to make a second attempt the evening of May 17. Both prevailed, scoring the first summits for our IMG team this season. To make room for this second attempt, Wave 2 and 3 were each pushed back a day</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Hybrid climbers each have their own Sherpa, not unlike Classic climbers. But in addition they have a Western Guide climbing with them at a ratio of 4:1. They enjoy their own separate dining tent and what appeared to many Classic climbers to be preferential treatment when it came to certain equipment and priority for summit windows. For this they pay an additional $20,000 above what a Classic climber pays. Not surprisingly, a blue collar versus white collar tension emerged between the two groups. While the Classic climbers would like to have seen the Hybrid group succeed, the fact that none did seemed to validate a general sense that the enhanced pampering they required did nothing to improve their mountaineering. </span></i></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-6847112782344777552013-05-23T19:16:00.000-07:002013-05-23T19:16:00.934-07:00Blog to continueDear Readers,<br />
Thank you for your patience ...I have been rather busy. I will resume this blog where it left off with the next post coming in 12 hours. I have an Everest-size story to share with you. Stay tuned.<br />
-Dave MauroDave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-77746646977356189962013-05-12T22:36:00.000-07:002013-05-12T22:36:13.269-07:00Go time.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkF5t9E-7Uj8P5uTMpa0oFyTGzhcYhscTbYSPobnkzKjf-b5MOcHOpiqu8dhvf_-zMHbE8usRacrq2Zi_ywgWXhDGsrmXCkZ1ZIbCbsm09kUZxjKey4QcukC8cfoUHHS-fdGLeGs-82NX/s1600/reduced+sun+chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkF5t9E-7Uj8P5uTMpa0oFyTGzhcYhscTbYSPobnkzKjf-b5MOcHOpiqu8dhvf_-zMHbE8usRacrq2Zi_ywgWXhDGsrmXCkZ1ZIbCbsm09kUZxjKey4QcukC8cfoUHHS-fdGLeGs-82NX/s400/reduced+sun+chair.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cup of coffee. A cup of patience.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 12, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day at EBC</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I set out this morning to visit a friend at the Jagged Globe camp on the other side of EBC. Along the way I found my progress bogged down by a film crew which in turn was bogged down by an elderly man making slow progress just ahead of them. I told myself to just accept the pace and enjoy the sunny morning, but the man in front was going sooooooooo slow that I just had to pass. Easing onto a narrow shoulder on the right, I skipped past the crew offering various greetings and apologies. But the space on the right disappeared just as I was about to overtake the man. Leaping awkwardly, I managed to get in front of him while only modestly cutting the man off. At this point I heard a voice shout “Cut” and I looked back to recognize David Breshears in the film crew and Reinhold Messner as the man I had just passed. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The word around EBC is that two Hollywood movies are being filmed here. One is a reenactment of the 1996 Everest Tragedy, the other tells the tale of George Mallory’s fatal Everest attempt. I cannot substantiate either of these rumors. There is a third, and possibly related, rumor that actor Tom Cruise will be arriving here on May 20 to either 1. film a series of scenes for one of these features. 2. open a Church of Scientology outpost. Or 3. both of the above. No one talks much about the Reinhold Messner feature, which we <i>know</i> to be in production since he long ago insulted most of us by claiming that climbing Everest with the aid of anything more than aspirin is “cheating”. Our cat-like indifference toward him is an expression of our contempt, which we maintain until such time he actually walks into a camp and the occupants set about boot-licking shamelessly. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk-Kl-VVzZPhpN7t42g9c9QaCq0zTQgafrxBO03XXSd76NSiLgSG8Qn_4pZUZvQpCMyanEPO70cexva7ykOKV8kxhK-tfYsuTlW3Qriy4LvKsXdIN5aiPE4oPJABxkLOYrDmmvuvDGZjj/s1600/reduced+flags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimk-Kl-VVzZPhpN7t42g9c9QaCq0zTQgafrxBO03XXSd76NSiLgSG8Qn_4pZUZvQpCMyanEPO70cexva7ykOKV8kxhK-tfYsuTlW3Qriy4LvKsXdIN5aiPE4oPJABxkLOYrDmmvuvDGZjj/s400/reduced+flags.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It snowed last night, degrading conditions for our Team 1 departure from EBC. The launch was scratched at 3:00 a.m. and everyone went back to bed. After today’s sunny weather that snow will have settled considerably making it possible to reschedule the start of our first summit attempt tonight. If all goes well this team will summit on May 17. At this point Ty and I are still on Team 2, scheduled for a May 16 departure from EBC and a May 20 summit target. That is only four days from now, but most of us are already going a little crazy with all the idle time on our hands. Each morning we throw rocks down onto the frozen glacial pond in the center of our camp. Sometimes there is an arbitrary target. More recently we do not even bother with that. We are throwing rocks at ice and something about that creates a soothing sensation in our brains. By late afternoon the ice melts enough for all the rocks to sink through to the bottom. The pond refreezes overnight, and we start the next day with a clean unblemished ice surface. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At night we gather in the movie tent with the Sherpas to watch a feature film. Though there is an external heater for this tent, it is so woefully inadequate that we usually do not bother to fire it up. Bundled in parkas, our breath visible in the projector light, we settle in like chicks in a nest. Last night we watched The 300, the grizzly tale of 300 Spartan Fighters who stood up against the invading forces of may thousands of Persians. The dismemberment was on a scale that could make the first ten minutes of <i>Saving Private Ryan</i> look like an after school special. It was a real crowd pleaser, especially among the Sherpa who do not see much of that kind of thing this far up the valley. Regrets abound. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It seems like so very long ago that i left home. Spring has happened without me. There have been Birthdays and Holidays. Appliances have broken and been repaired. The tabs have expired on my car. Now the pull of home starts to exert considerable gravity. I miss my family, my work, my town. But for the next two weeks I must do all I can to push that back and focus on what I came here for. There will be many years to enjoy those things that make up a comfortable life. But how I manage my mental game in the days ahead will determine whether that life will include a summit photo on Everest. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 13, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day EBC</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhl_z86hXgoDvTk47bzeRxvc9ckh2DzYSVzoZLitKbsmeggdLjbfmgg1TEN9uqvwNNnj_eVBFx0s5p9QV03aNTHKGtkmuSPeNpI_qUK7m51E19iCBuztDnAXHBJNRBGDCEvwOkYuh71Ge/s1600/reduced+mask+and+goggles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhl_z86hXgoDvTk47bzeRxvc9ckh2DzYSVzoZLitKbsmeggdLjbfmgg1TEN9uqvwNNnj_eVBFx0s5p9QV03aNTHKGtkmuSPeNpI_qUK7m51E19iCBuztDnAXHBJNRBGDCEvwOkYuh71Ge/s320/reduced+mask+and+goggles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The best possible news! The weather window we have been targeting for a May 20 summit has taken shape with the jet stream now migrating to the north of Everest. This has both broadened the window and improved the quality of it. The peak of Everest should see very low winds for the period of May 17-24. Such a generous window should allow teams to make their summit bids in an orderly fashion, as opposed to last year when most of EBC tried to shoe-horn into just 2 days. Our team leaders have spoken with other expeditions to get a feel for when they will be sending their climbers up, so we may avoid the crowds, and decided to move our Team 2 summit bid up to May 19. We leave EBC in 2 days. This will be my last post until returning from the summit. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">If all goes according to plan, I should reach the summit of Everest at 5:00 a.m. on May 19 (give or take an hour). That would translate into about 6:00 p.m. PST on May 18 (Bellingham date and time). </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is a group of 6 U.S. Air Force climbers that are part of our Team 2 Summit Group. Among the various cool technologies they bring with them is a GPS tracker that will post their progress up Everest in real time. As I am typically on pace with these climbers Readers may find it interesting to follow along at <a href="http://usaf7summits.com/">http://usaf7summits.com</a> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A special thanks to those of you who have written in comments of encouragement and positive wishes. I feel as though we are climbing this mountain together!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A big shout out to my friends at Meridian Middle School!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">My love and thanks to Lin, Trevor, Chase, Mom, Jack, and Don for your support, understanding, and belief in me. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-11737532566694354852013-05-10T22:08:00.001-07:002013-05-10T22:21:33.970-07:00Stalking a summit date<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ3x7FVOyHa8b8qJ0mYWDVf-i88jZbtfynpE8hDgWHUDQ1mDub2cIav1IkXSIAqfCy_zOk9yocNkmoyW0pdekcw3s0DwTgWDPaOzVCKABDlk2RPhJZM_9aVtxkt1qDrCRv5jL_xphszHu/s1600/reduced+rock+on+ice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ3x7FVOyHa8b8qJ0mYWDVf-i88jZbtfynpE8hDgWHUDQ1mDub2cIav1IkXSIAqfCy_zOk9yocNkmoyW0pdekcw3s0DwTgWDPaOzVCKABDlk2RPhJZM_9aVtxkt1qDrCRv5jL_xphszHu/s400/reduced+rock+on+ice.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 10, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">These days are simple. If I can come up with one task that gives purpose to my life I then free myself to nap and eat chocolate bars with impunity. Today that task will be the leveling of my tent platform. It is sometimes easy to forget we are living on a glacier. All about EBC one sees rocks and boulders that seem to have arrived at their final destinations. Upon closer examination one notes these stones to be perched atop ice that is slowly melting. In a similar fashion my body heat melts deeper trenches beneath my tent nightly until there remains no sleepable contortion. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">MIngma has returned from Phortse. He is pleased with the inflatable palm tree I left outside his tent and eager to get on with the tasks of day to day living at EBC. I mention my tent platform and he pledges to return with a shovel to help me. I take an advance on this and eat a chocolate bar. BTW, all this chocolate bar consumption is not just about loving Hershey’s with Almonds. It is also an effort to stabilize my weight, which is now down 20 pounds from where I started the expedition. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the sun touches EBC the temperature rises from the mid 20’s to about 75 degrees. I kill time waiting for Mingma by building stone sculptures. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwtUeYI8THnXAdPUCRDeE52GmYZuFXJs-QiP0nxCmGtmmIW8i6kQHNcu8ulBgZTzWGaUVcOI-d1ztEukn8vpwZ6KP0Ye3js7-dd_9dRL57qkuOUb2AqtEN8zq-B0RoTqby0ZT7ufH4Jco/s1600/reduced+rock+sculpture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwtUeYI8THnXAdPUCRDeE52GmYZuFXJs-QiP0nxCmGtmmIW8i6kQHNcu8ulBgZTzWGaUVcOI-d1ztEukn8vpwZ6KP0Ye3js7-dd_9dRL57qkuOUb2AqtEN8zq-B0RoTqby0ZT7ufH4Jco/s400/reduced+rock+sculpture.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 11, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day. Trek to Gorak Shep.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHdNGzpUpaNtRQkghgq_0c6pBKTAAt_DJx16IKgNXvDvN4yg4wfxxPnzoHaBLD-zcuyo6ZEJQWxOg4i7wWc1uFvjZV5pHcE9w1W2BvrPh_5BvMvYxaUcUQL3wK9SOJa9M-S89kMCtaGHU/s1600/reduced+coffee+in+cook+tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHdNGzpUpaNtRQkghgq_0c6pBKTAAt_DJx16IKgNXvDvN4yg4wfxxPnzoHaBLD-zcuyo6ZEJQWxOg4i7wWc1uFvjZV5pHcE9w1W2BvrPh_5BvMvYxaUcUQL3wK9SOJa9M-S89kMCtaGHU/s400/reduced+coffee+in+cook+tent.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning coffee in the Cook Tent<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The weather forecast for two days of lite wind at the summit proved correct. The rope fixing teams pounced on the opportunity, placing anchors and lines all the way from the South Col to the summit. The fix is in. Everest is now climbable. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This year will also see the introduction of an element that could potentially save many lives up high on Everest. The Hilary Step, a notorious bottleneck at almost 29,000 feet, has been the site of life and death drama for as long as climbers have come to test themselves on Everest. One of the reasons for this is the steep narrow corridor, only wide enough for one climber to pass at a time. Other climbers waiting to ascend or descend the Hilary Step must wait in line, exposed to the elements and burning precious oxygen. Last year saw wait times of over an hour, and four deaths which could arguably be attributed to that wait on some level. Matters are that much worse when an exhausted climber becomes entangled in the lines, thus shutting down all traffic flow until he is freed. For the last three years IMG has lobbied hard with the other major guide companies to put in an alternate descending route. This would be an ambitious project, requiring the drilling of anchor holes into the rock and the fixing of lines that would allow climbers to rappel off the side of Everest just above the Hilary Step, dangling there above Tibet while they traverse below the line of climbers waiting to ascend the Step. The combined manpower and resources of several teams would be required to pull this off, and for various reasons it simply did not work out in years past. But this year, and from this point forward, will be different. The alternate route was secured yesterday and will no doubt be tested in the coming days. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The next weather window is expected on May 15. As large crowds are expected, we are sending up only a fraction of our team. They leave EBC at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow. The next weather window looks to be on May 20, when very low winds are forecast above camp 4. Most of our remaining team members, including myself and Ty, will make our summit bids on this day, given no change in the forecast. This will see us leaving EBC on May 16 at 3:30 a.m. and climbing straight to camp 2. We will stay that night and rest the day of May 17. We will leave Camp 2 at 4:00 a.m. on May 18, climbing to camp 3 high up on the Lohtse face, then traversing the following morning to camp 4 (The South Col). We should arrive at camp 4 on May 19 in the late morning hours. After resting in our tents through the day, we will then leave for the summit around 10:00 p.m. If all goes according to plan, I should reach the summit of Everest around 6:00 a.m. on May 20. Nepal is about 13 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, so make that adjustment if you care to follow along in local time. While the actual dates of the above may change owing to shifting weather, the basic order of events should remain the same. </span></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-29269857690177422232013-05-08T01:34:00.004-07:002013-09-27T08:57:14.757-07:00Final rotation complete!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLRchGVWrCxIU-Bkl4EKgJrf-5XCvWpCHTRV0ohfKcpBhAT_bw3gl-eC34foSZutgW2WPbDWpsGAU-ULBdYNlgbXVPqzJmDXlkbGbU4hhMULpbld4tCc_mj86QjcJlZlNEInHveBl4Wxi/s1600/reduced+D+balaclava.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLRchGVWrCxIU-Bkl4EKgJrf-5XCvWpCHTRV0ohfKcpBhAT_bw3gl-eC34foSZutgW2WPbDWpsGAU-ULBdYNlgbXVPqzJmDXlkbGbU4hhMULpbld4tCc_mj86QjcJlZlNEInHveBl4Wxi/s320/reduced+D+balaclava.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 3, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">EBC to Camp 2</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Climbing days start early. This is necessitated by the heat that comes with daylight and the resultant instability it brings to the snow and ice surfaces we must climb in, on, and around. On this day we ate breakfast at 2:30 a.m. By now we are expected to show up at breakfast with climbing harness on and ready to go. There is a nervous energy about the team and we rush at our tasks to release it, though there typically is no cause to rush. Conversation is limited to requests for items spread out along the long table we sit down to, our persons ringing like wind chimes from the metallic climbing implements hanging at our waists. Each of us is studying the day ahead in our minds. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">On this day we would climb from EBC directly to Camp 2, omitting the overnight at Camp 1 we found so welcome on our last ascent. It would be a big day, launching our third and final acclimation rotation. Like most of my team mates, I had a plan. I would climb steady through the ice fall, but only at 70% of my pace. This would allow reserves to then carry me on to camp 2. But the ice fall had other plans. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As Mingma and I entered mid ice fall the adjacent hillside released an avalanche of boulders and ice. Quickening our pace, we entered an area of large roundish ice blocks called The Popcorn. A singular strand of prayer flags hang over this section signifying the heightened danger of same. I could hear Mingma chanting prayers in low tones just ahead of me as an ice avalanche broke loose next to us. There was a concise snap, followed by a roar not unlike a locamotive going by. The break of the fall line carried the debris beneath us. I wondered about the other climbers for a moment, but sensed Mingma’s urgency and put all I had into staying with him. We arrived at a safe zone called The Football Field just as one of the Air Force climbers was leaving to continue up the hill. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma listened on his radio to the chatter among Sherpa and Basecamp Leaders as I tried to eat and drink. No one had been caught up in either avalanche. Just then a third avalanche released above us in a notoriously active section known as “Lo La Pass.” By my estimate the Air Force climber who had just left would be square in the middle of it. We cut our rest stop short and hurried up to check on the Airman. Indeed Lo La Pass had been swept through by the ice fall, but the fresh foot prints of the climber and his Sherpa confirmed they had arrived after the release. We continued to press hard through the remainder of the ice fall, arriving at camp 1 just four hours after leaving EBC. This was much faster than the 6 hours normally consumed. I was spent and nerve-wracked as I collapsed into a vacant tent to lay down for a moment. One by one, other team members emerged likewise “knackered”. We rested here for a bit, before then proceeding on to camp 2. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The wind was blowing hard and the pre-dawn cold left us in single digits as we tried to consume the contents of our packed lunches; frozen juice box, frozen salmon spread, frozen cheese square, and frozen dessert pastry. After 20 minutes of futility, the frustration combined with a creeping cold to inspire the kind of vigorous movement that might generate some body heat. Myself and another team member set out with our Sherpas for camp 2. I could see direct sunlight slowly working its way down the side of Nuptse, staging a soft landing on the gaining valley floor. At some point I left the othe team member behind and it was just Mingma and I. I could see the tents of camp 2 an hour and a half up the valley, but now the over-exertion of the ice fall came to collect and I “bonked”. I stopped in the trail and breathed hard for twenty chest-fulls. Feeling marginally better, I motioned to Mingma that we should continue on. 100 steps later I had to stop and breath again. “I’m sorry, MIngma” I apologized. “I just can’t catch my breath.” “It’s OK,” he offered, “we go slow.” I continued to deteriorate, only able to go 80 steps, then 60, and so on before needing to rest and breath hard. We straggled into camp 2 six and a half hours after leaving EBC. I am unsure by what hidden strength I managed the last quarter mile. Remaining team members staggered into camp 2 over the next 4 hours. Our stories were very similar; the fear and adrenaline of the ice fall had over-taxed our resources and from there on the will to place one foot in front of the other had gotten us to camp 2. We slept until dinner, then logged another 12 hours to breakfast. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 4, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest day at camp 2</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I have written about the process a mountain climber goes through, a process that tears down his humanity until he has become that animal he must be to climb the highest mountains. I blew my nose, a moment ago, into a soiled frozen wool sock I know I must wear tomorrow. By this account I should think I am getting close to summit ready.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO84pQsTmyt3LA-s-hx5aNNR_ihFApzLT13nt1dT9lQKkQIHK5P38gJuLoT45tYRQ9kNikhONRREiWqYDQ1QQLzIzsrBGY5zyURH20RvDLm37oeQxFvm5yQ_SKyGRObz9ZCVCfdwu3m1Rq/s1600/reduced+Lohtse+with+climbers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO84pQsTmyt3LA-s-hx5aNNR_ihFApzLT13nt1dT9lQKkQIHK5P38gJuLoT45tYRQ9kNikhONRREiWqYDQ1QQLzIzsrBGY5zyURH20RvDLm37oeQxFvm5yQ_SKyGRObz9ZCVCfdwu3m1Rq/s400/reduced+Lohtse+with+climbers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lohtse Face</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">May 5, 2013</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Camp 2 to Camp 3 (Touch and return)</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Camp 3 sits at an elevation of 24,000 feet, carved into the side of the Lohtse face by the mean trade of ice axes. Ten tents cling there, an outpost of the most minimal accommodations for climbers in route to camp 4 (the South Col). Our original plan for this rotation was to have each team member spend a night (without supplemental oxygen) at camp three to establish the high threshold for his acclimation. “You probably won’t sleep. It will be a miserable night,” Big Boss Greg Venovage promised during our preparation talk. Our first team of three climbers spent the night of May 4 at camp 3 in accordance with this plan. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">By the next morning the weather forecasts had changed to then predict severe wind and cold up high, So the remainder of the team was instructed to climb to camp 3, spend a few hours acclimating, then return the same day to camp 2. This was a welcome change as an earlier climber had descended from camp 3 a few days earlier with a frostbitten finger and ear. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma and I left camp 2 at four a.m. in our down suits and warmest gloves. We arrived at the Lohtse face an hour later and began climbing the steep icy incline. So steep is the Lohtse face, that I could reach out and touch it while standing plumb vertical. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgPLoRt5y6WvnyM5qreyqaNcpp9AvzyH6FL_iBE-_zOHSW-yU5c9IvNEy8KC8nOraicRVEHY2Q9j4ob351DlaHBDsAREtYVcOeGcQoBs-4QoVM4uRM_ldc1oD0Q5wihQscXqKVqOm3U6L/s1600/reduced+Dave+C3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgPLoRt5y6WvnyM5qreyqaNcpp9AvzyH6FL_iBE-_zOHSW-yU5c9IvNEy8KC8nOraicRVEHY2Q9j4ob351DlaHBDsAREtYVcOeGcQoBs-4QoVM4uRM_ldc1oD0Q5wihQscXqKVqOm3U6L/s320/reduced+Dave+C3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were only 20 minutes up the face when Mingma stopped to listen to his radio. “Sherpa sick,” he said to me with concern. He said one of the Sherpas above us at camp three had gotten up, dressed, eaten some breakfast, but then said he felt dizzy. The Sherpa vomited, then went to lay down in his tent. A camp Physician was patched onto the line and I could hear her instructing the people at camp three to administer Niphedipine and place the Sherpa on bottled oxygen. We continued our climb upward. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma stopped again ten minutes later and turned to me. “Sherpa died,” he said pointing at his radio. He also told me this Sherpa was his brother in-law. We would later learn that two team members had worked frantically to save the man’s life and would later descend, traumatized by what had happened. This Sherpa was a longtime veteran of IMG and had spent much time higher than camp 3 on Everest. Theories evolved, none of which could be conclusively proven, but the available symptoms suggested the victim had contracted High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) which then progressed quite quickly to High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE). I told Mingma how sorry I was for his loss and suggested we should turn around and go back to camp 2, but he insisted we continue up. I believe this was because he felt an obligation to get to the body as soon as possible so he could make certain proper Buddhist traditions were observed. Our climb to camp 3 was called off 1,000 vertical feet short of the camp. Mingma continued up. I was assigned another Sherpa to lead me back down. A team of Sherpas lowered the body down the Lohtse face, where a helicopter picked up Mingma and his deceased brother in-law, transporting them to their home village of Phortse. IMG located the man’s parents in another village and had a helicopter take them to Phortse as well. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">May 6, 2013</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Camp 2 to EBC</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Team Leaders were eager to get us all back down to EBC before the forecast storm hit. So a 3:30 a.m. breakfast was scheduled with plans to head down by 4:00 a.m. It was 7 degrees fahrenheit in our tent when my alarm woke Ty and I. Everything we touched was frozen. The roof of the tent shed ice crystals on us when we bumped it. Several times I had to stop and warm my hands against my abdomen. But we made it to breakfast then shouldered our packs. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A well-known and highly accomplished Sherpa named Toshi was assigned to stand in for Mingma in leading me down to EBC. But when the time came to leave he instructed me to go drink coffee in the dining tent while he dealt with another sick Sherpa. Very short of breath and registering an alarmingly low SpO2, this Sherpa was dosed with Niphedipine and placed on bottled oxygen. An hour went by and the man’s SpO2 improved to the low 60’s. At this point he was be able to descend to the clinic at EBC with the help of other Sherpas and continued bottled oxygen. We descended together, at a slow a measured pace. The sick Sherpa was fine. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 7, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest day at EBC</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Shower. Shave. Laundry. Call Mom. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I called Lin. It was so good to hear her voice. As she has been throughout this whole strange journey, Lin was supportive, inspiring, and spoke from a place of love. We discussed the days ahead and my plans for the upcoming summit attempt, agreeing that focus on each step would be the key. It is easy to be swept up in the vast scenery or a complex pitch you know is coming. Staying present will be essential. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Climbers invited the Sherpas to join us for a movie in the group tent after dinner. The feature was “Anchorman” with Will Ferrell. The humor did not always translate well, but the Sherpas definitely thought the fight scene was funny. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR14QCilxUhj_oVEeYNmHfuE9QsQxI6UnrRadZb-LOtOqln0S2err5yQgbQLyJKozRYOzKupNiSHEP9DgN2qXHUAvY1A-W8j7hk5kOXqRqYG8PL97kt0sD0RSj8s7xaoplG0ix4duEPGb8/s1600/reduced+D+O2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR14QCilxUhj_oVEeYNmHfuE9QsQxI6UnrRadZb-LOtOqln0S2err5yQgbQLyJKozRYOzKupNiSHEP9DgN2qXHUAvY1A-W8j7hk5kOXqRqYG8PL97kt0sD0RSj8s7xaoplG0ix4duEPGb8/s400/reduced+D+O2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liking the O2 system.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">May 8, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest day at EBC. Trek to Gorak Shep</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Myself and the Australian member of the team are typically the first up on rest days. I bring a handfull of Starbucks instant coffee packets (decaf) down to the dinning tent and we enjoy a relaxed cup. By then the sun is touching camp so I drag a chair outside and have a second cup while the rest of the team files by for breakfast. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This morning we learned the sad news of another Sherpa (not IMG) having passed. He was crossing the yellow band above camp 3 last night and stumbled. Though a fixed line was available, he had not clipped into it. He fell 3,000 feet down the Lhotse face. </span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">This set me to thinking about Mingma and his family with their own recent loss. I took</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">a stick of incense up to the Puja Altar and left it there as an offering.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZKtzb0k5GOtQ2WOPlvSq_hYzE2Z7pWiGWP6_f_-up11a7sqp8VsWKxFCrERaI6eFdc1D4n4s95zLCSjAXKf2OoicXDVUL0r52LWURpn70hJW6YlGvgTg0IvhsMejfZ9Drna7gCA6tjUF/s1600/reduced+Big+Boss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZKtzb0k5GOtQ2WOPlvSq_hYzE2Z7pWiGWP6_f_-up11a7sqp8VsWKxFCrERaI6eFdc1D4n4s95zLCSjAXKf2OoicXDVUL0r52LWURpn70hJW6YlGvgTg0IvhsMejfZ9Drna7gCA6tjUF/s400/reduced+Big+Boss.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greg Venovage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">After breakfast Big Boss held our instruction session on how to use the oxygen bottles and masks.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I did not expect to feel any different breathing the denser air, given the many weeks we have acclimated to Base camp and higher. But the instant clarity that came to my head left me wondering how I have managed to feed and cloth myself up to this point. In addition to allowing me to climb higher into extremely thin air, this supplemental oxygen should also keep me feeling warmer and lessen the risk of frostbite.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now we wait. The team has completed all phases of preparation for a summit bid of Everest. We expect the rope fixing to be done by May 10, and we will send our first group to the summit at the next weather window after that. Once a summit attempt is launched from EBC it takes 4 days to arrive at the top of Everest. So the most likely date for myself to summit is still May 18 ...depending on weather. I hope to have one more opportunity to post to this blog before then. In any case, I promise to blog the details of the climb upon returning to EBC. But for those of you who would like a more timely update I encourage checking the IMG Trip Report which should post daily updates at <a href="http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south13.shtml"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south13.shtml</span></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a></span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">For those of you who have not already joined my Everest Team, please consider doing so! You can become a part of it all by making a tax-deductible donation to the Bellingham Boys & Girls Club Climbing for Kids program at <a href="https://secureonlinegiving.com/Donations/site/index.asp?eventID=1036"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">https://secureonlinegiving.com/Donations/site/index.asp?eventID=1036</span></a></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-92159904666216840772013-04-30T23:52:00.002-07:002013-05-01T00:14:52.307-07:00My Friend and Sherpa, Mingma Chhring<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9hbL0zfCE8J2RqyA-NbMgYGKf9BN7V51pdJHCm0C2bg4iAY_yp-I9V5zWzNDrRBAz8LmjaF7fCLE7YJ_baTL2puswXHKzZTjpJcu82nYJYIsmthl4qzlcSUuj5QtUkIMNDc3aNx8RTOE/s1600/reduced+Mingma+by+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9hbL0zfCE8J2RqyA-NbMgYGKf9BN7V51pdJHCm0C2bg4iAY_yp-I9V5zWzNDrRBAz8LmjaF7fCLE7YJ_baTL2puswXHKzZTjpJcu82nYJYIsmthl4qzlcSUuj5QtUkIMNDc3aNx8RTOE/s400/reduced+Mingma+by+tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Mingma Chhring</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma Chhring does not know what year he was born in. The Sherpa culture places no importance on such things. Though he believes he was born on May 5, Birthdays are not celebrated. I would guess him to be in his early thirties, but the age-defying characteristics of his people make such an estimate at best approximate. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Born in Phortse, Nepal, Mingma grew up with 8 brothers and 1 sister. Two of his brothers died from disease as children, and one was killed while leading a climb on the notoriously dangerous Anna Purna. Mingma did not attend school until joining the Tengboche Monastery in 1996, where he studied to become a Monk. But at that time the Monastery did not receive donations from visitors to offset their expenses. So each student was required to pay $1,000 a year. After 5 years of study Mingma was no longer able to raise the tuition . He returned home to Phortse.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma was then hired by International Mountain Guides as a load carrying Sherpa in 2001. Working mostly out of Tibet, he took part in expeditions on Everest, Ama Dablam, Manaslu, and Cho Oyu. Mingma worked hard to learn English and distinguished himself as tireless at high altitude. Attending the Khumbu Climbing School the following January, Mingma returned as a Guiding Sherpa in 2002 and summited Everest for the first time. With the exception of 2005, when he tried working as an Electrician in his home village of Phortse, Mingma has successfully led an IMG Everest client to the world’s highest summit each year for an incredible record of 10 out of 10 attempts. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mingma likes Guiding but knows it is a dangerous job. He says his wife and two sons understand the risks he takes, but also realize this is the best way for him to make money for the family. His sons talk about following in his footsteps and becoming climbing Guides one day, but Mingma has forbid it. “This is a danger job,” he tells them, “and I want you to become a Doctor or Engineer.” He hopes they will go to America to start their careers. “They can be comfortable there, have a car and some money and same freedoms as here in Nepal,” he says. Mingma and his wife, who runs their small vegetable farm in Phortse, pay a yearly tuition of $1,500 U.S. for each boy to attend a boarding school in Kathmandu where they are learning English, Nepali, Tibetan, Math, History, and Science. The School is called Mount Kailash. It is difficult for Mingma and his wife to raise the funds for tuition each year and he has asked me to mention in this article that they would welcome any sponsorship the Readers of this blog might be willing to offer. You can contact the Mount Kailash school directly at <a href="http://www.nepalyp.com/company/31601/Mount_Kailash_School"><span style="color: #cccccc;">http://www.nepalyp.com/company/31601/Mount_Kailash_School</span></a> if you wish to do so. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-84481029975973906082013-04-28T23:33:00.001-07:002013-04-29T00:32:34.114-07:00April 21 through 28<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlva9_tem8M16yjOHPFo8GYJIS_VbET0fElatK_3gF6x-MHJxaTunhFSUmkcSTt8rMx2dUvTdXQs_kxBa6I3lhw27iUVUv9Ov29MH1CaKOPvdvXalct8mWcJolObOwp5xL_Rizg4ERyZsi/s1600/reduced+telescope+watching.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlva9_tem8M16yjOHPFo8GYJIS_VbET0fElatK_3gF6x-MHJxaTunhFSUmkcSTt8rMx2dUvTdXQs_kxBa6I3lhw27iUVUv9Ov29MH1CaKOPvdvXalct8mWcJolObOwp5xL_Rizg4ERyZsi/s320/reduced+telescope+watching.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jangbu watches climbers move up the mountain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
</div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 21, 2013</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Solo Trek to Gorak Shep</span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Note to Readers: I was able to repair the punctured air mattress. Also, my Palm Tree mascot has been joined by an inflatable kangaroo marking the tent of our Australian team member. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">***You can follow daily updates called in by satellite phone at this link<span style="background-color: #cccccc;"> <a href="http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south13.shtml"><span style="color: white;">http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south13.shtml</span></a></span></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In these rather basic posts they will refer to my group as "Classic Climbers" Guided by Max and Aaron. I am only able to post when the team has returned to EBC after a rotation. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This was suppose to be the day we put boots to ground for the first time on Everest. The plan was to rise at 3 a.m. and enter the ice fall, climb about three quarters of the way through it to an area called “The Football Field”, and return to base. Like everything we have done thus far, this too was intended to acclimate us for higher camps to come. But snow fell heavy through the night and “Big Boss” Greg Venovage judged the ice fall unsafe. “Hey Dave,” he called from outside my tent around 2:30 a.m., “I’m calling off the climb for today so get some sleep.” Then he shook my tent to relieve the heavy accumulation of snow and commented “Nice palm tree.” </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is climbing Everest. As essential as it is to have a plan, it is still more important that one be willing to change it. After breakfast I checked out a radio from the Comm tent and set out on the four mile trek down the valley to Gorak Shep. I wanted to post to this blog, check my email, and connect with friends and family on Facebook. I find it helps me keep my spirits up when I read the comments blog Readers' posts, or friends add to my Facebook wall. Thank you! </span></span><br />
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I skipped around Trekkers bound in heavy layers and moving in slow motion. That was me the first time I trekked into EBC, but I have since time acclimated. It felt good to clip along comfortably with Chicago playing in my ears, watching the rugged landscape of glacial moraine fold over on itself as a river emerged. </span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 22, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Into the Ice Fall</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We finished breakfast at 3:30 a.m. and began shuffling over to the Sherpa group tent. I was once again the last climber to arrive. Mingma looked a bit concerned but did not ask me to explain my chronic tardiness. This was fortunate as I had no good excuse aside from the general malaise that comes with being up and active at such an hour. Under Mingma’s lead we immediately began passing other Climbers, sometimes leap-frogging four at a time. I would have asked him to slow down, except this pace solved a different problem I had. I had only dressed in Long Johns and a shell layer in anticipation of the hard work ahead and presently felt quite chilled. Soon I was generating enough body heat to feel comfortable as we navigated the blue ice statues that stand sentry to the fall. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">By far, the majority of fatalities on Everest occur in the ice fall. There are two reasons for this. The first is the fact that the ice fall consists of the pieces of ice broken off the upper glacier. These pieces, ranging in size from mailbox to commercial building, are all melting, shifting, and toppling in slow motion as gravity and spring temperatures work upon them. Occasionally that movement is not be in slow motion. The second reason the ice fall is susceptible to tragedy is the somewhat regular snow and ice avalanches that sweep down from the west shoulder of Everest. It goes without saying some parts of the ice fall are more dangerous than others. So a big part of managing one’s passage involves keeping enough gas in the tank to speed through those troublesome areas. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDidbORTENVnzqTcyxpzF8W6xweVbn3LZ04JRS9shET_00Lwkk-NAzQrW-2Jb3_Cgj4QSt2U-yFhERuMaycdRYQpZHettndn7GpZd7RjGt3IPSi_16SQKizyXXvStXIrYITE8WOqJb02C/s1600/reduced+top+of+ladder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDidbORTENVnzqTcyxpzF8W6xweVbn3LZ04JRS9shET_00Lwkk-NAzQrW-2Jb3_Cgj4QSt2U-yFhERuMaycdRYQpZHettndn7GpZd7RjGt3IPSi_16SQKizyXXvStXIrYITE8WOqJb02C/s400/reduced+top+of+ladder.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself descending a ladder in the ice fall. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At times Mingma would invite me to lead our ascent, offering counsel when we entered areas where speed was important. At some point I noticed we were alone. I called for a break at a safe spot and asked MIngma what he had heard over the radio as other Sherpa and IMG personnel chattered. He said Big Boss had just turned everyone around. Mingma and I had already crossed most of the ladders and were only 10 minutes from our objective, the Football Field. He got on the radio and received permission for us to finish out. In the end, myself and two of the Air Force climbers were the only ones to make it to the Football Field. I felt good about this, but was also spent after four hours of hard climbing. We arrived back in EBC a bit after 9:00 a.m. I slept until lunch. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Big Boss, Max, and one of our Climbers interrupted lunch to make an announcement. This Climber had decided to end his bid. The altitude was causing severe blurring of his vision and he felt it would not be safe to continue given this. He would be leaving EBC by helicopter in a few hours. The Climber was tearful as he talked about how hard it had been to make this decision and surrender his dream. We tried to console him. A well liked team member, he will be missed by all.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 23, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 24, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arrive Camp 1</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">SpO2 = 74 RHR = 77</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocqsbFYWqu0JWK6WgGATt3g-JHaHK7ZNtwgAcWLiV7dPldLK4E2HJuwUcDsHnqm-iAeNxp_Dvobimeq2sMsix3QVndq3caC4usLMfJD7H2XorXqMj-6FSh3xlIyBAS0lTzJ8N7KczsOK_/s1600/reduced+Dr+Suess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocqsbFYWqu0JWK6WgGATt3g-JHaHK7ZNtwgAcWLiV7dPldLK4E2HJuwUcDsHnqm-iAeNxp_Dvobimeq2sMsix3QVndq3caC4usLMfJD7H2XorXqMj-6FSh3xlIyBAS0lTzJ8N7KczsOK_/s320/reduced+Dr+Suess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">From a distance, the ice fall looks like a jumbled pile of fractured ice. But up close, when you are inside the ice fall, it is a strange and wonderous world not unlike something Dr. Suess might have created. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">It starts with the blue ice statues of cold</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They welcome you in like climbers of old. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">“He’s over-dressed. He’ll get hot, then get sweaty.”</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“This will attract fatigue or a Yeti.”</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The ground undulates like a Pirian Fong</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The ice creaks and sings it’s happy ice song</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">You enter a narrow white corridor.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now the ice is above, below, to the fore. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">But the shapes are not straight the way you had thought. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They’re round and reaching, curved like a pot.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Your headlamp bends the shadows like skilm</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>or the haunting features in a Tim Burton film. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The trail narrows until thats all that there is,</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>flanked by darkness and the demons of Miz.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Now you slide to the side in a crystalline room.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It dazzles and rings, but you must leave soon. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Straight up through the ceiling with crampons and rope.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Up up to the next place. Wide open, you hope.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">It’s hard to breathe. The air is so thin. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You gasp like a gold fish on land, one fin.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The ice block above you could fall any time. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So you can’t rest here. Keep moving. Must climb.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Next come the ladders, scratched and bent. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>They span the deep fissures, where others have went.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">They scale the tall ice, three, four lashed together</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>like a whoozit flamboozle left out in the weather. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">You cross them with shoes made of steel-soled spikes. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you hold onto the ropes, the rungs and the likes. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Then six hours later you emerge from a crack. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sun has risen. You take off your pack. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">You’re here at last. You’ve arrived at Camp One. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now nap in your tent. Your work day is done. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 25, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest day Camp 1</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0uBj3opYNLWcjRmHDqxCWMbz2rFmST-HM8iX3MmWPxWNDJ8lLvM8tTlSLX7GvN5VdKftJwmyKXypNNJSGuJiE47aRkkqMgVJbvNsa23BHx8F8nhXglu4IvQxrtxm9iGmxSTrG2w_C6bN/s1600/reduced+camp+1++2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0uBj3opYNLWcjRmHDqxCWMbz2rFmST-HM8iX3MmWPxWNDJ8lLvM8tTlSLX7GvN5VdKftJwmyKXypNNJSGuJiE47aRkkqMgVJbvNsa23BHx8F8nhXglu4IvQxrtxm9iGmxSTrG2w_C6bN/s400/reduced+camp+1++2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We ate breakfast in our tents. The Sherpas brought us hot water for tea and to mix with our Oat Meal. Shortly thereafter we set out in light gear on the path to Camp 2. We had no intention of covering the entire distance, but merely wished to keep our legs from stiffening up after the difficult prior day. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Though the terrain was a pleasant rolling snow scape of little consequence, we never the less clipped our safety leashes into the running fixed lines. The soft contours of this windswept snow belie the many deep crevasses beneath. Indeed, the first casualty of this Everest season occurred on this very stretch. A Sherpa, part of the team setting fixed lines, fell 47 meters through a thin hidden snow bridge. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We turned back at the halfway point, returning to camp just prior to a subzero wind storm setting in. We ate MRE’s while hiding in our thick down sleeping bags, then rested for the move to Camp 2 the following day. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 26, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Move to Camp 2 (Elev 21,300 feet)</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">SpO2 = 71 RHR = 98</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9b09BIKAUeWuMFcH6HAHyphjaycoYe7FTXYvTfW_3SWMmcxNJYVEuZwrMyGT8yEBThK-uevL7X7IopCFmk2yH1eycehsDGvGnjvjdFBwLb7Fhb7vb2Sy3rPw7tSAnmllkTeApL1XGhnhR/s1600/reduced+ladder+crossing+all.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9b09BIKAUeWuMFcH6HAHyphjaycoYe7FTXYvTfW_3SWMmcxNJYVEuZwrMyGT8yEBThK-uevL7X7IopCFmk2yH1eycehsDGvGnjvjdFBwLb7Fhb7vb2Sy3rPw7tSAnmllkTeApL1XGhnhR/s400/reduced+ladder+crossing+all.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing a ladder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The white faces of Everest, Lhotse, and Nuptse from a perfect solar concentration down on the valley common to them all. It is a strict “no no” to get caught out in this valley during the hear of the day when temperatures can race from the morning cool of 10 F to 90 F at peak sun. So it goes we left Camp 1 at 6:00 a.m. in the tight chill of night and the soft dusky light of dawn. Ty and his Sherpa, Lakpa, together with Mingma and I, enjoyed a casual pace that delivered us to Camp 2, just as the first direct rays touched the tents. We threw out things into a vacant tent, then adjorned to the dining tent for some hot Tang drink. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhBFxaMraPHoDM3uvPGfhpMBjxezVH7hgqW52AhNaFmreo8H6NvvD2p4BpD-3yPX4-E_JcCFcvuH5dPBu_2z1aSrUzEKRGeaTBaRHpRRCSmeASiRJTlanXwyke6pR-YCpsEzyEBuPep5L/s1600/reduced+butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhBFxaMraPHoDM3uvPGfhpMBjxezVH7hgqW52AhNaFmreo8H6NvvD2p4BpD-3yPX4-E_JcCFcvuH5dPBu_2z1aSrUzEKRGeaTBaRHpRRCSmeASiRJTlanXwyke6pR-YCpsEzyEBuPep5L/s400/reduced+butterfly.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ty and I started talking about a wayward butterfly that had come into our tent the previous afternoon, taking refuge from the coming storm. Ty enlisted the counsel of the Sherpa tending the dining tent. “This is good luck,” the Sherpa asserted. Ty then added that the butterfly had sadly passed on during the night. The Sherpa looked uncomfortable, assuming we likewise wanted his interpretation of this turn. It must be understood that the Sherpa culture avoids conflict, bad tidings or any whiff of negativity. “Ummmm. Uhhhhhhh,” he stammered. “This is VERY good luck,” I offered, though it made no sense at all. “Yes,” the relieved Sherpa agreed, “this is very good luck.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 27, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day at Camp 2</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">SpO2 = 76 RHR 86</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkLCIBxAMITVEisColX74rzAt7zL9oVnydZA6Wuyc_DzPlp9h3kcMktK-gO72OdKv4a-RXa7MB3gAFVVNCe4WuqaTURevEDkyPS1fBPazxZg4-qCH2cE89Kj1AxUXNquqBIyxed1rrozO/s1600/reduced+Ty+at+C2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkLCIBxAMITVEisColX74rzAt7zL9oVnydZA6Wuyc_DzPlp9h3kcMktK-gO72OdKv4a-RXa7MB3gAFVVNCe4WuqaTURevEDkyPS1fBPazxZg4-qCH2cE89Kj1AxUXNquqBIyxed1rrozO/s640/reduced+Ty+at+C2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ty, loading his pack at camp 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I am missing Lin and the boys. It has been several days since I have had cell service. I dream about them at night, pedestrian dreams where I am following them around the house. I will be back at EBC tomorrow as we finish this rotation and I plan to call them straight away.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A big shout-out to my friends at The House. I have known some difficult moments during this rotation and found strength in your prayers. Many thanks and God bless. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I break this climb down into two metrics; The game plan and my overall status. At this point we are still on game plan A, which is to say our summit day is likely around May 18th. Frankly, I consider this remarkable given the many variables at hand. Good on us! I also consider myself to be on my A game. This is a combination of physical, mental, and spiritual health. To be sure, there have been times I was not on my A game. But here, looking up the steep icy Lhotse face, I am grateful to feel this good. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhY9tYLVS0kWnUj2xFRxKJ3yxzix579yaAJb6THWtb1l1hZ0cH6TgQ-lkXfIgvtWf-Gwf2WKZ84pw4kph1bzVzuhLjOCdlTeE_pnYCTE6uMNUjee3gFyVKBtZqZzytCeiq9OYYF0OGMy7/s1600/reduced+Lhotseand+approach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOhY9tYLVS0kWnUj2xFRxKJ3yxzix579yaAJb6THWtb1l1hZ0cH6TgQ-lkXfIgvtWf-Gwf2WKZ84pw4kph1bzVzuhLjOCdlTeE_pnYCTE6uMNUjee3gFyVKBtZqZzytCeiq9OYYF0OGMy7/s640/reduced+Lhotseand+approach.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lohtse Face and approach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">We will have to come to terms with the Lhotse Face on our next rotation. It is said this challenge separates many climbers from their dream.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 28, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Camp 2 to EBC</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">At EBC SpO2 = 86 RHR = 83 </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLhBDX31pLFNuhSfGwSMC_vCyx2byRKXBJ_K-HYlYTypY6ES_zsTHZQlYBH5Ae1wHDhIUxEDxYgz_gRLCxHgyUkSLWW632LlFBAGlbkxbhrFo2kCJ13VXM4Ee1vwcyKcUoVPrEE0Rf8FB/s1600/reduced+ox+bottles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLhBDX31pLFNuhSfGwSMC_vCyx2byRKXBJ_K-HYlYTypY6ES_zsTHZQlYBH5Ae1wHDhIUxEDxYgz_gRLCxHgyUkSLWW632LlFBAGlbkxbhrFo2kCJ13VXM4Ee1vwcyKcUoVPrEE0Rf8FB/s320/reduced+ox+bottles.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oxygen bottles moved up to camp 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Mingma stopped by my tent to the night before. He wanted to make sure I knew breakfast was at 4:30 a.m. and we were leaving right after. “Don’t be late,” he pleaded. I decided Mingma had done so much for me that I would make a concerted effort to satisfied this request.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was not just a matter of getting out of bed. All my gear had to be sorted for what would stay behind in a rice sack at camp 2 and what would return with me to EBC. I dedicated the next 2 hours (in 10 F temperatures) to this task. Some things were obvious; Down Suit, -40 F sleeping bag, and mattress pad would all stay. But when it came to a certain hat or candy bar I found myself flummoxed. It is entirely possible this was a symptom of the altitude. In most instances I ate the candy bar and left the hat behind, rationalizing that it had taken a lot of energy to get that hat up the hill and I owed it to myself to celebrate that success by not creating a counterfeit second effort. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkEdE4iN8p8ChdoMsAI4DN4LGUcpQZULvnJ1tvWxkU0AGjQkrcrHhhEaBMuuaJ7hQ6r1cMzRB5OgWc5czjFqtfSlJWHqBMet3Qu4tpA-m8rFrOSSDfK8n8qu2JwL-RISS1hq3h5UXus-E/s1600/reduced+max+and+mingma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkEdE4iN8p8ChdoMsAI4DN4LGUcpQZULvnJ1tvWxkU0AGjQkrcrHhhEaBMuuaJ7hQ6r1cMzRB5OgWc5czjFqtfSlJWHqBMet3Qu4tpA-m8rFrOSSDfK8n8qu2JwL-RISS1hq3h5UXus-E/s320/reduced+max+and+mingma.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team Leader Max Bunce and Mingma Chhing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I reported for breakfast very much on time. The Cook prepared fried egg and bacon on toast. It was quite tasty. Then Mingma and I set out into the predawn light at an improved pace. Not a lot of talking takes place during such a move. From time to time my concentration was summoned as we crossed another aluminum ladder laid out across a hungry crevasse, but otherwise I was free to be with my thoughts. </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">My thoughts;</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> -</span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">On the 1960’s sitcom</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="font-size: x-large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Bewitched</i><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">it was unfair of Darren to demand his wife not use her powers. She should have turned him into a newt.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> -</span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">I wonder what my son, Trevor, is doing right now?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -The only track I can recall bass player of the Who, John Entwistle, singing lead on is </span><i style="font-size: x-large; letter-spacing: 0px;">My Wife</i><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">This lyric indictment paints his wife as being a maniacal shrew for not understanding how he might have “had a bit too much to drink,” taken a wrong turn, and thus been AWOL the last four days. True or not, this could not have been good for his marriage.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -What did I do with that last Mars bar?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -When I get to EBC I will have concluded the second acclimation rotation. There will only be one more rotation before I am ready to make a summit attempt!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -Mingma declined my invitation to make barnyard noises. Is it possible he is ashamed of his cow?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -I can’t wait to shower and shave at EBC. It has been 9 days.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -I wonder how much weight I’ve lost.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> -My niece, Sasha, wrote a very nice message to me on Facebook. I already liked Sasha before this, but now I like her even more. I should either send a nice message back to her or ship a Mars bar from Gorak Shep.</span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-80409332514256305872013-04-20T23:25:00.000-07:002013-04-20T23:25:11.692-07:00What does Everest Base Camp sound like?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgHx6JA2Lf3cBAJRoP6YRChin2BdnwLuec651dR5qe0kawOSgEZkZkoHZYRcPPiJR3dSGS7m-aw9CpWiSqWxSlpFLQ_BQ3MXjmUU_vfh-rMS2ef4dy1txP11QewgpBQjR0QTT9HGYK4fT/s1600/Reduced+palm+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFgHx6JA2Lf3cBAJRoP6YRChin2BdnwLuec651dR5qe0kawOSgEZkZkoHZYRcPPiJR3dSGS7m-aw9CpWiSqWxSlpFLQ_BQ3MXjmUU_vfh-rMS2ef4dy1txP11QewgpBQjR0QTT9HGYK4fT/s400/Reduced+palm+tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 20, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest Day at Everest Base Camp</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">SpO2 = 82 RHR = 76</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am thinking of all my friends at the Bellingham Boys & Girls Club this morning. First of all, you are all AWESOME! (high five someone near you). Secondly, I know I owe a couple games of foosball to a few of you and I am hoping you are working on your skilz so we can settle, once and for all, who is the <i>King Mondo Foosball Dominator of the free world </i>when I get back. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I want to take you on a tour of Everest Base Camp today. But I thought it might be fun let the sounds lead us. So close your eyes (I assume one of the equally </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-decoration: underline;">awesome</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> staff members is reading this to you) (Staff member should high five someone near by) and try to imagine what comes next. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is early morning, and we can hear snow sliding off our tent. Normally it is too cold to snow at Everest Base Camp (EBC), but a warm spell has settled in. There is bird singing from the top of a nearby rock pile. We peek outside the tent to see it. This bird looks a lot like a Robin. Aside from the big wooly yaks, there aren’t many animals around EBC, so this is special. The snow has covered all the tents scattered among the giant piles of rock and dirt here. It is very peaceful. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We can hear a gas cooker working over in the cook’s tent. He is already putting together breakfast. Then a soft <i>wampf wampf wampf </i>starts moving up the valley toward us. It gets louder and faster as the sound moves closer. It is a helicopter coming to EBC. As it lands a football field away, the powerful rotors stir up the fresh fallen snow, scattering it in whirling white clouds about the camp. We look out from a crack in the tent door and see two people climb on board the helicopter. Then it is gone. It is probably taking a sick Climber to the lower elevations where he can get better. He will be alright. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV0fj2-XiLHvy4suNIrSTLYFeOOwB_DYoLU1-_9RMCb-AD7Cyx8Zx4mQgYPLF9cSdY2M1zBa9S_UHZatnXB97SWGSyD5JtpdTjMR3nU8UA-BbBBTAEKDBkw23Pb4m2YkNkkwFu8AXBfGvU/s1600/reduced+helicopter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV0fj2-XiLHvy4suNIrSTLYFeOOwB_DYoLU1-_9RMCb-AD7Cyx8Zx4mQgYPLF9cSdY2M1zBa9S_UHZatnXB97SWGSyD5JtpdTjMR3nU8UA-BbBBTAEKDBkw23Pb4m2YkNkkwFu8AXBfGvU/s320/reduced+helicopter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is a special day. Today we will inflate the palm tree we have packed all the way from Bellingham. We remove the packaging and start breathing into the colorful plastic decoration. <i>Pthhhhhhhhh, Pthhhhhhhhh, Pthhhhhhhhhh. </i>It doesn’t take long to inflate, and we don’t even feel dizzy because the air is thin up here at 17,500 feet. After anchoring the palm tree down next to our tent, we walk toward the dining tent to get a cup of cocoa. The snow crunches beneath our feet. A big piece of ice breaks away from the hillside and rumbles down the hill. As we pass by one tent we can hear a man talking to his family on a phone. He sounds happy-sad. You know, like when you are so happy sometimes you cry a little. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">As we pass by the green communications tent little bursts of radio talk emerge from it. It sounds like there are climbers moving up to higher camps on Everest and the staff is keeping track of everything. Long strings of prayer flags flutter overhead throughout camp. The Sherpa people believe the prayer</span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">s written on these flags are carried by the wind and bless everyone that wind touches. All of these strings of flags come together at a </span>Buddhist alter in the center of our camp. We can hear the soft chanting of one of the Sherpas as he burns juniper branches at the alter. The smell is wonderful. <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is no one in the dining tent yet, but a tiny propane heater is hissing quietly at the far end of the long table we all eat at. The table is cluttered with tea, cocoa, and other drink mixes. There are also boxes of various cookies and biscuits. We can see our breath when we exhale. It is very cold in the tent. So we sit at the end next to the heater and pour hot water from one of the thermos containers, then mix in the cocoa. We use more cocoa mix than we normally would because we are hoping the sweet taste will help us forget about the cold. We know this is probably silly reasoning but we do it anyway. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Soon the tent fills with other members of our climbing team and a happy chatter seems to chase the cold away. We talk about how we slept, what we will do with our day, and funny things we have seen or heard. We did not know each other a month ago, but now we are good good friends. It feels like summer camp. The cook beats on a tin pan to bring any stragglers to breakfast, then starts serving hot spam with potato wedges and egg omelette. It tastes good. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-344021863878327915.post-57525567259076989892013-04-18T23:48:00.000-07:002013-04-19T00:05:52.933-07:00Lobuche Climb<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqWRevQ8r_sUq7tdCW-1fvzA2GScsWq7Tol3A0x9f9yq266jcp8GR6OI9OaNrbdNdgqWWu20ZhmXFGU530gwDWQKErW4CMEibVUy09ZqqCSz87TRd4Q2mFNGWAdeKKAtIoRN84rCA1DEm/s1600/Reduced+Lobuche+high+camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqWRevQ8r_sUq7tdCW-1fvzA2GScsWq7Tol3A0x9f9yq266jcp8GR6OI9OaNrbdNdgqWWu20ZhmXFGU530gwDWQKErW4CMEibVUy09ZqqCSz87TRd4Q2mFNGWAdeKKAtIoRN84rCA1DEm/s400/Reduced+Lobuche+high+camp.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">High Camp on Lobuche</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 16, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Return to Lobuche Base Camp: Elev 15,800 ft</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I arranged for breakfast an hour earlier than was scheduled so a small band of us could spend an hour using the WiFi in Gorak Shep, in route to Lobuche Base Camp. This worked out pretty well. Though the $9/hour charge was a bit steep, there was plenty of band width in the early morning hours and we were able to upload photos and post to blogs, etc. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Being a cloudy day, the winds were cold as they swept up the Khumbu Valley. But the weather broke for a short period and Ty and I stretched out with our packed lunches in a meadow near a glacier. Others in our party found this scene inviting and joined us. The skies grew dark again as we finished eating, and we all set out along the trail wearing fortified layers. By the time we arrived at Lobuche Base Camp we were all quite chilled. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I immediately began setting up my sleeping kit, consisting of a mat, inflatable air mattress, and sleeping bag. But before crawling in, I decided to take a dose of cold medication. Finding the tin foil backing to be quite impenetrable, I pawed through my scattered belongings for my folding knife. My cold numb hands possessed enough dexterity to liberate the pills, but not enough to hold onto the knife. “Pooooooooooooof,” said my air mattress as the the knife fell point first into it. “S#&t,” I exclaimed, knowing one of my few comforts had just been destroyed at my own hands. Having no better ideas, I crawled into my down sleeping bag, on top of my sad flat mattress. “I can fix it tomorrow,” I thought as I recalled the repair kit that came with the air mattress. “This will only cost me one night.” I started to feel bad for reacting the way I had over something so small. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 17, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Climb to Lobuche High Camp: Elev 17,500</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I drug my miserable air mattress out of the tent and examined it’s wound. Mingma, ever attentive, came over to wish me a good morning. I told him the story of what had happened to the mattress, leaving out my expletive. He studied the hole. He studied the mattress. Mingma’s passive facial expression is one of quiet wisdom. I imagined he was about to share some time tested Sherpa anecdote that spoke to such circumstances in life’s condition. Then he looked up at me and said “S#&t.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We enjoyed a leisurely morning packing the climbing gear we would need for our attempt on Mt Lobuche; Crampons, ice axe, harness, heavy clothing, and various pieces of mountaineering hardware. The team then set out for high camp on Lobuche, 2,000 feet above us. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Without the benefit of a group dining tent, we all gathered in a loose circle while our cook ladled out steaming bowls of Sherpa Stew from a large pot. I thought of taking my bowl back to the tent Ty and I shared, but this somehow felt impolite. I must assume others felt the same as no one left our shivering collective. But all bets were off when snow started to fall, with team members turning on a heal while casting a “good night” over one shoulder. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ty and I arranged our gear for the 3:00 a.m. start, then dug down into our sleeping bags. We spoke in muffled voices for the next twenty minutes, quizing each other on who was the all time best Rock and Roll Drummer, Vocalist, Guitarist, zzzzzzzzzz</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">April 18, 2013</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">High Camp Lobuche to Summit and descend to Base Camp</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We woke at 3 a.m. and set about executing the tasks prepared for the prior evening. I opened up a packet of hand warmers and set them out to start activating. I dressed in my layers, harness and climbing boots. Then I joined the others forming a headlamp circle around our cook. He had prepared porridge, cheese omelets, and hot coffee. I hastily ate a bit of each, then returned to our tent. There was more to do, more to fret over before leaving for the summit and I was determined to not be the last one ready. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was the last one ready. Our Guide, Max, made the rounds checking on each climber. “You are going to sweat like a pig,” he counseled upon examining my many warm layers of clothing. His recommendation was a scant combination the likes of which one might wear when flying a kite. Accepting his guidance, I began removing the offending items in what must have looked like some kind of mountaineers burlesque show. The entire team set out without me, but Mingma stayed back to help. I was ten minutes back by the time we finally got going. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I caught up with my compadres and settled in as the last headlamp in a long line. There were fourteen climbing clients, our Guides Max and Jenny, and numerous Sherpa embedded among us. I passed a few team members here and there, eventually catching up with Ty. We climbed together the remainder of night. Shortly after dawn Ty told me to move on past him, so I did. I did not intend to set an aggressive pace, but it felt so good to finally be climbing that I just kept going. My crampons bit into the steep ice face with satisfying purchase. I passed climber after climber until I found myself leading the climb with three members of the Air Force team. We reached the summit, 19,600 feet, about 8 a.m. with clear skies and no wind. I should point out that this was not a race and indeed there are downsides to climbing quickly. But I had held back from using my <i>high gear</i> at the urging of our Guides and just had to let it run to assure myself I was still carrying it with me. </span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVTomFPF6WIp0tTiBkQfRYJrp4GcNM0wWMWxtK1M5Nl5ehh8DH3IWnQ5PaLV4YXH7kFBbv3PezDcXEijTICSur-UgkP4VXeIBVHsqgGkw0hWIijyc-C3esJXbLDQM6RC_5QbEX1PmyVIF/s1600/Reduced+Lobuche+summit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVTomFPF6WIp0tTiBkQfRYJrp4GcNM0wWMWxtK1M5Nl5ehh8DH3IWnQ5PaLV4YXH7kFBbv3PezDcXEijTICSur-UgkP4VXeIBVHsqgGkw0hWIijyc-C3esJXbLDQM6RC_5QbEX1PmyVIF/s400/Reduced+Lobuche+summit.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself on the summit of Lobuche. Everest in the background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">April 19, 2013</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gorak Shep: Elev 16,900</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">SpO2 = 84 RHR = 90</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This morning we said goodbye to the Trekkers who have been a part of our team up to this point. They now start down the Khumbu valley, descending into summer. Us climbers are returning to Everest Base Camp (EBC). </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">I took a long last look at Lobuche Base Camp as we wended the traverse to the west. This was a good camp, a clean camp, a place where only our people resided. I knew I would not likely see this place again. I studied the massive rock face that stands over the camp, the stratified layers standing on end with snow capping each. It would be scary as hell if it were not so beautiful. Which is to say it is not dissimilar to many of the sorority girls I dated in college. </span></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Tomorrow is a rest day at EBC. The plan is to make a short exploratory trip into the ice fall the following day. I will post when I am able. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
Dave Maurohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07605886104993321022noreply@blogger.com6