Self-doubt

Dear Blog Readers- I am pleased and honored to introduce Carol Masheter as the second of my guest Bloggers. Readers of my Carstensz Pyramid Blog will recall Carol as being a member of that expedition and, in the course of summiting Carstensz Pyramid, becoming the oldest woman in history to stand atop the Seven Summits. 
 I asked Carol to write on the topic of self-doubt. Though she has enjoyed vast success as a Mountaineer, Carol has also known low moments and is willing to share candidly about them. She is an inspiration, a kind soul, and a member of The Ozone Brotherhood. 

Dave Mauro, my friend and fellow climber on Carstensz Pyramid in July, 2012, has asked me to share some thoughts about self-doubt. I am well qualified. In my professional life, I have struggled with writer's block and fear of public speaking. I also am afraid of heights. These are all forms of self-doubt. Sixteen years ago, I lost a job that I loved, my relationship with a man I loved ended badly, and my mother died suddenly, all with 18 months. I was devastated. To heal from loss, grief, and anger, I ran away to the Bolivian Andes to learn high altitude mountaineering at age 50. The last thing I expected was to retire at age 65 from a new career I enjoyed to become a full time mountaineer, author, and motivational speaker. 

I am a small, not very impressive looking woman, now 66 years of age. I work out regularly, usually win my age/gender division in half marathons, and often can keep pace with people half my age in the mountains. However, with each passing year I run a little slower and lose some agility and lung function. Before each major climb, I worry that I am not skilled enough, strong enough, or fast enough; that my fear of heights will overwhelm me, I will fall and splat like a bug. That said, I believe self-doubt among mountaineers is common, even among the best, though few speak or write about it. Yet self-doubt, if managed properly, can be a powerful tool. 

Self-doubt drove me to prepare thoroughly before my Everest climb in 2008. I had hired a recommended professional trainer who had trained other Everest climbers and got in the best shape of my life. I had practiced walking on a ladder propped on cinder blocks in my backyard. I had climbed with a professional guide in the icefall on Mt. Baker in Washington. However, in the Khumbu Icefall above Everest Base Camp, each ladder bridge, especially a long, bouncy one, triggered my fear of heights big time. When I looked down to see where to place my feet, the crevasse drew my gaze into its seemingly bottomless depths, my breathing degenerated into frightened little gasps, my head swam, and my gut twisted. 

To avoid being reduced to a quivering blob of jelly, I used several strategies. I commanded myself out loud, "Breathe in deeply, breathe out slowly." Sometimes this simple technique was enough to steady my breathing and reduce my fear to a manageable level. If that didn't work, I murmured s soothing Buddhist prayer, "Om mahnee pahdmee hoom," with each exhale. I resisted the morbid temptation to look into the crevasse. I forced myself to focus only on the ladder rungs, where I was about to place each foot, and not let my gaze slide down into those terrifying depths. If that didn't work, I firmly reminded myself aloud, "You have trained for this, you know what to do. Stop agonizing and just do it." When my careful pre-trip preparation was not enough, these tricks helped me manage my self-doubt and make about 400 ladder-bridge crossings in multiple trips through the Khumbu Icefall. 

During our acclimatization cycles above Base Camp, self-doubt rose and fell like the tides. When I climbed well and did not lag behind the others, my confidence soared. "I'm gonna summit for sure, piece of cake," I would crow inwardly. During a slow, labored climb, I would despair, "I'm too old and slow, I was a fool to think I could climb Everest at age 61." As the time for our summit attempt neared, I was sure the guides would say, "Nice effort, but you are a bad risk for going to the summit." Instead, the guides said, "You have trained hard with a recommended trainer before the expedition. You have done more acclimatization walks than the other expedition members. Your resting heart rate, blood oxygen saturation, and blood pressure are comparable to those of the others and the climbing Sherpas. Do you want to try for the summit?" Of course, I wanted to try for the summit! The guides' experience with previous climbers enabled them to give an impartial evaluation of my abilities. The guides settled the question of whether I was strong enough but simply lacked confidence or I was an over-confident, unrealistic fool. 

Being encouraged to go for the summit provided only temporary relief from self-doubt. For me, it is a sneaky demon that disappears for a while, only to resurface at another, less convenient time. During summit day I experienced my worst moments of self-doubt. Early in our ascent, on a particularly steep pitch below the Balcony I felt as though I were struggling against Jovian gravity. My bulky down parka and pants, my heavy, three-layer mountaineering boots, and supplemental oxygen mask felt as cumbersome as a space suit. Each cycle of movements took every ounce of will I had: look for a foot hold, bend my knee and lift my foot up onto the hold, test it, shift my weight onto it, straiten my knee and hoist my body up, slide my ascender up the fixed line, repeat this cycle again and again and again. At the top of this steep pitch, a narrow shelf of rock and ice, I paused on my hands and knees. My breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, as I fought to get enough air. 

My inner critic hissed poisonously, "If you are having this much trouble now, before we have even reached the Balcony you should turn back now. If you collapse and cannot climb on your own, you will put your Sherpa climbing partners, Nima and Tendi, in added danger. You vowed before this climb not to endanger anyone else unnecessarily, even if turning back broke your heart." Slowly, I stood up and tried to steady my ragged breathing. Tendi asked, "Carol Didi (older sister), you OK?" I was too out of breath to answer. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine, a gentle Sherpa gesture of affection and respect. We stood that way for what seemed like a very long time, but it was probably only for a few seconds. My jangled nerves and uneven breathing steadied. Tendi and I parted. "I'm OK, Tendi Bai (younger brother). Let's go," I heard myself say. The firmness and resolve in my voice surprised me. It was as though a stronger, more confident me were speaking, not the self-doubting me that considered turning back moments before. My best explanation of what happened is that Tendi's kind gesture gave me a moment to regroup physically and mentally to push down the demon of self-doubt, and let my inner strength take over. What followed was a difficult, yet intensely rewarding climb and magical summit experience. I will remember the joy I experienced while sitting on top of the world until the end of my days. 

Mountaineering has been more than a series of fine adventures. It has helped me learn to manage fear of heights, fear of public speaking, and writer's bock. At 66 years of age I now have a new identity and purpose. I have learned to use self-doubt to prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and expect the unexpected. If sharing lessons learned from mountaineering through writing and speaking inspires even a few people to learn to harness self-doubt, meet life's challenges, and experience the joy of overcoming them, I am happy. 
-Carol Masheter

Carol recounts her Everest climb and harrowing descent in "No Magic Helicopter, An Aging Amazon's Climb of Everest,"
(please see www.carolmasheter.com for more information). I enjoyed reading her book and encourage others to check it out. In between her many speaking engagements, Carol is working on another book about climbing the Seven Summits. 
-Dave Mauro

What is a Sherpa?

We should begin by understanding that "Sherpa" is not a job description. It is a people. About 153,000 Sherpa live in Nepal today. Their ancestors came to this region by way of Tibet and, prior to that, regions still further east. It is believed they followed well established salt trading routes.The term Sherpa translates in Tibetan as "Shar" eastern, "pa" people. Originally a nomadic people, the Sherpa transitioned to agriculture and livestock farming after arriving in Nepal in the 1500's. 

Most of us would never have heard of the Sherpa people were it not for their invaluable contribution to climbing endeavors in the Himalayas. Sherpa men were hired by early expeditions as Guides. Their keen knowledge of the complex valleys and peaks of the Himalayas proved essential to the first Climbers, Explorers and Cartographers to venture into the region. Soon the Sherpa were likewise recognized for their extraordinary ability to function at high altitudes and expeditions began hiring them in great numbers to carry supplies. This practice continues today as Everest expeditions benefit greatly from the remarkable load-packing ability of the Sherpa. International Mountain Guides, the company I am climbing with, will hire something on the order of 60 Sherpas this season.

Myself, Richard, Ang, and Brian
I climbed Kilimanjaro in January of 2008 with Adventure Consultants of New Zealand. We were led by one of their Everest Guides, a Sherpa named Ang Dorjee. Aside from his incredible 16 summits of Everest, Ang is famous for being featured in the bestseller Into Thin Air. He is one of the Hero's who survived, and helped others survive, the tragic events of May 10, 1996 when 8 climbers perished. This link will take you to a short You Tube video of Ang preparing us before our summit bid of Kilimanjaro Click here to see Ang  

As Richard, Brian and myself marched up the mountain in full battle gear, Ang calmly walked beside us, hands in pockets, wearing tennis shoes. He never seemed cold, or tired, or out of breath ...even at 19,000 feet. Ang's resting blood-oxygen level measured a robust 98 at high camp, while the rest of us logged numbers that could start a shoving match between funeral directors.  

Dr. Kenneth Kamler, in his excellent book Surviving The Extremes: A Doctors Journey to the Limits of Human Endurance, discusses the physiological adaptations of humans to high altitude. Sherpas are specifically addressed in one part of his book. Dr. Kamler identifies several fascinating differences between Sherpas and us mere mortals scrubbling around at sea level. 
1. Sherpa lungs have a high idling speed. Which is to say they have a high sensitivity to low oxygen environments and will maintain an increased rate of breathing, even at rest. Most climbers take a drug called Diamox to accomplish this. 
2. A Sherpa's heart muscle can take in glucose. Glucose burns 50% more efficiently than fat (the fuel used by a typical heart) in a low oxygen environment. The net result is the same cardiac output with much less work. 
3. Sherpa blood has something extra. The capacity of a Sherpa's blood to transport oxygen is greatly increased by special enzymes that ride along with the hemoglobin to speed up the capture and release of oxygen. 
4. Sherpas lungs produce more vasodilators. Sherpa lungs produce twice the nitric oxide as almost everyone else. Nitric oxide acts as a vasodilator, opening up constricted vessels in the lungs. This may be why Sherpas are virtually immune to pulmonary edema.
5. Sherpas produce less lactic acid. Sherpas working at maximum capacity produce less lactic acid than the rest of us, a condition known as the lactic acid paradox.  The probable explanation is that Sherpas don't need to form lactic acid because they can maintain high fuel-burning efficiency, even in low oxygen by using enzymes we still have not identified. 

All of this combines to make the Sherpa people, and thus the Sherpa climber, extraordinary human beings when it comes to functioning at high altitude. So much so that the term Sherpa has been borrowed for many other uses descriptive of these qualities. In photography, the person who carries the equipment is known as a "Sherpa". The Short SB.4 Sherpa aircraft was designed and built in 1950 to test capabilities for very high altitude flight. Again and again, when we seek superlatives to attach to things which carry outsized loads or operate in rarefied air the term Sherpa is used. 

Approximately 93% of Sherpa are Tibetan Buddhists. Their oral history suggests that their initial migration from Tibet to Nepal was a search for Shangri-La. Being Guru Rinpoche Buddhists, the Sherpa believe in hidden valleys and treasures. But other evidence supports the notion that religious conflicts with the Chinese prompted their westward movement. 

The most well known Sherpa is Tenzing Norgay. In 1953 he and Sir Edmund Hillary became the first people known to have reached the summit of Mt Everest. There have been female Sherpa climbers, though tragedy has haunted them. Pasang Lhamu Sherpa was the first Nepali female climber to reach the summit of Everest, however she died during the descent. The great female Sherpa Pemba Doma Sherpa summited Everest two times before she died in a fall from Lhotse on May 22, 2007.

Today there are about 5,000 Sherpa living in the United States. Half of these are in the peaceful hamlet of New York City. Go figure. The remainder are scattered among the states. My friend Ang Dorjee is one of them. He married a scientist he met while she was studying climate change at Everest base camp. Today they live with their two children in Richland, Washington. 

Please join my Everest Team!

Have you ever considered joining an Everest expedition? Probably not. Because Everest is a cold cold place and you are a sensible right-thinking person. But what if I told you it was possible to join an Everest Expedition and never leave the comfort of your own home?!  Hmmmmm?  

You would still say "No." Because Everest Expeditions are expensive, very very expensive. And your wise Financial Planner would no doubt counsel against such folly. But what if you could join an Everest Team for as little as $5, and every cent of that would go to benefit the Bellingham Boys & Girls Club?  

I suspect you might say "I'm getting a warm feeling." And friends, that warm feeling can only mean one of two things; you are liking this idea, or you are running a bit of a fever and should have gotten that flu shot. In either case, please consider joining my Everest Expedition by donating to my Climbing For Kids program to benefit the important services provided by the Bellingham Boys & Girls Club. 

Maybe you would like to make a Guide level donation, or a Sherpa, or even a Summit Team Member. 

There are many exotic titles to which you may attach your donation and name. We will thank you on the club website like this...

Special Thanks To Our Generous

“Climbing For Kids” Supporters:

 Dave Mauro, Summit Team Member sponsor

Hoagland Pharmacy, Climber Sponsor

The Upfront Theatre, Sherpa Sponsor

Denise Snyder, Sherpa Sponsor

Dee Hanrahan, Sherpa Sponsor

John Hanrahan, Sherpa Sponsor

Ruth Lang, Sherpa Sponsor

Tod Asmussen, Sherpa Sponsor

Susan Luzzi, Sherpa Sponsor

Ann Kaiser, Sherpa Sponsor

Rick Kaiser, Sherpa Sponsor

Kent Loomer, Sherpa Sponsor

Eric Caffi, Sherpa Sponsor

Brett Baunton, Guide Sponsor

Don Mauro, Guide Sponsor

Ivan Gomez, Guide Sponsor

Susan Moore, Guide Sponsor

Carol Masheter, Guide Sponsor

John Schapiro, Team Logistics Sponsor

Linda Lehn, Team Logistics Sponsor

Jack & Jan Stillwell, Team Logistics Sponsor

We will thank you on the walls of the gymnasium!

We will say nice things about you like "That Eric Caffi is a snappy dresser!"

And YOU will enjoy the warm feeling that comes from helping the terrific kids at the Bellingham Boys & Girls Club!

All it takes is a credit card and a couple clicks of your mouse, starting here: https://secureonlinegiving.com/Donations/site/index.asp?eventID=1036

Thank you, and WELCOME TO THE TEAM!!!

Come to my talk at REI & recent magazine articles.

Dear Blog Readers, 
I will be doing a talk at the Bellingham REI on 2/11/13 at 6pm. The title is Quest For Seven Summits, and you can reserve a seat by clicking here Dave's talk at REI and scrolling down to this event. 
I will spend about 45 minutes taking the audience through the six summits I have climbed thus far, then leave 15 minutes for Q&A. It should be a whirlwind hour of pictures and gear and stories. Join me!

Adventures NW magazine has asked me to write 7 articles. The first six will be on each of the continental summits I have climbed, featured in the order they were climbed. The last will be about Everest. 
Denali was the first major summit I attempted. I did not blog this climb and have never written about it before. That piece is out now, click here http://www.adventuresnw.com  . The next piece, about the Kilimanjaro climb, will appear at the end of January. I've never published anything about this climb either - led by legendary Sherpa Ang Dorjee of Into thin air fame. Both pieces feature a link to a short video clip from each climb. 

Prayer Flags

If there is one item that seems synonymous with climbing Everest, it is the prayer flag. Summit photos feature them strewn about the peak. At camps they stretch from any high point earthward, colorful and frantic in the wind. It is clear that prayer flags have meaning and are revered by the local people as well as many climbers.  So, for the sake of these pages, I set out to learn more about prayer flags. 

Prayer flags originate from the Indian Sutras carried into Tibet about 1040 CE. These Sutras were originally battle flags, but gradually transformed in the Tibetan culture to the prayer flags of today. There are vertical flags, known as Darchor, and strings of horizontal prayer flags called Lung Ta. 

The Darchor are typically a single large rectangle flag attached to a pole in the ground. These flags feature elaborate graphics and symbolism as well as mantras. Dar means "to increase life, fortune, health and wealth", and Cho translates as "all sentient beings". This is a central tenet to prayer flags; that they are not communicating with the Gods, but rather distributing good will to all people. 

The Lung Ta, meaning powerful or strong horse,  are smaller rectangle flags strung together at the top. They are commonly hung on a diagonal line from high to low between two objects in high places such as monasteries, temples, and mountain passes. Lung Ta come in sets of five colored flags; blue (symbolizing sky/space), white (air/wind) , red (fire), green (water), and yellow (earth). Traditional Tibetan medicine states that achieving balance between these five elements creates health and harmony. They believe the air is purified by the flags as it passes over their surface and carries good will and compassion to all beings. The higher a flag is flown, the greater its distributive effect.  Thus the summit of Everest is the single best place on the planet to hang one's prayer flags and doing so is considered a great honor. The prayers of a flag become a permanent part of the universe as the images fade from exposure to the elements. So Tibetans continually hang new flags alongside the old in renewal of their hopes for the world. 

click HERE to donate to the One Sherpa Home project, offering relief in the village of Phortse in the wake of the 2015 earth quakes.

Emotional Sherpas

Lin, my love, is employed by the local school district as a sign language interpreter. Her assignment is a one-on-one 19 year commitment that has taken her through the public education system as she followed a female student all the way to High School graduation.  She was then assigned to a deaf preschooler. He suffers from Mitochondria disorder, which means he is also losing his vision.  This student is now in the 8th grade and likes to draw.  He recently produced the above portrait of myself and Lin. While he accurately captured Lin's natural good looks, it is possible he has overstated my physique. The mark on my cheek is a kiss imprint. Lin and I, after 5 years of dating, became engaged over the holidays and her student is very excited about it. So are we. 

Lin and I talk often about Everest. It comes up when I am holding out for a close parking spot at Costco, when we share what went on in our dreams, when we plan the spring planting of the flower beds. Ours is a life interrupted. I sometimes think about the people who serve in the military, how their home lives must go on without them for many months at a time, how during that time there may be someone shooting at them. I have mad respect for these people. Yet for those of us doing the leaving things are, in some respects,  easier.  We are busy with the situation at hand. If we worry it may be possible to do something about it. But the helpless worry that seeps into idle moments for loved ones back home is pernicious and the cumulative weight considerable. They are emotional Sherpas. 

Lin is dreading my leaving. Her daughter Rachelle, who teaches Kindergarten in Munich, will be flying home to Bellingham for a visit a few days before I depart for Nepal. It is a comfort to Lin that Rachelle will be close at hand. I plan to stay in contact on a very regular basis while I am away.  Everest base camp has Internet and cell phone connectivity. Most of what happens on Everest for the first several weeks is in fact quite uneventful and wholly undeserving of worry. I hope to communicate this. But still. 

"There is angst in the not knowing," Lin commented recently, "I don't climb. I don't know." She said that everything she hears about Everest is negative, so this colors what she sees. But she recognizes I am with good people and a good organization and the rest is out of her hands. Then Lin interrupts her own internal debate and says "If anyone can make it to the top of that thing you can!" 
Lin says she will miss me the entire time I am away, but hopes to manage this by staying busy, keeping a rhythm to her day to day life. "But the climb is not over until you come home and I kiss you and we have our meeting at the airport."

I asked my sister, Noelle, about her feelings on the climb. She will have both her brother and husband on Everest. "Part of the reason it has worked so well for Ty and I is we are good friends first," she started, "so I know how much it fills him up to do this. It regenerates him so the relationship is that much fuller when he gets back. I don't hold anything over his head in the way of baggage at home. I know he goes prepared and has a good team. If anything happens he is prepared. I don't think I have ever had a bad feeling when Ty has left climbing, but just whether he will stay healthy and make the summit or have a good time."
Noelle said her and Ty talk often about the Everest climb. At bed time they tend to discuss "the gravity of the climb, how long he is going to be gone, what he knows about the route, are there parts that concern him." During the day they tend to discuss logistics. Noelle knows from Ty's journals of past climbs that he tends to most miss the mundane things about life back home. "There are times I will make a lunch and think Ty is missing this." When I ask Noelle about managing her fears she says "Because our kids are so young I do feel particularly vulnerable to this thing. It's not anything I take lightly, but it's just compartmentalized."

Guest Blogger Rick Kaiser. "Measuring the Mountain".

Dear Readers - From time to time I intend to feature Guest Bloggers in my Blog of Everest. My good friend Rick Kaiser wrote this entry. He is an Engineer, a man of science, and has twice shared the bitter taste of defeat with me on Rainier. Rick and his wife Ann live in Bellingham, Washington on a hillside overlooking the Puget Sound.

- Dave Mauro

 Measuring the Mountain

The Survey of India, now a government bureau in India, was established in 1767 to consolidate the territories of the British East India Company.  On April 10, 1802, Lieutenant-Colonel William Lambton, working for the Survey, set out to establish a baseline at Madras for what was called ‘The Great Trigonometric Survey of India’. This expedition was responsible for mapping out the British Territories within India, providing the first accurate measurements of a section of an arc of longitude, and measuring the ‘geodesic anomaly’; the horizontal deflections of gravity from the true vertical caused by local geological anomalies (nearby big mountains).  Like many overreaching programs, it was expected to last 5 years. Instead, it took over 60 years to complete and had so drained the profits of the company that it was ultimately taken over by the British government in 1857.

By 1840 Sir George Everest (pronounced “Iverist”), the Surveyor General of India, was recording locations and elevations throughout the Himalayas where over one hundred mountain peaks exceed 7,200 meters (putting this into perspective, the next highest mountain outside of Asia, Aconcagua in Argentina, is only 6,961 meters high). In 1841 the location of Mt. Everest was identified, but its height was not measured until seven years later from a distance of 110 miles away. The neighboring countries of Nepal and Tibet, fearing Britain’s imperial ambitions, kept its borders closed to foreigners.  Its official elevation at the time was 9,205 meters, and it was named “Peak b”.  By 1854 the peak was recognized as the highest mountain in the world and was renamed “Peak XV”. Because of the surveyors’ exclusion from the area, the local names "Chomolungma" from Tibet and "Deodungha" from Darjeeling were unknown to the British.  In 1865 the peak was finally renamed “Mt. Everest” by the subsequent Surveyor General of India, Sir Andrew Scott Waugh. George Everest at first declined the honor of having the world’s highest mountain named after him because his name was not pronounceable by the natives of India, and the name could not be written in either Persian or Hindu. However the name was finally accepted by the Royal Geographical Society of London.

Today, Qomolangma is the official Tibetan name for Mount Everest and Zhumulangma is used by the Chinese.  Nepal named the mountain Sagarmāthā.

The Himalayas are a geologically young wedge of metamorphic limestone, shale and granite that were once sediments on the floor of the Tethys Sea between the two continents of Asia and India.  10 million years ago, India was 500 kilometers south of the Asian continent and moving north at an incredible speed. When the two continents collided, the impact and subduction of the Indian plate beneath Asia pushed (and continues to push) the mountains up faster than erosion could wear them down. Everest is basically a giant monolithic rock that just keeps shooting upwards are a rate of 10 centimeters per year.  Today the elevation of the mountain, as measured by China in 2005, is 8,844 meters above sea level. But since the summit has a 3.5 meter thick snow cap, the resulting elevation is approximately 8,848 meters.

How one defines the highest, tallest or biggest mountain in the world all depends on the baseline that is used.  If sea level (Mean Lower Low Water) is the reference, then Mt. Everest is indeed the “highest” mountain in the world.  If the atmospheric pressure at the peak is the reference, then Mt. Everest is again the highest.  If the base of the mountain is the reference, then the “tallest” mountain in the world is Mauna Kea, the Hawaiian island volcano rising only 4,205 meters above the sea, but whose vertical height from the Pacific Ocean floor to its peak is an astonishing 10,203 meters.  If the center of the earth is used as a reference, then Mt. Chimborazo in the Andes is the highest point on earth where at 6,384,404 meters it reaches 2,734 meters farther into outer space than Mt. Everest.  This is because the earth is an oblate spheroid whose surface and atmosphere bulge at the equator. If a mountain’s volume is the reference (from the base of the mountain to its peak) then the “biggest” mountain in the world is Mauna Loa at 1,775 cubic miles.  Mt. Everest is even smaller than Mt. St. Helens, even after its eruption.

Mountains are measured in other ways:

How long it takes to climb (base camp to summit and back again)

• Mt. Rainier 3 days
• Mt. McKinley 21 days
• Mt. Everest 68 days

The cost of a guided expedition (not including your own gear or transportation)

• Mt. Rainier $1,500
• Mt. McKinley $7,000
• Mt. Everest $70,000 

The summit success rate (ascents/attempts)

• Mt. Rainier 46% (in 2010)
• Mt. McKinley 53% (overall)
• Mt. Everest 58% (in 2012)

The number of available summit days

• Mt Rainier 130 (May - September)
• Mt. McKinley 60 (May - June)
• Mt. Everest 6 to 16 (in May and October)

The ultimate measure of any mountain can only be evaluated against the baseline of each climber’s skill, training, intelligence, physical condition, timing and luck. Mountain climbing has always been a Venn diagram of the climber’s preparations and best efforts overlaid by the physical realities of the mountain. With luck and skill, the outcome falls somewhere within the intersection of the two. There are many ways a climber can improve their odds against the house, but alpine ascents, by their very nature, involve risk, and there are days when you stand on the summit and there are days when the mountain wins.  The climber must constantly measure the mountain and know when to move up and when to turn around. You don’t measure your successes when you’re climbing on the mountain. There’ll be time enough for counting when the climbing’s done.

Equipment; Camp 2 to High Camp - The South Col.

It is likely I will arrive at the South Col in much the same gear as I intend to wear during my summit bid; Down Suit, Oxygen mask (starting at camp 3), Goggles, Climbing boots, moisture wicking base layer clothing, Crampons, Harness, mechanical ascender and ice axe. Unless otherwise demanded by weather, I will forgo my boot warmers to conserve the batteries for up high.  I plan to use heavy climbing gloves instead of the "Lobster Mittens" while moving up the mountain toward High Camp. These will not be as warm as the mittens, but a good deal of hand dexterity will be gained. This will matter when handling my Jumar (mechanical ascender) on the fixed lines protecting much of the route up Everest. 

The Jumar is designed to clip onto a rope, such that it passes through the device in one direction only (up hill). A Jumar has a handle large enough that a gloved hand may fit inside it's metal loop. Climbers short-tether the Jumar to the waist loop of their harness, thus limiting the distance they may fall. But the jaw of the device must be opened to remove it from the rope when passing an anchor point or moving on to the next fixed line. So it is important that one practice this manipulation with gloved hands ahead of time. I sometimes do this while watching International House Hunters with Lin, the running commentary of design features punctuated by the snap of my spring-loaded Jumar. I will need to purchase a new device for Everest. I left my last one in New Guinea, a gift to a local Guide. Before that I left a Jumar in Antarctica, a gift to the massive crevasse it fell into after rocketing down the headwall past several of my team members while descending.  

Throughout the Everest climb I will also wear a radio with lapel microphone. The same is true of all IMG Climbers, Guides and Sherpas. There will be specific check-in points in the course of each day's climbing. Personnel at Base Camp keep a log of these radio transmissions and report any overdue Climbers to expedition head Eric Simonson, who may then dispatch Sherpas from above or below to check on that Climber.  

But the most important asset moving up and down the mountain with me will be my Sherpa. The day I arrive at base camp IMG will assign a climbing Sherpa to me. From that point on, my Sherpa is with me anytime I climb. It bears noting that IMG is the oldest, best organized and most successful organization on the Everest south side route. They pay their Sherpas well, train them thoroughly, provide them health care and treat them with respect. For any Sherpa lucky enough to rise to the elite ranks of guiding climbers, there is probably no team they would rather be working for than IMG. Every climbing Sherpa (as opposed to those who pack loads or cook) on the IMG team has summited Everest multiple times. 

A "junkyard" in the sky.

One of the most amusing things about internet searches is the manner in which they turn up results that promise more than they can deliver. I recently began researching efforts to remove garbage from Everest. Many fine articles came up when I searched Garbage Removal from Everest, but I also came up with various companies that had simply hijacked the noun from my search. "Dexknows Everest Garbage disposal," and "Everestwaste removal companies are ready to come to your rescue. Southwest Junkremoval.com" were among the more notables. Right.  Herein lies the problem; there are no waste disposal companies on Everest. 

National Geographic featured an article in 1963 written by Dr. Larry Bishop, where  he said parts of Everest had become "the highest junkyard on the face of the Earth." This was only 10 years after the mountain was first conquered by Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay. Since that time Everest has been summited by 3,800 people, attempted by many more, and become the final resting place for dozens. One can only imagine what Dr. Bishop might say today. 

I have climbed Alaska's Denali, a mountain that sees a very similar number of climbers each year as Everest, and found it to be remarkably clean. So why are conditions so different on Everest?  

Part of the explanation is surely owed to changing attitudes. Long before the weeping Indian commercials that brought social consciousness to the matter of littering in the United States, climbers were plying their passion on Everest. Their numbers were few and the landscape vast, so they probably gave little thought to what they left behind.  The garbage pile started. It is probably not a stretch to suggest each of us is more likely to litter when we see garbage around us. Thus, garbage begets garbage. With increasing numbers of climbers and support personnel the garbage grew faster still. This condition saw it's worst moment in the early 1990's when the total garbage on Everest was estimated at a horrific 50 tons.  

Altitude also plays a part. In short, when one is trying to stay alive little thought is given to environmental stewardship. As well, those who do not survive the climb likewise fail to gather their belongings from high camp. Where the garbage at base camp tends to be on the order of rubbish, up high it takes the form of spent oxygen canisters, tents, sleeping bags, and, well, bodies. Removing garbage from high camps is extremely difficult and dangerous. Try this; pinch your nose shut and breath through a coffee straw. That is about how much air you would have at high camp on Everest. Now, try picking a few things up. Do you feel a little light-headed? You will be moving slowly as you gather refuse at the South Col. Imagine the sub-zero temperatures and hands that are too numb to work properly.  You are in the Death Zone, an altitude at which the human body begins to shut down. You might be dying quickly. You might be dying slowly. But by definition you are dying. Would you risk your life to carry a torn tent down the mountain? 

In the case of body removal it comes down to manpower. First Responder literature estimates a team of 26 is needed to carry an adult out of the wilderness at sea level. Would it take three or four times that number at 26,000ft? Now you are up to 100 climbers to remove a single body and, statistically speaking, two of them will die in the process. 

Lastly, for most of the history of Everest climbing there has been no attempt on the part of the Nepalese or Tibetan governments to manage or regulate refuse on the mountain. Contrast this to Denali, where National Park Rangers visit campsites to insure strict compliance with the requirements for packing out trash and managing human waste. Climbing permits are revoked from those teams which fail. Climb over.

I have heard the cry that the Everest should be closed to protect it. This is an understandable and well intended reaction. After all, Everest is not just A mountain. It is THE mountain, the high summit of our planet and deserving of special treatment. Everest is also a sacred place among to the Nepali people, a church they have allowed us to enter, and in which we have left our trash. 

But closing Everest would be a blunt tool. It would not require us to change, and the adventurers of the world would simply move on to the next place. This would also fail to clean up Everest, and today's climbers are probably the best resource for doing so. Money enters into the question. A vibrant economy of tea houses, Inns, and eateries have sprung up to serve the thousands of trekkers and climbers who approach Everest on foot. These and the various support services to base camp are businesses which have opened an improved way of life to the people of this region, including education and modern health care.  

There is cause for optimism. In 1992 the Nepali government put various regulations in place requiring climbing teams to carry all of their waste back out of the Khumbu Valley, where it can be disposed of properly. Failure to do so results in some hefty fines. Glass bottles were banned. A financial reward was put in place for each spent oxygen canister a Sherpa brings off the mountain. "There's much more garbage (these days)," says Ang Dorjee, Chairman of the Sagmarmantha Pollution Control Committee, "but it's being much better managed." The major guiding companies have also gotten onboard, organizing focused efforts to remove legacy waste from the mountain as they clear out at season's end. As well, a number of privately and publicly funded "Environmental Expeditions" have removed many tons of garbage from Everest. One of the most notable of these was Nepal's Save Mt Everest campaign, a project sponsored by the Nepali Tourism Board in the spring of 2011. Twenty nine Sherpas removed 8 tons of garbage over a two month period. Progress is being made, yet some 20 tons of garbage remains. Half of that is at high camp. So the rest of the cleanup will be considerably more difficult. But the climbers of today are committed to the environment, having come of age in the era of Leave No Trace impact. They respect the mountains they climb and want nothing more than to see them pristine. There is awareness of the problem, the will to address it, and the kind of personal stake that can move a mountain of garbage one piece at a time. 

Equipment - Summit Day

If you were going to remodel a kitchen, you would probably begin by constructing an image of the finished product then work backward from there.  I take the same approach to equipment choices for Everest. In this case the finished product is me standing at the summit. Let us linger over that image for a moment  I look a bit a tired, but my hair has a clean part on the left.  Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" is playing.  A flock of specially trained high-altitude doves is released and they flutter up about me. Yes. This is good. Very very good.

I am wearing a down suit, a one piece garment constructed by Marmot. You cannot do better than down when it comes to lite-weight combined with maximum heat retention.  I have never warn a down suit on a climb, but there have been times I wished I had. So this is a new piece of gear purchased specifically for Everest. It was available in just two color choices, both of which strike a contrast to the snow sufficient to suggest This man is lost.  I bought the suit online, with no love from Groupon, for the sum of $1,200.

My feet are swaddled in La Sportiva Olympus Mons climbing boots. These state of the art boots were designed specifically for 8,000 Meter Peaks.  They are lite, warm, and sturdy. The built in over-boot, reaching almost to my knees, provides further warmth while acting as a gator to keep loose snow out. The Olympus Mons are tall and stackish in the fashion popularized by '70's rock band KISS.  Gene Simmons would approve.  I purchased my boots from Backcountry Essentials for $1,000.

The cumulative effect of my cold-weather climbs thus far has resulted in a condition that renders my feet prone to cold. In the past I have just spirited on. Not so with Everest. For this climb I have purchased the Hotronics Foot Warmers, an after market adaptation originally designed for ski boots.  Electric heating elements installed beneath the insole are powered by a lithium battery pack attached to the outside of the boot. These units are capable of generating 120 Fahrenheit for up to 9 hours, effectively eliminating the risk of frostbite to the feet. At $250 for the kit, one purchases protection at the remarkable price of just $25 a toe. Sold!

My hands are protected by a pair of the fab new lobster mittens.  These gloves offer much improved dexterity over conventional mittens, crucial to the manipulation of one's mechanical ascender. Yet the bunching of fingers provides shared warmth and circulation. Odds are good I will also have chemical hand warmers inside these mittens. It will be difficult to not recollect my bachelor party of many years back, wherein I extracted a live lobster from a tank and fended off a bouncer exclaiming "I've got a lobster and I'm not afraid to use it!" $150.

I will be wearing a climbing harness with various metal apparatus jangling from it. I already own the jangling items, but will need to purchase the harness as I somehow left mine in New Guinea this summer. My old harness will be of no use, in the conventional sense,  to the native peoples who now possess it. They do not climb the steep rock face that draws Climbers to Carstensz Pyramid. But ever resourceful, one can rest assured it is being used by them for something. I imagine a pig is being restrained by it now. Climbing harness $110.

In this summit photo I have briefly pulled down my oxygen mask. I will be wearing a Topout mask and delivery system. Topout has a working reservoir bag that allows a climber to inhale a higher concentration of oxygen for every breath, even at the same flow rate as other masks. This enables a climber to travel faster, and for longer periods.  The mask and oxygen tank strapped to my back are provided by International Mountain Guides under the basic program fee I have paid. But I have chosen to purchase an additional tank of oxygen for summit day, delivered by Sherpa to the south summit. This will enable me to flow O2 at 4 liters per minute, as opposed to the more typical 3 liters. The benefits accrued include warmer body temperature, faster movement (through areas of risk),  and the greatly reduced risk of running out of oxygen should a bottleneck of climbers form.  Extra bottle of O2 delivered to the south summit of Everest $5,000.

My head gear on summit day will feature a neoprene balaclava, warn with good result in Antarctica,  and a pair of mirrored goggles. Delirious climbers often forget to remove these items for their summit photo, resulting in an anonymous image that for all purposes could represent Woody Allen's moment on top of the world.  I plan to clear my goggles and balaclava from my face if I am successful in reaching the top of Everest. If I am not, I plan to lay claim to the photo of someone who did summit but forgot to remove their head gear.

Training.

For a short while in my youth I was an Olympic hopeful. I was in the fourth grade and planned to bring home the gold in axe throwing. This realization came to me immediately after throwing an axe at a stump and having it stick. Never mind the fact this was not an Olympic event. If curling could be in the Olympics then so too could axe throwing, and by the time I reached my prime it probably would be. I committed myself to this course and began a strict training regimen consisting of much axe throwing and the consumption of saltine crackers smeared with Miracle Whip. As the day wore on I found the axe would stick in the stump less frequently. Then I started missing the stump altogether. I had peaked too early. Deciding my best axe throwing years were behind me, I retired from the sport before it in fact had come into existence and spent the remaining days of summer trying to imagine a means by which I could represent my country by eating crackers adorned with various condiments. 

Training for Everest includes no Miracle Whip, and very little axe throwing. Yet the lesson learned in the course of my dashed Olympic dream remains relevant; Pace yourself and do not peak too early. Even for a climber who is in good condition, preparing for Everest will take many months. During this time he will likely injure himself training and have to rehab while pressing on. The key is to avoid joint problems and muscle tears. These can be deal killers. Building gradually with one's training is the best way to stay right with this. I aim to peak about a month before any climb. 

It is generally agreed among mountain climbers that the best means for preparing to climb a mountain is to climb a mountain. I have found this to be true for many of the peaks I have pursued. Packing weight up steep trails near my home quite adequately built the requisite muscle sets. But the unique demands of some mountains argue for something more. Everest is one such mountain. 

Strength and endurance are minimum bids when attempting any major peak. Much of my 5 day-a-week training is focused on these.  But Everest asks for two additional attributes I have identified in combing over many accounts of successful and failed attempts. 

The first of these is efficiency. This is true of any high altitude climb, but even more so with Everest where extensive time is spent in very thin air. Simply put, when little oxygen is available one must make premium use of it. Poor technique, wasted movement, or a busy mind all squander oxygen. As the Sade lyric goes "he moves through space with minimum waste, maximum joy." So practicing efficiency begets efficiency on the hill. 

The Khumbu Icefall

 The second critical attribute is flexible core strength. This is primarily owing to the Khumbu Ice Fall, a four kilometer long valley of tumbling ice blocks the size of houses. Regarded by many climbers to be the most difficult part of getting up Everest, the Khumbu icefall can take 10-12 hours to navigate.  It's labyrinth of crevasses and ice walls lead 2,000 feet up the valley to camp one. Getting through the Khumbu involves ice climbing, suspension ladders and scrambling; not a good match for the typical weight-forward troglodyte body type. So I have enlisted the help of professional Trainer Mike Locke at the Bellingham Athletic Club.  Mike has worked for many years training college, professional and Olympic athletes, as well as First Responders. He trained me for my Denali climb in 2007. 

Mike has constructed three distinctly different workouts for Monday, Wednesday and Friday of each week. Each take me through a battery of 6 timed stations designed to build flexible core strength. There is a 30 second rest after the sixth station, then I start over again. I do six full rotations, then 30 minutes of timed rowing sprints. All of this is preceded by tissue mobilization techniques designed to gather maximum benefit from the stations. There is no conventional weight lifting in these workouts. Instead the exercises harness my own body mass. Using kettle bells, hanging rings, risers and medicine balls I exert in as many different directions as ice moves in the Khumbu. 

It should go without saying I will also pack weight up steep trails and enlist the other preparations that have proven effective to me. Somewhere along the way I will probably even pick up some Saltines. 

A 29,029 foot tall decision.

Ty and I displaying our Denali climbing permit, Talkeetna, AK. 

"I wouldn't even invite you if I didn't think you could do it," I said to Ty during a phone call a few months ago. I was making a joke, of course.  Ty is a proven and accomplished climber who does not require encouragement from anyone. But recalling how these words from him had set me out on climbing the seven summits I could not pass up the opportunity to hand them back as I made the case for joining me on Everest. "That's the big enchilada, Mr. Mauro. You've certainly got my attention. Boy. Two months away, $50,000, and the best shape of your life" Ty said.  "That's pretty much what this hill asks for," I agreed.  "Boy." "Yeah, I know," I said, "but I can't see climbing this thing without you. Just think about it." It seemed unlikely. 

There was no question in my mind of Ty's physical ability. He and I have climbed to 22,811 feet on Aconcagua without supplemental oxygen. I do not recall ever seeing him even look tired. But very few employers can or will allow a two month absence. It had been something of a wrestling match getting UBS to consent in my own case. Then there was the matter of money. Lots of money. I knew Ty already had most of the gear for Everest, but logistics, permitting, air fares, food, Guides and Sherpas would quickly hit the $50,000 number he referred to.  I made the invitation as though we were going dutch to a baseball game, but this was the sort of sum that sets a family back for years. 

I checked back with Ty a few weeks later. The practical considerations of time and money had taken roost, but the dream had awakened and would not be quieted. "I'd love to say SURE and we can both get all worked up, but I just don't see how I can pull it off," he lamented. "Your sister supports me doing the climb, but I don't know," he added. I encouraged Ty to consider seeking sponsorship to defray the financial burden. With his many contacts around Anchorage he could surely sell some advertising space on his climbing suit.  But I could tell he felt uncomfortable imagining himself in the role of selling. 

Ty decided to first approach his employer. These days Ty manages  PR for the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation, a multi billion dollar tribal consortium funded largely through oil revenues. He was fairly sure they would decline his request for a two month absence. This would end the whole idea of Everest and he could just go back to his happy life. But they embraced Ty's dream with enthusiasm, also recognizing the marvelous exposure they might gain along the way. 

By now the payment was due to maintain a spot on the expedition with International Mountain Guides (IMG), the company I had already signed up with. That meant Ty would need $20,000 immediately or risk the team filling up. Once that deposit was in he would have a few months to raise the remainder of funds. Ty made a handful of contacts with potential sponsors to test the waters.  The response was quite positive. 

"I ask myself," Ty started during a call a few weeks ago,"if I am ever going to climb Everest. And if so I can't get much better circumstances than to climb it with you." Ty and I are a solid climbing team. We are typically the fastest climbers on whatever hill we find ourselves. This matters when passing through high risk areas, the likes of which we would spend much time in on Everest, especially the Khumba Ice Fall where most fatalities occur.  As well, we are good friends and get along nicely even when sharing a tent for weeks on end  ...though he sometimes make a wheezing noise when he sleeps and I want to smother him with a filthy sweatshirt.

Still Ty was not ready to commit. He said he needed to look into a couple things first. I took this to mean the family finances. Several days passed and no word came from Ty. The last time I spoke with IMG there were only 4 spots remaining for their 2013 Everest Expedition. By now they might be taken. I started preparing myself for the notion I might be climbing Everest without Ty. 

But we spoke several more times in the days that followed. Each time Ty sounded closer to declaring himself in, however he fell short of saying it outright. As I sat down to write this entry I tried to recall the exact words Ty used to finally commit to going.  It was then that I realized he had not actually done so. So I called Ty at his home in Anchorage. "I think it was that conversation where I said let's make this thing happen," Ty recalled. "So I can tell my Readers you are definitely going?" "Tell away," he consented. 

This is how it starts.

Ty Hardt with his Emmy.

Before Everest, before Carstensz Pyramid and Vinson Massiff, before Aconcagua, before Elbrus and Kilimanjaro there was Denali (Mt McKinley). For a variety of reasons I have not been able to write about Denali, the climb that set my life on this course toward Everest. But so much of that experience is intertwined in what comes next that it seems important to tell part of the story now, a story that begins in the guest room at my sister Michelle’s home. 

It was October 2nd of 2006. I was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the dozens of dolls arranged on shelves around what had transformed into another playroom for my niece. They were all staring at me. Some dolls were dressed for the Ball while others doned traditional garments as though on their way to hand out informative leaflets at an interpretive center. A few were headed to the beach. One would be working in the flower garden. But they had all stopped in their tracks as the news spread among them.  My marriage of 18 years was over. None spoke. They did not need to. Their sad judging expressions said what they were thinking. “I don’t need your X#@&ing pity,” I yelled at the dolls.

A long cardboard tube lay at my feet. It had arrived, addressed to me, at my sister’s home earlier that day. I had been living there for the two weeks since my wife and I had separated. It was my 44th birthday.  

Several years earlier the husband of my sister Noelle had made an attempt on Denali. Though it was ultimately unsuccessful, the documentary he and his team filmed won Ty an Emmy. As evening news anchor for the ABC affiliate in Anchorage, Ty reported regularly on the topic of Denali and found himself tempted to make a second try a few years later. This time he left the cameras at home. Just a two-man self-guided team, Ty Hardt and John Harris summitted Denali in fair conditions in June of that year. 

The story might have ended there, but the advent of High Definition video changed everything. Television and Cable were going HD, yet virtually nothing had been filmed in High Definition. Ty got the idea to climb Denali once again, this time filming the expedition in HD. He could sell the footage or make a followup documentary with what he brought back. Ty started building his team, first pulling in three Firemen from Kenai. John, Mark, and Sam (all 6ft 4) would be the workhorses, there climbing ability only surpassed by their extraordinary strength. He brought a few other friends into the team, but also wanted a few non-climbers onboard. These, he reasoned, would add a valuable human interest aspect to the storyline, seeing everything through fresh eyes. 

“I wouldn’t even invite you if I didn’t think you could do it,” Ty said as we spoke on the phone during spring of 2006. I told Ty I was honored to be asked, but had only climbed one mountain, 10,400 foot Mt Baker about an hour from my home. This could in no way compare to 20,230 foot Denali. I did not consider myself a Mountain Climber, and certainly not of the caliber to climb the high summit of North America. "Besides," I added, "my wife would never agree to it." “It’s a year away. Just think about it,” Ty urged. Though I never considered the notion seriously, I found myself fantasizing about it from time to time and liked the way it made me feel. So it was probably a mistake to mention it to my wife. Our relationship was already at an all time low. She made it clear she would not support my going on such an outing and she doubted I could do it anyway.  It is tempting to villainize her in this respect, but truly I responded by doing something much worse -- I agreed. We could have been talking about something more plausible and I would have still agreed. It was not reality that had fallen casualty, but belief itself. Divorce is just the final destination in a long road trip of unbelieving. One of the last weigh stations is the point where you stop believing in yourself. A few months later I packed a bag and moved in with my sister. 

I picked up the cardboard tube and examined the shipping label. It was from Anchorage Alaska.  I removed one end of the tube and poured out its contents. Two climbing poles fell to the floor with a birthday card from Noelle and Ty. “Happy Birthday, Super Climber,” Ty had written inside the card. The message was clear; you don’t have your wife holding you back now so how about it? In that moment I decided to climb Denali. There was no reasonable basis for thinking I could make it to the summit, but my life was at such a low place that it seemed doubtful failing would bother me much. More importantly, if I could make it to the top of Denali, I thought, I might come to believe in myself the way Ty believed in me. As mountain climbing goes, it was both the best and worst of reasons. 

The Call

I have been asked many times if I will climb Everest. This is a perfectly reasonable inquiry as it is one of the Seven Summits, a list from which all my climbs have been drawn. Most typically I have said I did not know.  This must have seemed like a silly response. It might be just as acceptable to say I am not as to say I am going to climb Everest, but how could I not know? 

Though I was climbing mountains listed among the Seven Summits I was never committed to  climbing all Seven.  Instead, I waited for each mountain to call to me and occupy a place in my quiet thoughts.  I would leave it there for a time. If it lingered I would accept its invitation and begin preparations. This is how they came to me; Denali, Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Aconcagua, Vinson Massif, Carstensz Pyramid. There was no way of knowing which call would come next or if any call would come at all. I found this approach satisfying as it allowed me to fully appreciate and experience each mountain for what it had to offer, as opposed to checking off another name on a list. For me, the last five years have been more a spiritual journey than an exercise in goal setting. 

"I believe you will definitely climb Everest and you will summit," my brother in-law, Ty, said to me while we were still working our way up Aconcagua. I liked hearing it, but the notion rang hollow to me. I had not heard the call for Everest and would not go unless I did. At one point I re-read Into thin air and decided I would not climb Everest. I suspect this book has a similar effect on most readers.  But this notion too rang hollow for the same reason; the decision, principally, was not mine. I had accepted that my life was on a very specific path, and though I did not know where it was taking me I would remain committed to that path. 

I spent most of July this year in Papua New Guinea, climbing Carstensz Pyramid. It was daunting and dangerous, tiresome and muddy. Very muddy. Incredibly hot and humid. Did I mention the mud? Yet so many gifts came to me in the course of that experience. One of them was Everest. 

Normally I will wait at least a month after a climb before even thinking about mountains. This gives me a chance to savor the recent experience and restore balance to my everyday life. But this time it did not happen that way. I was still on Carstensz, rappelling down the steep rock face. We had summitted an hour earlier. I stopped on a rock ledge to rig the next rope in my figure eight descender.  It was raining, and my leather gloves were soaked, my fingers numb. Suddenly it just came into my mind like the solution to a math problem I had been struggling with; Everest.  It was not so much the word or the image that came with it as the energy.  There was a warmth to it. Though the only things I knew about Everest scared the heck out of me, yet the notion suddenly and inexplicably seemed doable. 

I kept my own counsel on this matter through the remainder of the expedition, unsure if I had mistaken the euphoria of a successful climb with an invitation to the next. But again and again it was there. It smiled confidently at me.  It was the call I had always wondered about, and it could not be more clear. Lin seemed to pick up on it soon after our rendezvous in Bali. "So I know you don't decide on the next climb until a month or so has gone by, but you must have some idea about Everest," she asked as we lay in the sun. "I would like to climb Everest this coming season," I said. We were both quiet for a moment. Lin said that of course she had thought this decision might come but hoped it would be a couple years away. She said my going to Everest scared her but she supported it and she believed in me. 


Yet, this is not how my story starts.