She may have saved my life.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Chase on.

Myself, rappelling from the south summit. (camera lens cover partially frozen shut.)

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. 

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. 

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. 

 “Guy,” I asked at point blank range.

“Yeah.”

“Guy Manning,” I confirmed, still disbelieving the odds that would have us meet up in such a way at such a place. 

“Yeah.”

“Dave Mauro,” I said.

“Oh! Congratulations, Dave,” Guy offered with an extra squeeze. 

“Same to you! You’re almost there. Kick its ass,” I encouraged. 

“Right-O,” he agreed, then we went our separate ways. 

I would later learn Guy had frostbitten several toes and had to be heli-vac'd out from Camp 2.

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. 

“Hey little Brother,” I greeted him. 

“Hey.”

I tried to make small talk, but Ty seemed totally in game mode. That made sense. 

“Congratulations,” I said, adding “The Step is fun!” Then I continued down. 

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.  

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. 

“I give you until 8:30 to drink, rest, eat then you go down,” he said as more an order than request. 

“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. 

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. 

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.  

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.  

“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. 

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 expected Ty to be several hours behind me. Still, I wish I had checked. 

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.

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. 

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. 

“What?’

“He sent Noelle a text. He’s hurt. She is really upset. Call her now.”

“But I’ve been following his situation and nothing like that is going on.”

“Just call Noelle.” 

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?!” 

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. 

“You left him behind above camp 4,” she asked with outrage. 

“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. 

Daybreak from 29,000 feet.

Tomorrow has come...

"Tomorrow has come like it's drunk on the blood of the men who have dared to be there."
-Jakob Dylan - Valley of the Low Sun.

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. 

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.  

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. 

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. 

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.” 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

My moment.

The Grand Wager.

Full Battle Gear.

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.

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.

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.
"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.
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.

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.

My Brother's Keeper and the Dragon chase.

The South Col, looking up Everest.

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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 increase 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.

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. 

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. 

So that was the plan. Leave the South Col, tag the summit, then run like hell for lower elevation. Here is what happened...

On the wings of bottled oxygen.

Ty arrives at the South Col.

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

“My oxygen bottle is leaning to one side,” I said.

“Mine too.”

“I am moving slow.”

“We have plenty of time.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“I will turn up your oxygen.”

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. 

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.

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.
“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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Dizzy on the Lhotse Face.

Camp 3, carved into the Lhotse Face. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Launching the Summit bids

Classic Climbers in their dining tent

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. 

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. 

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. 

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

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. 

Blog to continue

Dear Readers,
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.
-Dave Mauro

Go time.

A cup of coffee. A cup of patience.

May 12, 2013

Rest Day at EBC

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. 

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 know 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. 

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. 

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 Saving Private Ryan 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. 

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. 

May 13, 2013

Rest Day EBC

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. 

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). 

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 http://usaf7summits.com 

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!

A big shout out to my friends at Meridian Middle School!

My love and thanks to Lin, Trevor, Chase, Mom, Jack, and Don for your support, understanding, and belief in me. 

Stalking a summit date

May 10, 2013

Rest Day.

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. 

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.  

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. 

May 11, 2013

Rest Day. Trek to Gorak Shep.

Morning coffee in the Cook Tent

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. 

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. 

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. 

Final rotation complete!

May 3, 2013

EBC to Camp 2

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

May 4, 2013

Rest day at camp 2

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. 

The Lohtse Face

May 5, 2013

Camp 2 to Camp 3 (Touch and return)

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. 

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. 

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.  

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. 

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. 

May 6, 2013

Camp 2 to EBC

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. 

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. 

May 7, 2013

Rest day at EBC

 Shower. Shave. Laundry. Call Mom. 

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. 

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. 

Liking the O2 system.

May 8, 2013

Rest day at EBC. Trek to Gorak Shep

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. 

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. This set me to thinking about Mingma and his family with their own recent loss.  I took  a stick of incense up to the Puja Altar and left it there as an offering. 

Greg Venovage

After breakfast Big Boss held our instruction session on how to use the oxygen bottles and masks.  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. 

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 http://www.mountainguides.com/everest-south13.shtml

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 https://secureonlinegiving.com/Donations/site/index.asp?eventID=1036