Month: April 2021

We head up the mountain on our first rotation in the next day or two. Given the sporadic nature of internet here at base camp, I am going to post this right now while I appear to have a window.

As described previously, this rotation will involve climbing through the Khumbu icefall to Camp 1 at 19,500 feet, spending three nights there to acclimatize, climbing further up Everest’s so-called “Western Cym” to Camp 2 at 21,000 feet, spending two or three nights there to further acclimatize, then descending back down to base camp.

Of all of this, getting safely through the icefall is most prominent on our minds. A maze of frequently shifting ice blocks and crevasses, subject to constant avalanche threat from above, it is one of the most dangerous parts of an Everest climb. It is also one where climbers have little personal control over the risks they face. Other than having the technical skills and physical ability to move quickly, it either is your day or it isn’t. We expect our climb through the icefall to take around six hours, (substantially faster when we descend a week later). On subsequent rotations we should be able to shave our ascent time to closer to four hours, as we will be better used to the altitude and more familiar with the route.

On the positive side, the odds are in our favor. The reason we are starting at 3:00am is so we can get through most of the icefall before the sun’s rays increase the likelihood of an avalanche or a mammoth ice block, (called “serac”), toppling over on us. Also on the positive side, many experienced mountaineers view the icefall as one of the most uniquely beautiful places they have ever climbed through. It is other-worldly, with an ever changing constellation of ice towers, deep crevasses, and myriad shades of blue ice.

Two days ago, we climbed about a quarter of the way through the icefall and back to get ourselves “dialed in”. Here is a photo from that outing:

And here is another:

Things will get more dramatic higher up.

While I don’t like the risk of climbing through the icefall, I have come to terms with it. It is the only way to gain access to the upper reaches of the Everest, (from the Nepal side), and generations of climbers have faced this same decision. It is one of those risk/reward trade-offs we all make in our lives, in various forms. Our team will navigate the icefall six times on our climb; three times ascending and three times descending. Each time I am through I will breathe a sigh of relief. The last time I am through, on my way down after having hopefully summited Everest, I will breathe a sigh of extreme relief, deep satisfaction, and gratitude for safe passage.

Once above the icefall, we will be in a vast glacial canyon called the Western Cym, with Everest and its neighboring peak Lhotse towering above us. While the route through the Cym from Camp 1 to Camp 2 is demanding, and will involve some dramatic crevasse crossings, the risk factor is far lower than the icefall. I have spent my entire life visualizing the Western Cym and look forward to experiencing it in person. We will likely be feeling miserable due to the altitude, but I’ll still be glad to be there.

OUR TEAM

I owe you some detail on our team. We are seven climbers (aka “members”), two lead guides, and an expedition “Sirdar” who oversees a crew of fourteen climbing sherpas and eight additional staff.

Before describing the individual team members, I need to note that the climbing Sherpas do the real work of the expedition. They arrive weeks in advance to carve base camp out of the glacier, and – most importantly- make numerous trips through the icefall and above to set up and provision our high camps. They are all extremely strong climbers, with numerous Everest summits among them. A handful of the strongest will climb with us the night/day that we attempt the summit.

As mentioned in a previous post, our team is strong relative to many on the mountain. All seven members have climbed multiple high peaks and prepared relentlessly for years, As you would expect, there are additional common denominators. Everyone is driven, everyone has subjugated their personal and family lives to the goal of climbing Everest, everyone is in strong physical condition, and everyone is used to pushing their bodies to the limit while enduring extreme physical hardship. Meanwhile, our lead guides, Sirdar, and climbing Sherpas are among the best in the business.

Some quick profiles, (note: exact ages are informed guesses):

JOSH: Josh is a former Army Ranger who founded a successful media company focused on college football websites. In his early forties, he has a wife and two young children at home in Indiana. He is in exceptional physical condition, naturally athletic, has strong climbing skills, and is supremely motivated. I can’t picture a wall of any sort that Josh would be unable to get over or through.

TONY: Tony, in his late thirties, runs a solar company in Ohio. He says he got fired from his first eight jobs so figured he’d better start a company of his own. Several years ago, in his first foray into mountaineering, Tony signed himself up for a program that involved thirty days of extreme outdoor leadership training in the mountains of Argentina, followed by a climb of Aconcagua. Tony told his group that he would summit Everest someday and everyone laughed. If he is successful on this climb, he intends to call every member of that group and tell them that he did it.

Tony’s wife Raissa trekked with us to base camp. Her initial intent was to climb with us on our first rotation up to Camp 2. A former nationally ranked swimmer in Brazil, she trained hard for this over the past year, including a 5 day mountaineering course on Mt Baker in the Cascades tailored to help her get ready for the icefall. After arriving at base camp, going on some acclimatization hikes, and doing some training in the lower icefall, she decided to take a pass on the first rotation. Raissa headed home yesterday and we all gave her huge hugs as she left base camp. She added a lot to our group, (including keeping Tony more or less in line 😊), and we will miss her.

CHASE: Chase is 18 years old and has spent the past couple of years climbing big peaks all over the world, (with some of the best guides in the world). His initial hurdle was that all the guiding companies told him he was too young to go, but he managed to get past that and is now on a roll. In recent examples, in the middle of Covid when most mountains were shut down, he managed to climb Mt Kenya in Africa and Ama Dablam, a 23,000 peak here in the Nepal. The thing that blows my mind is that, right after Everest, he plans to climb Makalu (near Everest, another of the highest peaks in the world), and then, right after that, K2 in Pakistan, (the second highest peak in the world, more difficult and dangerous than Everest). Chase is a very skilled climber and handles himself well in a group of people much older than him. After the next set of climbs, he hopes to follow his father and sister in attending West Point, and to build a career around flying helicopters.

MARK: I alluded to Mark in a previous post. In addition to climbing six of the “Seven Summits” (ie: the highest mountain on every continent), he has also skied the last latitudinal degree to both the North and South Poles. In his mid fifties, Mark lives in Seattle. He was the Chief Technology Officer for a software company that was recently acquired by a private equity firm. When they tried to convince him to stay on, he explained that he couldn’t because he has more mountains to climb. Mark was on Everest three years ago but had to descend relatively early in the climb, from just above the icefall, due to some altitude-induced intestinal complications. He is eager for another shot.

BOB: Bob is, (ahem), my age. He is a surgeon in Arizona, has climbed six of the Seven Summits, and is determined to make Everest the seventh. Bob is nothing if not determined. He casually mentioned to me that it took him four tries on Aconcagua, but he kept going back until he succeeded. Similarly, this is his third attempt on Everest. Two years ago, he got to Camp 2 before injuring his shoulder in a fall and having to descend. He also mentioned that this time he has arranged for a personal Sherpa to climb with him on the upper mountain starting at Camp 2. I’m not sure exactly what that entails, but I look forward to finding out.

THOMAS: Thomas is, (ahem, ahem), also my age. He founded a hedge fund focused on arbitraging closed end bond fund yields. During our trek to base camp, he explained exactly what this means, and I had it clear in my head for a few fleeting days. The fund did well, and Thomas recently converted it to a family office to lighten regulatory compliance burdens. He also converted his role to Chairman, so he could spend more time climbing mountains and traveling the world.

When you ask Thomas about mountains, he leads with describing long hikes in the high peaks of the Adirondacks, or the Presidential Traverse in the White Mountains, or a medium sized mountain in West Africa that he found a guide to take him up. Only when you ask additional questions does it emerge that he – like most of our group – has also climbed six of the Seven Summits. The driving force for Thomas appears to be appreciation of mountains of any size, and for all aspects of climbing them. He is superbly fit, very organized about how he approaches climbing, and has been right up with the front of our group on all the acclimatization hikes and climbs.

BEN JONES, (Lead Guide and Expedition Leader): Ben, from Jackson, Wyoming, is a mountain guide straight out of Hollywood central casting. As one of the top guides at Alpine Ascents, he guides on peaks all over the world. This is his 10th season on Everest. Son Will and I climbed with Ben in Antarctica two years ago, so I was already familiar with his deep technical competence, disciplined approach to leading a group, and direct, “suffer no fools” style. One of the things that attracted me to this Everest expedition is Ben’s strategy of being in no rush, letting other groups push to get up the mountain first, and patiently waiting for the optimal window to go for the summit. We are in very good hands with Ben.

JANGBU SHERPA, (Lead Guide): Jangbu grew up in Nepal, worked as a trekking leader, then became one of the early few Sherpas to become an internationally certified climbing guide. In 2011 he summited Everest largely by himself: arranging his own gear, carrying all his loads personally from camp to camp, and climbing alone. He has since summited Everest as a guide multiple times and leads climbs all over the world for Alpine Ascents. While his home is now Seattle, he returns to Nepal every year to climb Everest and other peaks. Jangbu has a warm, outgoing personality and is a natural people person. Everywhere we go on Everest, Sherpa guides cry out greetings and want to stop and chat with him. Everyone knows him. I feel like we are on Everest with one of the mountain’s favorite sons. Because we are.

LAKPA RITA SHERPA, (Expedition Sirdar): There are few people who can eclipse Jangbu’s profile on Everest, but one of them is Lakpa Rita. Lakpa is a Nepal climbing legend. He grew up in the Khumbu village of Thame, walking three hours round trip every day to attend the nearest school, and went on to become one one of Nepal’s most famous Sherpa guides and mountaineers. Lakpa has summited Everest 17 times. When some of our team members went into a climbing store in Kathmandu to pick up last minute gear, they encountered a wall of “Lakpa Rita signature outerwear “ with Lakpa’s name and photo on all the clothing tags.

When the avalanche in 2014 killed 14 Sherpa in the icefall, Lakpa was among the first people on the scene to attempt a rescue. Many of the dead bodies he dug out of the ice were from his home village of Thame. After that, Lakpa promised his wife that he would never enter the icefall again. He has since focused his Everest efforts on playing the role of Expedition Sirdar, overseeing all logistical aspects from base camp. He continues to guide other peaks internationally for Alpine Ascents.

I met Lakpa Rita two years ago at Vinson base camp in Antarctica. Will and I had just been dropped by a Twin Otter airplane and were struggling to set up our tent in the extreme cold. Out of nowhere, someone not from our group came over and quietly asked if we needed help. Nanoseconds later, our tent was up. Lakpa Rita then politely wished us good luck on the mountain and walked off into the minus 40 degree evening. I turned to Will and said: “we have just been in the presence of a mountaineering god”. Because we had.

So now I am on Everest with Lakpa Rita. It is hard to put into words the respect I feel for the competence, humbleness, good nature, and quiet dignity that this man exudes on a daily basis.

Here is a photo of Lakpa and me taken a couple of days ago outside our dining tent. I have my mountaineering boots on because we were about to head off on a dry run climb into the icefall.

OFF WE GO

And now the real climbing starts. After we turn on our headlamps and head into the icefall, it will be six or seven days before we return to base camp. We will be leaving internet access behind, so I will next post when we get back. I should have plenty to describe.

I am feeling fully prepared and ready. My body continues to be handling the altitude well, and I have been performing well on the acclimatization hikes and climbs. It is hard work, but that is the name of the game. A few of my technical climbing skills, while objectively as strong or stronger than most of the guided climbers on the mountain, are not yet at the level I personally want. But I am closing in on it, and I will get there.

There have been several Covid cases in base camp, with the climbers being evacuated to Kathmandu. At the moment, this feels like a manageable situation, particularly as the climbing teams operate very independently from each other. That said, things can evolve in unexpected ways. Fingers crossed on that front.

Everest Base Camp is a mini tent city of approximately 700 people, (around 300 climbers, 400 support), built on the Khumbu glacier at the base of the (in)famous Khumbu icefall. The tents are strung out along the glacier, with each expedition having its own specific area. It takes almost an hour to walk from the first cluster of tents at the bottom of camp to the last cluster of tents at the top. Our cluster is close to the top. Here is a photo taken from a ridge above base camp. If you look closely, you can see all the tents strung out along the glacier.

The physical location is spectacular: at the end of a deep valley surrounded by towering peaks; Pumori on one side, Everest, Lhotse, and Nuptse on the other. You can’t see the upper part of Everest from basecamp, as it is hidden behind the so-called Western Shoulder, but if you hike up a ways behind camp the full mountain appears. What you absolutely can see from basecamp is the lower half of the Khumbu icefall; a jagged mass of ice blocks and crevasses, caused by the glacier being forced steeply downward between the lower flanks of Everest and Nuptse.

If you are a climber, or someone who likes reading about Everest, the Khumbu icefall has mythic stature. All climbers must pass through it on their way to the upper reaches of the mountain. There are a number of risks associated with this, which I will elaborate on in subsequent posts. The icefall is also an intensely powerful and beautiful sight. I wake up every day, look up at it, and can’t believe I am here.

Here is a photo of the lower icefall, with the Western Shoulder rising above it on the left. My tent is in the foreground.

As you can see, the tents are set up on rocky rubble which is the top layer of the glacier. Under the rubble is solid ice, and you hear occasional creaks and groans as the glacier shifts. Over the course of our two month climbing season, tents will need to be relocated occasionally as the glacier continues to move.

The other thing you hear frequently at base camp is avalanches. Some are relatively small and far away, and some are large and relatively close. When you hear a big one, you stop what you are doing and look up. The sight is simultaneously awe inspiring and unnerving. In 2014, an avalanche off the Western Shoulder tragically killed 14 Sherpas in the icefall. In 2015, an avalanche off the side of Pumori, caused by a major earthquake, wiped out a portion of base camp, killing 18 people. These risks are never far from your mind, especially as you lie in your sleeping bag at night and hear avalanches thundering down the surrounding peaks.

We have been here for over a week, getting our bodies used to the altitude before we ascend higher on the mountain. Part of this involves acclimatization hikes up the flanks of mountains behind camp. We have also been going into the initial portion of the icefall to practice the technical skills we will need above basecamp. These include ice climbing, pulling ourselves up vertical ropes using a handheld device called a jumar, rapelling, and crossing crevasses on horizontal ladders with our crampons and packs on.

Each day in base camp has a familiar rhythm. You wake up in your tent, reluctant to leave your sleeping bag’s warmth given that outside temperatures are in the low teens. Things warm up as the sun makes it above the surrounding peaks. It is pleasant sitting outside in the sun, and really pleasant to lie in your tent mid day when the sun is hitting it. But when the clouds roll in, as they usually do in the afternoon, temperatures drop quickly and it is time to pull on your down parka, down pants, and warm boots. Meals are served in our comfortable dining tent. The food, prepared by our Nepali expedition cook, is amazingly good, especially for 17,500 feet.

One of my favorite moments each day is when I leave the dining tent after dinner to head back to my tent. I climb up on some rocks, brush my teeth, and look around. On a clear night, the stars are incredible, and I can see white peaks outlined against the night sky. Some nights, I see a trail of headlamps picking their way through the icefall: teams of Sherpas climbing through the night to move loads to higher camps. Then I head to my tent and zip myself into my sleeping bag, making sure that at least one water bottle is zipped in with me so it doesn’t freeze overnight.

While everyone is eager to begin moving up the mountain, we know the importance of putting in time at basecamp. Above all, climbing Everest is about methodically preparing one’s body to survive and perform at progressively extreme altitudes. It is also about maintaining patience and inner calm over an extended period of time. It typically takes six to seven weeks between the time an expedition arrives at base camp and the time people are able to attempt the summit.

In climbing the mountain, we will follow the approach used by virtually all expeditions; ascending in stages called “rotations “. Here is a map of our route, showing the location of base camp and the four additional camps we will make higher on the mountain.

On our first rotation, which will start in around five days, we will climb up though the icefall to Camp 1, spend a couple of nights there acclimating, climb to Camp 2, spend a couple of night there, then descend back down through the icefall to base camp for some welcome thicker air and rest. On our second rotation, we will climb back up to Camps 1 and 2, then to Camp 3, before again returning all the way down to base camp. We will rest and wait at base camp until a weather window emerges that offers an opportunity to approach the summit. When we get that window, which will likely happen around the third or fourth week of May, we will climb back through the icefall and spend nights at Camps 2, 3, and 4, before launching a final climb to the summit. More on all of this later, but this gives you a rough idea of the plan.

Some notes on the above route photo: 1) It may be a helpful reference in the coming weeks as I describe our experiences at various stages on the mountain, 2) Many thanks to Alan Annette for letting me use it. In addition to having summited Everest and numerous other peaks, Alan is the preeminent chronicler of Everest climbing seasons. For those of you who over the coming weeks want to do a major deep dive on the Everest action, go to Alan’s website and click on “Everest 2021”, 3) Alan’s route photo appears to have been be taken from Camp 1 on Pumori , the destination of several of our acclimatization hikes. These are the views we have been looking at as we get our bodies ready to move up the mountain.

I am feeling good about things so far. Many people upon arriving at base camp experience altitude-related symptoms such as headache, loss of appetite, nausea, and difficulty sleeping. While this has been true for some of our team members, I have pretty much avoided it. My time will certainly come as we get higher on the mountain, but for now I am pleased.

At the same time, this is already a very different experience than our trek from Lukla to here. On our acclimatization hikes, while I am holding my own, every step is an effort. I am pushing my physical limits, and the experience is just plain hard work rather than something I am enjoying. During our technical skills sessions in the icefall, while I am doing fine, I am not yet executing certain basic moves as smoothly as I would like. While I have plenty of time to get in the groove, I wonder what things will be like when I am at higher altitude, in freezing cold conditions, when it really matters.

This is all an inherent part of climbing big mountains, especially mountains like Everest. I knew what I was getting into, and just hope that things continue to break my way as we get higher on the mountain.

As mentioned, we leave on our first rotation in five days. We then lose the luxury of internet access, so my posts will have to wait until I get back down to base camp. I will try to post once more in the next few days before we head into the icefall for real.

Ever upward!

Over the past five days we completed our trek to base camp. Leaving the village of Namche Bazaar at 11,300 feet, we climbed progressively higher to 17,500 feet, pacing ourselves carefully to allow our bodies to adjust to the increasing altitude. This is a critical component of preparing for an Everest climb, as the elevation at base camp is higher than all of the summits in the Alps and most of the summits in North America.

The initial days of the second half of the trek looked a lot like the first; passing through pine and rhododendron forests, villages perched among terraced hillsides, and river crossings with colorful prayer flags streaming off suspension bridges. The character then changed as we climbed above tree line onto vast, open glacial moraines surrounded by towering peaks. The landscape at that elevation doesn’t support year round agriculture, so the “villages” are extensions of seasonal stone yak grazing compounds. The only real commerce is rudimentary lodges catering to trekking and mountaineering.

The Khumbu remains relatively empty of foreigners. Where typically this time of year the trails would be full of trekking groups, we encountered almost none. Consequently, the vast majority of the so-called “tea houses”, (lodges), remain closed. One or two in each village are open to climbing teams, who are here in reduced but still meaningful numbers.

Happily, the winds shifted and cleared out the wildfire haze we experienced earlier in the trek, providing us stunning views of the surrounding summits. The typical pattern was crystal clear mornings and then clouds drifting up the valleys in the afternoon. Most mornings, I sat outside bundled up in my down jacket and pants, a cup of coffee in hand, feeling the sun’s warmth as I gazed up at impossibly white peaks against impossibly blue skies. Moments to cherish if you are a mountain lover.

As I walked up the trail, I thought often of being here with Jill in 1990. Some parts of the trail I remembered exactly, other parts I had completely forgotten. I also recalled sitting at home in Dover several years ago when daughter Holly was trekking this route, savoring the occasional photos she posted and trying to imagine where she was on a given day. As I walked along, Holly’s and my steps were separated by just a few years, and I enjoyed wondering how it all looked to her.

Here is a photo of our team hiking up a ridge on one of those clear mornings. Everest base camp is located at the end the valley, behind the person with the yellow pack. You can’t see Everest itself, as it is hidden by the ridge on the right.

And here is a photo taken a day’s walk below base camp, looking back down the valley as the afternoon clouds moved in. The stone cairns are memorials to lost climbers.

A couple of days earlier, before we broke tree line, we passed through the village of Pangboche. Pangboche monastery is the oldest monastery in the Khumbu. The current structure is over 300 years old, and the original structure centuries older. Here is a photo of two of our team members outside of it:

We were fortune to be able to arrange a blessing from the Lama, which turned out to be far more powerful than I expected.

We took off our shoes, left our cameras behind, and climbed up a worn wooden staircase to a prayer room on the upper floor of the monastery. Colorful images of deities surrounded us, the walls were lined with old cloth prayer books, and incense burned in a small pot. We sat cross legged on carpets while the lama chanted prayers and beat steadily on several drums. After the drumming stopped, we bowed before the lama and presented our kata scarves, (the ones we received from the mother and son in Namche), to be blessed. The lama then also placed a protection cord around our neck.

No matter what you believe, it is powerful to sit in the same smokey room where people have sat for centuries, on the same ancient carpets, hearing prayers chanted out of the same prayer books, receiving the same blessings that people in that mountain village have received for generations.

Some notes:

– There is a specific way to fold your kata scarf in order to receive the blessing. I kept dropping a fold. No one would have noticed, but our climbing guide Jangbu wouldn’t let me go up to the second floor until I got it right.

– The drill is to place a small monetary offering inside one of the top folds. When the lama takes your scarf to bless it, he casually shakes the rupee notes out of the fold without missing a beat in his chanting. Instead of feeling commercial, this felt as appropriate as any offering in a church at home.

– Above his robes, the lama wore a down mountaineering jacket. During the ceremony, he flicked holy water onto statues of various gods from a plastic Sprite bottle. At the end of the blessing, the lama concluded with two words in English: “Good Luck!”

– Our guides explained that our kata scarves, now blessed by a lama, have acquired a new level of power and importance. We need to be extra careful where we place them in our packs; e.g. not near dirty clothing.

– As we returned to the first floor after the ceremony, Jangbu entered the main hall, knelt before a golden statue of the deity, and prostrated himself multiple times – forehead to the floor. As context: Jangbu grew up in Nepal but now lives in Seattle. He is a top mountaineer who travels the world guiding. Most mornings on our trek, WiFi signal permitting, he started the day connecting by video with his four month old daughter back in Seattle.

So I arrive at base camp well prepared spiritually. Not leaving my neck until I descend safely from the mountain are three things: the yellow protection cord blessed by the monks of Sharminub monastery in Kathmandu, the red protection cord blessed by the lama of Pangboche, and my wedding ring, hung on a small piece of line. (Fingers swell significantly at high altitude. By the time a ring starts cutting off your circulation it is too late to take it off, so you need to do so in advance.) My ring will accompany me to the summit, mountain gods willing.

I actually felt well prepared spiritually, on my own terms, before arriving in Nepal, but all forms of help are welcome.

We pulled into base camp yesterday afternoon, completing the first chapter of our expedition. The trek was all that I hoped for and more. Now the focus shifts dramatically, as we settle into our home for the next seven week and turn our attention to what brought us here: climbing to the top of the world.

Base camp is an amazing place. It deserves its own detailed description, which I promise to provide in the days ahead. We are all thrilled to be here.

Namaste!

Our team is currently almost half way through our nine day trek from Lukla to base camp. I am loving every minute of it.

In contrast to Kathmandu, where the city has changed dramatically in the thirty years since I was last there, the Solu-Khumbu region feels largely the same. The river valleys and surrounding peaks are as gorgeous, the Sherpa people as polite and friendly, and the experience of walking through mountain villages accessible only on foot is as enchanting.

The lower portion of the trek follows rushing mountain rivers, crosses deep gorges on suspension bridges, and climbs ridges through pine and rhododendron forests. As you walk along the trail, you encounter porters and yak-like animals called zokyos carrying loads between villages, small children in uniforms cheerily walking long distances to school, and people everywhere exchanging the ubiquitous greeting “Namaste”. As you climb higher, the terrain opens up and the highest peaks in the world surround you.

The Buddhist religion is an inherent part of the fabric. You constantly pass prayer wheels, mani stones carved with prayer symbols, graceful stupas, and colorful prayer flags streaming in the breeze. The custom is to pass to the left of the mani stones, and everyone follows it. Multiple times, I have watched our Sherpa guides go out of their way to do so, and similarly to give the prayer wheels a clockwise spin in order to send the prayers to the gods.

Here is a photo from our first day on the trail. If you zoom in, you can see a large mani stone below the stupa up on the hill.

It is kind of hard to believe that all of this still exists, but it does. The trailside lodges have proliferated and grown more comfortable, wireless internet is available in many spots, and the villages have expanded in size. But the core character and spirit remain.

The Solu-Khumbu is just starting to open again to outsiders and there are vastly fewer visitors here than normal. Trails that normally would be filled with trekkers are almost empty, and most of the shops and lodges remain closed. In a region that depends on trekking and mountaineering for its livelihood, people thank us with clear emotion for returning. It is an interesting time to be here, and perhaps is giving me an artificial sense of how little things have changed over the years. Unique times or not, much of the beauty and magic of the Khumbu endure.

Yesterday we got our first view of Everest, towering above its neighbors with its signature plume of snow being blasted off the summit by the jet stream. I took in that view with Jill in 1990 and felt the same sense of reverence and awe.  This time, I felt something else as well. I looked up at that summit ridge, so high and distant and in some ways terrifying, and said to myself “I am going there”. I stood gazing up at it for a long while, internalizing the sight and the feeling.

Approach treks are a great way to get to know one’s fellow climbers. There are long hours walking side by side, or sitting together at rest stops and meals. Our team consists of seven summit climbers and one woman – wife of one of the seven- who plans to climb a third of the way up the mountain to Camp 2 before heading home.

It is a good group. In contrast to some of the people showing up on Everest these days, our team members all have multiple years of big mountain experience. As examples, everyone has summited Denali and Aconcagua, most have climbed Vinson in Antarctica, several have climbed other major Himalayan peaks, and two have already taken a shot at Everest. One has also skied the last degree of latitude to the south and north poles.

More important in many ways than the climbing resumes are the core personal traits. Here again, my early sense is that we are in good shape. Not surprisingly, people who pursue this sort of thing have a lot in common. While we inevitably have a range of personalities on the team, and I can already sense that my values align better with some than others, I don’t see any major warning flags. Having now spent over a week together, I think this group is going to get along well. And that matters.

I will try in a future post to give you more of a sense of each of the individuals, and also to describe our overall climbing approach and philosophy relative to other teams. There are some notable differences.

Today, we walked from Namche to the village of Deboche. The family that runs the lodge we stayed at in Namche has hosted our guides and their teams for many Everest climbing seasons. Before we hit the trail, the mother and son offered us a blessing for safe climbing. The first part involved dipping your ring finger in a brass pot of special water and flicking the drops over your left shoulder in the direction of a mountain god who lives above the village. The second part involved them putting kata scarves around our necks. As we left the lodge, I heard the mother say to our Expedition Leader Ben Jones: “Safe climbing this year on the mountain. I will pray for you every day”. Here is a photo from the blessing. The amazingly cool mother is on the right. The son is in the middle, putting a kata on our expedition cook Gopal. One of our lead guides, Jangbu Sherpa, is on the left.

On a less heart-warming note, today the high peaks were hidden in a smokey haze that has drifted up from the plains. The smoke is from wildfires caused by an abnormally warm and dry winter, and is part of what has been causing the exceptionally poor air quality in Kathmandu. I thought I had left all that behind, but it turns out I haven’t. Our guides have never experienced this kind of smoke in the mountains before. While the Khumbu may feel timeless, the global climate clearly is not. Hopefully the wind direction will shift soon and we will return to the clear mountain air and exhilarating views that we cherish.

We have five days left to base camp. As we continue to gain elevation, we will leave the forest and major villages behind and start traversing wide open glacial moraine.

Lots to love. I am guessing my next post will come after we arrive at base camp.

Continued thanks for your interest and support!

I arrived in Kathmandu three days ago. It is a different place than when I was first here in 1982; much more of an “Asian city” than the “medieval valley town” it felt like then. But it remains fascinating and unique, and it is exhilarating to be back. Here is the sign that greeted me as I pulled into the hotel courtyard:

What I notice most is the frenetic traffic, crowds, and poor air quality; all born out of decades of population influx and economic growth. In 1982, Kathmandu was a relaxing place to be. We rode bikes everywhere, carried kayaks through the streets to catch buses to various rivers, and sat outdoors for hours reading books and writing letters. There is no way I would do any of that today. Crossing streets is more nerve wracking than what crossing crevasses in the Khumbu Icefall will be, (I am serious). The day I arrived, the schools had just been closed for four days due to unusually dangerous levels of air pollution. While the official air quality has since improved from “very unhealthy “ to just “unhealthy”, it gives me new reasons to be grateful for my stash of KN- 95 masks.

That all said, I have enjoyed these days in Kathmandu. The Nepali people remain invariably gracious and friendly. We are staying at the Yak and Yeti hotel, which is somewhat of institution. It is built around an old palace and has peaceful gardens in the back. I am shaking off jet lag and sleeping progressively better every night. Each morning at 6:30 sharp, I am woken up by the smell of delicious coffee brewing in the hotel restaurant. A great way to start the day. In the evening, I have enjoyed sipping a local beer in the hotel restaurant:

Over the last few days, our team of seven climbers has assembled, met with our guides, gone through exhaustive gear checks, obtained our climbing permit at the ministry, and attended to last minute details. The day we arrived, the Nepalese authorities changed the week long quarantine requirement so that we can now leave Kathmandu as soon as we clear a second Covid test. We have done that, and will fly to the village of Lukla tomorrow morning to begin our trek to basecamp.

The early Everest expeditions started their walk to base camp from Kathmandu itself. It took them several weeks to get to where they could even see the mountain. These days, a road can get you about a fifth of the way there. Most climbers and trekkers, however, fly into a small airstrip in Lukla. Construction of this airstrip was spearheaded by Sir Edmund Hillary in the 1960’s as a way to bring medical and commercial progress to the region. With steep canyon walls, a short runway carved out of the hillside, and variable mountain weather, landing there is legendary for its white knuckle moments. If you want to see more, just Google “landing in Lukla”.

The trek to Everest base camp is a classic. I am guessing many of you have either done it yourselves or know people who have. It goes through the heart of the Solu-Khumbu region, home to the Sherpa people, climbing up and down ridgelines while passing though mountain villages accessible only on foot. The higher you get, the more you are surrounded by breathtakingly beautiful mountain peaks. Jill and I did it in 1990, and I am really looking forward to doing it again.

In many ways, an Everest expedition is two distinct experiences: the trek to base camp, and then the actual climbing. With the trek rising from 8,500 feet to an elevation of 17,500 feet, it is important to break it into stages and take rest days along the way to ease into the altitude. We will do this over nine days. After reaching base camp , the tone will shift and the real climbing will begin, with our team spending six or more weeks working our way up the actual mountain. Plenty of time ahead to explain and describe all of that.

For now, I am focused on getting ready for the trek while enjoying hanging out at the Yak and Yeti. Yesterday, I had an experience that set our expedition off on a great foot. A friend who has close ties to a Buddhist monastery in Kathmandu had kindly arranged for the monks there to bless our expedition. Then the quarantine rules changed, shortening our time in Kathmandu and making it impossible for us to take advantage of this wonderful opportunity. I needed to get in touch with the monastery.

I have never spoken with an actual lama before, let alone calling one on a cell phone, but that is what I did. I got through after a couple of tries and Lama Lobsang answered. I explained our situation, apologized for the change in our schedule, and thanked him profusely. His gentleness and kindness was striking, even over the phone.

Toward the end of the day, the hotel desk called to tell me a package had arrived. When I picked it up, I found protection cords for each of our expedition members, blessed by the lama, with a handwritten note conveying the best wishes of Trinlay Tulku Ringpoche and the monks of the Sharminub monastery. Here is a photo of the cords:

So we are blessed, on so many dimensions, and head off to the Solo-Khumbu tomorrow. There are no roads up there, but a number of the villages have rudimentary WiFi. I should be able to post at least once from the trek.

Continued thanks for following along, and Namaste!