Month: May 2021

Reader alert: this is going to be a long post.

When we left basecamp over a week ago on our summit push, we were trying to thread a needle. For the past five days, the remnants of Cyclone Tauktae had pummeled the upper reaches of the mountain and made the summit inaccessible, keeping us waiting at base camp for things to clear. Meanwhile, unbelievably, a second cyclone, named Yaas, was forming in the Bay of Bengal and threatening to impact Everest as well, but it’s exact track and impact was not yet clear. So we headed up the mountain, hoping to pull off a summit attempt between the two storms.

THE ASCENT

On our first long day, we climbed the now familiar route through the icefall to Camp 1, then kept going up the Western Cym to Camp 2. The icefall had changed notably since the first time we climbed through it a month ago, with ice bridges having melted out, crevasses opened up, and sections of the route having been re-routed to accommodate collapsing ice towers and the ever moving jumble of ice.

We had planned to take a rest day at Camp 2 but, with an eye toward the ever changing weather forecast, we decided to keep moving and climbed the next day to Camp 3 at 23,500 feet. We had been there on our second rotation but this was our first time spending the night. It is in a spectacular location, carved out of a shelf half way up the Lhotse face. More than one person has slid to their death by not being super careful moving around unroped outside their tent. We were super careful.

Here is a photo taken at Camp 3 shortly after we arrived. Those are our red tents in the foreground.

The next day, we kept on pushing and climbed up to Camp 4 at 26,000 feet. While this was another extremely demanding day, it also was exhilarating. The route starts out with some steep ice climbing up the Lhotse face above Camp 3. Then it climbs more gradually across the face, over the so – called “yellow band”, and up to and over the “Geneva Spur”.

If you are a climber or student of Everest, these geological features have an almost mythical significance. They certainly do for me. A bit like features on the moon; in another world and previously viewed only in photographs. When anticipating this climb, I promised myself that, no matter how exhausted I was, when I got to these places I would pay attention and absorb the fact that I was actually traversing them. I was indeed exhausted, but I kept my promise. I was able to look around, internalize being there, and lock in the experience for my memories.

The yellow band, by the way, is a prominent rock layer that cuts across the entire south side of Everest. It marks the beginning of the so- called “death zone”, the altitude at which the human body, if it stays there for a prolonged period of time, starts deteriorating rapidly and losing functionality. Climbers try to spend as little time in the death zone as possible.

Here is a photo of Chase and Josh between Camps 3 and 4, angling up toward the yellow band and Geneva spur.

And here is another of the upper reaches of Everest, taken from the top of the Geneva spur. Our anticipated summit day route goes up the snowy “triangular face” on the bottom right, gains the right hand ridge about half way up, then follows the ridge line to the top of the world. The snow plume off the summit tells you it was windy up there.

This is a view of Everest that you don’t see a lot, unless you are thinking of climbing the southeast ridge, in which case you have studied photos of it with reverence. For me, gaining this vantage point in person was another “I can’t believe I am really here” experience.

To review the weather needle we were trying to thread: As we approached Camp 4, the remnants of cyclone Tauktae had cleared out three days previously, creating a brief window of clear weather. This created a summit opportunity for those teams that had moved up the mountain a week ahead of us and dug themselves into Camp 2 to wait out the storm. Meanwhile, the weather forecasts were united in the view that Cyclone Yaas was also heading toward Everest and would bring winds and snow to the mountain starting that afternoon. What the forecasts differed on was exactly how strong the winds and snowfall would be.

Considering these forecasts, and also factoring in how late in the season it was, many of the teams remaining on the mountain cancelled their expeditions. A few others decided to wait even longer at base camp to see if a final, extremely late weather window presented itself post Yaas. We decided to give it a shot on the front end of Yaas’s arrival.

Our weather forecaster was suggesting that, as Yaas arrived on May 25 and 26, the winds on the mountain, while significant, would be in ranges reasonable enough to permit a summit attempt. This is what we were betting on, and why we were rushing up the mountain to be at Camp 4, in position for a summit attempt on May 25 (departing the night of the 24th). This would also give us the option to defer our attempt to the 26th if needed.

All through the climb from base camp to Camp 4, I was feeling good relative to any reasonable expectation. My body was dealing with the altitude really well. I was working harder than I have ever worked on a mountain, and having to summon extreme will to put one foot in front of the other to keep moving upward, but I was feeling strong and right in the zone I wanted to be.

We pulled into Camp 4 the afternoon of May 24. Thomas and Tony, accompanied by Jangbu, had been moving more slowly than usual and arrived an hour after Josh, Chase, Ben, and me. Camp 4 , at 26,000 feet on the South Col of Everest, is often described as one of the most desolate places on earth. It lived up to its reputation. Given that we were the only team attempting this “between cyclones” weather window, there were only two other climbers up there, which made it feel even more remote. As we threw ourselves into our tents, the clouds and wind arrived exactly as forecast. The winds increased as the afternoon progressed, and that evening Ben decided to postpone our summit attempt to the 26th.

We spent the night of the 25th and all day on the 26th in our tents: breathing bottled oxygen, listening to the wind howl, and feeling the wind violently shake our tent walls. Mid afternoon, one of our climbing Sherpas, Pema, unzipped our tent door to fill our water bottles and give us fresh bottles of oxygen. It was amazing that he could be out in those conditions. “Pema, how is it going?”, I asked. “I’m worried. The winds aren’t dropping“, he answered. I rolled back into my sleeping bag and hoped for the best.

A couple of hours later, the tent walls began shaking a bit less violently and the howls of the wind were a bit milder. We were beginning to get the drop in winds we were hoping for. Early that evening, Ben came by each tent and announced that we would go for the summit that night. The winds would be strong but, assuming we were flawless in our protection against frostbite, we should have a good chance at the summit. It would be cloudy and perhaps snowing lightly, but that shouldn’t stop us.

Because we were basically alone up there, we didn’t have to worry about crowds slowing us down, and we had the flexibility to leave whenever we wanted. Ben said we would depart sometime between 2:00am and 6:00am. He would monitor the conditions and wake us up two hours before departure.

We were going to get our shot! I was elated. After so many years, I was in the position I had long dreamed of and tried to picture: in a tent on the South Col of Everest, hours from leaving for the summit. I was feeling good, was in a strong team, and in the company of the best guides and climbing Sherpas possible. And, amazingly, we would have the summit ridges to ourselves. I had no doubt I would get to the summit. Almost too good to be true. Here is a photo of me that evening about to climb into my sleeping bag, hours before “go time”:

I lay in my bag, alone with my thoughts, drifting in and out of light sleep. Around midnight, I realized that Ben hadn’t woken us up yet . The winds felt strong, but not overly so. I unzipped the tent door and noticed that snow had accumulated in our vestibule. Around 1:00am, I again realized that Ben hadn’t woken us up, and assumed that he had decided on the later 4:00am departure time. That meant we would be woken up in one hour, at 2:00am. I drifted back to sleep.

The next time I woke up, something felt weird. My internal clock sensed that a bunch of time had passed. I looked at my watch. It read 4:30 am. I unzipped our tent door and saw that our vestibule was filled with a massive snow drift. Outside the vestibule, it was snowing heavily. I shook my tent-mate Thomas awake, took off my oxygen mask so he could hear me, and said: “We’re not going!”

During the night, Ben and Jangbu had gotten out of their tent every hour to check on the conditions. The winds were in the zone we expected. The steadily increasing snowfall was not. Furthermore, it was dense, heavy snow that reduced visibility to almost zero and would make climbing exceedingly difficult. They realized they had no choice but to abort.

As day broke and it continued to snow heavily, Ben and Jangbu considered all options. They spoke with Lakpa Rita at base camp by radio and considered whether Sherpas could carry up more oxygen to allow us to wait at Camp 4 more days, for a possible last weather window after Yaas cleared out. However, the Sherpas were exhausted from weeks of carrying loads with reduced numbers, (due to accidents and illness). Even if they could get us more oxygen, a prolonged stay in the death zone would be dangerous. And what if the storm lasted more days than forecast, as Tauktae had just done, and they were unable to reach us with the extra oxygen? In that case, we would all join the ranks of statistics we had vowed not to join.

The answer was clear. We had no choice but to descend. And we had to do it immediately, in a snowstorm, before conditions got any worse. We began the multi hour process of getting ready. In a stroke of good fortune, the snowfall paused for a couple of hours, making our preparations easier. Here is a photo of us getting ready to leave Camp 4:

THE DESCENT

The descent turned out to be what you should expect, and then some, if you descend from 26,000 feet on Everest in the middle of a snowstorm.

Our initial goal was to get down to Camp 2, which meant descending the entire Lhotse face. As we left Camp 4, the snow and winds both picked up again, making walking difficult, even over the relatively level ground to the top of the Geneva Spur. We stopped at the top of the spur to wait for Thomas, who – accompanied by Jangbu- was moving more slowly than us. We waited, and waited, and waited.

What was going on? It usually takes less than 30 minutes to get from Camp 4 to where we were standing, and Thomas had started out with us. The wind and snow were whipping, and it was hard to stay warm when not moving. Finally, they appeared. Thomas was having difficulty picking his way over the rocky terrain in the snow. It was hard to believe how slowly he was moving. After more excruciating minutes, they joined us at the top of the spur.

From that spot, it is a short rappel, followed by some steep down climbing, to the bottom of the spur. I was kind of dreading it, as this would be the first tricky descending we would have to do in these conditions. Simple things, like clipping in and out of the fixed lines to move around anchor points, and braking yourself by wrapping the ice covered rope around your arms, would be far more difficult.

Ben led off. Josh, Chase, Tony, and I followed him over the top of the spur and down into the driving snow. Within 30 minutes, we were all safely at the bottom of the spur, where we stopped again to wait for Thomas and Jangbu, When we looked back up to check on their progress, we couldn’t believe what we saw.

Thomas and Jangbu were still near the top of the spur, with Thomas having extreme difficulty descending. When rappelling, his feet kept slipping out from under him, and he was having trouble moving around the anchor points. Jangbu was close behind him, assisting him with every step. We watched with concern, and also struggled personally to stay warm as we sat in the snowstorm, not moving.

Thomas reached less steep terrain and walked toward us. What shocked and horrified me was that he was still having trouble making forward progress. His knees kept buckling under him. This was the same strong climber and athlete who had been doing great the entire expedition. Meanwhile, we had been sitting in the snow at the bottom of the spur for over half an hour and were getting cold.

It was at this point that I had the realization: this is the way things can suddenly go very bad. There is a thin line between challenging climbing and a desperate situation, and we were close to it. We were at 25,500 feet, in the middle of a snowstorm, and the only people up there. There was no way we could get Thomas down unless he kept walking under his own power. He needed to keep walking. He knew it, Jangbu knew it, we all knew it.

Jangbu, as always, maintained total calm and an aura of quiet confidence, but he later told Thomas: “I was really worried for you. And I was worried for me. I would never leave you.”

In one of those seminal moments of our descent, Thomas dug deep and found the ability to get his legs moving again. Jangbu followed right behind him, supporting him with a short rope. We all proceeded down the Lhotse face, with Thomas and Jangbu falling increasingly far behind in the swirling snow, but definitely moving downward.

I turned my attention back to myself. I had to stay focused and not make any mistakes. Any time I came to an anchor point, I knew that if I failed to clip back into the fixed line properly and lost my footing, I would fall all the way down the face. Doing things properly was much more difficult in the driving snow and wind. Little things became extremely important, like making sure my goggles didn’t fog. Anyone who has hiked or skied in a blizzard can picture what I am talking about.

From our previous ascents between camps, I knew the sections I was most worried about: the steep drops and ice bulges where I would have to rappel extremely carefully. The first of those awaiting me was the yellow band. When I got there, Ben, Josh, and Chase had just finished descending it and were lost from sight in the snow. Tony was somewhere above and behind me, and Thomas and Jangbu even more so. It was one of those moments where you are all alone in a challenging situation, with no one watching or helping, and know you just have to execute. I concentrated intensely on clipping in and out of the maze of ropes dangling over the rock face, panting heavily from the physical effort. I reached the bottom of the yellow band and continued downward.

The next section that concerned me was the steep ice bulge just above Camp 3. Ben, Josh, and Chase were waiting for me there. We followed each other in rappelling down it and arrived at the cluster of tents. We were more than half way down to Camp 2!

We took what we initially intended to be a short break at Camp 3. Then Ben’s radio crackled. It was Jangbu, saying he needed some additional help and asking us to wait for him before descending further. One of our climbing Sherpas, Raj, had stopped using his glacier goggles and developed snow blindness. He couldn’t see more than a foot in front of him. In addition to helping Thomas, Jangbu was helping Raj, and it was more than he could handle on his own. So our planned brief stop at Camp 3 turned into an hour long wait.

The biggest challenge was staying warm. The winds had increased in strength and the gusts were blowing the snow sideways. After around 20 minutes, I could feel my core temperature declining and I was starting to shiver. So I dove into a nearby tent from another expedition, with my feet extending outside the door so my crampons didn’t rip the tent. It was mostly full of oxygen bottles and other expedition gear, but there was room for one person. It is amazing what a difference thin tent walls can make. Inside the tent, I was warm, and could relax while waiting for the others to arrive. Here is a photo I snapped of my view back out the tent door, with Chase and Ben staunchly continuing to wait outside:

Finally, the others arrived. I was amazed they had managed to descend the final ice wall without incident, and – credit to all three of them – they had. I got out of the tent so Thomas could get in to warm up and rest. I began to worry that he wouldn’t summon the will to emerge from the tent, but – in a second seminal moment of the descent- he did.

Then we all continued our descent toward Camp 2. Josh and Chase in the lead, then me and Tony, then Ben helping Raj with a short rope, then Jangbu doing the same with Thomas. The final challenge came at the bergschrund at the bottom of the Lhotse face, which required a lateral traverse across a narrow ice ledge, with a deep crevasse looming below. The driving snow had made the ledge even narrower than usual, and it was harder to get good purchase on it with your crampons. Also, the ice wall pushed you out away from it every time you took a step.

Josh, then Chase, then me, then Tony, all cautiously inched across it, breathing big sighs of relief when we got to the other side. Then we climbed down to where the slope eased off, and collectively looked up the face for signs of Ben, Raj, Jangbu and Thomas. They appeared first as pairs of small dots far up the face. We watched them climb down through the still driving snow to the bergschrund.

As we watched anxiously from below, both pairs slowly and carefully navigated the bergschrund, with Ben and Jangbu expertly setting up additional belay lines and providing directional guidance. Raj and Thomas inched along the ledge in turn without losing their footing. After they both got across, we knew we were in good shape. It was 45 minutes of straightforward downhill walking to Camp 2. We were safely down!

Except of course we weren’t fully down. We still had to descend the Western Cym, then down through the icefall one final time. The snow continued all night, and it was still snowing when we departed Camp 2 at 6:00 am the following morning. Instead of the usual easy downhill walk to Camp 1, we had to break trail through more than a foot of new snow. Even finding the trail was difficult; made more difficult by full whiteout conditions. With crevasses all around, and mindful that a Sherpa had fallen into one of them and died just a week ago, we had to pick our way very carefully. Ben and Jangbu did a masterful job of doing just that.

We took a break at Camp 1, then headed into the icefall, where the ice bridges were even more melted out than they had been on our ascent, the required rapells into some of the ice ravines longer, and the leaps across open crevasses more demanding. All of this was complicated by the continued snowfall, which obscured hazards and made it harder to get confident purchase with your crampons. The lower we got, the wetter the snow got. Despite having “anti- balling plates” on our crampons, the wet snow balled up under them anyway, creating inches of snow buildup that made us stumble and further eroded our ability to kick the crampon points into the ice.

Finally, we emerged out of the icefall; our sixth of six passages through it now completed. At this moment, I let myself begin to relax and thanked whoever was listening for granting us safe passage. From there, it was an easy 30 minute walk to base camp.

THE AFTERMATH

Yaas continued to pound Everest. It snowed steadily, at all levels of the mountain, for two more days. Base camp received over two feet of snow. We stayed holed up, unable to make desired connections with family and friends as the internet service was knocked out.

Several expeditions eying a post Yaas weather window have been pinned down at Camp 2. No one has been able to move up the mountain, and – increasingly- the teams at Camp 2 are uncomfortable moving down the mountain, due to avalanche risk from all the new snow. No one has summited since May 23, and it is unclear if there will be any more summits this season. This morning, we heard reports that a large avalanche down the Lhotse Face wiped out all of Camp 3, but I have yet to fully confirm this. Our guess and hope is that no one was in Camp 3 at the time due to the poor weather conditions.

This morning, the snow finally stopped. The clouds lifted, and we were able to helicopter to Kathmandu. After posting this through the hotel internet, I am about to have my first shower in a long while. Then I am going to start figuring out how to get home given that Kathmandu is in full Covid lockdown and the flights have been largely shut down. There has been some easing of this recently and I think things will work out somehow.

The past few days in base camp provided helpful time for reflection on our climb; on what we did and didn’t achieve. As I said would be the case before departing on our summit push, I really am at peace with the fact that we didn’t summit, and really do feel like I got 90 percent of the Everest experience I dreamed of. That said, the final 10 percent really hurts. We were so close, and so ready to climb the final 7-8 hours it would have taken us to reach the top of the world. Only now do I realize how much, deep inside, I was expecting to be standing up there.

I am proud of our team. We pushed right to the edge of prudent risk to set ourselves up with a shot at the summit; the only team to get up to the South Col between cyclones. When the risk became too much, we made the right decision and backed off. We then descended safely in very challenging conditions. We lived up to the quote by mountaineer Ed Viesturs that I have shared previously: “getting to the top is optional, getting down is mandatory”.

I am down, and really looking forward to coming home.

I think one final blog post, (much shorter than this one!), may make sense in the coming days. I can update you on how the final climbing days on the mountain played out, on some good team reflections after getting back to base camp, on our exodus today from base camp to Kathmandu, and a few other things.

Meanwhile, thanks for slogging through this.  Happy Memorial Day Weekend to all!

We are leaving tomorrow night on our summit push.
It has been over a week since we returned to base camp from our second rotation, and – as described in my last post- we have been waiting for an ideal weather window. Unfortunately, recent weather trends have complicated the summit window picture, but we will give it our best shot.

The original May 19-21 window that a number of teams had been targeting, (and that we were consciously sitting out), has gotten compressed and pushed a couple of days later by remnants of a cyclone that moved up from the Bay of Bengal. All the teams that headed up the mountain this past weekend in anticipation of that first window have been dug in at Camp 2 for the past five days riding out the bad weather. It looks like a brief, and somewhat windy, window will open around May 22, and we expect a number of the teams already up there to go for the summit then.

Meanwhile, the weather forecast for the last week of May, the period that we have been eying for our summit attempt, remains unclear. It looks like a second window may emerge around May 25-27. If it does, that will likely be our best shot. If it doesn’t, we may be out of luck. The situation is complicated by the fact that, if you can believe it, a second cyclone is now forming in the Bay of Bengal. Our weather forecaster believes this cyclone will track toward Bangladesh and not impact Everest, but some other forecasters aren’t so sure.

This may end up being another one of those years when the mountain offers up relatively few total summit days. It could end up being as few as three or four, with two having already happened earlier this month. Or, if the May 25-27 window comes through, it may end up being as many as six or seven.

Our main goal now is simply to get a shot at the summit before the season shuts down. We will head to Camp 2, establish ourselves there, and hope that we get a decent window for a summit attempt somewhere in the May 25-30 timeframe.

As a reminder, here is a map of our route and the various camps that appeared in an earlier post, courtesy of Alan Arnette and his website alanarnette.com:

We will leave basecamp at midnight and climb through the Icefall, past Camp 1, and up the Western Cym to Camp 2. This will likely take us 10-12 hours. At Camp 2, we will spend at least one full rest day, and potentially more depending on the weather outlook. We will then move to Camp 3 and spend the night, and the next day move up to Camp 4 at the South Col. At Camp 4 we will spend somewhere between six to thirty hours resting, (again, depending on the weather outlook). Assuming all systems are go, we will then head for the summit.

Of note, starting at Camp 3, we will be climbing and sleeping on bottled oxygen.

Assuming the weather allows us to launch a summit bid, we will likely leave Camp 4 sometime between 9:00pm -midnight and climb through the night, hoping to arrive at the summit early in the morning. We will then descend back to Camp 4, and spend the night there. The next day, we will descend to Camp 2, and then the following day descend back to basecamp.

Lots of moving parts depending on how the weather evolves, but that is the general plan. I think it is greater than 50 percent likely we end up getting some kind of shot at the summit, although it may not be in the ideal weather or crowd conditions we had been hoping for. Rest assured: we will only go for the summit if we feel the conditions on both dimensions are safe, (as safe as they can be up there).

For those of you who have been doing the math, this all suggests that we will return to basecamp, one way or the other, sometime between May 27-June 1.

SOME COMMUNICATION LOGISTICS

I will of course post an update when we return to basecamp.

Meanwhile, I will be carrying a small satellite tracking device that allows me to send short messages to my family. If and when we lock in on a summit attempt, Jill has graciously offered to email this readership list with an update on that timing.

If we do end up going for the summit, I will carry my satellite tracking device. For those of you who are up for it, (I don’t expect there to be many, but I know there are a few), you can track my progress real time on summit night/day at: https://share.garmin.com/SUO62

If you try to track me and the signal isn’t working, don’t worry. Batteries can easily freeze up there.

Also, for anyone interested in additional information while we are above base camp, our Expedition Leader, Ben Jones, will be posting brief updates via satellite, roughly daily, at: https://www.alpineascents.com/climbs/mount-everest/cybercasts/

On summit night/day, Ben will also radio periodic updates to Lakpa Rita down at basecamp , who will post them on this same link.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

Despite the somewhat challenging weather outlook, the team and I remain in high spirits. Being at the mercy of Mother Nature and the weather gods is a core component of mountaineering. Whether or not we ultimately get to the summit, we feel great about how we have approached climbing this mountain.

While I intensely hope things break our way and we get to stand on the top of the world, I will be at peace if this ends up not happening. My lifelong dream of climbing Everest has on many dimensions already been fulfilled, and will be fulfilled even more as we head up the mountain on our final rotation.

As described in an earlier post, I currently have around my neck: 1) the protection cord blessed by the monks of Sharminub monastery in Kathmandu, 2) the protection cord blessed by the lama of Pangboche, 3) the protection cord given to us by the mother and son at the tea house in Namche, and 4) my wedding ring.

Yesterday, Lakpa Rita walked into our dining tent and tied an additional protection cord around each of our necks. In his typical, understated manner, he didn’t go into a lot of detail on where they came from, but Ben later explained. Apparently, Lakpa’s wife organized, (and paid for), another puja ceremony for our expedition down in Namche. She was mindful that this has been a particularly challenging season, including the accident our Sherpas were involved in at the bottom of the Lhotse face, the portion of the icefall collapsing on Bob and Ang Nuru, and the ongoing complications of dealing with Covid. The protection cords were then carried up the valley to basecamp by a porter. So now I have an additional cord around my neck.

When we leave basecamp tomorrow night to head into the icefall, we will – as always when we are heading up the mountain- make a counter clockwise circuit around the puja alter in our camp that the Sherpas constructed, and throw handfuls of rice on it. Also, as always when anyone on our expedition heads up the mountain, our Sherpas will be burning juniper in the alter.

So we are blessed.

Off we go. Ever Upward!

p.s. I have promised Jill I will shave before I get home.

Greetings from base camp as we continue to wait for the optimal weather window to try for the summit. We are getting close. This post is a grab bag of various topics.

WAITING AT BASE CAMP FOR THE WEATHER WINDOW

As described in my last post, we are following a “go late” strategy, meaning we must not only wait for a weather window, but also – if possible- have the patience to sit tight and let other teams go for the summit ahead of us, hoping for an even later window more to ourselves.

As expected, it looks like the next good window will be roughy May 19-22. As it takes around six days for an acclimatized team to get from base camp to the summit, this means that a number of teams pulled out of base camp this weekend to head up the mountain and get in position for their summit bids. It is really hard to sit here and watch them go, particularly as there aren’t too many climbing days left in the season, but that is what the “go late” strategy is all about.

We are hoping/betting that, after the majority of teams who are left on the mountain take their summit shots around May 19-22, another window will open up before the end of the month. Most years it does. If it does again this year, we may end up realizing our dream scenario of having the upper mountain largely to ourselves. That is what we are waiting and hoping for.

It is hard to be patient in this situation, but base camp is a pleasant place to wait. During the day, when the sun is out, it is positively warm. Evening temperatures drop down to the low teens, but our sleeping bags are warm and our acclimatized bodies sleep soundly at 17,500 feet.

Here is a photo of our team during one of my favorite times of the day: sipping coffee outside the dining tent before breakfast, relishing the early morning sun on our faces and the mountain views. Ben and Lakpa are in the background.

Today, in the interest of staying physically sharp, we went on a hike across the Khumbu glacier to the other side of the valley. It was gorgeous, and going on a relaxed hike as opposed to gasping for air higher on the mountain made it particularly easy to look around and savor being in such beautiful surroundings.

Years ago, the original Everest expeditions had their Camp 1 location further up on this side of the valley, and we had fun playing “amateur archeologist”; looking for artifacts from the original expeditions that the glacier had carried down the valley. We were like little kids on a treasure hunt, and were delighted when we found several tent pegs, a bit of climbing rope, and a couple of sardine cans. Chase also found a circa 2010 Srixon golf ball, for which we have no historical explanation. Here is a photo of our ace archeological team in action:

In the coming days, we will stay committed to a mix of waiting patiently and going on hikes to stay sharp. If I had to guess, I’ll bet we head back up the mountain within the next three to four days, eyeing a summit attempt around May 25-27. It all depends on the weather, which we fervently hope breaks favorably for us. Stay tuned.

THE COVID SITUATION

Nepal continues to experience a really nasty Covid surge, connected to a horrible surge in neighboring India. With very low vaccination rates and limited healthcare infrastructure, I really feel for the country, especially the densely populated areas such as Kathmandu and its outlying villages.

Meanwhile, despite what the press would have you believe, the Covid situation at base camp and on the mountain feels very manageable. Not without challenges, but manageable. The reality is that each expedition has its own base camp area, entirely removed from the others. Once on the mountain, people move very independently, outdoors in the extreme, with various forms of climbing- related masks on their faces. The risk of Covid passing between members of different expeditions is effectively zero.

So the issue comes down to how well each individual expedition manages its Covid risk, (and how lucky/unlucky they are). In our small team of five climbers and two lead guides, with the best base camp manager in the business, (Lakpa Rita), things are very tightly managed. Effectively all of us western climbers are vaccinated, the climbing Sherpas are strongly encouraged to social distance and are tested frequently, and we operate as a totally independent pod, never mingling with other teams. We feel totally safe.

Some other teams have not been so fortunate, especially larger teams, with some of their climbing Sherpas and members testing positive and being evacuated/removed from base camp.

Some of you may also have seen some Everest-related announcements from the Chinese government. A week ago, they announced that they would install a barrier to prevent Nepal-side climbers from crossing to the China side of the roughly 20’ x 20’ shared summit and spreading Covid. Everything about this announcement was absurd, starting with the idea that such a barrier could be erected or enforced on a tiny mountain summit at 29,000 feet, and ending with the idea that small numbers of climbers wearing oxygen masks represent a health risk to each other. Then, several days ago, in an equally absurd announcement, China cancelled the one, (Chinese), expedition they were allowing on the north side of the mountain this year, citing the same concern for Covid exposure on the summit. Clearly, China is attempting to use Everest to promote a broader narrative of “Covid responsibility” to the world community. I wish they would resort to more fact-based methods.

To return to more practical Covid matters, and to summarize : I worry greatly about Covid’s impact on the broader Nepalese population, but worry very little about its impact on our team’s ability to climb the mountain safely. I do worry about its impact on our ability to get home after we get down, as all domestic and international flights in Nepal currently are shut down. But we will deal with that when we get there. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

ANSWERS TO SOME QUESTIONS YOU HAVE ASKED:

I apologize for not addressing many of the great questions some of you have asked, but here are answers to a few:

Trash on the mountain:

I honestly see very little trash or other degradation, with the overwhelming impression being a pristine, beautiful mountain environment. Base camp in particular has surprised me with how orderly and clean it is. Higher on the mountain, the biggest annoyance so far is occasional throat lozenge wrappers that Sherpa teams drop on the route. It is true that, in some places on on the upper mountain, human waste, after being carefully bagged, is thrown into deep crevasses, but this is a practice observed on a number of the world’s tallest mountains. It is also true that, when I am at Camp 4 at 26,300 feet, I expect I will see discarded oxygen bottles, frozen human feces, and more than one frozen dead body, but this doesn’t surprise me given the extreme nature of that environment and how challenging it is to function up there.

In summary, while the environmental challenges the press writes about are real and to be taken seriously, I am experiencing a very different – and much more positive – situation than the “Everest has been irrevocably trashed” narrative. This mountain feels to me like a wild, beautiful, awe inspiring environment, where nature rules.

Temperatures and wind speeds:

In the upper camps, temperatures drop well below zero at night. When (if) the sun hits, things warm up rapidly. On our climb from Camp 4 to the summit, we are expecting nighttime temperatures around -30 F, and daytime temperatures still well below zero.

Wind speeds when the jet stream is on the summit can range from 40 mph to 100 mph. When the jet is off the summit, climbers are hoping for winds below 30 mph. An ideal summit day might be 10 mph.

ICEFALL PICTURES FOR THE FUN OF IT

As discussed previously, every trip through the icefall is simultaneously nerve wracking and beautiful. It is a constantly shifting maze of huge ice blocks, ridges, ravines, and deep crevasses. In a number of places, ladders are stretched across crevasses and the trick is to walk across them without your crampons getting caught in a rung, and also without looking down into the crevasse and thinking too much.

Here is a photo Ben took of me on our descent through the icefall on our second rotation; traversing an ice bridge:

And here is another one of me crossing a ladder:

As mentioned previously, we will pass though the icefall a total of six times on this climb, (three up, three down). Four of those passages are already behind us. For me, regardless of what does or doesn’t happen on summit day, the climb won’t be over until I emerge out of the bottom of the icefall that sixth time.

WHAT I WILL CARRY TO THE SUMMIT

Here is a photo of what I will carry in the top of my backpack on our final climb , and what I hope to unfurl on the summit:

“Moor and Mountain” is the name of the camping and climbing equipment store my father owned when I was growing up; where I sat on the floor as a young child reading books about the epic climbing expeditions of the 1960’s and 70’s. The store closed almost 20 years ago, but a number of you have been there and remember it.

In 1992, when I climbed the West Rib of Denali with friends Matt, Colin, and Bob, Moor and Mountain was our go-to equipment supplier, and we carried a Moor and Mountain flag to the summit as thanks. Over the past several years, I have carried the flag to the summits of Ranier, Vinson in Antarctica, and Aconcagua.

The flag represents a number of things to me: the store’s enduring gift of a love of the outdoors, it’s role in inculcating the romance of mountaineering, and – in a different vein- the grace and nobility with which my father managed the enterprise through its various ups and downs over the years. Given how strongly our family was intertwined with Moor and Mountain, the flag also symbolizes my gratitude for the family that raised me, and my love for my father, mother, sister Cathy, and sister Hilary. Every time I have unfurled it on a mountain summit, I have gotten surprisingly emotional.

The photograph is of Jill, John, Holly, and Will, (and me), on Jill’s and my 25th wedding anniversary. It needs no explanation. These four individuals are the core of my universe. They make my every step on this planet meaningful, and they are with me every step of the way on this climb. I would like so much to carry their images to the top of the world.

Note: the photograph was expertly attached to the flag in my tent today, through deft wielding of a Swiss Army knife and dental floss.

THE IMMEDIATE FUTURE

We will keep our eyes on the weather forecast, stay patient, and hopefully head up the mountain within three or four days. I’ll post one more time before we leave, with final details.

Yesterday morning, we woke up at Camp 2 at 2:00am, tried to stay warm while eating a quick breakfast, then headed back down the mountain to complete our second rotation. As we headed down through the Western Cym to Camp 1, where we stopped for a quick break, the first rays of light hit the surrounding peaks. It was gorgeous. Then we had a smooth trip down through the icefall, encountering few other climbers, and arrived at base camp around 9:00am.

In this post: 1) more details on the second rotation, 2) some macro thoughts on the interplay between weather and “crowds” on Everest, and 3) how we will now approach our summit bid.

DETAILS ON OUR SECOND ROTATION

We pulled out of base camp six days ago at 2:00am and headed up the mountain, (as mentioned previously, in order to minimize avalanche danger we time our passages through the icefall to avoid direct sunlight.) It was a beautiful night and neat to be in the middle of the icefall as first light broke. Our team of five, led by Ben and Jangbu, moved smoothly and confidently.

Having already been through the icefall a couple of times made us quicker in the tricky technical sections, and the fact that we are better acclimatized let us move at a faster pace. We also didn’t experience major bottlenecks in the tight sections as we did in our first rotation. We arrived at Camp 1 around 8:00am, just as direct sunlight started hitting the tents and warming things up.

I can’t resist sharing one vignette. About half way through the icefall we caught up to the team comprised of the Prince of Bahrain and members of his Royal Guard, about 18 in total. They have garnered a lot of press with their high level “diplomacy”, which allowed them to climb another major Himalayan peak, Manaslu, this past fall when most people were having trouble getting climbing permits. Their various dealings also secured them preferred access to an Everest summit bid ahead of most all the other teams currently on the mountain.

As we caught up to Team Bahrain, we could see that they were moving slowly. They also weren’t that strong in the technical sections, and showed no inclination to move aside and let us pass. Passing people almost anywhere on the mountain is tough, as you have to exert a bunch of extra energy and execute some delicate moves to get around them on the fixed ropes. Ben maintained a steady pace and, one by one, our group passed the Bahrain climbers until we were ahead of all of them. They eventually pulled into Camp 1 an hour and a half after we did.

I am shamelessly beating my/our chest. But it speaks to the strength of team relative to many others currently on the mountain, and our ability to move quickly and nimbly. If the Prince and his Royal Guard team can summit, (which they just did yesterday, as we were descending to base camp), then we should be able to as well if we get the right conditions and luck on our side.

Anyway, we spent the night at Camp 1, then moved the next day up the Western Cym to Camp 2, as we did on our first rotation. It really is beautiful up there, although- despite all the pictures making the Cym look level – it is a decidedly uphill haul. Here is a photo of us taking a break in the middle of the Cym. Camp 2 is up at the end of the valley. The Lhotse face is the big wall of snow middle right, and the summit ridge of Everest is rising up to the left.

After two nights at Camp 2, we took on our major objective of the rotation: climbing half way up the Lhotse face to “touch” Camp 3 at 23,500 feet. This was a challenge and thrill on multiple dimensions. First, that altitude is higher than anyone on our team had climbed before, so we were setting new personal milestones, (note: we are still climbing without oxygen). Second, the Lhotse face is legendary; a 4,000 foot wall of 45 degree snow and ice, with ice bulges of 60-70 degrees. You clip into a fixed line with your ascender, (basically a claw device you slide up the rope, that won’t let you slide backwards), and you grind away one breathless step at a time.

Here is a photo I took looking straight up as I followed Ben up the face:

And here is another photo of Thomas and Josh emerging over the top of an ice bulge, just below Camp 3. If you zoom in you can see the tents of Camp 2 down in the dark rocky moraine on the right side of the Cym. Camp 1 is located way down at the bottom of the Cym, just before the icefall drops steeply out of sight down to the Khumbu valley floor.

As I did on the whole second rotation, I felt strong. Definitely working hard and gasping for air in the tough sections, but feeling less maxed out than I did on the first rotation. A lot of this is due to being better acclimatized,(the rotation process is working!), and also perhaps to having put my stomach bug behind me. Overall, the whole rotation was more pleasant and satisfying, and more akin to what I have enjoyed on other mountains. That said, the “pain to immediate pleasure” ratio on Everest remains uniquely skewed.

We sat up at Camp 3 for a while enjoying the views, then rapelled back down the Lhotse face, over the bergschrund, and walked the rest of the way back to Camp 2. After a short night there, we were up at 2am, as previously described, to return here to basecamp.

Here is a photo of Chase in the icefall on our descent, rappelling down into one of the “ice ravines” while two ascending climbers navigate some ladders in parallel. This was one of the few places we encountered other climbers during our return to basecamp.

So we are safely back at basecamp, having completed two of our three rotations, and four of the six trips we will ultimately make through the icefall. We now have our sights set on the summit, and it all comes down to the weather.

OF WEATHER AND CROWDS

A lot has been written about crowds on Everest. A photo taken in 2019, which went viral, of a long line of climbers on the summit ridge, has further convinced much of the world that “traffic jams” are commonplace. The reality is a bit more nuanced, and an understanding of the macro weather patterns on the mountain may be helpful.

The summit of Everest, at a bit over 29,000 feet, sticks up into the jet stream. For much of the year, the jet blows directly across it and winds of 100mph and above make the summit unapproachable. Then, every year in May, like clockwork, the approaching Indian monsoon nudges the jet stream off of Everest’s summit and the winds drop. This is why May is when the vast majority of Everest summit attempts occur.

Actually, the jet “wobbles” off and on the summit during the month of May. The days it is off are “summit days”; when climbing to the summit of the mountain can be attempted. These are referred to as “weather windows”. In an average season, there are roughly eight such days. In some years there are more: as many as twelve. In other years, there are way less. In the years that there are way less, all the climbers on the mountain are forced to try for the summit on the same few available days.

This is what happened in 2019; a year in which there were two summit days early in the month, then a very tight window of only three more summit days later in the month. The vast majority of climbers on the mountain all attempted the summit in the same compressed three day window. Sitting at home watching the weather forecasts, you could see what was about to happen. It was like a train wreck in slow motion.

Even so, 2019 wasn’t nearly as bad as the viral photo suggests. That photo was taken on the first of the three days, when the most climbers went for the summit, and also at the peak time: the couple of hours out of the entire day when the summit ridge was most jammed. I know climbers personally who summited on all three of the days in the 2019 weather window. Their experience, while not ideal, was largely nothing like the photo suggests.

That said, getting caught in a climber traffic jam high on Everest remains a real concern, especially as the summit ridge is a knife edge with extremely limited room to pass. While the number of climbers on Everest remains less than half the number who attempt Denali every year, and a minute fraction of those who climb mountains like Mont Blanc, the numbers have been growing notably. More alarmingly, many of the newer additions are weaker climbers, accompanied by weaker guides, who lack the awareness and ability to turn their clients around when called for.

Alarmed by what happened in 2019, I spoke with multiple people who were on the mountain that year, and extensively researched ways I could potentially avoid getting caught in such a situation. I concluded several things. First, your biggest friend is catching a good weather year; with an average or greater than average number of potential summit days. That alone goes a long ways toward reducing the risk.

Beyond catching a good weather year, there are a couple of other potential strategies for reducing crowd risk. One is to “go early “: arrive as early as possible on the mountain, start your rotations ahead of the bulk of climbers, potentially compress the number of rotations and sacrifice some acclimatization, and go for the summit on the first available summit days before most other teams are ready. A second strategy is to “go late”: patiently wait while other teams attempt the summit, and hope that you catch a weather window late in the month when most people are down off the mountain. This strategy doesn’t always work, as some years the late weather window fails to materialize, but in some years it works very well.

Our Expedition Leader, Ben Jones, is a committed believer in the “go late” strategy. This was a major component of my decision to climb with him. As mentioned, in some years it doesn’t work, but in many years it has worked very well. In 2018, for example, Ben and his team summited Everest on a late May day with only one other small team on the upper mountain. They had the entire summit ridge and summit to themselves. This would be my dream scenario.

OUR SUMMIT BID

We are now fully acclimatized. After a couple of days of rest, we will be ready to head for the summit as soon as an attractive weather window presents itself. From the moment we leave base camp and start heading up, it should take us around five days to reach the summit.

It is too early to tell what kind of weather year this is. An initial two day weather window just occurred, while we were completing our second rotation, and a number of teams just summited. The weather forecast calls for the jet stream to move back onto the summit starting today, creating heavy winds through at least May 18 and more likely May 20. While forecasts can change, it is likely that no one will summit until then. The big question is what happens after May 20. Will we get a compressed weather window with only one or two summit days, or – hopefully – a wider weather window and multiple potential summit days?

In any case, the monsoon will arrive as usual right at the end of May, bringing heavy snow to the mountain and abruptly shutting down the climbing season. Whatever happens has to happen by the end of the month. It is clear that, the moment a weather window opens, a rush of teams will leave base camp heading for the summit. Our “be patient/go late” strategy will dictate that, if possible, we calmly sit back and watch them go, targeting a later summit window if the forecast suggests that one may exist. We are prepared to wait if necessary right up to the last possible day to summit, which would be one of the last days of May or even June 1. Hopefully we get to try for the summit earlier than that, perhaps something in the May 22 – May 26 timeframe. We will soon see. At this point, it is all up to the weather gods.

In some ways, the next week or so may be the most mentally challenging period of the expedition. We have done all our prep and are ready to go. We know we are stronger than a number of teams that have already summited. Now we have to wait, be patient, and hope that the weather gods are on our side.

A final vignette, (again, I can’t resist). As I sat in our dining tent today writing this, a series of helicopters flew sorties up above the icefall, disappeared from sight, and then eventually returned to base camp. At first we didn’t know what was happening, then we learned. Apparently the Bahrain Prince and his Royal Guard team, having summited yesterday and returned to Camp 2, decided that they weren’t up for descending from there under their own power. So they summoned – and paid for – helicopters, typically reserved for rescues or drops of crucial supplies, and took the quick way down. Until very recently, any helicopter landing above the icefall was viewed as heroic and highly risky. It remains very challenging, but the performance of the choppers and skills of the pilots have evolved dramatically. Still, this was highly unusual.

With apologies for closing on a snarky note, if you find yourself in Bahrain in the coming days and encounter any victory parades, know that at least one humble Everest 2021 climber views the summit being celebrated as having a major asterisk next to it.

On a more uplifting topic, heartfelt thanks for your continued encouragement and support. I know I am repeating myself, but it really, really makes a difference. I am eternally grateful, to each and every one of you.

Ever upward!

After three days of R&R at basecamp, we leave early tomorrow morning on our second rotation. We will climb through the icefall to Camp 1, spent the night, climb through the Western Cym to Camp 2, spend a night and day, then climb up the Lhotse face to Camp 3. We will “touch” Camp 3, (ie not spend the night), return back down the Lhotse face to Camp 2, spend the night there, then return to base camp the following day.

If all stays on schedule, we will be back in base camp on May 11. The next time we head up the mountain, we will be heading for the summit.

The past three days have been restorative. It is remarkable how thick the air can feel at 17,500 feet. Our appetites are back, and we savor moments of pure relaxation, like sipping a cup of coffee in the warm dining tent, or lying in our personal tents reading a book or listening to music. As an added bonus, the three day snow storm that was initially forecast morphed into three days of snow showers, clouds, and occasional breaks of sun.

During these days, I have been thinking a lot about the concept of intermediate goals. Jessie Diggins, one of the top cross country ski racers in the world, has described how she is able to maintain her brutally demanding pace up the long, steep uphills of the World Cup circuit. She picks out an intermediate target, like a tree or a trail sign ahead, and knows she can maintain her pace at least to that point. Then, when she gets there, she picks a new target and re-focuses her energy on maintaining her pace to there. And so on.

This concept is hugely relevant on Everest, where a big part of the battle is maintaining energy and focus over a multi-month period. As an example, virtually all of my attention right now is channeled on simply completing the second rotation.

The highest elevation I have ever been at is the summit of Aconcagua at 22,800 feet. Camp 3 on Everest is at 23,500 feet, and to get there I will have to ascend over 1,000 feet of steep climbing up the Lhotse face. I am thinking of the next five days as a “climb within a climb”, a mini expedition to 23,500 feet and back. That’s all that matters at the moment. When I get back to base camp, I will re-set and start focusing on the summit. Not surprisingly, when we discussed the upcoming rotation over dinner last night, all five team members were thinking about it in virtually identical terms.

Speaking of our team, a neat thing has happened over the past several days. An already strong team is getting stronger. Part of this is the five of us assessing our recently re-set team configuration and liking what we have. With no offense to Mark and Bob, experienced climbers who we all like and respect, our remaining group is more similar in strength and very well suited to move up the mountain together as a tight unit.

Ben and Jangbu confirm this, and Ben in particular is sparing with direct praise and is brutally honest, sometimes to the point of individual discomfort. Both say that we five are an extremely strong climbing team. To that, I would add – as I have noted previously- that in Ben, Jangbu, and Lakpa Rita, we are led by as strong a guide/leadership team as exists on the mountain.

Another powerful team dynamic is also at play. Having been together for over a month, and having just completed the first rotation, people are letting down some of their “invisible shields”. We are opening up about things we have been quietly anxious about, and realizing that we no longer need to prove our individual strength to each other. Also, we are increasingly defining collective rather than individual success as our overarching goal, something easier said than done in this environment.

Commercial Everest expeditions are full of exceptionally goal oriented individuals with alpha profiles, who frequently haven’t even met each other before showing up in Kathmandu. There are lots of reasons why these expeditions can have strained team dynamics, sometimes to the point of completely lacking a team ethos. Our team is moving in the opposite direction, which is wonderful. It is also a source of real strength.

In addition to being a great mountaineering guide, Ben is also a gifted photographer. Yesterday, he took advantage of the cloudy conditions and created an ad hoc photo studio in our dining tent. I thought you might like to see the individual team member photos he took. (NOTE: for those of you who haven’t committed every word of my writing to memory, you will find in my April 23 post, “Into the icefall “, a short description of each team member: https://tdfrenchgapyear.com/into-the-icefall/ )

OUR TEAM

Ben Jones (Expedition Leader and Guide):

Jangbu Sherpa (Guide):

Lakpa Rita Sherpa ( Expedition Sirdar):

Josh:

Tony:

Chase:

Thomas:

Yours Truly:

ONWARD AND UPWARD

Tomorrow in the early morning hours, we will switch on our headlamps and head back into the icefall. I will check in upon our return to basecamp, around May 11.

Namaste to all!

A lot has happened since we headed into the icefall nine days ago to start our first rotation.

The day before we headed up the mountain, we got two pieces of bad news. First, one of our climbing Sherpas had Covid symptoms and was evacuated to Kathmandu, where he tested positive. Meanwhile, up on the mountain at the base of the Lhotse face, part of the climbing route over the so-called “bergschrund”, where the glacier meets the steep mountain face, collapsed on two of our Sherpas who were carrying loads to Camp 3. Both were evacuated by helicopter to base camp, where one was diagnosed with injuries severe enough that he won’t be able to climb for the remainder of the season.

Fortunately, all of the individuals involved are recovering well. One of the Sherpas involved in the bergschrund accident is already back climbing, and the Sherpa with Covid may be able to return to the expedition at base camp after recovering fully and testing negative.

The broader concern is whether Covid spreads in our Sherpa ranks. Contrary to recent media coverage, base camp does not feel like a super spreader event. Each expedition inhabits its own separate camp, and the expeditions – especially this year- are operating very independently. Within our expedition, effectively all the “members” are vaccinated. While the Sherpas are not, they are largely maintaining social distance and are tested regularly. But our base camp is close quarters, and the Covid risk was very much on our minds as we headed up on our rotation.

So, at 4:00am nine days ago, we pulled on our packs and climbing harnesses, switched on our headlamps, and headed into the icefall. It is quite a sight to see a string of headlamps heading off into the darkness, picking their way around the big blocks of ice on the glacier at the icefall entrance.

Twenty minutes into it, as we approached the place where the serious climbing begins, Mark fell while climbing down the backside of a seemingly innocuous ice block. He was in pain and unable to stand on his ankle. Jangbu marshaled some help getting him back to base camp while the rest of us clipped into the fixed lines and continued climbing. By the time we arrived at Camp 1 that afternoon, Mark had been diagnosed with a broken ankle, helicoptered to Kathmandu, and was arranging his flight back to the U.S.

The icefall route this year is different than usual, with the upper part of it swerving more to the middle of the glacier. The good news: this takes it further away from the western shoulder, where many of the serious avalanches come from. The bad news: in order to accomplish this, the route climbs down into and then back out of numerous large crevasses and “ice valleys”. This is technically tricky at times, and some of the climbing back out is steep and physically very demanding. On the further bad news front, these spots create bottlenecks where, if multiple climbers are navigating their way up or down, you have to wait your turn.

We had carefully timed our passage through the icefall to avoid potential delays, but ended up experiencing them anyway. Here is a photo of our team waiting for a group of climbers ahead of us to move up and out of one of the “ice valleys”:

We hit several of these bottlenecks. In total, they turned what would have been a six or seven hour climb into a nine hour climb. Frustrating to all of us, including our guides, who have never experienced these kinds of delays before. We are determined to figure out a way to not experience them again.

NOTE: While it is tempting to view this as another piece in the “crowds on Everest”  narrative, crowds really weren’t the driver here. Far more the unique nature of this season’s icefall route. I promise to share my views on crowds in a future post: what is real, what is press hype, what is unique about this season, what I think the real risks are, and how we hope to address to them.

On a happier note, once we got above the icefall everything cleared out. While we didn’t have the mountain to ourselves, it kind of felt that way. Here is a photo of our tents at Camp 1, early the morning after our arrival, with the sun hitting the summit of Pumori across the valley.

Camp 1 sits at 19,500 feet and we spent three nights there acclimatizing. The first two days, we climbed half way up to Camp 2 and back. Lots of crevasses to climb around, several deep ice ravines to climb into and out of, and gorgeous views of the Western Cym in both directions. Looking up the valley, we could see the location of Camp 2, the steep Lhotse face that we will eventually climb to camps 3 and 4, and the summit ridge of Everest rising up to the left. As mentioned previously, I have spent my life picturing what it would be like to walk up the Western Cym. Like so many aspects of this climb, it was a thrill to be actually doing it.

What surprised me about the climb through both the icefall and the Western Cym was how physically demanding it all was. The altitude really knocks it out of you, and the physical exertion required is very high. I realize in retrospect that I was expecting, at least on the lower part of Everest, something more like other mountains I have climbed. On those, I put it in low gear, kept on chugging, and felt pretty darn good much of the time, except for summit days and various tough segments. On this my first Everest rotation, I was pushing myself to the max far more than expected. While I was holding my own in the context of our group, and our group was generally moving faster than others we encountered, the “pain to pleasure” ratio was far higher than expected. Put simply, it was really hard work most of the time. None of this changes my satisfaction in being here, but it brings some humility in having underestimated this mountain, at least it’s lower flanks.

One thing that played out as expected was dealing with the cold. Mount Vinson in Antarctica was particularly good preparation in this regard. By day when the sun is out, it is relatively warm and pleasant. At mid day, with the sun beating down on an amphitheater of snow and ice, it can be positively hot at times. But the minute the sun goes behind the peaks, the temperature starts dropping. Nighttime temperatures at camps 1 and 2 were well below zero F. Your best friend is your down suit, which you climb into the minute the sun disappears. Here is a photo of me at Camp 1 doing exactly that.

The mask on my face, by the way, is to keep the cold, dry air from worsening the “Khumbu cough” that we all have inevitably developed. We wear variants of the mask, or “buffs” pulled up over our mouths and noses, pretty much constantly. When you crawl into your sleeping bag at night, the sound of constant coughing among the tents sounds a bit like a sick ward.

After three days at Camp 1, we moved up the Western Cym to Camp 2 at 21,300 feet, where we also spent three nights. Most people are pretty miserable up there initially, experiencing altitude- related symptoms such as headaches, nausea, loss of appetite, and difficulty sleeping. On this dimension, things continue to go unbelievably well for me. I felt generally good and slept like a baby. (My time will surely come higher up.)

On the less unbelievably good front, gastrointestinal issues are common among Everest climbers, and I suffered from a mean stomach bug during much of the rotation. Picture lying in your sleeping bag and tent in the middle of the night at 21,000 feet, the temperature -15 F outside, trying to convince yourself you can hold off on the churning in your bowels until morning, then realizing you can’t. Fast eject out of your bag, pull on warm clothes and boots, (panting heavily due to the altitude), unzip the tent, and sprint for the nearest level spot where you can crouch out of the wind. Your target is a grey plastic “wag bag” placed in the snow. Return to tent, then repeat the entire process two hours later. No fun. (Update: now back at base camp, I have nuked my system with antibiotics and the situation should be under control in time for our second rotation.)

Our last full day at Camp 2, we climbed up to the base of the Lhotse face, at 22,200 feet. It was spectacular, and we had a clear view of the route we will soon climb up to Camp 3 and beyond. Here is a photo from that day. The big crevasse cutting across the bottom of the face is the bergschrund where the accident with our two Sherpas occurred. If you zoom way in, you should be able to see the route and some climbers heading up toward Camp 3 on the right side of the face:

Bob had been moving very slowly over the past few days and was having significant trouble with the altitude. He, along with the Sherpa Ang Nuru who had been climbing with him, turned around before reaching the Lhotse face and headed back to Camp 2. Bob had pretty much decided to abandon the climb, and planned to descend to base camp with us and then head home.

The next morning, we got up at 2:00am and headed back down the Western Cym, past Camp 1 to the top of the icefall, and down through the icefall to base camp. There were very few climbers and no bottlenecks in the icefall and we made very good time. Bob, along with Ang Nuru, followed about an hour behind. Jangbu was roughly half way between us and them.

When we were less than an hour from base camp, Ben’s radio crackled. It was Jangbu, reporting trouble above him in the icefall. A section of the route that traversed a large ice ridge had collapsed exactly as Bob and Ang Nuru were walking across it. They both fell over twenty feet and were pinned under ice that fell on top of them. Fortunately, and somewhat miraculously, neither was seriously injured. Jangbu got to the scene, rappelled down, and started working to free them. Some Sherpas from another team jumped in to help, and they were able to move the two to a small flat area, where a helicopter was, amazingly, able to touch down and pick them up. While all this was going on, Ben was climbing back up the icefall to help, and the remaining five of us were sitting on a flat spot in the middle of the lower icefall, watching the helicopter circle and hoping for the best.

Amazingly close call. It could have been a lot worse. Bob and Ang Nuru were helicoptered to Kathmandu, checked out, and found to be generally ok. Bob, hopefully, caught a flight home last night, (more on that in a minute), and Ang Nuru – whose injuries were somewhat more serious than Bob’s- will recover in Kathmandu for a few days.

The rest of us continued down the last section of the icefall, unclipped from the fixed lines, and walked back across the glacier to base camp. Lakpa Rita was waiting to welcome us. I asked him: “how are you doing Lakpa?”. “Tough season so far”, he replied.

Three accidents involving two climbers and three Sherpas, all in the space of nine days, is highly unusual. Add to that the challenge of managing growing Covid counts at base camp and you have a tough start to the season indeed. Meanwhile, the macro context adds further complexity. Nepal is experiencing a Covid surge, driven by a major surge in neighboring India. In response, Nepal reinstated a city-wide lockdown in Kathmandu, and imposed a halt on all domestic and international flights starting at 6:00pm last night. (We are really hoping Bob made it out before then). While none of this impacts us at the moment, it raises the question of what situation we will be dealing with in a few weeks after we, (hopefully), summit and return from the mountain. We will deal with that when we get there.

So now we are five climbers: Josh, Chase, Tony, Thomas, and yours truly. While we miss Mark and Bob, this situation doesn’t surprise me. It was apparent from the start that the two of them, despite their experience and determination, were going to struggle higher on the mountain. The five of us who remain are well matched, climb well together, and all have legitimate shots at the summit. Thomas and I are clearly the “tenured” members of the group but, if any 61 years olds can do it, I think it is the two of us. At dinner last night, the group jokingly proposed that we co- author a book: “Old Men Climb Big Mountain “.

Despite all the various uncertainties, our spirits remain high. It is great to be back at base camp to rest up and recharge for a few days. Our second rotation plan is to leave around May 7, climb back up to Camps 1 and 2, (spending less time at each than the first rotation), then climb to Camp 3 at 23,500 feet, then descend back to base camp. Then we start looking for a weather window to go for the summit.

That said, the current weather forecast calls for three days of heavy snow starting in a few hours. That may delay our departure a bit. It also almost certainly will shut down the tenuous internet here at base camp, so I am going to rush and try to post this right now while I (hopefully) can.

Continued thanks for all of your support and encouragement. It means more than you can know, really helps, and is appreciated deeply!