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!
Quite an update…we are all still with you…keep your focus and go with God… -ghc-
So glad to learn all injured team members will be OK. Trey and I are wishing health and success for all of you together on this journey.
🙏🙏🙏
Tom, what a gripping update. It’s beyond engaging and exciting to be following along on your amazing quest! You are in my prayers for continued safety and success. I believe that age, experience and excellent judgment in all things will be serving you well over the next weeks. My acronym for your potential book: BAOMCBM
Tom-I am captivated reading your blog. We both just read higher love by kit deslaurier and your narrative of the Everest experience is strikingly similar. Despite all the accidents and difficulties you continue to sound positive and hopeful. Please stay well and safe. Soo and Sam B
Really enjoying following your adventure! After you last post I opened up a weather page to see an article titled “Covid hits Everest basecamp.” I thought “old news, read it 5 minutes ago!” 😉
I’m currently reading True North by Elliott Merrick. If you don’t know it it’s a great book about his adventures in Labrador in the 1930s, and feels relevant to your adventure.
You Can Do This!!!!
Loving this journey. A gripping tale with so much more to come. Inspiring stuff
O! M! G!
Thank you so much for this detailed entry. It’s an amazing story so far, and a bit frightening. So glad the stories have happy endings. GREAT photos.
This isn’t Tuckerman’s!
All my prayers for a continued safe journey my friend.
It’s starting to sound a bit dicey up there.
You got this cousin!
Agreed!!
Heart-pounding account! Are you really wearing an EMBK hat? From Mt Weston to Mr. Everest! Keeping you in my thoughts.
Jimmy
Holy S—T! Sending love, Cousin A
Tom.
It’s like being there, (without the nausea, headaches, Khumbu cough, fridgid temperatures, etc.), reading your amazing descriptions of each step of your path to submitting Everest. We’ll continue to send positive karma and prayers that the challenges are attainable and all stay safe. Thank you for taking time to share your amazing journey.
Absolutely riveting update Tom French! Sorry about some of your team falling out but glad to hear you are keeping your chin up. Keep your wits about you – we are thinking of and praying for you every single day. Much love!
Wow! I loved reading this update. This is an amazing life-changing adventure. I’m in awe of your drive to do this! Keep safe and enjoy every moment. Best, Elaine
Oh man! So incredible and your writing takes me there with you. But sounds like you have the team you REALLY need right there by your side. Good luck and be well!
Thank you. It is riveting and I am struck by the visualization you are doing as all really elite athletes do. It is also surprising that Covid might spread when just to be comfortable you are all wearing masks.
I always get gut problems at altitude without bugs possibly because I try to hydrate so I won’t get a headache:)
I am just so excited to read this blog, and just including the word “ascents” has me jumping up and down. Loving all of it!
Best wishes for the next rotation Tom!
Wow French!
And how comforting to have Lapka Rita greeting you at base camp!
Oh and that Goethe quote you like – dude you are living it ….
“WHATEVER YOU CAN DO, OR DREAM YOU CAN, BEGIN IT. BOLDNESS HAS GENIUS, POWER, AND MAGIC IN IT”
Rest up and continued good fortune to you and your team!
Namaste! ✌️
What a great first email of the morning.
Can’t wait to read the book.
I am not sure how you find the time and energy to write the blog–you will give, say, Paul Theroux a run for his money.
Take care and have fun.
Tom, I’ve come to enjoy reading these comments after reading and rereading your incredible Everest posts. I hope someday we can all be in the same room with you greeting each other as supportive friends and listening rapt while you present the story to us in person. You will make this dream
Come true!
Tom, simply amazing. Thanks for the continued great story telling and for bringing us along with you…it really does feel like we are there too. Anxiously awaiting the next chapter and wishing you Godspeed on the next rotation!
Wow! Epic endurance! Thanks for your gripping account and the mind-blowing photos. Sending positive energy your way for the next leg of your journey. Stay safe!
Thank you for the amazing update. May you all stay safe going forward.
Wow. Read this last night and could barely sleep, thinking about you and your team. Wonderful, exciting, amazing, traumatic ordeal – and you’re living and telling it beautifully. Abby and I are keeping you in our thoughts and prayers – and waiting anxiously for next report!
Here’s hoping that more acclimatizing makes the tough haul more bearable as you spend more time up there. The whole thing is very real for us readers now. That’s a testament to our friendship and your wonderful writing. It’s amazing to think you can drop down to 18,000 feet and get rejuvenated. Be well Tom!
“Coach Kellogg” is with you all the way, cheering you on, and engrossed in reading all the details as you experience them. This is the big one you have been preparing for and I know you will give it your all and make the right decisions too. Wishing you the very best. Onward and upward!!
Frenchie- lots of drama and cold for a rainy 50 degree Tuesday May morning here in Boston. Encouraging to hear moral is good for your team of five. Your persistence, positive mindset and storytelling through the accidents, cold, altitude and stomach bug and COVID situation is inspiring. Take good care.
Tom,
Sending strength and love! Thank you for the gripping updates! I’m feeling both amazed and terrified– a testament to your beautiful descriptive language of the challenges you and the group are facing. I am so inspired by your strength and the ways you are all working together to care for each other. Your book will be amazing — and likely a metaphor of the journey of life. Please take care of yourself! Can’t wait to see you when you return and hear even more details! Lisa
Thanks for sharing your amazing journey, insights and pics with all of us. Your MANY friends and admirers back at lower elevations are rooting for your continued strength and safety. Think of you often and hoping for only good karma for you and your team in the critical days ahead. Be well THawk!!! You got this!!
You continue to amaze, TF! Both your story telling skills and the feats you are accomplishing are incredible. Just this morning I read this article about Everest – 100 years! You are the Centurion Man!
https://www.espn.com/espn/story/_/id/31359749/layering-gummy-bears-5g-learned-100-years-mount-everest
Keep up the amazing attitude and fortitude!
Namaste.
-HTR
Tom,
Thanks for another terrific update and beautiful photos. Sorry to hear about Mark and Bob’s tough luck, but glad to learn that they made the wise decision. As your posts have clearly illustrated, no matter how carefully and conscientiously you prepare, so much depends upon issues beyond anyone’s control. Had I only known at the time that you’d be heading up through the Khumbu Icefall at 4:00 am, I would have scheduled the Mt. St. Anne. pre-breakfast runs for 5:00 am rather than 6:00. Wishing you good weather, minimal traffic and an “iron gut.”
Morty
Tom, I read your blog last night and then couldn’t get to sleep! Told Dick not to read it until the morning. It is riveting, adrenaline producing, inspiring, and we are in awe.
Best luck to you and all your group. You will be lucky because you are so well prepared for this adventure.
Millie and Dick
Tenacity, redefined! Stay safe, and please keep the remarkable updates coming. We’re all cheering for “the old men on the mountain”!! 😉
Hi Tom,
Sally and I are on the edge of our seats reading your incredible blog! Amazing and terrifying, as others have said… So great you are following the dream you have had since you started climbing.
You are a true Ironman!
Sending all our love and support for a safe and successful climb!
Martin & Sally
Riveting (as always) and struck with awe. Cheering for you and your comrades!!
Amazing. Thinking about you and your adventure every day. What a great read, and, with Bill: where do you find the energy to take amazing pictures, write the updates!? Be safe.
Absolutely riveted by the unfolding story. Thanks for taking us along with you and for taking the time to capture the moments on camera. Glad the team are recovering and the 5 of you are acclimating. I’ll have to think of a way to drop “wag bag” into ordinary conversation sometime.
Eagerly awaiting the next update.
Onward!
It’s impressive that you manage to write so well while hypoxic Tom! Thanks so much for sharing these stories. Sounds like a great group, and I look forward to your next post. (By the way, I’m still a bit miffed that when we skied together mid-winter you didn’t even tell me you were heading to Everest soon! But I respect the humility 🙂
Tom, we’re thinking of you! Love the blog. You got this!!
Tom, it is a thrill to be along for this incredible journey with you through your updates. Alex and I send our best for your continued safety, good health and good weather. I look forward to ascending the hills of TCC with you upon your return and sipping a Fernando on the porch as you recount the tales of this amazing experience in person. Be well my friend. – Josh
This is like reading Jack London. But it is real. The ever present dangers, adversity, suffering, and anguish are so taut and vivid. At times, it is harrowing to read this account. But It’s spellbinding.
I’m glad you took antibiotics. There is really no other option.
Godspeed to you and all of your team, Tom! I’m sure that morale is soaring thanks to you – they’re very lucky to have you on board. Stay safe, and can’t wait to see you back in Boston.
Olly
T-Hawk,
Dude, this is great stuff. Inspiring and humbling for us mere mortal 60 somethings. I can imagine Jill must be concerned reading this stuff nearly real time despite the many discussions you’ve no doubt had regarding mountaineering and this mountain in particular. Yet I also imagine how proud she must be to have someone as committed and driven to be there but, above all, self-aware enough to be as safe as one can be in this situation. It’s not just the endurance and training you have put in to deal with the physical stuff up there, but a lifetime of mental gymnastics that seems have put your noggin in as good shape as your lungs and legs.
Wishing you clear weather, clear mind and clear path to the summit…and back.
Best,
Lama
Tom, I have read many books on Everest, Chomolungma, and you have brought me closest to this amazing mountain. Your personal view and all that is happening to you is riveting. The pictures are really great too! Godspeed. Thank you!
What an experience! Good luck, Tom.
Just amazing, Tom. Can’t wait to see you in S Dartmouth and hear these stories!
You have some light beings travelling with you in the photo between camp 3 and camp 4. Those round balls of light might look like reflecting sun, but they are balls of energy. You see that a lot in Spiritual temples in India, as well as very spiritual places. Obviously, Mount Everest is one spiritual place.
So glad you had such an amazing experience and you arrived back down safely. I loved reading you blog. Thank you!