Woke up to the chirping birds, sun beating warmly down on my tent and one of those wondering gazes like.. where am I? This has happened to me several times over the past few years, but primarily when traveling a ridiculous amount. One year while on a global project, I woke up in Seoul and thought I was in Iceland. I wish I were kidding. I also wish I were kidding when I mention that I had slept straight through a meeting that had started 1 1/2 hrs before I finally figured out where I was.
Fortunately, this morning there was no meeting- just G-Man shaking the tent, wondering why I hadn't shown up for breakfast yet. I spent several minutes staring at the tent, blinking and getting bearings. Last night was truly weird. I was shaking and shivering all night, despite the hot water bottle in the bottom of the sleeping bag and down jacket on. If I did have some sort of cold, it was gone by 3 or so, and then slept for the next several hours in some form of peace. Fortunately, I was alone in feeling like crap, Joe, Willie and Francisco all slept well. We have all had moments where we each have slept poorly, so it's not anything unique.
One look at the flurry of activity in the cook tent that takes place about two hours before food is finally served will help understand why it takes so long to get a meal: these guys, led by our Chief Cook, Super Milo, make just about everything by hand. It is sorta funny though- Joe pointed out that no matter what you order, it really doesn't matter. This morning Joe was going to trek to Kala Pathar and woke up early so he could eat and get out of town. His order: two slices of toast and one fried egg. An hour and a half later, when Francisco and I were already seated and laughing about how complex his order was, breakfast arrived: porridge, omelettes and bacon. In the long run, time was gone, so no Kala Pathar.
Willie and the Sherpas were on a gear run, pushing equipment up to Camp II in preparation for our move in two days. These guys are so fast, it's ridiculous. They made Camp II in a little under 3 hours, led by Tendi. When he did return, Willie was approached by our Nepal Army Liaison Officer, who has serious altitude issues. Willie took action immediately and brought him over to the hospital tent where his oxygen saturation rate at one point measured in the high 40s. After diagnosis, it was determined that he'll be heading down to a lower elevation via helicopter tomorrow. Close call...
At some point, Francisco and I decided to walk around Base Camp, toss the football and see what was new. It's amazing how many new tent camps have popped up in just a few weeks. Paths are more established across the moraine and rock field and we even found a legitimate bakery. I'm not kidding. A bakery at Base Camp. We went inside, Francisco treated us to apple pie, and we chatted with a group of friendly trekkers who had come up from Lobuche.
To wrap up the night, The Fuzzies from next door came over to butt snorkel Willie and find out when he was going to start fixing lines up to high camps. We were all watching a movie when they were doing their "oh, Willie you're so great" stuff with just the occasional stifled snort. Oh well.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
19-22 April: Foray Into Western Cwm
Here comes G-man with tea at 4am again. He's so damn jolly sometimes and when it's still pitch black out and your tent is sparkly with frost, he's definitely a welcome sight. Shake, shake, shake... "Good morning, Dough!" (they still think my name is spelled with an "H"). I'll just let them think that and say that it's a Silent H. At least it's not like other pronunciations, ranging from Duck to Dog.
We set off through the Icefall by 05:30 and made solid time. Soccer Field in 2:15, top of the ladders an hour after that. Then as we made new altitude and we hit these massive waves at the top of the glacier, our speed ground to a snail's pace. Some Swiss goofballs who pretended not to understand English made things difficult for the entire team; some ladders proved to be natural choke points where the Icefall Doctors need to add in extra lanes for up and down. But by continuing to press, we finally made Camp I after 6 hours. Wahoo!
Francisco and I, working together, waded on past the fixed ropes, and our lungs screaming at 19,600', looked desperately for our tents among dozens. True to team form, we were located at the farthest site, at the end of a painfully steep hill. Francisco and I must have looked at each other several times as we were "in" Camp I, but still had another 20 minutes of snail-paced trudging- and at least one rope and virtually vertical slope to scale before making our camp tents. When we saw Willie and asked him about this, he mentioned the possibility for avalanche in certain parts of the Camp- and how our particular tents were safe based on where he positioned them. Good enough reason for me, truth be told. I'll take the long walk for that insurance.
When we arrived, we found Tendi happily digging, preparing our cook tent. Tendi, of course, had left a few minutes before we had, yet had arrived a mere 2 1/2 hours later- a scorching time that he proudly told us about and made sure we also knew that when he had arrived at Camp I, the sun hadn't even touched camp yet. We were so proud of our time that morning, making the top of the Soccer Field prayer flags when the sun finally hit us, but little did we know that while we had another 3 1/2 hours of climbing in front of us, good 'ol Tendi had already reached his objective. So to keep busy, this superhuman decided "hey, maybe to avoid boredom I'll build a cook tent" and went about it with a massive smile on his face.
Joe and I threw our gear into one tent- a North Face VE-35, and Francisco & Willie took a North Face VE-25. Both four season tents are ruggedized for just about anything a storm high in the Himalaya could throw at them, but Joe and I noted that in addition, ours was firmly roped and staked down to the ground. Winds here, ripping off the Lhotse Face and roaring down the Western Cwm can hit these tents with such force that having the ropes in place definitely made us feel better about keeping in one place and not turning into a sail.
I can't begin to tell you how excited I was to open up my 8000m Down Climbing Suit and -60 Degree Sleeping Bag- both made by Feathered Friends in Seattle. When I pulled them out of their compression bags and Joe did the same, it looked like a down bomb had gone off in our tent. I think that the inside was easily a foot deep in down of different colors, fabrics, and shapes and the two of us were responsible for clearing out an entire duck factory's worth of feathers. Just by opening them, the temperature inside increased a few degrees.
There, in the corner of each tent was a clear reminder of where we were located, so high that evils like cerebral edema and pulmonary edema exist and lurk in the rarified air. Fortunately, nothing dealing with acclimatization has struck our team, but it's always better to be prepared in the event that oxygen is needed.
Over the next two days, we acclimatized to Camp I and made moves toward Camp II, located further up the trail and almost at the base of Mt Everest. The first day, Willie offered for us to "take a 20 minute walk." I don't think any one of us believed that we were going to put on all our gear for 20 minutes, but we played along and headed out. The glacial waves continue for some distance beyond Camp I, across now familiar aluminum ladders and up steep faces. After some time, the glacier flattens out as the trail leads toward Everest, providing stunning views of both our objective and where we still have to go- one foot in front of the other. Hidden crevasse and loose snow bridges riddle the trail. Some are clearly visible; some only rear their ugly head after stepping on them.
We were clearly ahead of the power curve in pushing up to Camp II, and that was plainly evident in our mode of travel- roped up as a rope team on a trail sometimes barely visible. We even pushed ahead of the Icefall Doctors, who we passed as they worked their magic. But as we moved up and up, the risk increased so we were constantly vigilant of every step as we moved. I have to say that in many ways, this was the first time on this trip that I felt like I was climbing- truly climbing- in a close-knit team expeditionary manner. We were only one of a few climbers to make it this high this soon, and it felt great- definitely ahead of the power curve and setting the course for others to navigate by.
We set off through the Icefall by 05:30 and made solid time. Soccer Field in 2:15, top of the ladders an hour after that. Then as we made new altitude and we hit these massive waves at the top of the glacier, our speed ground to a snail's pace. Some Swiss goofballs who pretended not to understand English made things difficult for the entire team; some ladders proved to be natural choke points where the Icefall Doctors need to add in extra lanes for up and down. But by continuing to press, we finally made Camp I after 6 hours. Wahoo!
Francisco and I, working together, waded on past the fixed ropes, and our lungs screaming at 19,600', looked desperately for our tents among dozens. True to team form, we were located at the farthest site, at the end of a painfully steep hill. Francisco and I must have looked at each other several times as we were "in" Camp I, but still had another 20 minutes of snail-paced trudging- and at least one rope and virtually vertical slope to scale before making our camp tents. When we saw Willie and asked him about this, he mentioned the possibility for avalanche in certain parts of the Camp- and how our particular tents were safe based on where he positioned them. Good enough reason for me, truth be told. I'll take the long walk for that insurance.When we arrived, we found Tendi happily digging, preparing our cook tent. Tendi, of course, had left a few minutes before we had, yet had arrived a mere 2 1/2 hours later- a scorching time that he proudly told us about and made sure we also knew that when he had arrived at Camp I, the sun hadn't even touched camp yet. We were so proud of our time that morning, making the top of the Soccer Field prayer flags when the sun finally hit us, but little did we know that while we had another 3 1/2 hours of climbing in front of us, good 'ol Tendi had already reached his objective. So to keep busy, this superhuman decided "hey, maybe to avoid boredom I'll build a cook tent" and went about it with a massive smile on his face.Joe and I threw our gear into one tent- a North Face VE-35, and Francisco & Willie took a North Face VE-25. Both four season tents are ruggedized for just about anything a storm high in the Himalaya could throw at them, but Joe and I noted that in addition, ours was firmly roped and staked down to the ground. Winds here, ripping off the Lhotse Face and roaring down the Western Cwm can hit these tents with such force that having the ropes in place definitely made us feel better about keeping in one place and not turning into a sail.I can't begin to tell you how excited I was to open up my 8000m Down Climbing Suit and -60 Degree Sleeping Bag- both made by Feathered Friends in Seattle. When I pulled them out of their compression bags and Joe did the same, it looked like a down bomb had gone off in our tent. I think that the inside was easily a foot deep in down of different colors, fabrics, and shapes and the two of us were responsible for clearing out an entire duck factory's worth of feathers. Just by opening them, the temperature inside increased a few degrees. There, in the corner of each tent was a clear reminder of where we were located, so high that evils like cerebral edema and pulmonary edema exist and lurk in the rarified air. Fortunately, nothing dealing with acclimatization has struck our team, but it's always better to be prepared in the event that oxygen is needed. Over the next two days, we acclimatized to Camp I and made moves toward Camp II, located further up the trail and almost at the base of Mt Everest. The first day, Willie offered for us to "take a 20 minute walk." I don't think any one of us believed that we were going to put on all our gear for 20 minutes, but we played along and headed out. The glacial waves continue for some distance beyond Camp I, across now familiar aluminum ladders and up steep faces. After some time, the glacier flattens out as the trail leads toward Everest, providing stunning views of both our objective and where we still have to go- one foot in front of the other. Hidden crevasse and loose snow bridges riddle the trail. Some are clearly visible; some only rear their ugly head after stepping on them. We were clearly ahead of the power curve in pushing up to Camp II, and that was plainly evident in our mode of travel- roped up as a rope team on a trail sometimes barely visible. We even pushed ahead of the Icefall Doctors, who we passed as they worked their magic. But as we moved up and up, the risk increased so we were constantly vigilant of every step as we moved. I have to say that in many ways, this was the first time on this trip that I felt like I was climbing- truly climbing- in a close-knit team expeditionary manner. We were only one of a few climbers to make it this high this soon, and it felt great- definitely ahead of the power curve and setting the course for others to navigate by.
I looked down at my altimeter at one point and it read just over 20,053'. Everest summit is 29,035' so we are getting to the point now where we are under 9,000' from the true goal. Ultimately, we made it as high as 20,330', which is higher than Mt. McKinley- the roof of North America. It felt good, despite having no energy and feeling like no matter how hard we breathed in, there just wasn't enough air. The air is too thin it's crazy.
Each night, the sun slowly sets with afterglow on Pumori as we prepare dinner in our cook tent. As we tell stories and joke around, the temperature drops like a rock and a full moon pops up, right over Lhotse and shining down into the Western Cwm. We crawl into our huge bags tightly gripping a hot water bottle designed to heat up the inside of our bags and drift off, having vivid altitude dreams.
On the 22nd, we returned to Base Camp to recover from our trip, and prepare for another trip up into the thin air a few days down the road. It's absolutely amazing... we can breathe better, our oxygen saturation has shot way up, and it's easy to forget that Base Camp is "way down" at 17,500'.
18 April: Sherpas & Prayer Flags
Another leisurely morning, preparing more for tomorrow than anything. Looking up to the Icefall, easily 50 people were making their way up the fixed lines enroute to Camp I. Some seemed to be moving easily, some seemed to be moving with difficulty. There was a biting breeze this morning- one where it was about three or four miles an hour faster than comfortable. So you needed your jacket, but then when the wind slowed down you felt like it was too hot to be in a jacket. So you take it off. Ahh, how nice and warm. Then a breeze again... shiver... almost frustrating.
After breakfast, the team checked out Camp II tents and prepared loads for Camp I as well, assembling them to make sure nothing was missing before hauling everything up through the Icefall.
Again, the Sherpas showed us how physically strong they are, and how adapted to this environment they can be. As we prepared our puny loads, Tendi, Lama Jambu, Lhakpa and our crazy Camp II cook started jamming gear upon gear into their packs- including some of our gear. Willie asked me "Hey, do you have one of those North Face duffel bags?" "Yeah" "Can you get those shoulder straps off of it?" I did, and handed them to Lhakpa who proceeded to take the shoulder straps, tie them with some rope and -presto- instant head band- very much like what the porters do with their head straps. I asked him why he had them and he explained that when they get tired, they use the head strap and it allows them to breathe more efficiently. I guess that after hundreds of years here in the Himalaya that these high altitude machines would have devised the most efficient way of ferrying loads. In the middle of marveling about how incredible these guys are here, Lhakpa and Tendi marveled at the Marines when I explained about some of the things we do.
It was a poignant moment and reminded me of a Birthday Ball a few years back. The Guests of Honor were NASA Astronauts and because I was going stag, I was asked to sit at the head table. Nothing special, just that they had an extra seat and no one to fill it. So, sit I did- right in between two Astronauts, one of which was a four star General and had been inducted into the Astronaut Hall of Fame. How small a group can that be? I mean, seriously. Armstrong, Shepherd, Glenn... how many? Of the two, the other one was the second person ever to fly the F-14, had commanded the Space Shuttle FOUR times, including releasing the Hubble Telescope and being the first to dock at the International Space Station. If that's not enough, he left NASA and went to work at Boeing, where he went on to become the Chief Test Pilot and flew things like the 777 before it went into service. So here he is, sitting next to me- sandwiched in between these two guys who had led careers that little boys heading off to Space Camp can only dream of. And as we talked, they became like little boys as well, getting all starry eyed and were truly- honestly- amazed that I had climbed Mt Rainier. Are you kidding me?! I wish I were. It was just amazing to me that no matter who you are, no matter what you have accomplished in life, there's always someone out there that has done something that is impressive to you. These Sherpas are so great- and they impress the hell out of me with what they can accomplish up here. Yet just like me being incredibly impressed with what they have accomplished relative to what we are here to do, they are equally impressed with some things we have done- no matter how irrelevant they are to us. In many ways, this is what is so special about this trip- getting to know each other and finding out special things that each one of us brings to the team.
Later today, G-Man did a good number describing the prayer flags (lungtar). We were sitting around and he spent some time familiarizing me with some basic Nepali (Tatto pani- Hot Water), and then basic customs. I have no idea how we got onto prayer flags- maybe because they are all over the place now. But here's a quick run down on what colors stand for particular elements... up until today, I had no idea- one of those hidden in plain sight sort of things:
Red: Fire
Green: Water
Yellow: Earth
White: Wind
Blue: Sky
Each flag has Buddhist incantations based on those particular elements, which is what makes them so important to the people of this area.
All the while, G-Man kept grinding away with super-hot chilis on a local rock adjacent to the cook tent. For lunch, some of the team sampled the hot sauce. Joe swore the back of his head was still sweating 30 minutes later.
After breakfast, the team checked out Camp II tents and prepared loads for Camp I as well, assembling them to make sure nothing was missing before hauling everything up through the Icefall.
Again, the Sherpas showed us how physically strong they are, and how adapted to this environment they can be. As we prepared our puny loads, Tendi, Lama Jambu, Lhakpa and our crazy Camp II cook started jamming gear upon gear into their packs- including some of our gear. Willie asked me "Hey, do you have one of those North Face duffel bags?" "Yeah" "Can you get those shoulder straps off of it?" I did, and handed them to Lhakpa who proceeded to take the shoulder straps, tie them with some rope and -presto- instant head band- very much like what the porters do with their head straps. I asked him why he had them and he explained that when they get tired, they use the head strap and it allows them to breathe more efficiently. I guess that after hundreds of years here in the Himalaya that these high altitude machines would have devised the most efficient way of ferrying loads. In the middle of marveling about how incredible these guys are here, Lhakpa and Tendi marveled at the Marines when I explained about some of the things we do.
It was a poignant moment and reminded me of a Birthday Ball a few years back. The Guests of Honor were NASA Astronauts and because I was going stag, I was asked to sit at the head table. Nothing special, just that they had an extra seat and no one to fill it. So, sit I did- right in between two Astronauts, one of which was a four star General and had been inducted into the Astronaut Hall of Fame. How small a group can that be? I mean, seriously. Armstrong, Shepherd, Glenn... how many? Of the two, the other one was the second person ever to fly the F-14, had commanded the Space Shuttle FOUR times, including releasing the Hubble Telescope and being the first to dock at the International Space Station. If that's not enough, he left NASA and went to work at Boeing, where he went on to become the Chief Test Pilot and flew things like the 777 before it went into service. So here he is, sitting next to me- sandwiched in between these two guys who had led careers that little boys heading off to Space Camp can only dream of. And as we talked, they became like little boys as well, getting all starry eyed and were truly- honestly- amazed that I had climbed Mt Rainier. Are you kidding me?! I wish I were. It was just amazing to me that no matter who you are, no matter what you have accomplished in life, there's always someone out there that has done something that is impressive to you. These Sherpas are so great- and they impress the hell out of me with what they can accomplish up here. Yet just like me being incredibly impressed with what they have accomplished relative to what we are here to do, they are equally impressed with some things we have done- no matter how irrelevant they are to us. In many ways, this is what is so special about this trip- getting to know each other and finding out special things that each one of us brings to the team.
Later today, G-Man did a good number describing the prayer flags (lungtar). We were sitting around and he spent some time familiarizing me with some basic Nepali (Tatto pani- Hot Water), and then basic customs. I have no idea how we got onto prayer flags- maybe because they are all over the place now. But here's a quick run down on what colors stand for particular elements... up until today, I had no idea- one of those hidden in plain sight sort of things:
Red: Fire
Green: Water
Yellow: Earth
White: Wind
Blue: Sky
Each flag has Buddhist incantations based on those particular elements, which is what makes them so important to the people of this area.
All the while, G-Man kept grinding away with super-hot chilis on a local rock adjacent to the cook tent. For lunch, some of the team sampled the hot sauce. Joe swore the back of his head was still sweating 30 minutes later.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
17 April: Budget Trips vs. Experienced Trekkers
Tendi and Lama Jambu did a load to Camp I today. It took them about two hours to make it to their destination. Two hours. It took us two hours to barely make the Soccer Field the other day and these guys were at Camp I. Every time I see these Sherpas flying up and down the trail I'm constantly amazed at their physical abilities. And the most impressive thing? They are so down to earth about it- doing all this with a smile and incredible humility at what they can do. Here we are, wheezing, dying, gasping, snotting and doing everything in our power to keep from passing out when saying "hello" to someone on the trail. And whizzing past us at what seems like the speed of light with packs easily five times heavier come a train of Sherpas- not out of breath, dancing along the lines, and sure-footed as they come.
While these superhumans were trucking up to Camp I, the rest of us woke to another interesting morning of a humongo avalanche calving off Pumori.
As I watched this, I looked down and noticed that the Khumbu Icefall Lake District had extended all the way out to open up a new subdivision right by my tent. As Joe and I talked about this, we wondered aloud what the Icefall- especially the part where we park ourselves- would look like in four weeks time. While in Gorak Shep the other day, we noticed that a frozen lake we trekked right over was now essentially a puddle. Would the rest of the glacier follow suit? I'm a bit concerned that there might be one day that I return- tired, hungry, and wiped out. And then look around and wonder... hey, where'd my tent go? There is a smallish cavern right adjacent to my tent- I think it's just a linear crack, but when this morning I tried to dump rock after rock into the hole, it didn't seem to do much at all- even after 15 minutes of dumping. Given that most glacial movement seems to be happening in the evening hours, how bad would it be if one of those groans and creaks I hear each night ended up with me taking a quick drop into a frozen water bath? Yowzah.
Still, the nights these days are eerie. Silent at times with no wind. Mountains stand like giant ghosts in moonlight. Then in the distance you can hear the hurricane force winds whipping off peaks like faint jet engines, occasionally dropping down & rattling the tents where you can hear gusts coming like a freight train from a long way off. We learned that winds along the mountain tops are to be between 80 & 100 mph. Last night we had a spring storm, lashing tents with vigor & accumulating snow. But most of us were too exhausted to notice much and the snow melted off by ten. As the moon approaches full, its intensity is magnified by the snow, creating a truly beautiful sight and you don’t even need your headlamp. But crystal clear night = quite cold as well... and we are. Yee cats is it cold. But so incredibly beautiful.
Tomorrow we plan to ascend to Camp I and possibly Camp 2. Acclimatization is such an interesting phenomenon. Other teams are going at different rates and different plans- not all logical. It is here that you truly see what can get an unprepared climber into trouble, and where experience pays off. At the top of one ice shelf yesterday, Willie is chatting with two climbers on a budget trip. Their Sherpa ratio is 7:1 and they largely set their own schedule, which has them in the Icefall ascending much later than Willie or our Sherpa team are comfortable with. The look on their faces when they realize in conversation that they are several liters short of O2 for summit day... meanwhile, another climber at the point of exhaustion, completely decked out in down & expedition weight mittens/ overboots takes a full ten minutes on one ladder. He looks to be overheating in the noon sun, but struggles- finally- to the top of the ladder, immediately taking a knee. His three country flags flutter proudly from his gear, but perhaps like their owner, too proudly. He ignores our questions as to if he is ok, and even Lhakpa's checking on him. These people have no safety net if things go wrong. It's at times like these that you don't skimp and essentially get what you pay for.
In 2002, I had Lasik on my eyes. There are plenty of places around advertising $500, or something akin to basic budget Lasik. I went with a guy in DC that cost over $3000, but is the doctor that performs eye surgery on FBI sharpshooters. To me, there wasn't even a discussion about the value. There are some things you don't put a price tag on. To me, finding yourself halfway up Everest with no safety net in the event the shit hits the fan is exactly one of those things.
While these superhumans were trucking up to Camp I, the rest of us woke to another interesting morning of a humongo avalanche calving off Pumori.
As I watched this, I looked down and noticed that the Khumbu Icefall Lake District had extended all the way out to open up a new subdivision right by my tent. As Joe and I talked about this, we wondered aloud what the Icefall- especially the part where we park ourselves- would look like in four weeks time. While in Gorak Shep the other day, we noticed that a frozen lake we trekked right over was now essentially a puddle. Would the rest of the glacier follow suit? I'm a bit concerned that there might be one day that I return- tired, hungry, and wiped out. And then look around and wonder... hey, where'd my tent go? There is a smallish cavern right adjacent to my tent- I think it's just a linear crack, but when this morning I tried to dump rock after rock into the hole, it didn't seem to do much at all- even after 15 minutes of dumping. Given that most glacial movement seems to be happening in the evening hours, how bad would it be if one of those groans and creaks I hear each night ended up with me taking a quick drop into a frozen water bath? Yowzah.
Still, the nights these days are eerie. Silent at times with no wind. Mountains stand like giant ghosts in moonlight. Then in the distance you can hear the hurricane force winds whipping off peaks like faint jet engines, occasionally dropping down & rattling the tents where you can hear gusts coming like a freight train from a long way off. We learned that winds along the mountain tops are to be between 80 & 100 mph. Last night we had a spring storm, lashing tents with vigor & accumulating snow. But most of us were too exhausted to notice much and the snow melted off by ten. As the moon approaches full, its intensity is magnified by the snow, creating a truly beautiful sight and you don’t even need your headlamp. But crystal clear night = quite cold as well... and we are. Yee cats is it cold. But so incredibly beautiful.
Tomorrow we plan to ascend to Camp I and possibly Camp 2. Acclimatization is such an interesting phenomenon. Other teams are going at different rates and different plans- not all logical. It is here that you truly see what can get an unprepared climber into trouble, and where experience pays off. At the top of one ice shelf yesterday, Willie is chatting with two climbers on a budget trip. Their Sherpa ratio is 7:1 and they largely set their own schedule, which has them in the Icefall ascending much later than Willie or our Sherpa team are comfortable with. The look on their faces when they realize in conversation that they are several liters short of O2 for summit day... meanwhile, another climber at the point of exhaustion, completely decked out in down & expedition weight mittens/ overboots takes a full ten minutes on one ladder. He looks to be overheating in the noon sun, but struggles- finally- to the top of the ladder, immediately taking a knee. His three country flags flutter proudly from his gear, but perhaps like their owner, too proudly. He ignores our questions as to if he is ok, and even Lhakpa's checking on him. These people have no safety net if things go wrong. It's at times like these that you don't skimp and essentially get what you pay for.
In 2002, I had Lasik on my eyes. There are plenty of places around advertising $500, or something akin to basic budget Lasik. I went with a guy in DC that cost over $3000, but is the doctor that performs eye surgery on FBI sharpshooters. To me, there wasn't even a discussion about the value. There are some things you don't put a price tag on. To me, finding yourself halfway up Everest with no safety net in the event the shit hits the fan is exactly one of those things.
16 April: Khumbu Icefall
Today was Joe's Birthday! And what better way to celebrate? As you may have predicted, and as you may also have recommended to us, we decided that a trip thru the Icefall was the perfect way.
So, off we went with a 4am wake-up call and 5am departure. Creeping through familiar territory, we made our now familiar serac in less than an hour and the Popcorn Field in 1 1/2 hrs. Ascending higher and higher, we made the Soccer Field in less than 3 hrs, still feeling great. The nourishing sun warmed up cold feet and required everyone to slap on loads of sun screen at the top of one notable serac where we had spied prayer flags from Base Camp. This was almost the top of the Icefall at 19,110', but not quite.
From there, we passed by two spots that had ridiculous ladders. I say that because they were virtually vertical and had been tied together to ascend their respective seracs... four of 'em. One ladder ascended close to 50' vertical to a ledge where you traverse a 50 degree angle slope roughly 100', then scramble up another 20' to another vertical ladder section.
Constantly fixed to safety ropes, you still have to be careful as you pick your way along the trail. The ropes are firm and new, but anchors can melt out with the day’s sun. As a result, our team is careful and deliberate in our climb as we pass through new territory, wheezing and gasping with every new effort. Mawing crevasse beckons as we slowly traverse over these caverns in a manner Willie has taught us.
At some point after we left, Lhakpa woke up, had a leisurely breakfast, read the newspaper, watched a movie, lounged around and then finally got going. He must have spent an hour catching up to us, those guys who had been climbing for four hours at that point. But there he was somewhere north of the Soccer Field and looking completely not tired by the ordeal. Big smiles, Lhakpa! "Hi, guys! How has your climb been going?" I continue to be impressed by the physical capabilities of these Sherpas- it's not even an effort for them. The Human Body is such an incredible machine and I am always amazed by what it can accomplish: no matter the clime or place.
Arriving wheezing and gasping five solid hours later, we are you finally able to peer into the valley of the Western Cwm at 19,450'.
It was here that we reached the end of the fixed lines- the Icefall Doctors had reached a point that had required specific ladders and ropes and as a result we were stymied from going any further. Not that I minded, though. "Ok, we are here. Let's have a long break and have some lunch" said Willie. "Woo hoo!" I threw out there, turning turtle and plopping down one microsecond later. As we grabbed chow, the Icefall Doctors arrived and began heading out toward the end of the lines. Think I was impressed with Lhakpa? Here come two Sherpas with aluminum ladders on their backs, wearing blue jeans- scrambling up those same ladders without winded breath, speeding along like no big thing. Seriously- ladders on their backs.
Then it's time to head back down, and off we went. Here's a great pic of Francisco heading back down the fixed lines and about to rappel back down those crazy ladders:
Word is that either today or tomorrow they'll make it through to Camp I and the next time we are up this way, we'll be going all the way to overnight at Camp I. I sure hope so, because the headache I had tonight... I'd rather have once we get there, not after coming all the way back to Base.
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