I’ve always loved mountains. I think it started when I was a little kid on holiday in Spain. My father and I climbed what I remember to be a huge mountain, though was more likely to have been just a decent sized hill. At the bottom looking up I thought there was no way we would ever be able to make it so high, so when we did manage to summit the sense of achievement was enormous. The love of mountains stayed with me as I grew up, and it lead to trekking and climbing trips across the globe – England, Wales, Scotland, Spain, France, Bulgaria, Italy, Vietnam, Argentina – I always feel most at home when surrounded by mountains.
Two years ago my wife and I decided to leave our comfy but confined lifestyle in the UK and volunteer abroad. When trying to decide where to go there was one standout option – the Himalayas. I’d read countless books about the exploits of my climbing hero’s within the massive ranges of Nepal and I was desperate to spend some time there.
Luckily my wife, Jen, is an excellent and experienced expedition doctor and it was her skills which allowed us the opportunity to join the Himalayan Rescue Association’s aid post in the village of Pheriche, high up on the route to Everest Base Camp. We spent three wonderful months in Pheriche, getting to know the local people and the area. I was lucky enough whilst there to climb IslandPeak, MeraPeak and Lobouche East. All were climbed with friends who owned a Nepalese company called Himalayan Ecstasy – a name remembered by many Nepali porters and locals as it was so difficult to pronounce. These climbs were a highlight of my time in Pheriche, but what was most important was the work of the HRA. I have no doubt that because that clinic exists numerous lives are saved every season. We had several hundred patients come to the clinic and while a significant proportion were trekkers suffering from the usual stomach complaints, there were many more serious and life threatening illnesses to keep the staff occupied. We had people who arrived in the middle of the night in a coma, we saw multiple victims of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS), High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) and High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE). These are all conditions which can kill – and would have if it wasn’t for the existence of the clinic in Pheriche and it’s sister clinic in Manang. On top of this the aid post also provides the only health care for the local community.
Through my friends at Himalayan Ecstasy I had arranged an Everest Expedition on the Tibetan side for this spring (2010). But I wanted to find a way of combining the Everest expedition with the opportunity to celebrate the work of the H.R.A. I wanted to raise awareness of the good work of the charity – as well as raising some much needed funds if possible. In the end I set up a fundraising programme and decided I would carry the badge of the H.R.A. to the summit of Everest to advertise their great work. In total my family and friends donated just short of £5,000 to the cause – an incredible amount, and I was lucky enough to summit on the 23rdof May at around 5.50am. During my climb I kept a blog updated so that friends and family would know how we were getting on, and below are the last few entries, leading up to the summit…
20/05/10 Back to the North Col
Woke up early again to find a healthy fresh layer of snow on the ground. It’s amazing how quickly the weather here changes and how intensely important it becomes to you. I was feeling both extremely excited about finally setting off on the summit bid and nervous about the challenge that lay ahead. The summit of Everest looms large over Advanced Base Camp and you can’t help but stare up at it watching the length and strength of the ice plume that flies off the summit in 100+mph winds. More eggs for breakfast with chapattis and lashings of peanut butter and jam, all washed down with hot sweet tea and cans of coke we had held back especially. From now on we need to get serious with calories and cram as much as we can into our systems (I’m not complaining). We get kitted up, check and recheck everything then... well it’s time to go, a couple of quick photos and Anil waves incense over us all and we chant and throw rice onto the glacier as a placating gift to the mountain gods. With that we are off and I start to mentally go through the contents of my pack, have I got everything? can I lose any weight? the walk to crampon point is fine and there are a few others who have settled on the same summit day as us so we chat with them about their plans and, inevitably, the weather. The climb up the North Col is tough with a full pack but we’ve been here before and like most of Everest its just about endurance, keep on going and after a few hours you’ll make it. Camp 1 was pretty busy with several climbers and sherpas standing around looking at the state of the tents under a couple of feet of fresh snow. The wind had also picked up and one of the guys I had chatted to on the way up the face had arrived just in time to see his tent picked up by the wind and blown over the side of the mountain, seriously bad luck but as he was part of big team they were able to replace most of his lost gear. That night the wind was a constant howling presence and hardly a soul got any sleep.
21/05/10 Camp 2
Once the warming sun eventually arrives after hours of staring at the roof of the tent there’s nothing for it but to get out of our sleeping bags, into our down suits and then begin the long process of melting ice for water. Later than intended we finally break camp and begin the long gruesome climb up the snow and ice slope to Camp 2 at 7800m. The weather remained windy and brought gusts of snow - but so long as the summit date remained clear I was happy to deal with crappy conditions lower on the mountain. At first it’s relatively easy going but as you climb higher and the slope becomes steeper your pace really slows and breaths become gasps as you try and fill your lungs. The slope is a series of false summits and its mentally tough as well as physically draining. Just before the end of the snow slope I was overtaken by a climber using oxygen, then another, and another - it seems every year people begin to use oxygen lower and lower on the route. We weren’t intending to use it until Camp 2 but some people were on it from just about the North Col and, if I’m honest, I was jealous at that point as I struggled upwards. At the end of the snow slope there is still a couple of hundred meters of altitude to gain as the path switches to unstable lose rock covered in scratches from years of crampon abuse. It’s a horrible, knackering part of the route and as the camp is essentially a long line of tents on a thin ridge arriving doesn’t necessarily mean you’re done climbing. Our tents were close to the top of the camp, which I had to tell myself would make the next day easier at least. As I said Camp 2 is a long line of tents and after decades of use it’s scattered with the debris of previous expeditions, that plus thick clouds, a cold wind and being shattered drove me into our tent. I think John, being pretty tall, struggled more than I did on the lose rock and I asked Lhakpa to go and take him some oxygen. After that John had had enough of sliding around on the rocks and climbed the whole way without crampons! I tried to call Jen on the sat phone but we were cut off after about half a minute and I couldn’t get back in touch, I just hoped the message of our safe arrival was enough. That night we ate as much as we could from the previously dumped supplies. I ate numerous trekkers bars and choco pies, which are chocolate bars filled with marshmallow. Over the course of the expedition I must have eaten nearly 30 of these I reckon - much to John’s amusement. He called them an American deep south delicacy and said they had to be eaten with deep fried chicken. If I’d had any deep fried chicken I’d no doubt have eaten that too.
22/05/10 - 23/05/10 Camp 3
and the Summit!
At last the weather clears and it’s more trekkers bars and handfuls of raisins for breakfast while we melt snow of dubious cleanliness for water. I’ve brought some effervescent vitamin C orange tablets to add to the water and they go absolutely crazy at this altitude, almost leaping out of our water bottles as they fizz about like shaken champagne and disappear in about three seconds. This time we are climbing on oxygen and for some unknown reason my tank is already half empty limiting me to a flow of only 1.5 litres a minute. It’s not much as most people are on 2.5-4ltr but the difference is incredible and it feels, if not like sea level, then perhaps like climbing at 6800m. The progress to Camp 3 is limited by the fact we are mostly trying to climb up a rocky slope in crampons (except John) but after a slow start we get there in under 5 hours which is great timing. On arrival at Camp 3 there’s a bleached old sleeping bag by the path. Sad to say it contains the first of many bodies that line the route to the summit...more on this gruesome aspect later.
There’s only one three man tent for the four of us but it’s so bitterly cold we pile in and try and get some rest. For me it’s not possible, despite a couple of bad nights sleep the summit is tantalisingly close. Actually it’s not, the view is foreshortened, but it looks like you can almost touch it. I’m trying to think of a way of describing the view from Camp 3. Stunning, Amazing? these are just words and don’t really do it justice. Luckily I took a short film that will hopefully at least partially do the job. Unfortunately this was the last time the video camera functioned, above Camp 3 it gave up in the face of the altitude and freezing cold (wish I’d known at the time). At around 8pm the first teams started to leave Camp 3 for the summit push in the dark. Natan Ji and Lhakpa (our Sherpas) wanted to go at the same time because it was their cousins with the first group, but we had discussed this with the expedition leader Anil down at ABC and he said we shouldn’t leave before 9.30pm. Our later departure time was based on our speed and he was concerned we might arrive in the dark before dawn. Both John and I were keen to avoid this scenario as we wanted good views and those all important summit photos for sponsors (and so people would believe it if we actually made it). We swallowed as much food as we could and boiled up more snow for our vacuum flasks, the only way to carry water without it freezing within minutes. Then the Sherpas wisely started heating boots and gloves over the little gas stove. At just after 9.30pm we piled out of the tents and put on our crampons, packs, oxygen masks etc. I’ve already used words like freezing and bitterly cold so I’m running out of appropriate adjectives here. However my watch read minus 20C which is the lowest it goes, I suspect it was a bit lower, but not much, and thankfully at that point there was little wind (I found out later that the temperature was around –30C, without the windchill).
The path led slowly upwards and Natan Ji and I started to pull away from John and Lhakpa. However we soon caught up to some of those who had left earlier as our route ascended a rocky face towards the ridge. They were moving incredibly slowly and we started to get cold behind them. I asked if we could pass them but they either didn’t understand or chose not to. John and Lhakpa caught us up and we made painfully slow progress upwards. They kept stopping, again and again holding everyone up and at one point the fella at the front simply sat down in the middle of the route blocking it so he could have a rest! I discovered at this point that having someone make your blood boil doesn’t actually contribute to keeping you warm. Where the route widened we would pass people in the slow group, who I imagined glaring at us behind the beam of their head torch, until we were stuck behind the main offender. Perhaps I’m being harsh on the guy but there was a long queue of people behind him and Everest, especially the Death Zone, is not a place to linger and get cold, yet he refused to allow anyone to pass him. He was stuck on a tricky section being unable to gain purchase on the icy rock with his crampon. I reached up and held his foot in place for him allowing him climb up, but got no thanks. Natan Ji made a hand gesture towards him that I was surprised he knew, being a seemingly nice lad. We followed up and luckily the route hit a snow slope and finally Natan Ji and I were able to burn up it past him - we were free at last and though we would have chosen to wait for John and Lhakpa they were way back in the queue and we were so cold we wanted to get moving. We soon reached the top of the ridge and could see there were no headlamps between us and the final summit pyramid over a mile away, what a huge hold up! Unfortunately for those nearing the summit it looked inevitable they would reach it in the dark as I remember looking at my watch and it was 1.40am, perhaps by holding us up so long he had done us a favour.
The ridge is a strange place, a thin rocky scramble at around 8500m. In the dark it’s a cold, windy balancing act as you constantly clip into new ropes (ignoring lots of tattered old ones) and slide around on ice and rock in crampons trying not to think about the drop into the murky darkness below you. After what seemed like minutes but was actually a couple of hours (I was enjoying myself immensely) we reached the famous Second Step where so many early expeditions had been forced to turn back. Now there is ladder there, which a Chinese team put in during the 1970’s, and though it has been secured since then it’s still a heart in the mouth climb as it wobbles below you. At one point I looked down and saw the unmistakable reflective strips from boots and a jacket on the rocks below the step, another body of a fallen climber - it really helped to focus my oxygen starved brain on the climb and making sure I was absolutely definitely clipped into the newest and most secure looking rope. At the top of the ladder there’s a relatively tasty outcropping where you are nastily exposed and have to reach up into the unknown and swing a leg up and over. I think that move will be burned into my memory for a long time to come.
After the Second Step it’s a relatively easy, though still exposed, route to the summit pyramid (the First Step is no real obstacle). The wind had picked up and we waited for John and Lhakpa who had eventually freed themselves from the 8000m high traffic jam and they caught up with us after we stopped to swap oxygen cylinders. However it was too cold to hang around and they were happy for us to continue ahead. There was a slow brightening low in the sky to the east and soon, as we followed the stunning ridge, the view below us was revealed. I tried to film it but that’s when I discovered the video camera was now just dead weight. We could see across the Tibetan Plateau for what seemed like thousands of miles and to the south lay Nepal with endless white-topped peaks stretching away from us. There was also a thunderstorm in a valley to the south and we stood and watched the lightening glowing through the clouds from above, it was utterly breathtaking, and so cold. We carried on slowly edging towards the elusive peak and I started to really believe we were going to make it. At one point Natan Ji stopped and casually swung a leg up onto the snow as we chatted about the view back towards the Rongbuk Glacier and Base Camp. From my position I could easily see that he was resting his right leg and most of his weight on a cornice - an overhanging build up of snow. I could also see that this cornice was only about a foot thick and below it I knew was a 3500m, drop down into Nepal. I edged forward and gently pulled him back onto relatively solid rock.
At last we neared the summit pyramid and passed another body next to the path. It was an odd sight, like the person had simply decided to take a rest and had curled up against the cold for a nap. Sadly Natan Ji explained this was exactly what had happened. The fella had reached the summit and having worn himself out decided to take a short rest on the way down. Six years later he was still lying there frozen in time, his girlfriend had been waiting for him down at Base Camp. The bodies are a painful reminder of the fragility of human life up here. Even as I write this back down in ABC I haven’t quite resolved the issue in my mind. The bodies are left strewn by the path, but who could or should be allowed to move them? By seeing them and then choosing to continue we are accepting the risks as they did and still choose to continue. I don’t have the answers to the many questions they raise I’m afraid.
Onwards and upwards and we reached a steep rocky face. The rope went straight up over it and we were in for a decent bit of rock scrambling at last. By now there were only about three other places on the planet at the same altitude and here we were enjoying a bit of medium grade scrambling. A bit like the Lakes, only much, much, higher. The sun was edging closer and we topped out to see the final section before us. As we climbed the snowy slopes of the summit pyramid the sun burst onto our backs. The timing was, without doubt, absolutely perfect (thanks blood boiler). The ropes curled round to the right over a rocky stretch and we passed those who had already been to the top exchanging handshakes, well dones and good lucks. “Fantastic, Congratulations” said one as he passed me. “I havent made it yet” I replied, deeply terrified of jinxing it all when we were so close. The route then turned back onto icy snow, we went up over a false summit and there before us was a small mound of snow covered with prayer flags. We climbed up towards it and it was like being in a dream. Natan Ji beckoned me up first but I refused and insisted he went up ahead. He stepped up then knelt at the small shrine to pray before making way for me. I looked at my feet then took the final steps up onto the tiny patch which is the highest place in the world, I’d actually made it. I looked up and punched the air feeling a massive rush of adrenaline and emotion. I looked down at the sun and turned round slowly taking in the view, everything was below me and stretched away beautifully. Natan Ji beamed a huge grin and we hugged and slapped each other’s backs. A group of climbers emerged from the South Side and I made way for them on the tiny patch whilst I enjoyed the view. I could see all the way to our Base Camp, into the KhumbuValley and the Nepal Base Camp, from there you can see everything. Huge mountains look like tiny hills. I took a quick sweep with my tiny digital camera on film mode then it too packed in, despite being carried snug and warm in my chest pocket. Oh F**K! (sorry Mum) no summit photos! The sun was up, there was barely a cloud to be seen and I was standing on the top of the world - I’ve never wanted to take a photo so badly in my life. Then Natan Ji produced a small, black, square object from his pocket. I could have kissed him. The south side group left the summit and we stepped up again. I took photos of Natan Ji and he did the same for me, then a friend of his came up from behind us and we took some for him too. One final look round as another group approached and I stepped down feeling an enormous outpouring of relief, we had made the summit and after three months away from home there was no more climbing upwards. I could descend, get back to Kathmandu for a shave and a shower and warm night in a proper bed. Then I could at last go home. I pulled the satellite phone out of my pocket and dialled Jen, convinced it wouldn’t work.
“Hello? Ed? Is that you? Are you okay? Have you made it? Where are you?” “It’s me Angel” I replied and then my voice broke with joy, relief and sheer, utter exhaustion, “I made it”.
