by Roland Smith
“Yes. They’re sore.”
“That’s good.” He pulled out a bottle of aspirin from his pack and shook out three for me to down.
I looked at my watch. It was ten p.m. I’d been in a semiconscious stupor for nearly five hours. I swallowed the aspirin and washed them down with tea.
“More tea?” Yash asked.
I shook my head. I needed to get outside before my bladder burst. Josh helped me through the flap and held me by the belt so I didn’t get blown off the mountain while I peed for what felt like an hour. Back inside, I wolfed down a mug of beef stew, after which I felt almost human.
“Thanks, everyone, for saving me,” I said.
“You were close to saving yourself,” Zopa said.
I looked at Josh. “I’m glad you made it out. I was worried.”
He grinned. “I can’t die now. I have important things to learn.”
I returned the grin. “That’s right. So what’s our situation?”
“We’re kind of stuck,” Josh said. “The fog cleared out just before dark. The avalanches hammered the glacier.”
“Avalanches?”
“There were two more. One as we were climbing up here, and one an hour after we got into the tent. I don’t think you’d come around enough to hear either of them.”
I nodded. I hadn’t seen or heard anything while I thawed out. I thought about the next stage of the climb. With luck, we’d be up on the ridge at Camp Three by tomorrow afternoon, well above any avalanche threat.
“What do you mean by stuck?”
“We cannot go back down the way we came up,” Zopa said. “It is blocked.”
He couldn’t possibly know this for certain. “There must be a way through,” I said.
“Perhaps, but it could take days to find it.”
“Not enough supplies,” Yash said.
“Not enough food,” Yogi clarified.
“How many days of food do we have?” I asked.
Jack spoke up for the first time. “Your and Josh’s backpacks were shredded by the avalanche. Most of your equipment and clothes survived, but every scrap of food you were hauling was ruined.”
“We have enough food for six or seven days,” Josh said. “Which would have been plenty if we’d been able to return along the same route. Two days to reach the summit and three days back, weather permitting. We could save two days by aborting right here and using those extra days to figure a way through the blocked glacier. But there’s no guarantee we’ll make it through. We could be bumping around the glacier for a month and not find a way out.”
“Do we still have my sketches?” I asked. They were in the journal the twins had given me.
Jack started rummaging through a loose pile of clothes and gear. We were going to have to figure out how to carry the junk without packs.
“This?” Jack held up my journal.
“That’s it.”
He handed it to me. I turned to the back pages where I had my Hkakabo Razi notes. Everything was intact. The twins were going to get a kick out of their journal being water- and avalanche-proof, if I ever saw them again. I laid the journal on the floor near the lantern, then flipped through the pages with everyone looking on. The sketches were crude, but good enough for me to visualize the photos and videos that had inspired them.
I pointed to the ridge. “This is as far as Hiro and his team got, a little over seventeen thousand feet. Our Camp Three. They ran into bad weather and a supply problem, and had to turn back.”
“Gotta know when to turn back,” Josh said.
“But in our case, we cannot turn back,” Zopa said. “Not along the same route we have traveled to get here.”
“There’s a ridge midway between Camp Three and the summit,” I continued. “If we follow it south, we’ll be safe from avalanches. There are some high spires along it, but we might be able to traverse them if the snow and ice look solid. I think it would save us a day, or maybe two. Chin might be able to pick us up at the bottom, or drop enough food for us to get to a safe landing zone.”
“Assuming that this Chin is willing to fly his helicopter over here,” Josh said.
“He will come,” Zopa said.
I hadn’t told Josh about Zopa saving Chin’s life, and changing Chin’s life.
Josh grinned. “I take that as gospel.”
“So, we’ll see what the weather is like tomorrow,” I said. “If it’s good, we climb up to Camp Three. If the weather is bad, we’ll take another look at our options. Sound okay?”
Five exhausted heads nodded.
“Did my tent make it?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “And Josh’s.”
“But we’re all sleeping in here tonight,” Josh said. “There’s not a lot of real estate outside. It’ll be warmer with all of us inside, and we’ll be able to break camp quicker tomorrow morning.”
We climbed into our sleeping bags, side by side, head to toe, like sardines. I chose the outside wall where it would be cooler. I rolled onto my side and felt something jamming into my thigh. Sat phone. I’m ashamed to say that I had completely forgotten about Ethan. I pulled it out and turned it on. There were two voice messages from Alessia.
“Peak. Ethan has gone into surgery for what they call a decompressive craniectomy, or DC. The doctors will remove a piece of his skull until his brain swelling has diminished, then they will replace the piece of skull. He has been put into an induced coma because he is so agitated. I called his sister in the United States. She is flying into Yangon tomorrow. She will be a guest of the embassy. My mother arrived this morning. She was unhappy about Hkakabo Razi, but hopes you are safe and reach the summit. The last thing Ethan said before they put him into a coma was that he wanted his spoon.”
I stifled a laugh. I was looking forward to telling him that his spoon had saved my life. I played the second message.
“Peak. I know you are climbing, but I hope you receive this. Ethan is out of surgery. According to the doctors, he is doing well, but I think he looks terrible. They say that is normal. They were able to stop the bleeding. As soon as the swelling goes down, they will replace the piece of skull. His sister is here, and she is very nice. She says that she was able to buy her mother’s silverware set back from the woman who bought it. She too wants that spoon. Climb safe.”
I closed my eyes with the cold wind beating against the tent and a smile on my face.
Twenty-Seven
I was awake as the first ray of sun came through the tent. It felt good to be alive. I stayed still so I wouldn’t disturb anyone. It wasn’t long before the others started stirring. Yogi lit the stove as Yash sorted through our reduced food supply. I got up, carefully stepped over Josh, Zopa, and Jack, and went outside.
The sun was just coming up behind Hkakabo Razi. A small disk-shaped cloud covered the summit. It was the only cloud in the dark blue sky. There was a slight wind, and it was twenty-one degrees out. Perfect climbing weather. Josh wasn’t kidding about there not being much real estate outside the tent. It was a three-foot step to death. No wonder Josh had held on to my belt while I peed the night before. Zopa was right about the glacier too. It was an unstable, jumbled mess.
Zopa came out and stood next to me, surveying the problem. “How do you feel today?”
I hadn’t given a thought to how I felt, which meant I must have felt pretty good. “I’m ready to climb.”
We turned around and looked at the north ridge. Four hundred feet above us, steep, but smooth enough to pull our gear up behind us without hauling it on our backs.
“Easy,” Zopa said.
It was easy. We were on the ridge before eight o’clock. The weather held. We had redistributed the gear into three packs. It would have been four packs, but Jack had enough equipment in his pack to film a television series and there was no room. We hauled the packs up to the ridge, which was about eighteen inches wide. Hiro had said it ranged from six inches to four feet wide. Camp Three was a semiflat area about ten feet square at about 1
8,000 feet. Beyond that, there was virtually no information about the climb up to the summit. I decided to set up two three-man teams. I’d lead the first team with Yash in the middle and Zopa at the end. The second team would be Josh in the lead followed by Jack and Yogi. The lead climbers would not carry backpacks, but we’d switch off lead duty throughout the day to give the packers a rest. We would travel roped together. This would give us a chance to belay anyone who slipped off.
I moved out slowly, feeling my way forward with alpine trekking poles.
Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . step . . . tap . . . tap . . . tap . . .
The footing was treacherous, but I’d been on worse ridges on Everest and McKinley. The wind picked up a little, but the sky remained clear. About halfway up to the first col, I heard a loud thump and dropped to my knees. I glanced behind. My team and Josh’s had done the same. An avalanche had let loose on the northern side, nearly shaking us off the ridge. The best, and safest, way to see an avalanche is from above, and we had a beautiful view. Jack was straddling the ridge, filming it. He got up to his knees to get a better shot and fell over the edge. Josh and Yogi saw it immediately and caught him before he cratered. I waited until they got him back up to the ridge to call.
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“A couple scrapes,” Josh said. “Nothing serious.”
“I think we need to skip filming while we’re on this ridge.”
“Roger that. I already told him.”
“Are we good to go?”
“Yep. I’ll give him a couple of minutes to catch his breath. We’ll be right behind you. Magnificent avalanche, wasn’t it?”
“Beautiful. Did he catch any of it?”
“He’s nodding.”
“Good. I look forward to seeing it.” The avalanche was already permanently burned into my brain. I didn’t need to see it again, but I didn’t want Jack to feel bad for making such a boneheaded mistake. I knew how that felt.
Before I got back to my feet, I asked Zopa and Yash if they wanted to switch with me. “I’m happy to take a turn with a pack. My shoulder’s feeling good. I’m feeling strong.” They both shook their heads.
Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . step . . . tap . . . tap . . . tap . . .
We reached the top of the first spire at 17,716 feet. I stopped to check on Josh before we started down to the col, where we would lose sight of them for a while. They were about a hundred yards behind, climbing steadily.
Walking downhill on ice is always harder than walking uphill. I slipped several times, but managed to catch myself with my poles before I plunged over the side. We rested on the col while we waited for Josh’s team to top the spire and start down.
“Let me take one of the packs.”
Zopa shook his head. “I’ll let you know when I want to switch.”
Yash said something in Nepalese that I didn’t understand.
Zopa laughed. “He says that he is fine too. He gave Yogi the heavier pack.”
Yash pointed to the top of our next spire and said something else. Hiro’s camp was supposed to be two thirds of the way up.
“He wants to know if you want to fix ropes up to the camp. He says it will be easier to get up the hill.”
“I want Yash to fix ropes up to top, and I’ll carry the pack since it’s so light.”
Zopa translated. Yash laughed and nodded. It was a fair exchange. Yash and Yogi were probably the best in the world at fixing ropes ahead of climbing expeditions. They had done it their entire lives. He grabbed a couple coils of rope and a bag of hardware, and started up the ridge like a mountain goat.
I started to put on his pack, but Zopa stopped me. “Might as well wait here for him to finish. It will be safer.”
I was more than happy to wait. I pulled the sat phone out and turned it on. There was a message from Alessia that was less than ten minutes old.
“Peak. Good morning. Ethan looks better, but of course he is still in a coma. The doctors are hopeful. They plan to bring him out of the coma soon. I hope you are getting these messages. Please say hello to Zopa for me.”
This is when I realized I hadn’t told Alessia that Josh, Jack, Yogi, and Yash were climbing with us, that I hadn’t talked to her since Zopa had been leading me to a base camp that I didn’t know existed. I called her, intending to leave a voice message, but she answered.
“Peak.”
“It’s good to hear your voice. How are you? How’s Ethan?”
“As good as can be expected. Where are you?”
“Sitting on a col with Zopa at close to eighteen thousand feet. We’ll reach Camp Three on the next pitch. It’s a beautiful day. I wish you were here. I wish Ethan was here.”
“I do too.”
“I’ll have to keep this short to conserve the sat battery, but I wanted to tell you that we have a six-member team. Zopa invited some old friends to climb with us. Yogi and Yash—brothers, Sherpas—that I climbed with on Everest. Jack from JR’s video team—”
“Jack is there!”
“Yes.”
“How is he?”
“Good. He’s climbing well. He’s fit.”
“I so wish I was there!”
“And one more person. My father, Joshua Wood.”
“He is there?”
“Yes.”
“But he just finished the seven summits. I thought that he was at his home in Thailand.”
“No one knows he’s here.”
“Now I am very jealous.”
“I didn’t tell you this to make you jealous. I just wanted you to know that it’s not just Zopa and me climbing.”
“It is a relief. Even my mother was worried about you and Zopa climbing Hkakabo Razi alone. She spoke to your mother on the phone.”
I would like to have heard that conversation. “You might want to call her yourself and tell her who I’m climbing with. That will make her feel better.”
“Yes, and I will give her your phone number.”
“I probably won’t be able to answer, but okay.”
“Is Jack filming the climb?”
“Kind of.”
“You did not want the climb filmed.”
“No. I have a lot to tell you when I see you.”
“But you are all right. The climb is going well?”
“Not exactly. We’re kind of in a pickle.”
“A pickle?”
“A jam . . . a slight problem. Avalanches. We can’t climb down the same way we climbed up. We haven’t figured out a return route yet, and we’re a bit low on food. Can you call Chin and tell him that we might need his help in the next few days?”
“Certainly, but—”
“We’re fine.” Josh’s team had just reached the col. “Look, I better go. We have to get up to Camp Three while the weather is good. I’ll be in touch. I miss you.” I ended the call, got up, and made my way over to Jack. “Are you okay?”
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Just embarrassed. It was a stupid move.”
“That’s okay. Just glad you didn’t crater.”
“Fixed ropes, huh?” Josh said, looking at Yash’s handiwork.
Yash was already halfway up the pitch, slamming in hardware with barely a pause.
“We’ll wait until Yash gets to the camp,” I said.
“At the rate he’s going, it won’t be long.” Josh sat down next to me. “If we were just a little closer, we could try for the summit today.”
Josh was right. The weather was perfect for a summit attempt, but we weren’t nearly close enough. It was one o’clock. “Even with the fixed ropes, we won’t reach camp until three,” I said.
Josh glanced at his watch. “At the earliest.”
We ate a little food, hydrated, and waited. The radio crackled. Yash said something in Nepalese, which Josh understood, adding to my shock that he couldn’t read or write.
“He’s at camp. He’s going to anchor the rope and wants to know if you want him to continue up to see what’s over
the next peak. He says that he has plenty of rope left over. He’ll fix as much as he has, which will save us a lot of time tomorrow.”
“What do you think?”
“The weather is good right now. Take advantage of it while you can. Who knows what the weather will be like tomorrow.”
Both of us looked at Zopa, who shrugged, then looked up at the sky. After about a minute, he said, “More wind, but clear tomorrow.”
I keyed the radio. “Fix more rope.”
“Good,” Yash said.
Twenty-Eight
The pitch was long and the ridge narrow, but there was little danger because we were clipped onto the fixed ropes. We reached Camp Three at 3:02. I think Yash had been kidding about the weight of his pack. It weighed a ton. I was happy to get it off my back. The site was only marginally bigger than the previous camp. There was room for the green tent and maybe a couple small tents. At least we wouldn’t be packed in like we had been the night before. We retrieved the ropes behind us. The only signs of Yash were the ropes he had fixed up the next pitch. I gave him a call on the two-way.
“Yash?”
“Okay.”
“Where are you?”
Yash answered in Nepalese.
“He is on a col between the spire above us and the next spire,” Zopa translated. “He’s fixed all of the rope that he has.”
I handed the radio to Zopa. “No point in me asking questions if I can’t understand the answers.”
“The brothers can both speak English,” Zopa said. “But sometimes they prefer not to.” He spoke into the radio for a while. Yash responded, again preferring not to speak English.
“He says that he is on a col near the place you thought we might be able to climb down. The site is flatter and larger than our camp. He thinks we could reach it in less than two hours.”
I asked Jack if he could launch the drone and show us what Yash was talking about.
“Sure thing!” He started assembling his gear.
For someone who was antigizmo, I was certainly taking advantage of the technology. We gathered around the tablet and watched the flight. Jack flew the drone along the side of the ridge, not over the top, so he didn’t lose contact with the machine. The images were beautiful. When he reached the col, Yash waved at us. He was right; the col was twice as big as our camp, and of course, closer to the summit.