Then I thought maybe this was God’s way of protecting Harold, and if that was the case, I was thankful. Having my husband come home safely was a big win in my book. I knew Harold would probably never see it that way, which then turned my mind to a new thought.
If he isn’t able to summit, he’ll want to go back next year.
That was not an option for me. I wouldn’t put myself through all this again. I’d have to tell him no, which I didn’t want to do. But at least in the present moment, I didn’t have to worry about the dangers of him climbing, because he couldn’t.
The next day, my friends and I were exploring Nashville and had plans to go to a Carrie Underwood concert at the Grand Ole Opry that evening. I had been waiting all day for an update from Harold, hoping his spirits would be up a little, but I figured I wouldn’t hear anything until evening, as that was the normal time he called. And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as Carrie Underwood walked onstage, my phone started vibrating. It was Harold.
I ran out of the concert and picked up the phone as fast as I could. He greeted me with a “Heyyy, hunny!” His happy, chipper voice was back, and I was very confused.
“Well, don’t you sound happy,” I said, thinking he had just turned his attitude around, which was nice but also a bit surprising. I thought he’d still need some comforting.
“I feel so much better!” he said with unbelievable enthusiasm. “We’re leaving in ten minutes for the summit push.”
What?
I immediately started crying. None of this made any sense. Even though he sounded energetic and like himself again, it completely threw me off. “I don’t understand. You were just sick,” I said through my tears.
He said something as he tried to convince me his body was magically better and he was capable of climbing, but it all blurred together. My mind couldn’t process what was going on. I didn’t see how his body could possibly be healthy enough to climb. Sure, I was glad he was feeling better, but I questioned if he was telling me the truth. How could he be ready for the summit push?
“You promise you’re okay to climb?” I asked repeatedly, the distress clear in my voice.
Harold assured me, “I’m feeling 100 percent better. I’m feeling strong!”
The cheer and enthusiasm never left his voice as he promised that he was telling the truth, that he was healed. I was worried he may have caught something much worse than a stomach bug: summit fever.
The team was about to leave, so he had to go. This would be the last time I would hear from him until he got back down the mountain. If he got back. It could easily be our last goodbye. Still sobbing, I told him I loved him at least three more times before he finally hung up.
I stood there feeling numb and helpless, still questioning what he’d just told me. In my heart, I had to believe that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t try to summit unless he really was feeling strong enough to do it. Surely he wouldn’t risk what he cared about most, his family. I tried hard to focus on that.
I called both his parents to give them the news. I didn’t want to freak out his mom, so I composed myself before telling her the “good news” that he was healthy and getting ready to summit. When I spoke to his dad, I was a little more candid about what was going on. He assured me that if Harold said he was healthy and okay to climb, he was.
From that point on, I was more nervous than ever about the summit push. I went back to the concert and sat there with a blank stare as “Mama’s Song” played.
He makes promises he keeps
No he’s never gonna leave
Tears streamed down my face as I did my best not to break out in an audible sob. Luckily, the lights were dim and I could wipe away my tears without my friends noticing. I still had a few more songs to pull myself together. I didn’t have the emotional energy just yet to share what I was going through.
HAROLD
I woke up that day feeling significantly better after rehydrating, taking medicine, and getting plenty of rest. I knew the team was leaving that morning, and I thought I could still make the summit.
When I spoke to Rachel, I could hear the fear in her voice. She questioned my health and my honesty. And she was right: I was lying. Even though I wasn’t completely over the stomach bug and still felt a little weak, there was no way I was going to throw away my dream and all my work and sacrifice from the past two years. I had to lie to myself and to Rachel about my health to try to selfishly accomplish my dream, all while limiting the worrying of my loved ones. This moment—deciding to attempt the summit without my full health or strength—was by far the most anxious I had been the entire trip. I was excited and terrified.
Rachel was right; I had summit fever. A desperate case of it. Summit fever is when a climber has such an intense desire to make it to the top that he is no longer able to make reasonable decisions and ignores clear indications that he should stop his pursuit to the summit.
If required, I would have done anything to get to the summit of Mount Everest, sacrificing my marriage and future. I was numb to logic. Numb to love. The only thought in my mind was, I have to get to the top. It is now or never. I had lost myself and my concept of what was truly important in my unwavering pursuit of my Everest dream. It was the deadliest of sicknesses to have on Everest, with bodies lining the path to prove it.
I thought about the conversation I had with Tommy the day before as we contemplated the possibility of my death. He told me he had stayed up three hours the previous night thinking about my eulogy. We joked about freezing my sperm up on Everest or having our dog Ranger tell Rachel the news, but the truth was, that conversation was necessary.
“I have to leave a message for Rachel before I go,” I said. “I’m going to do it on my audio recorder so she can hear my voice.”
Tommy nodded.
We decided Tommy couldn’t deliver that kind of news over the phone. He would travel to our home and arrange to have Rachel’s mom and dad sitting beside her.
After that conversation, I waited a few minutes and then headed out of the tent to find a quiet place on the edge of camp. I sat perched on a rock with the sun reflecting off Everest toward me. I pulled out the audio recorder and started my goodbye message to Rachel.
May 19, 2016
“Hey, hunny. I wanted to leave you a little voice note. We’re hoping to leave tomorrow to go up Everest, and I just wanted to leave you this in case something not so good happens to me up there and I have a tough time getting down. I guess if you’re listening to this, it’s because I’m dead. And I really just wanted to tell you that I love you so much. I love you SO much! I’ve got tears coming down my face right now.
“You know, I can’t say I know why this happened, but I still believe in a big God and He did it for a reason. He does everything for a reason. I can promise you at this moment I’m doing all right. I’m probably walking on some pretty golden streets and looking down at you. I’m sure you’re probably bawling your eyes out, but just know that I’m looking down at you from above. I’m sure I’m sitting next to God and telling Him to try to help your YouTube channel get big so you can make a big impact.
“I love you so much, and honestly, I’m so thankful for the past year with you. It’s been the greatest time of my entire life. I mean, just getting to spend it with you has been unbelievable. You’ve taught me so much; I’ve learned so much from you, and I’m so grateful. I guarantee you in those final breaths, however I died, I was thinking of you and our time together. I probably died with a smile on my face, thinking about you and all of our funny and crazy memories….
“Don’t be mad at God or mad at yourself for letting me go. This is something that I felt called to do. God definitely had me here for a reason. Don’t think for a second it wasn’t worth it. I was following my dreams of trying to make an impact on other people. Don’t blame anyo
ne for that. I’m so blessed, the life I’ve had. The life I’ve lived up to this point, it’s been amazing. God let me be a part of your life, which has been a highlight….I love you, and I’m not sure if I should end this because you’re probably like ‘Please don’t let the recording end.’ Just please, please, please know that you can make a big impact and continue to follow your dreams. I love you so much, and I’ll see you again one day. I’ll see you again….I love you. Don’t miss me too much.
“Dear God, please take care of my wife.”*
It was really difficult to get the words out. How do you send a final message to the love of your life? My eyes were red as tears rolled down my face. So many emotions tore through me. My heart ached. I hurt deeply for Rachel and for what I know she will have to go through if I die, but in the message, I wanted to remain strong for her because I know she will lean on it to help her get through the pain.
I recorded my message to Rachel just yesterday, and now the moment is here. I give Tommy a hug, go to the bathroom one last time, get on my gear, and leave with our team for our summit push.
God, this is it. Please help me.
* Watch the actual goodbye recording at Earls.org/byelove.
17
The Death Zone
RACHEL
Now, as I’m writing this book three years later, is the first time I’ve listened to that message. I knew Harold left a message for me, but I could never bring myself to listen to it. Everything was still so fresh, and it’s easy to get sucked back in time and feel like I’m living those moments again. The fear of losing my husband is a feeling I don’t want to revisit.
When he said the part about not being mad at myself, I instantly started to cry. I would have been. I would have been so angry at myself, and I would have gone back over everything in my head, questioning what I hadn’t seen clearly. I would have needed to hear what he said, but I’m so thankful I didn’t listen to that message until now.
For the record, let me just say that if he had died, I don’t at all believe it would have been because God did it, nor do I think that’s what Harold meant. When terrible things happen, I believe we can see God bringing good out of them if we are open and willing, but I don’t believe He chooses for those bad things to happen.
HAROLD
After the emotional goodbye phone call with Rachel, our team began our trek up the North Col yet again. This time, it was not an acclimatization climb; it was the real deal. The climb was grueling. And the steepness made it unforgiving. We staggered into Camp One in our climbing buddy teams and lay down in our tents from utter exhaustion. I didn’t even have time to fully open the frozen Snickers bar I had been daydreaming about the whole way up before a Sherpa yelled to us, “Help! A climber is injured!”
Without hesitation, we threw our boots back on and headed toward the action. A British climber on his descent from the summit had been severely injured, was out of oxygen, and was lying in the snow. Chad set up a pulley system with the help of several international climbers to drag the man to Camp One. We later got news that the man made it down and was escorted to a local hospital. Another reminder of the deadly nature of the climb.
The next day, we put our oxygen tanks on our backs and strapped on our fighter pilot oxygen masks as we began our ascent to Camp Two. It was both physically and mentally exhausting as we slogged up a wide and gradual snow slope for six to eight hours to reach camp.
On my way into camp, I came close to collapsing. I thought about the Canadian father who’d collapsed and died. This fear motivated me to gut it out a few more steps. I’d never felt more exhausted in my life. I was surprised I was feeling this depleted; something felt off. Was it because I’d been sick that made climbing this excruciating? I had to sit down on the snow slope and rest before continuing on to my tent that thankfully had been set up earlier by Sherpas. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to move. Whatever, I thought. I’ll just sit here.
As I panted for air, my breathing was so heavy that ice crystals formed on the outside of my fighter pilot mask. In that moment, I understood why some people just sit down on Everest and never get up again.
I forced myself to get up and try again, but I made it only another ten feet before having to sit down and rest once more. The amount of utter exhaustion I felt was unexplainable. I was now only five feet away from my tent, but I didn’t even have enough energy to get in. I just sat there for a long while and eventually crawled the rest of the way.
It was 8:30 p.m., and all I wanted to do was pass out. As I took the twenty-pound oxygen tank off my back, I realized it had been on the wrong setting! I’d been climbing all day without any oxygen support at more than twenty-four thousand feet. It was a clear mental lapse on my end. I knew that the higher in altitude I climbed, the harder it would be to use cognitive skills. I still had five thousand feet in vertical height to make the summit. Since I still had a full tank, I cranked the Os up high and fell into a blissful and relaxing sleep.
RACHEL
Two days after the call from Harold saying he was going for the summit push, I was in the airport waiting for my flight to Guatemala. I didn’t intentionally plan for my Guatemala trip to fall while Harold was summiting, but that’s how it happened.
One of the reasons I was drawn back to that country is because of the resilience, strength, and perseverance the Guatemalan women demonstrate on a daily basis. Back in the ’80s, a vicious war broke out and many of the men in the village were brutally murdered. Bullet holes scarred the church walls and ceiling where these villagers worshipped, serving as a constant reminder of all the loved ones who lost their lives. The women were left to carry on and provide for their families, which they did by weaving cloth and making beautiful clothing, bags, and other items to sell in the market. Their faith was not shaken. They continued to attend church, despite what they’d lost, as their faith carried them through these dark times. They are women I aspire to be like, women who appreciate life and family for the gifts they are, who never give up, and who always push forward for the sakes of their families.
The Guatemalan women carry their babies on their backs using cloth they make. One day during my visit, I asked one of the moms to teach me how to do it. She giggled and asked if I was pregnant. I said I didn’t think so but that I wanted to have babies soon. She laughed and told me to wait a moment, then walked into her house. She came out with the biggest smile on her face as she held a baby doll out to me. I stepped forward, took that sweet baby doll in my arms, and made my best attempt at slinging it behind my back and wrapping the cloth tightly to hold it in place. It was a silly moment but also a flash of the future I hoped I’d have.
Out in the village, I knew I wouldn’t get any cell service and would have only a few opportunities to stop at an internet café to check for updates from Harold. I was still vlogging my whole journey, but I put a hold on uploading the videos until I got home. I left Harold’s cousin Kirby in charge of the climb’s social media while I was away.
It was the absolute worst timing for me, the media person, to be out of touch, since it was during the two most dangerous parts of the expedition: the summit and the descent. On the other hand, for me personally, as Harold’s wife, Guatemala was the best place I could be. I could imagine the constant fearful chatter and questioning happening back home and the way I would have been drawn to fixate on the fears.
While I loved managing social media for USX, by default, friends and family members expressed their worries and concerns to me. I was already dealing with my own worries, so the added burden of everyone else’s fears was too much. Being in Guatemala was healthy for me. It allowed me to focus on something outside Everest, to escape in a way.
The timing of this trip felt like a coincidence at the time. When my friend asked if I wanted to tag along, I could feel a nudge from God to go. It was the same feeling I’d had when I felt ca
lled to Guatemala the first time. Looking back now, I know it was all part of God’s perfect timing.
HAROLD
As we climbed toward Camp Three, the last camp before the summit, I continually had to stop to use the bathroom, thanks to my lingering stomach virus. An Doja, my Sherpa, had to pull my pants down for me and hold my gear as I squatted next to him. He’s seen way more of me than either of us ever expected. Our process was slow going, and my pack felt heavy in my weakened state.
Prior to our summit push, we decided not to take our radios beyond Base Camp. We were told by returning climbing teams that we would have good cell phone service once we reached Camp One. Our thinking was logical but not practical. On a rigorous high-altitude climb, you want your pack to be as light as possible, and leaving the radios saved some weight. With just cell phones, we reasoned, we’d be able to communicate both with one another and with our families when we reached the summit.
What we had forgotten was that we all climbed at different speeds. The practicality of pulling out a cell phone in subzero temperatures and calling the climbing team in front of us was not realistic. Additionally, we discovered that our phones don’t work well in extreme elements. To our dismay, most of our phones stopped working just above Camp One. This meant we had no way to communicate.
A Higher Calling Page 13