by Mark Horrell
The Everest Base Camp memorials
Somewhere at the back of camp is another memorial to the north side's best known casualty, George Mallory. If anyone can be accused of having an obsession with getting to the top and dying because of it, then it's him. He famously said he wanted to climb Everest "because it's there", and in 1924 he disappeared into the mist on the summit ridge with his climbing partner Sandy Irvine, and was never seen alive again. I wander slowly over to the memorial mound and bump into Margaret. Together we try finding the plaque to Mallory, but without success. The biggest memorial is wreathed in a tangle of prayer flags which hide any plaques there may be underneath too many layers. All the other memorials that we find in this area at the back of camp contain dedications in Chinese, and we give up and return to camp. I'll have to look for it again another time.
Later in the morning Margaret gets a shock, and she feels she must recount it to Mila (and the rest of us) at lunchtime as a warning to her.
"You need to be aware, Mila, that we're not the only people using the lady's shower. I tried to use it earlier today, but one of the Sherpas was in there."
"Which one was it?" we ask.
"I don't know. I didn't see his face."
We all roar with laughter.
"Did he have two legs or three?"
Grant spends the afternoon walking around Base Camp compiling an audit of everyone climbing Everest from the north this year. There are 15 teams, comprising 109 "western" climbers including guides and leaders (a slightly misleading term, since some of the climbers classified as "western" are Chinese or Japanese), and 96 climbing Sherpas. This is far more than I expected. It seems very quiet here at Base Camp, much more than when I was here five years ago. This is probably because of the much higher cost of climbing permits now. Base Camp on the north side covers a huge area, and all our camps are spread out over a wide area, so it seems there are many more people here than it looks. I ask Phil if there are more than he expected.
"Dude, there were nearly that number of summits last year," he replies.
I don't know what the usual ratio of climbers to successful summits is, but clearly Phil thinks it's pretty quiet this year.
I'm settling nicely into the easy pace of life on an expedition in a remote part of the world, but this time I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time stressing about technology. This afternoon I try to send out a blog post about the memorials that I looked around this morning, only to find Google Mail keeps refusing to send out my messages because it thinks they're spam. Eventually after several attempts it even locks my account so I can no longer log in. How it can think an email sent to a single recipient is spam, when it contains original material and no reference to cheap Viagra, is a mystery, but I'm not happy. Luckily Mark, whose Blackberry I'm using to send the post, is very patient, and we eventually get it posted by sending it from his own email address.
The theme of failing technology continues into the evening when we make another attempt to watch An Idiot Abroad. We've moved the cinema from the dome tent into one of the big yellow rectangular storage tents where there's more space. I begin by sitting at the back, where the sound of the generator is much louder than the film. I move forward, and we watch about 20 minutes before the generator dies again and everything goes dark. It's sad that even here among this beautiful landscape our lives seem to be dictated by the vagaries of modern technology. Still, at least we've managed to watch a full episode now in two separate sittings.
8. The puja to end all pujas
Wednesday, 18 April 2012 - Base Camp, Everest, Tibet
It's the day of our puja today, the ceremony when we ask the mountain gods for safe passage. Monks from the Rongbuk Monastery have already arrived by the time I get up for breakfast at eight o'clock. They have decided it's too windy to conduct the ceremony outside, and have set up their altar in the Sherpa dining tent. Dorje is keen to get started, and even before we've finished eating we're ushered away from the breakfast table to unpack our ice axes, crampons and harnesses, and place them on the altar to be blessed.
The puja begins in sedate enough fashion, with the three monks chanting to appease the mountain deities. We gather round and watch with our heads bowed. It gets a little more entertaining when one of them notices a shoulder of meat hanging up in the corner. This is considered inauspicious, and in order not to jeopardise the rest of their prayers, it's necessary for the meat to be blessed too. Ang Gelu, wearing a red 1980s shell suit, is called upon to raise the meat and swing a large carving knife around while they carry out their chanting. The monks are young and amiable, and smile benignly as we laugh at Ang Gelu's performance.
After an hour or two of chanting we go outside to raise the prayer flags likes spokes of a wheel from a large flagpole on the puja platform the Sherpas built a couple of days ago. Juniper twigs are burned in a small furnace in the side of the platform, and we have to throw tsampa (flour) three times into the air to be taken by the wind. This part of the ceremony gets a bit messy, and we were warned by Phil beforehand to put on dirty clothes. After chucking their three handfuls, some people keep behind a bit extra to lob over each other. It also seems to be the done thing to smear a white paste over each others nose and cheeks in the manner of the 1980s pop icon Adam Ant. The monks participate in this flour fight as enthusiastically as the Sherpas.
Monks conduct a puja while our Sherpa team looks on
We return to the puja tent to complete the blessing, but once the monks have left the event transforms into an all-day drinking session. Tuborg beers are cracked open and a pot of rakshi (home-made Nepali firewater) is passed around. The stuff is lethal and tastes awful, but luckily I'm able to finish my glass without any of it finding its way into my mouth. Nobody notices. I fill my glass with beer and I'm not pestered to drink rakshi again. Mark, Ian and Grant, however, are made to drink several glasses. Mark does his usual trick of getting everyone to play a drinking game. This one involves picking a glass of beer off the floor with your teeth while doing the splits. After several hilarious failures, Pasang Wongchu proves flexible enough to perform the task without falling over, but is promptly upstaged by Grant. Our diminutive Kiwi team mate turns out to have a special party trick which involves drinking a whole glass of Tuborg while standing on his head. I expect this came in particularly useful during his rugby playing days.
During a more introspective part of the afternoon we sit around in a big circle and take it in turns to slag off Ian about giving his oxygen away on Manaslu. By the time dinner is served at six o'clock, Mark and Grant have long since flopped out in their tents. Ian makes it to dinner but is very drunk. We all sleep well tonight, and now the puja has been completed we can start climbing the mountain.
9. An Australian climbing legend
Thursday, 19 April 2012 - Base Camp, Everest, Tibet
Phil turns up for breakfast this morning with a booming car stereo system and plonks it on the table. He looks at me, Mark and Ian.
"You bought this off a Tibetan during the puja yesterday. I wondered if you remember buying it?"
At some point after the chanting had finished and the drinking was in full swing, the Sherpas had a whip round for a stereo that a Tibetan on a motorbike was trying to sell for 180 yuan. As this is only about 30 dollars, Mark, Ian and I decided to buy it for them. I'm not sure what Phil thinks we're going to do with it, but we ask him to return it to them.
It's very calm this morning, another beautiful day, with only very light winds blowing towards the mountain rather than away from it, as has been the case until now. Phil tells us these are known as the China winds, which cancel out the prevailing winds and lead to calmer conditions. When the China winds blow later in the season it usually means a good summit window. It's certainly calm down here today, but as the morning passes, the plume on Everest's summit grows. There have been very high winds up there all the time we've been here, often dropping in altitude all the way down to the North Col.
We've all
been patient here at Base Camp, and nobody's been itching to move up the mountain, knowing that we have plenty of time and still need to acclimatise. But today we see the first signs of movement in the team. At lunchtime Phil announces we have 40 yaks arriving tomorrow to carry our kit up to Advanced Base Camp (ABC). The Sherpas will go with them, and we'll follow the next day. I'll be excited to get moving at last.
In the afternoon we have a visit from the legendary Australian climber Andrew Lock, who completed all the 8000 metre peaks in 2009 and is here this year because Everest is the only remaining 8000er he hasn't climbed without supplementary oxygen. He's climbing independently, without Sherpa support, but is using Jamie McGuinness's base camp services. Jamie is an expedition leader from New Zealand who used to be Phil's business partner, and most of us know him. Phil seems to think that if Andrew reaches the summit he will do a full traverse into Nepal, using the tents provided by Jamie's team on the south side of Everest for his descent. This would probably mean he won't be allowed back into Tibet again, but Phil thinks he'll retire if he makes it up Everest this year, so he won't care if he's banned from Tibet.
Both Phil and Andrew drop hints about writing books. They have many stories to tell about climbing the 8000 metre peaks, but are unusual because they both seem to be waiting till the end of their careers before they do so. Jamie "happens" to turn up at our dining tent on the dot of four o'clock, our usual time for happy hour, when we all meet up for red wine, cheese and Pringles. I have a hunch word may be getting around camp that we're the best stocked team booze-wise, and it probably won't be the last time we see them at our dinner table.
10. Remembering George Mallory and Sandy Irvine
Friday 20 April, 2012 - Base Camp, Everest, Tibet
I'm up before breakfast this morning to finish packing my stuff to go on the yaks up to Advanced Base Camp (ABC). 48 yaks arrive after breakfast to take 1800 kilograms of equipment up there. Seven of our Sherpas will go with them, and we follow tomorrow. It's another beautiful, hot morning here at Base Camp and during the early part of it Chomolungma even lacks her plume for the first time since we've been here.
Another climber watches the yak herders pack our equipment, and Phil points him out to us as an Italian who travels light, sleeps in other people's tents, and has a reputation for stealing oxygen. Since permit fees have gone up here on the north side, most of the shoestring maverick climbers like this have moved over to the south, but the fact there's one of them here is a real nuisance. Our Sherpas will be stocking our higher camps with fuel, food and oxygen, ready for when we arrive there, and if any of it is missing, particularly the oxygen, then it could ultimately prove quite dangerous as our lives may depend on it. Strangely the man comes over to our camp to ask if he can buy some of the oxygen. The answer is no, of course - we've brought it for our own use and not to sell to other people - but if he's prepared to pay for it then why on earth hasn't he brought any of his own? Dorje is very angry, as it's his team who will be carrying each of the four-kilogram cylinders up the mountain to stock our camps. He points the climber out to the other Sherpas, and in the afternoon he invites the Italian climber's Sherpas over for rakshi (Sherpa alcohol). He makes it clear he will hold them responsible if any of our oxygen goes missing. The Sherpa community is a very close knit one. Many of the people working together on big mountains are related, and Dorje is quite highly respected within it. Hopefully this Italian climber won't cause any trouble for other teams.
In the afternoon I go over to find the Mallory memorial which I was unable to find a few days ago. A funny incident happened after I blogged that I couldn't find it. Someone from Dubai commented on my blog post and provided a link to Grant's website, saying there was a useful map of Base Camp on it, unaware that I could simply walk over to Grant's tent and ask him. Grant's "map" is actually a panoramic photo of the whole of camp taken from one of the hillsides above us. He's added labels to the photo showing the locations of the various teams, and I imagine if I was following the Everest season from home then I would find it quite interesting. It isn't much help to me now, though, as it only shows general locations, and I'm looking for a precise one. My problem the other day was finding Mallory's memorial among the dozens of other ones. I find it today, though. Although it's not the biggest, the plaque is quite shiny and substantial and I was a bit of an idiot not to notice it before.
The memorial to George Mallory and Sandy Irvine at Everest Base Camp
Of all the people who have died here on the north side of Everest, George Mallory made the most significant contribution to future climbs. In three expeditions, in 1921, 1922 and 1924, he discovered and pioneered the route up the East Rongbuk Glacier, North Col Wall and Northeast Ridge that most people follow to climb Everest from Tibet. He was also a convert to the use of bottled oxygen, having been impressed by the performance of rival climber George Finch when he used it on the 1922 expedition. Mallory chose as his climbing partner in 1924 the youngster Sandy Irvine because he was good with the oxygen apparatus. The two were last seen alive climbing a prominent step on the summit ridge by team mate Noel Odell before the mist swept over and they were never seen again. Mallory's body was found in 1999, and it was evident that he had taken a fall. A broken rope was tied around him, and there was a large hole in his cheekbone. His sunglasses were in his pocket, indicating that he was probably descending in the dark. Nobody knows whether Mallory and Irvine reached the summit, but in my opinion it doesn't matter. Mallory was a great climber whose name is synonymous with the history of Everest, but he didn't get back down. The bewildering array of memorials at Base Camp is a reminder that reaching the summit is only half the climb. For lesser climbers like myself the summit would be great, but getting down is the important bit.
Our plan for the next few days is to walk up to ABC and spend a few nights there before climbing as high as 7500 metres to acclimatise. If successful this would put us in position for an early summit push; we could come back to Base Camp and then await a weather window. But later this afternoon Phil gets a weather forecast that suggests there may be a storm on the way in about three days' time. It will give us just enough time to tag the North Col, but means we will have to come back down again and do a second rotation. I don't mind this; in many ways I'd prefer two shorter rotations to one long one. I don't like to rush things and will feel stronger if I can spend more time acclimatising.
In the evening Phil and Margaret reminisce about the 2010 Everest expedition they were both on, when one of their climbers got into trouble on summit day. Phil was returning from the summit when he came upon Dorje sitting vigil over an unconscious man at the Balcony (a flattish area at about 8400 metres on Everest's south side summit route). Although Dorje had given up hope for the man, he wouldn't leave him. Phil managed to get him conscious again by injecting dexamethasone, but the rescue became a real struggle when he became violent and refused to accept help. He threw several bottles of oxygen down the Lhotse Face and Dorje had to keep hitting him to make him cooperate. Back at their hotel in Kathmandu people were in tears because he was still alive when he should have been dead, but the real tragedy appears to be that he remains in denial about the rescue. He never thanked anyone for their help, or even accepted that it happened, despite being presented with video evidence taken by the many people who helped. I know I could never climb Everest without assistance, and whatever happens up there, I'm determined that I won't forget to acknowledge those who help me.
11. To Yakshit Camp
Saturday 21 April, 2012 - Interim Camp, Everest, Tibet
We set off at ten o'clock this morning for our first foray up the mountain. It's the first cloudy day there's been at Base Camp and there's a slight wind in the air. It's a day for fleeces.
I set off with Mark and Ian, but they shoot off ahead of me before we've even reached the terminal moraine at the front of Base Camp. Mark is pre-acclimatised after trekking to Everest Base Camp on the south side with his girlfriend Claire before the expedition
, and Ian is a boy racer. It takes me two hours to walk up the left hand side of the Rongbuk Glacier to the point where the East Rongbuk Glacier, our route of ascent, branches to the left. It's sunny and dusty, and the route is mainly on the flat, but beyond the junction the East Rongbuk rises steeply and the climb becomes very tiring. Everest is visible all the way up the Rongbuk Glacier, though mostly in cloud, but when I turn up the East Rongbuk it soon disappears behind a wall of crumbly brown rock that comes down from Changtse.
Trekking in the main Rongbuk Valley, with Everest up ahead
Grant and Margaret overtake me. As they walk past, Grant pauses, turns to me and says, "Margaret just told me her training schedule."
"What's that, then?" I reply.
"She gets up at five o'clock in the morning and cycles to work. She gets there at six o'clock and goes to the gym for an hour, and then she goes and does her work for about nine hours. Then at the end of the day she cycles home, so it's a round trip of about 50 kilometres of cycling. Then she gets home and has a small rest for about 20 minutes and then gets on the treadmill."