by Mark Horrell
Chongba has been waiting patiently while I faff around with my mask. We move on and I walk slowly for about 20 paces. I breathe a sigh of relief as the gagging problem doesn't re-occur. A short distance above camp the route starts becoming a little more technical, with short rocky sections to overcome. Some of these simply involve a few tall steps to climb up, while others are a little harder and I need to use my hands. In most cases I do this by hauling myself up the fixed rope with my jumar. Time is difficult to gauge: it may be one hour or it may be two, but eventually we reach a significant series of rock scrambles which are really quite tiring to surmount. We all know there are three main technical rock sections on Everest's northern route: the First Step, the Second Step and the Third Step. The climbing that we're having to do is sufficiently significant that I begin to wonder whether we've reached the First Step already. It's very tiring, and at the top I flop down in a bed of snow. There's a short snow ramp above this, and suddenly nothing beyond: we're on the summit ridge!
For the next few minutes the going is a little easier. The first section of the ridge is of very gentle gradient, and for a while we walk along it on an easy snow trail. Then the snow peters out and we drop a little to the right of the ridgeline. It's rocky underfoot with a light dusting of snow, and the terrain beneath our feet slopes gently downwards to our right. Up ahead one of Everest's main steps is clearly lit up by a dozen head torches of climbers on their way up. It seems we were the last team to leave camp tonight, and much of the route ahead of us is illuminated like lights along a promenade.
I'm keen to know which step we're arriving at. The lights climb almost straight up for a bit then angle across to the right. If this is the Second Step then one of these sections will be a ladder. If there's no ladder then I'll know we've only arrived at the First Step. We've been able to climb unimpeded until now, and this is the first bottleneck of climbers we've come across on an otherwise quiet summit night. At the bottom of the step is a deep bed of snow a few feet in height, easy to climb by planting my feet in previous climbers' footsteps. Above this is bare rock, and I look up to see there's no ladder, so this is the First Step and the earlier scramble was probably only the Exit Cracks.
It takes us a long time to get up this obstacle as we wait for the climbers ahead of us. The climbing is most easily done by lifting my leg as high as I can onto the boulder above me, then hauling myself up the rope with my jumar. Each boulder is just about big enough to stand on with both feet as I wait for the people above to make their next move. It's tiring work, and at the top of the first vertical section one of them stops for a substantial rest before tackling the second diagonal traverse. I suppose it's safer for them to be well-rested, but below them Chongba and I are perched on precarious boulders which we'd prefer to be able to climb up from. When they eventually move on we follow directly behind them without resting. The second section is easy scrambling by sea-level standards, but again I rely on the fixed ropes a lot with my arms. Because this section is part traversing it's going to be a lot more difficult to down-climb. We've climbed up in the dark, and on the way back I'll have the full 3000 metres of the North Face to stare down. I'm not looking forward to coming back this way, but I'll have to cross that bridge later.
Approaching the top of the First Step, with the summit pyramid behind
(Photo: Grant 'Axe' Rawlinson)
I'm exhausted when I reach the top, and I have to stop for a long rest to get my breath back. I very nearly vomit into my mask, but manage to check myself. Chongba waits, perhaps wondering whether I'm going to move on from this, but eventually I rise slowly and continue onwards.
40. The Second Step
Saturday 19 May, 2012, part 2 - Summit Day, Everest, Tibet
The next section between the First and Second Steps is probably the most frightening part of summit day for me, as I become accustomed to the terror of it all. It's the moment when I first think, "what the hell am I doing here?". It's when I realise that I'm several levels out of my comfort zone and I become aware that Everest's Northeast Ridge is not at all what I was expecting – that it's a rock scramble rather than a snow climb. It's when I see my first dead body, a Scottish climber who has fallen onto his back with his head pointing down the mountain. It must be about 4.30am Nepali time somewhere along here, for between the First and Second Steps it turns from night to day. I learn exactly what it is I'm climbing and become aware of the god-forsaken drop to my right.
The "trail" between the First and Second Steps is a series of very narrow rock ledges just about wide enough for a boot, some horizontal, some sloping downwards at an angle of about 30º. Some contain a light dusting of snow, not much help when you're wearing crampons, but most are bare rock. Quite a few of them contain three or four strands of old fixed rope from previous years for me to snag my crampon points on. We keep just below the ridgeline, so manage to escape the terror of looking down the Kangshung Face to our left, but to the right of these precarious sloping slabs is a horrifying 3000 metre drop down the North Face. As the sun rises and I become more and more aware of where I am, I get increasingly nervous. Doubts start creeping in and for the first time a very important mantra comes to my mind: "Whatever happens, I've got to get back down safely".
Crossing slabs between the First and Second Steps, with the North Face falling to the left
It's almost a relief to reach the foot of the Second Step. By now I've been creeping so nervously across these slabs that any bottleneck there might have been ahead of me has now cleared. The climbers who held us up on the First Step have been much quicker through this section, as have my two old pals Mark and Ian whom I see behind, catching me up with their Sherpas Ang Gelu and Kami. The first part of the Second Step involves a very short ladder into a small alcove. Above this, and to the right of the alcove, is a large diagonally-sloping boulder with a broad crack big enough for a boot down the left side of it. Several ropes, old and new, run down the crack in a tangle of nylon. The boulder is several feet high with very few cracks for crampons. Somehow I've got to get my right leg right on top of it then haul myself onto the boulder using the ropes. The other side of the boulder, of course, is a sickening 3000 metre drop straight down the North Face, which doesn't exactly spur me on.
I try twice in vain, and my nerves are shredded. "What the hell am I doing here?" I think to myself again.
By now Chongba has joined me in the alcove "I don't think I can do it, Chongba, I'm sorry!"
He looks very sad, but before we can think about our predicament Ang Gelu joins us in the alcove and doesn't hesitate. Mark is waiting to climb the ladder behind him as soon as we have more space here, and I see that it's not an option to turn around.
"OK. I climb up to the rock and pull you up," says Ang Gelu.
He is true to his word. I watch him effortlessly perform the manoeuvre I tried in vain. Then he reaches down and proffers a hand, and within moments I have joined him on the rock. The die is cast, and Chongba and I move on past him.
There's a short step onto another rock which slopes back to the left, then an easy snow ramp leads up about ten metres to the Second Step's most famous feature: a tall ladder up a vertical section, left by a Chinese team in 1975, without which hundreds of lesser climbers like me would never have been able to climb Everest from the north side. Unlike big smooth rocks, I don't have any problem with ladders, and sure enough within moments I'm up it too. There's about another six feet of scrambling above this through a tangle of old ropes, and the Second Step is overcome.
41. The Third Step
Saturday 19 May, 2012, part 3 - Summit Day, Everest, Tibet
At last we're on a slightly broader ridge, and for the first time in a long time I'm able to proceed without having to concentrate on every step. There's a long walk up a wide snow trail to a small rock promontory: the Third Step. Above this the mountain steepens up the final summit pyramid. We see climbers crawling up this steep snow slope, but rocks guard the area above it, so the climbers are angli
ng to the right where there's presumably a gap in the rocks allowing access to the summit.
Our goal is in sight now, but in reality we still have another four or five hours of climbing before we reach the summit. As we walk up the snow trail I begin tiring and have to stop for a rest. Chongba takes the opportunity of a safe area in which to sit down to change my oxygen bottle for the spare one he's been carrying in his pack. This suggests he must think we're halfway through our summit day in terms of time.
We continue up the broad trail to the Third Step, but I have to stop at the bottom for yet another rest. Tired and with my senses deadened, I sit down beside another corpse curled up in a foetal position at the foot of the step. Mark and Ian overtake me with Ang Gelu and Kami, and I climb the step behind them. It's the easiest of the three steps, but it still involves plenty of hauling myself up with my arms, and I'm getting more tired now. There are some horizontal rocks to weave through before reaching the snow slope up the summit pyramid. Once again I need a rest before I can continue, and I watch Mark and Ian pull away from us up the slope. As I wait I see Chongba reach into my pack and make an adjustment to my oxygen regulator. He tries to do it surreptitiously, and I pretend not to notice.
Approaching the Third Step, with the summit pyramid and snowfield above
(Photo: Grant 'Axe' Rawlinson)
The mantra comes into my mind again: "Must get down safely". I briefly consider asking Chongba how much further there is to the summit and whether we should consider turning around, but in the end I remain silent. There are two main factors motivating me to keep going at the moment: my two friends Mark and Ian are up ahead, and I would be gutted if they make it to the summit and I don't. Secondly there is Chongba himself. Although he has climbed Everest 12 times, he's never done it from the north side and I know he's desperate to. Along with all our Sherpas, he's put so much effort into the expedition, doing superhuman load carries up the mountain to ensure all our camps are established. We're nearly there, and while getting back safely is the most important thing, I really don't want to let him down. As long as he is here and prepared to continue, so will I.
42. The summit pyramid
Saturday 19 May, 2012, part 4 - Summit Day, Everest, Tibet
We move on up the snow slope. By now we're encountering other climbers coming down from the summit. I'm too exhausted to climb past them, so I stop on the rope to let each of them pass. Some, like the Sherpas, do this easily, even unclipping from the rope to skip past me and reattach behind. Others do it more nervously, grabbing hold of my pack to reach around me and reattach their carabiner.
At the top of the snow slope is the rock band which guards the summit. The trail now edges across a narrow rock ledge for some distance, and I have no choice but to stare down the abyss. It's not a great place to pass other climbers, but there are now quite a few of them coming down from the summit. I recognise Phil, Grant and Pasang Nima, but I'm too tired to congratulate them, so press against the rock face and make myself as small as possible so they can squeeze past me. Phil is in talkative mood though. He notices the air intake valve on my oxygen mask is iced up, so he blows on it to defrost the ice particles. This is a somewhat intimate procedure, but I'm not in a position to worry about whether any passers-by think we're tongue-kissing. The front of my mask has two inlet channels, the first a tube pulling pure oxygen from the cylinder in my pack. But the body also needs all the other gases that are found in air, such as nitrogen, so there's another valve on the mask that lets in ambient air from the outside. It's this valve that was iced over, inhibiting my breathing slightly.
"Not far now, dude," says Phil. "Everyone's done amazing. Grant summited. Mila summited. Mark Dickson summited. Ian Cartwright summited. It's just five minutes to the summit from here."
It's a morale-boosting statement, and it certainly encourages me to continue. Unfortunately the last part is also complete bullshit, and Phil only said it to make me feel better and ensure I don't think about turning back. In the end it takes us more than an hour to reach the summit from here.
There's a real flurry of people on their way down now. As I edge further round the ledge my hat gets caught in the wind and goes flying down the North Face into Tibet, but I don't care: if I get to the top and back down again it's a worthwhile sacrifice. Halfway along the traverse I have to wait a very long time as climbers edge past me one by one, but ordinary politeness doesn't exist on this narrow ledge on the roof of the world, and nobody stops to give us our turn to proceed. Eventually there's a gap, and we continue to where the ledge ends and the trail turns sharply upwards through a gap in the rock band. I guess you could call this the Fourth Step, a scramble over the rocks which guard the summit. I haul myself up with my jumar. It's tiring work as always, but we still have to keep stopping for long periods to let people past, so I get plenty of opportunity to rest. I recognise Mila in her red down suit, but I'm not in celebratory mood just yet.
"Congratulations on reaching the summit," I say, "but take care, won't you."
She doesn't look like she needs reminding. Staring down this tricky rock section, we're all too aware there's a long way to go before we're safe again.
Finally Chongba and I reach the snow slopes above the rock band, and the summit feels very close now. I turn right and begin plodding slowly up a gentle rise. At the brow I see prayer flags on the horizon a few hundred metres in front of me - the summit, the highest point in the world! But there's a little way to go yet. The snow trail weaves gently around a couple of snow humps before rising up to the flags. I can see several figures among the tangle of red, yellow, green and blue. Two are in yellow down suits and I believe they might be Mark and Ian, but as I get nearer I see Mark and Ang Gelu are sitting in a sheltered spot beneath one of the snow humps. Ian and Kami are the two on the summit; they begin descending and reach Mark and Ang Gelu before us. I shake hands with my two old friends as I pass them, but I don't stop for a chat with the top so close. This seems like a very long drawn-out approach to the summit, and I'm keen to get it over with as soon as possible.
It's quite sheltered where we are on the approach, but the prayer flags on the summit are billowing wildly, so I know it must be windy up there. I mount the final snow steps with my eye on a spot to sit down, but just as I get there someone else takes it with a whoop. I look over his shoulder and find myself staring down the Southeast Ridge, crawling with people coming up from the south side in Nepal. The man who took my seat has just arrived from there himself.
It doesn't matter. I turn around and give Chongba a big hug. This is his thirteenth time up here and he seems happy, but for me there's no sense of elation and achievement. Relief perhaps, yes, but I know how far we still have to go, and the descent is going to be very difficult.
Mark on the summit of Everest (8848m), the highest point on Earth, with Makalu behind
I take a few photographs and ask Chongba to take some of me. It's ten o'clock Nepali time exactly (12.15 China time), and not as cold as I was expecting. I've been wearing only my inner gloves since the Third Step. Usually my camera batteries need warming up before taking the summit pictures, but here they just work. I dimly realise we've been very lucky with the weather - it's been a perfect summit day until now.
It's busy up here, though, and the wind isn't tempting me to stick around. The descent looms large in my mind, and I know there's still a long ordeal ahead of us. After only about five minutes on the summit we start descending. Whether I will ever be here again on the top of the world doesn't cross my mind. My only focus now is to get down safely.
43. The world's highest graveyard
Saturday 19 May, 2012, part 5 - Summit Day, Everest, Tibet
We stop and rest for a few minutes in the sheltered spot below the summit where I saw Mark and Ian. It's quiet here away from the wind, providing an opportunity to compose my thoughts. All the crowds that passed us as we ascended the rock band have evaporated. Chongba and I seem to be the very last people onto the summit from th
e north side, and now we're completely alone. The peace and solitude up here would be sensational but for the need to descend. I begin repeating the mantra to myself again: "must get down safely, must get down safely".
I get into difficulty almost immediately when we resume our descent. I stumble as we're scrambling through the rock band and have to sit down. Two pieces of equipment have been making my progress difficult and I need to stop and fix them. The first are my goggles, which have been steaming up on a regular basis and inhibiting my vision. Every few minutes I'm having to stop and clean them, and my vision becomes completely blurred at the most inconvenient moments. I have to wear them or I will become snow blind, but I need a more permanent solution or our descent is going to take for ever. Chongba takes out his pocket knife and makes a few emergency adjustments to improve the ventilation. Meanwhile I take a look at my second problem item: my oxygen mask, which keeps getting pulled away from my face. The oxygen cylinder is supposed to sit inside a narrow sleeve inside my pack to prevent it falling over and taking the tube attached to my mask with it. When I look inside my pack I see that when Chongba changed the bottle below the Third Step, he didn't put the new one back inside the sleeve, and now it's just lying at an awkward angle at the bottom of my pack. This means the pack rests at an uncomfortable angle across my shoulders, but more importantly the tube isn't long enough to reach my face, which explains why the mask keeps getting pulled off. I'm angry with myself for lazily allowing Chongba to change the bottle without checking to see he'd put it back in the sleeve. I had serious problems with this on Manaslu last year, and I know how important it was to ensure it didn't happen again. While I'm putting the bottle back into the sleeve, I notice the flow rate on the regulator has been turned down to one litre a minute. Chongba must have done this when I saw him reach for the regulator while we were resting at the top of the Third Step, and I realise he was probably worried about me running out of oxygen during our descent. We have 16 hours of oxygen at two litres a minute, but if we take any longer than this there would be a danger of me running out before we reach the safety of Camp 3. Although at just one litre a minute I will be even slower, at least there is no longer a risk of the cylinder running out.