by Junko Tabei
Interest led me to became passionate about the health of mountain environments. In 2000, I completed a master’s course in social culture with my focus on the garbage problem in the Himalayas. I also acted as chairperson (until 2014) of the Japanese branch of the Himalayan Adventure Trust, an organization that was formed by Sir Hillary and stands under the umbrella of a larger international mountain ecology association whose motto is “Carry down everything you carry up.”
Along with my commitment to the role of chairperson came regret for leaving the empty oxygen bottles at the South Peak and the tent at Camp 6. I cannot change those occurrences, but I am the first to admit they make my voice stronger in encouraging as many people as possible to keep mountains clean.
CHAPTER 10
Endgame
May 17
Our tent shook in the vicious morning wind, and we knew all would have been lost if this was the day meant for the summit. We had succeeded in our goal on Everest, so weather was no longer a deterrent. In one sense, we could relax.
Since the summit radio call on May 16, we had been unable to make further contact with Camp 2. We could receive their calls, plus ones from Base Camp, but they were unable to pick up our signal. We had tried to transmit every half hour until 9 p.m. the night before with no luck. Anticipating their worry, we thought it best to quickly descend in order for the team at Camp 2 to spot us when we reached the Geneva Spur. We left Camp 5 with the three Sherpas who had stayed overnight at the South Col. There were no usable oxygen bottles left, and in climbing down I required multiple rests. I wondered at my tiredness.
We arrived at Camp 4 by noon, just in time for the midday radio call between Base Camp and Camp 2. Hastily, I turned on the radio and made contact. I could feel their enormous sense of relief wash over the airwaves as I spoke. Hisano had been unable to sleep a wink the night before out of concern for our safety. Although we tried, I felt sorry that I could not have eased her mind any earlier. I knew the amount of strain she would have felt wondering how her team was faring higher up on the mountain. What I failed to realize at the time was that some team members considered Hisano’s concern for me and Ang Tsering to be too much and at the expense of the other climbers. The result was a widening division, like a deep crevasse, between leader and teammates, and the anguish it caused was immeasurable.
The tents that had remained at Camp 4 from our ascent were packed and dispersed among Ang Tsering and the three Sherpas who were with us, making their loads extremely heavy. Ang Tsering and I continued to totter down the slope, staggering on the Lhotse Face, thoroughly relying on our carabiners and the fixed ropes to guide us to safety below. Thank goodness for the Sherpa who met us at Camp 3 to help lighten our load by taking the packs and slinging them over his shoulder. Even then, my footing remained ridiculously tangled and my body unintentionally swayed on the long descent.
Countless times, even that strong sirdar Ang Tsering said, “Let’s take a break.” I hated to stand up after we sat, but we needed the longer breaks every fifteen minutes, with lots of short rests in between. And that was how we progressed down the mountain. Finally, Camp 2 was visible, and the shapes of our team members gradually took form, scurrying about, busy in anticipation of our arrival.
By that point in the expedition, I had no energy left for personal care. Sixty-two days in the Himalayas and I was not worried about how I looked. Appearance meant nothing as I reeled along, happy to be within sight of Camp 2. But the camp stretched away from us, like a mirage in a white desert of snow, at an unreachable distance. Then, at long last, I heard the words that ensured I could finally rest: “Omedeto!” Welcome back! Great job!
We made it. We had climbed to the top of Everest and back down again. We had survived the mighty ordeal of mountaineering at high elevations and safely returned to Camp 2, the very spot that could have changed our fortune a couple of weeks earlier on the night of the avalanche. Totally spent, Ang Tsering and I collapsed like rubber dolls, unable to stand upright for another minute.
We handed out the little stones that we had collected from near the summit, a gift to each of our teammates. We drank black tea and embraced the camaraderie of our friends, though only for a short while. Fatigue overcame me and I retreated to my tent, where Hisano had spread out my sleeping bag. Too tired to speak another word, I lay on my back and fell asleep.
May 18
I woke up numerous times in the night to reassure myself that I was, in fact, at Camp 2.
Comforted, I would sleep again until the next startled jolt of concern about my location. I was having difficulty determining my whereabouts and realizing that the task of climbing to the top of Everest was complete.
First thing the next morning, Hisano said, “You should come down to Base Camp with me right away.”
I hesitated. “But I have to dismantle Camp 2.”
“It’s all right. You’re too tired to do that,” she said.
Part of my responsibility as assistant leader was to disassemble the camp, and it pained me to leave the job for Shioura, Taneya and Arayama. Supportively, they understood and encouraged me to descend. “It’s OK,” they said. “It’s best for you to go down.” The level of exhaustion I felt allowed me to be easily persuaded, and I prepared for the long-awaited return to Base Camp.
Roped up to one another, Hisano, Watanabe and I began to retrace the familiar route to Camp 1. Sentimental thoughts matched my steps, and I found myself saying goodbye to the landscape, even to the monstrous crevasses that somehow looked lovely to me. I felt a pang of emotion knowing that I would probably never see this place again in my lifetime. I looked back at the distant Lhotse Face and it shone like a polished prized possession. Stage by stage, we had pieced the mountain together and climbed to its magnificent summit. Tired, I continued my descent as though in a reverent dream.
Reality shifted when we arrived at the Duralumin ladder just below Camp 1. It hung there miserably broken, dangling in space, as though to remind us of the constant focus required by climbers. Hisano was first to descend the ruin, on belay by one of the Sherpas. When she was out of view, I realized I had one too many ice axes in my hand. “Oh, this is Hisano-san’s ice axe,” I mumbled to myself, but my comment was met with frustration by Watanabe.
“You’d be rebuffed by everybody if you mention Hisano’s name, or openly call her our leader these days,” she said.
“What? How come?” I was confused by the direction of the conversation.
“Because, Tabei-san, she had only you and what was happening at the higher camps on her mind, nothing else.”
The signal for my turn on the ladder was yelled from below, and with no reply to Watanabe, I stepped forth, one cautious rung at a time. My mind was a flurry. Something must have gone wrong between Hisano and the rest of the team. I had sensed a difference at camp the previous night but was unable to identify the cause. Now, after hearing Watanabe’s unthinkable words, it was clear that built-up tensions needed to be addressed. Everest was a team effort, and I had no intention of losing what we had conquered to such dramatics.
We were back at the Khumbu Icefall. The upper section was like giant ocean waves frozen in time, while the lower part was visibly melting, and the sound of spouting water filled the air around me. How long had I been gone? It was late winter – mid-March – when I first reached Base Camp on our ascent, and now the thaw of springtime was everywhere. I walked through a stream of meltwater, tapping my crampons in the splashes of seasonal warmth. Our liaison officer, Lhakpa Tenzing, and Nasu and Manita added to the scenery by hiking partway up from Base Camp to greet us, a pot of hot black tea in hand.
“Hontoni omedeto, Tabei-san,” said Lhakpa, his face overcome with joy and his hand tightly shaking mine as he offered a heartfelt congratulation. Next, I recognized Mihara approaching us, and then Hirashima and Dr. Sakaguchi.
“Sorry I talked back to you,” I said to the doctor, asking forgiveness for ignoring her orders to retreat from Camp 2 after the avalanche.
That, too, seemed ages ago, but was hopefully put to rest.
A few steps before we reached Base Camp, a front tooth on my crampons snapped off. I was impressed by the timing of it, so close to the end, as I walked the final distance in front of me. Once at Base Camp, all the Sherpas, the cook, the kitchen boys and the rest of the party welcomed us back. I heard Ang Tsering repeatedly say in Nepali, “Dherai dherai thakai” (very very tired), and I had to agree.
One factor I wanted to ensure upon arrival back to Base Camp was a doctor’s checkup. I was curious as to how my body had held up to the higher elevations and its progress in recovery. Also, as premature as it may have seemed, I wanted a positive medical reference for future expeditions. The appointment failed to take place, however; and whether that was due to the general commotion at camp or my previously blatant disregard of doctor’s orders at Camp 2, I was unsure.
After a hot bowl of ramen, and having handed out the remainder of the summit stones to our teammates, I desired nothing more than rest. I laid myself down in Hisano’s small tent to sleep, but my mind fitfully wandered about. I should have felt safe, secure and tired there at Base Camp, yet sleep evaded me again. I was filled with a mixture of thoughts left to absorb.
May 19
I had hoped my fatigue would be gone after the first night back at Base Camp. Instead, the opposite was true – I was unable to lift myself out of the tent in the morning. I was painfully heavy with exhaustion, to the point of forgoing use of the toilet. Even to rise enough to catch sight of the oncoming climbers took all my might. As I watched their silhouettes – Shioura, Taneya, Arayama and several Sherpas – navigate the icefall, my only wish was for them to arrive at Base Camp as quickly as possible, then everything would be over. After seeing them descend, I burrowed back into my bag to rest.
An intense argument had been brewing amongst the Camp 1 team before they made it to Base Camp. I could hear their raised voices from afar. “Why wasn’t any rope brought up to us when we had asked for it? We badly needed it! You don’t care about us, the ones who stayed up there!” The confrontation highlighted Watanabe’s earlier comments about team disruption, but, in all fairness, the Sherpas who could have taken ropes up to the icefall were occupied with ferrying loads between camps. They certainly were not sitting idle.
My attitude was that everyone had arrived at Base Camp unharmed, and by May 18, our entire team was in one place. No one had to climb through the daunting icefall anymore. We were done. Safe. Finito. For me, any residues of concern melted away. Everest was complete.
Hisano called a meeting in the mess tent for every climber to attend, except me. I could barely stand and remained sunken in my sleeping bag like a heavy sack. Akamatsu suggested I breathe with supplemental oxygen, and even though I would usually deem the gas too precious to use at a lower altitude, I placed the mask on my face and turned the flow dial to 0.5 litres per hour. The comfortable hiss of the oxygen as it seeped from the bottle lulled me to sleep.
I awoke again, this time to the sounds of boots stomping on the snow and a conversation I was likely not meant to hear. “Well, for whatever reason, Tabei is the one to be blamed most.” The words stung as they hit me from the neighbouring doctor’s tent. Why me, and what was I being blamed for? In a desperate state of tiredness, I had no energy, physically or mentally, to react, and again I succumbed to the hiss of the oxygen bottle. The team members, with all their opinions and criticisms, would have to sort themselves out. All I could manage was sleep.
Each time I woke, my thoughts would quickly see past everyone’s blaming and whispering and recognize that the climb was over. All of us, every single climber and Sherpa, made it down the mountain. Period. I recalled how much I prayed, on the hike in, that the same number of people would be present on our way home. We succeeded. There lies the satisfaction of our expedition.
After four hours of supplemental oxygen, I stepped outside the tent and was immediately struck by the brightness of the day. I had assumed that the weather had turned when the light dimmed earlier, when in fact, it was the weakened state of my eyes. Despite poor vision, my body was alive enough to venture to the toilet, a feat I had been unable to accomplish hours earlier even by way of crawling.
Slightly revitalized and making my way around camp, I sensed the unsettled atmosphere that resulted from Hisano’s meeting. The cause of frustration for the party arose from me not being able to communicate by radio from the South Col. Knowing that missed calls could indicate an accident, Hisano was so worried that she was unable to be calmed until she was confident we were safe.
In the eyes of the team members who were with Hisano at Camp 2, their leader only cared about the climbers on the upper part of the mountain, and not the rest of the team. They felt that it was an embarrassment and unacceptable for a leader to remain that agitated and nervous simply from lack of communication with a party at the South Col. How was it inappropriate to be concerned about a scenario of that magnitude? What would they have done as leader?
Hisano remained completely silent for the next two days. Her loneliness and sorrow was understandable, but I desperately wished for her to speak up before her silence worked an opposite effect on everyone’s well-being. In response to the tension between team members, the layout of tents had been completely rearranged, and a plume of cigarette smoke rose from the camp. Since none of the women on our team smoked, the fact that some had turned to cigarettes proved to me just how strained the situation had become.
By the day we were ready to dismantle Base Camp, our team was indelibly divided in two. One group worked hard to clean things up, and the other stood by in observation, nonchalantly flipping through magazines, sunglasses on and cigarettes in hand. The workers paid attention to detail so as not to disgrace the reputation of an all-women’s party: toilets were buried under stones; burnable garbage was set alight; emptied cans were collected and thrown into the deepest of crevasses, even though we were concerned that those tins might resurface one day.
I was ready to leave after I watched the logs that were used as poles for the kitchen tarp burn to nonexistence. Hisano and I turned to leave Base Camp behind, waving farewell to Hirashima, Kitamura and Mihara, the three who stayed to finish the last of the kitchen cleanup. Their faces were smeared with black from the ashy smoke, highlighting the filthy nature of the job.
The gap between leader and climbers grew and followed us down the trail. In its wake, it dragged all other frustrations from the trip, trivial or otherwise. Accusations were made about who was chosen to climb to higher camps and to the summit. As climbing leader, I was ridiculed, too. “Tabei didn’t bother passing on any more instructions to the others once she was selected for the summit assault,” said one teammate. Another declared that it was Annapurna all over again. I realized that frustrations originally directed at Hisano had shifted to complaints against me.
Some climbers stayed clear of the negative backtalk, murmuring under their breath that enough was enough. Unfortunately, this passive response did nothing to erase the bad taste in the air that hung like a wet blanket on our route to Lukla.
It would have been impossible to fully satisfy all fifteen members of the expedition, regardless of who was leader. When two or more people are involved in any situation, let alone the number we had and the setting we were in, compromises must be made. Curiously, though, even when annoyance, fatigue and disheartened emotion exist, the physical pain of it heals and is forgotten with time.
Standing on the summit of Everest lasted a moment in time, a moment that resulted from the joint effort of all the women on our team. We came to the expedition with greatly varied backgrounds and strove together for nearly four years to reach the mountain. It was our combined determination that made the summit moment a significant one.
There lies the most precious thing about our trip: teamwork and commitment to the goal. Yes, the summit was an unforgettable experience for me, one that crystallized as a memory for life. But the reason for our success wen
t deeper than standing on the summit – it was the result of will and endurance. I believe that a person’s will is innate – it comes from a fired-up passion that begins in the bottom of the heart, and takes over from there – and I equate will to power. That power was what steered the 1975 Japanese all-women’s team to Everest in the first place, and more so, to the summit.
The news of our success travelled fast. A speech by King Birendra of Nepal was aired on the radio and a message from Nepal’s queen was also delivered. Telegrams arrived in Kathmandu from Japanese Prime Minister Mr. Miki and former Heritage and Education Minister Mr. Nagai, as did many other congratulatory well-wishes from numerous other countries. It was during these celebrations that I heard for the first time that the United Nations had designated 1975 as International Women’s Year.
Ang Tsering, team leader Hisano and I were awarded the Order of the Gorkha Dakshina Bahu – one of the highest honours in Nepal – directly by King Birendra himself, and we paraded through the city of Kathmandu, riding in a convertible car decorated with flowers. Before us, Sir Edmund Hillary was the last foreigner to receive the award, twenty-two years earlier. After the festivities, and having said goodbye to the Sherpas and the others who had assisted us on the expedition, we travelled to India, where we were met by more than a hundred reporters awaiting interviews. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was also slated to meet with us. Overwhelmed by our reception, I remained unconvinced that we had done anything worth this scale of treatment.
June 8
Almost six months after I had left Japan for Everest, Hisano, Watanabe and I landed back in Tokyo. Ang Tsering accompanied us as an invitee of The Yomiuri Shimbun and Nippon Television. Reporters and cameramen crowded around us, blocking our way as we descended the steps of the airplane. We still could not believe the reaction to our climb. What was all the fuss about?