by Junko Tabei
On May 13, 2016, after a speech I gave at a hotel near the Kannai Station in Kanagawa, south of Tokyo, I met with a Russian climber who was married to a Japanese woman. Earlier, he had sent me an email requesting a meeting, and he travelled a long distance to Kannai since it was the only spare time I had between speaking engagements during his visit to Japan. When I climbed Pobeda Peak, my team had hired a Russian climber named Alexei as one of our guides. He was a strong man, and very kind. Decades later, I still appreciated his efforts when I reflected on our summit success – it would have been unfeasible without Alexei’s expert guiding skills. Sadly, the Russian man I met in Kannai informed me that Alexei had died on Everest in 2013. His parents composed an album of their son’s mountain photos and diaries, in which Alexei wrote about climbing Pobeda Peak with a group of Japanese women. Photos from our climb were inserted in the book. Alexei’s parents had asked their Russian friend to give this book as a gift to Junko Tabei in Japan, and hence, our meeting. I was saddened by the story but heart-warmed by the gesture.
The cause of his accident on Everest surprised me. The expedition party was a mix of two Russians, and an Italian and a Swiss climber. From the beginning, the Italian and Swiss team members did not get along with the Sherpas, and the party dissolved. The two Russians decided to attempt the mountain from a different route, and Alexei, one of the two, started to climb using a rope that was left behind by a previous party. The rope broke and down he fell.
This was unbelievable to me. We would never use another team’s rope discarded on a route for fear of the weakness it would have sustained from exposure to extreme elements. I was shocked that Alexei, a professional climber, would resort to such a method. A moment of inattentiveness cost him his life. I appreciated the book I was given, and I thanked Alexei for it as I wished for him to rest in peace. How long would it take for the sadness of his story to wane from my being? Was that even possible?
Perhaps we climb for more than ourselves after all.
CHAPTER 13
Aconcagua
In January 1987 I summitted Aconcagua, the highest peak in South America. It was a memorable mountain for me, thanks to the people I met and – of all things – a dog.
Argentina is home to Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Andes of South America. People tend to think the mountain is based in both Chile and Argentina, as it stands a mere 15 kilometres from the Chilean border, but Aconcagua, in its entirety, is Argentinean. It is a unique summit because, despite its elevation of near 7000 metres, it can be climbed without an ice axe or crampons. Ski poles are sufficient to reach the top. But for me, the mountain might as well as have been on another planet. Located so far from Japan, I assumed it would never get ticked off my list of peaks to climb. Then an offer came that I was unable to refuse. I was invited to be the leader of a Japanese commercially organized climb on Aconcagua. The year was 1986; I was forty-six years old.
I was excited from the start and wasted no time in accepting the offer. Not only was Aconcagua my dream, I would have the chance to climb it with no expense to me – in fact, I would be paid. A friend advised me otherwise, stating it was risky to take clients up such a high peak. What if there was an emergency? How would I handle that on my own? At first, I shared the same concern, but another friend reassured me: “The most difficult parts about climbing Aconcagua are acclimatizing and crossing the river.”
I could hardly imagine a river being the crux of the climb. That part was unexpected, but in terms of acclimatization, I had enough experience to feel like I could manage whatever presented itself. There would be a local guide with us, and if we remained conservative in our climbing, we should be able to safely succeed. Plus, I figured that clients who were accepted by the tour company had some degree of mountaineering experience. I accepted the job as tour leader for Aconcagua, one of many commercial trips I would guide for Saiyu Travel (the last one being in 2016 to Mount Kerinci in Sumatra, Indonesia).
At Narita Airport in Tokyo, seven women and four men, with the common goal of Aconcagua, met for the first time. Our instant team of eleven members ranged in age from thirty to sixty-five years. Everyone seemed well-prepared in terms of trip details and ready for an adventure. From Narita, we flew to Los Angeles, and then to Mexico, Lima, and Buenos Aires, followed by a domestic flight to Mendoza, Argentina, 100 kilometres from the border of Chile.
In total, it was two days of travel, leaving Japan at 4 p.m. on Christmas Eve, having one night’s layover in Los Angeles, and arriving in Argentina in the late afternoon on December 26. I took advantage of the long flights and spoke with each client to develop a sense of their past climbing experience.
We met our local guide in Mendoza. There, we shopped for the climb – ten days’ worth of food – loading up on potatoes, carrots, onions, cabbages, oranges, powdered juice crystals, raisins, crackers and more. Then we chartered a bus to Puente del Inca, the trailhead, where packhorses were readied to carry loads into Base Camp. The accommodation in Puente del Inca included four or five lodges, each housing approximately thirty people with rooms of bunk beds. The best part was the natural hot springs, which we enjoyed before (and after) the climb.
That first night, we sat submerged in the water surrounded by the layers of sandy and rocky mountain spires that stood between us and Aconcagua, the Southern Cross fixed in the sky above. As I embraced the view, I was impressed with myself: I had travelled a so very far to climb a mountain. The next day, our hike began.
The trail to Base Camp started at the side of the 6-metre-wide road that passed in front of the lodge and served as the highway to Chile. A final glance over our shoulders as cars disappeared in the distance was our goodbye to civilization. We began by threading our way through blooms of dandelions as the majestic view of the bright Andes valley spread in front of us. Fresh green leaves sprouted from the brown scree slopes, and short purple gentians swayed in the wind, already mourning the too-short summer. It was a harsh environment for plants, and every species hugged the ground, as if to hide from the intense sunlight, strong winds and cold temperatures of the mountains. A cocoa-coloured river ran through the valley, and even though its width was only 5 metres, it had a daunting presence – rapids that churned a tremendous volume of water. Aha, the crux of the climb. Staring at it, I completely understood why I had been forewarned.
Our South American horses looked small and weak. They were like a mix of horse and donkey. With less hesitation than I showed, they braced their strong legs and marched into the river, carrying us on their backs. There we were, crossing the threatening river, water up to our thighs as the current pushed waves as high as the horses’ bellies. I tried to ignore the potential danger of the situation as I was numbed by the freezing cold glacial water that churned all around us. No sooner had I thought the crossing was over than a dog that had followed us from the lodge in Puente del Inca jumped in to join us. The rapids were fast and he was being swept downriver without a chance. “The dog is being washed away!” we yelled, upset by what we had witnessed. But, in the end, he popped out of the water onto land, having made it across on his own. We threw ourselves at him, this drenched dog, to make sure he was all right. Straightaway, somehow, he felt like part of the team, having succeeded the so-called crux of our approach, and we decided to keep him. We would return him to the lodge on our way home. Thus, Acon, after Aconcagua, marked my first mountain ascent with a dog at my heels.
The first night in our tents was at a site by the river at the bottom end of the valley, at 3300 metres. The stars dazzled in the dark as I looked up from our bivy in awe of the serene mountain setting. The next day, December 29, we packed our equipment and loaded it on horseback. Then we slowly but consistently gained 1000 metres of elevation on a wide trail alongside the cocoa-coloured river, crossing it at least another ten times. In the beginning, we removed our boots for each river crossing, but that was too tedious. Splashing through the water, boots on, was a much more efficient approach.
The Andes ha
d a character all its own – imposing mountains of brown rocky peaks, some with dramatic rock shapes; others layered with various strata. The region had a dry brightness to it, vastly different from the white snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. Then, between the towers of brown rock, snow spires began to show. Base Camp was close by. Acon must have sensed our excitement because he bounded ahead to lead the group, and we wondered if a dog could suffer from altitude sickness.
Base Camp sat at 4200 metres, right below the West Face of Aconcagua. It was unlike any of the base camps I had seen before – a small run-down cabin sat there, locked up and no use to us. On a large plateau, numerous tents of international mountaineers were pitched all over. I watched one group that had carried in tables and chairs, and were chilling their beer in the meltwater, commenting to myself that they sure knew how to have fun. A fellow from France, with the plan to paraglide from the summit down to Base Camp, was spreading out his equipment to double-check that everything was intact. We pitched three tents to house our team – one had the capacity for seven to eight people, and the two others were for four to five people each. I stayed in a smaller one.
“We’ll start to ferry loads up to a higher camp tomorrow,” I said. “No rush, though; we should take our time. Now I’ll complete my last job of the day.” I was referring to my evening ritual of cleansing my face.
“Oh, Tabei-san, why do such things?” said Hanako Majima, one of the women on our team.
“Why not?” I said. “When I was young, I didn’t put anything on my face. I was too busy buying climbing gear rather than makeup, and I had no interest in the betterment of my skin. But, around the time of Everest, I started to realize how much damage the sun causes. It burns us. More so, any dark spots and freckles I get don’t fade away like they used to when I was younger. So, at the very least, I wear sunscreen. And washing it off has become the routine that signifies the end of the day for me.” I opened the blue quilted pouch my daughter, Noriko, had made me as part of her summer homework when she was in fifth grade. I pulled out a bottle of lotion, tipped the ingredients onto a cotton swab and wiped my face.
Ishibashi family photo, circa 1943. From left to right, back row: Hisayoshi, Tsune, Fuchi; left to right, front row: Hisayuki, Morinobu, Kiyo, Junko, Chikako, Itsu.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko (third from left) with her university classmates at Mitake-yama, 1959.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
4, Junko’s first mountain hike, in the Nasu range, Grade 4, 1949. Junko in the lower right corner with Watanabe-sensei crouched behind her.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko playing koto (Japanese harp), circa 1960.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko with Yariga-take in the background, Northern Alps of Japan, circa 1961.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Young climber Masanobu Tabei, circa 1963.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko belays on a route at Tanigawa-dake, circa 1965.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko and Masanobu at Tanigawa-dake, circa 1964.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Best friends Rumie Sasou (left) and Junko, circa 1965.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Rumie Sasou (left) and Junko, winter climbing on the Central Ridge of Ichinokura-sawa, Tanigawa-dake, circa 1965.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Yoko-o (left), Junko’s climbing mentor, 1966.
COURTESY OF KOHEI TAKASHINA
Rock climber Junko, circa 1966.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko (left) and Masanobu sharpen their rope skills, 1967.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko and Masanobu, to be married soon, 1967.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko and Masanobu en route to their honeymoon, 1967.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Masanobu on the summit of the North Face of the Matterhorn, 1968.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Tabei peeking at Annapurna III with Miyazaki (left), Machapuchare in the background, 1970.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Tabei on Annapurna III; the peak on the back right is Machapuchare, 1970.
TABEI KIKAKU AND THE LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Climbers ferry loads from Camp 4 to Advanced Camp 4, Annapurna III, 1970.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Tabei (left) and Hirakawa on the summit of Annapurna III (7555 m), 1970.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Annapurna III women’s team, Annapurna III Base Camp, 1970. Back row, left to right: Hirano, Hirakawa, Manita, Tabei, Yamazaki; front row, left to right: Urushibara, Miyazaki, Sato, Dr. O-no,
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
The beloved Mr. Gopal at Base Camp, handing out flags and flowers to Tabei after success on Annapurna III, 1970.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Tabei (third from left), winter traverse with Ryoho Climbing Club members, 1971.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Masanobu with baby Noriko Tabei, 1972.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Everest team members in training, Tanigawa-dake, Japan, 1973. Back row, left to right: Shioura, Naganuma, Watanabe, Hisano, Fujiwara, Arayama, Hirashima; front row, left to right: Tabei, Manita, Taneya, Naka, Nasu, Mihara.
COURTESY OF SETSUKO KITAMURA
The Tabei family cerebrating Noriko’s third birthday in advance, prior to leaving for Mount Everest, 1974.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Mount Everest seen from Kala Patthar, March 25, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Porters on duty, Mount Everest, 1975.
COURTESY OF
THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Mount Everest Base Camp, 1975. Tabei and Hisano (dark glasses, red socks) front and centre, in lower left corner of the team sign.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Sherpas dig the tents out from avalanche debris, Mount Everest, Camp 2, May 4, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Tabei (left) and Watanabe sleeping with supplemental oxygen, Mount Everest, Camp 4 (7600 m), May 12, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Tabei (left) and Watanabe (second) climbing the crux of the Lhotse Face on Mount Everest with oxygen masks, May 12, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Shaky steps on an airy ladder, Mount Everest, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Tabei on the summit to become the first female climber of Mt. Everest, 8848m, May 16, 1975.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU, PHO TO TAKEN BY ANG TSERING
“We’ve arrived!” Junko Tabei on the summit of Mount Everest makes her historic radio call to Advanced Base Camp, May 16, 1975.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ PHOTO TAKEN BY ANG TSERING
Ang Tsering on the summit of Everest, May 16, 1975.
COURTESY OF JUNKO TABEI
The sweet taste of success – coffee (after the summit), Mount Everest Camp 2, Tabei and Ang Tsering, May 17, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Tabei, on Ang Tsering’s shoulders, celebrates their Mount Everest success, leader Hisano stands beside them, Camp 2, May 17, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Mother and daughter – Tabei holds Noriko close upon coming home from Mount Everest, Haneda Airport, June 8, 1975.
COURTESY OF THE YOMIURI SHIMBUN
Lady Everest summitters, clean up on Mount Fuji, 1975. From left to right, Ji Hyun-Ok, Kim Soon-Joo, Santosh Yadav, Rebecca Stephens, Lydia Bradey, Junko Tabei, Ginette Harrison, Bachendri Pal, Pan Duo and Gui Sang.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Junko, Noriko and baby Shinya, 1978.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
The first three women to succeed o
n Mount Everest. From left to righ, Pan Duo, Junko Tabei and Wanda Rutkiewicz, Chamonix, France, 1979.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
The Tabei family (Masanobu, Shinya, Noriko, Junko), circa 1983.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU
Mount Tomur (7439 m), a deadly mountain for avalanches, 1986.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Tabei climbing Mount Tomur, 1986.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
On the route above Camp 2, Mount Tomur, 1986.
COURTESY OF TABEI KIKAKU/ LADIES CLIMBING CLUB
Team of all women on Mount Tomur, 1986.