by Roland Smith
This explained Sun-jo's disappearing act whenever the soldiers were around.
"A summit attempt is worth the risk," Zopa commented.
Josh looked at Sun-jo for a moment, then back at Zopa. "I owe you, Zopa, but I haven't decided if Sun-jo's getting a shot at the top. And besides, we don't have enough climbing Sherpas to get three teams to the top. And that's what we're talking about. Three separate teams."
"Yogi and Yash," Zopa said.
Josh laughed and shook his head. "You had this all figured out before you left Kathmandu, didn't you?"
Zopa didn't answer, but it was clear he had.
"Maybe you and I should go someplace a little more private to talk about this," Josh suggested.
"That is up to you," Zopa said. "But I don't mind speaking about it here."
"Suit yourself." Josh looked at everyone in turn but lingered when he got to Holly. "This is totally off the record. Nothing we say here is to leave this tent—and I mean ever. If the Chinese get wind of this they could shut down our expedition—but worse, they might grab Sun-jo and put him in prison."
I thought of the shackled road gang we had passed after we crossed the Friendship Bridge and gave an involuntary shudder. I was mad at Sun-jo, but I didn't wish that on anyone. Being arrested in the U.S. was nothing like being arrested in Tibet. I looked at him. He seemed worried, almost as if it had just dawned on him what would happen if Captain Shek caught him with false papers.
Everyone nodded in agreement, although I think the film crew would have loved to have their camera rolling. (Not that Josh would let them use any of the footage in the final documentary.)
"Sun-jo's mother was born in a small village on this side of the mountain," Zopa explained. "My son met her on an expedition. It took him years to get her and Sun-jo out of Tibet into Nepal. Sun-jo is both Tibetan and Nepalese."
"The Chinese won't see it that way if Sun-jo gets caught up here," Josh said.
"If we put him on the summit they'll never give us a climbing permit for the north side again!" Thaddeus shouted. "That could take away half our business. The Tibet route is harder than the Nepal route. It has more prestige. By bringing Sun-jo here you've jeopardized our entire season. And for what? If Peak and Sun-jo make it to the top, Sun-jo still won't be the youngest to reach the summit."
"But he would be the youngest free Tibetan to summit," Zopa pointed out. "It's a matter of national pride."
"We're in business," Thaddeus said. "Not politics."
"What is the difference?" Zopa said.
"Enough," Josh said. He looked over at JR. "How's the filming going?"
"Okay," JR answered. "We have some decent climbing sequences, a couple of good interviews."
I cringed a little hearing this. He couldn't be talking about the interviews with me.
"Any footage of Sun-jo?"
"A lot. He and Peak have been climbing together. What are you thinking?"
"Yeah," Thaddeus added a little belligerently, "what are you thinking?"
"I'm not sure yet," Josh said. He looked over at me. "How do you feel about sharing the glory?"
"You've gotta be kidding me," Thaddeus said.
Josh ignored him. "What do you think, Peak?"
I wasn't doing this for the glory. Or was I? I looked over at Sun-jo and Zopa. They were both stone-faced. I was furious with both of them—Sun-jo more than Zopa because Zopa never told anybody anything.
I wanted to tell Josh to send Sun-jo packing back to Nepal, but instead, without much enthusiasm, I said, "It's okay with me."
"Can I talk to you, Josh?"Thaddeus asked. "Alone."
"Sure."
After they left everyone sat there for a few moments without saying anything. JR finally broke the silence.
"Poker?" He pulled a deck of cards out of his parka.
"Might as well," Sparky said. "Josh and Thaddeus could be a while."
"I'm in," Holly said.
I walked over to where Sun-jo and Zopa were sitting.
"Thank you for supporting me," Sun-jo said.
"You should have told me."
"I did," Sun-jo said, glancing at Zopa guiltily. "At least indirectly."
"What are you talking about?"
"Our first night at ABC," he answered. "I talked about how if we got up to Camp Four we had a good chance at the summit."
He was right about it being indirect. I barely remembered the one-sided conversation. "That's pretty lame," I said.
Zopa came to his defense. "Sun-jo did not know in Kathmandu," he said. "He thought I was taking him here to become a Sherpa. It wasn't until we were on our way to ABC that I told him about the summit."
So Josh and I weren't the only ones Zopa played cagey with. I glanced over at the poker game, which was in full swing, with a pile of money in the center of the table. They were lucky Zopa wasn't playing.
"I'm going over to the mess tent for some tea," Zopa said.
I waited until he was out of the tent, then asked Sun-jo why he hadn't told me that Zopa was his grandfather.
"Zopa thought it best if we kept that to ourselves," he answered.
If Zopa asked me to keep something to myself I probably would have, too, but it still bothered me that Sun-jo didn't tell me.
Zopa returned with a thermos of tea and several mugs. I took my mug over and watched them play poker. I wasn't really interested in the game, but I didn't want to hang with Zopa and Sun-jo. Holly won every hand, much to everyone's annoyance.
About twenty minutes later Josh and Thaddeus came back into HQ. At first I thought Thaddeus had gotten his way because he was all smiles. Sun-jo noticed his expression, too, and looked disappointed.
"All right," Thaddeus said, smiling at Sun-jo and Zopa. "You've got your shot at the summit."
"You're all heading back up to ABC the day after tomorrow," Josh added.
The film crew groaned.
BEAR AND BULL
THREE TEAMS: A, B, AND (SHH!) C.
We were the C team: Sun-jo, me, the film crew, and Holly—led by Zopa, Yogi, and Yash. (I guess the brothers had not hitched a ride to find a job on the mountain. They already had a job. Zopa had hired them to help him get Sun-jo to the summit.) And I think the C stood for "covert," not third, because we were getting the first summit shot, not the last, and somehow we were supposed to keep all of this quiet.
The night before, Josh and Thaddeus hadn't told us to outright lie to the other climbers, but they came pretty close to it.
"We'll have to keep this to ourselves," Thaddeus had said, lowering his voice despite the fact that it was ten degrees below zero outside and the wind was howling down the mountain at about twenty-five miles an hour. It wasn't likely someone was standing outside the flap eavesdropping.
"Thaddeus is right," Josh agreed. "Some of the other climbers are real head cases. There'll be a fight over who goes first. It's ridiculous, but it's the same every year. They can't get it into their oxygen-starved brains that reaching the summit has nothing to do with the order you climb. It depends on the weather."
Josh was fudging this a little. Sitting at Base Camp, or up at ABC waiting your turn, increases your chances of catching a virus or twisting an ankle, to say nothing of the sheer boredom and psychological damage of lying in your cramped tent day after day wondering if you are going to make it to the top.
We were getting the first shot because of my birthday. Period. It could take every one of those thirty-plus days to get me to the top before I turned fifteen.
"In case anyone asks," Thaddeus said, "this is what we're doing." He looked at the film crew. "You're making a documentary about Sherpas." He looked at Holly. "You're writing a story about Sherpas." He looked at me. "You're just tagging along to help with the filming. As far as anyone knows, a summit attempt is not part of the documentary."
"Sun-jo's going to have to move to the porter camp tonight," Josh said. "It's the only way we can keep him under wraps. Can you arrange that, Zopa?"
Zopa nodded.
Josh looked at Sun-jo. "Captain Shek and the soldiers rarely go to the porter camp, but just to be safe, you need to dress and act like a porter. No fancy western climbing clothes. The porters are hauling supplies up the mountain the day after tomorrow. You'll all go with them. When you get to Intermediate Camp, out of sight of the Chinese, you can change into your climbing gear. When you come back down you'll need to change your clothes and stick with the porters. If Shek catches you, you're toast."
"Toast?" Sun-jo asked.
"You'll be chipping boulders into gravel," I explained.
"Oh." A look of dread crossed Sun-jo's usually calm and cheerful face.
"So," Josh continued, "Zopa will lead the C team. I'll lead the A team. And Pa-sang will lead the B team."
I was disappointed that I wouldn't be trying for the summit with my father, but I wasn't surprised. ("Change of plans" had been the theme of our relationship my whole life.) I was also worried about Zopa and Sun-jo.
"Paranoia feeds on thin air..."That's a direct quote from one of Josh's climbing books, and the feeling was beginning to gnaw at my guts.
With Sun-jo in the mix it seemed to me that he and Zopa had everything to gain if I didn't make it to the summit. I'm not saying that they would try to stop me, but even the slightest mistake, accidental or intentional, could end my climb. And no one would be the wiser. Bad things happen on mountains. It's part of every climb. And when something goes wrong it's usually blamed on bad equipment, bad weather, bad luck—rarely on the climbers themselves.
"Any questions?" Josh asked.
I had a couple dozen questions, like: If Zopa could get forged papers good enough to get Sun-jo over the Friendship Bridge, why should we trust his tattered birth certificate? He could be six months younger than me for all we knew. Zopa knew exactly when my birthday was. He was there when Mom radioed Josh on Annapurna.
Was Josh hedging his bets by sending Sun-jo up with me? If I didn't make it, Josh's company would still receive the credit for getting the youngest climber to the top of Mount Everest. Sun-jo was on his climbing permit. Did it really matter to Josh which of us made it to the top?
But I didn't ask questions or even make a comment. I was so confused and mad, I didn't trust myself to open my mouth.
"There's no way we'll be able to keep this a secret from the other climbers," JR said. "There's only one final approach to the summit and we'll all be taking it, single file like ants."
Josh gave him the grin. "No worries. Once the A and B teams get to Camp Four the only thing they'll be thinking about is where their next breath is coming from."
"What about when they get back to Base Camp?" JR asked.
"If they get to the summit they won't care who made it to the top and who didn't," Josh answered. "The important thing is to give them a good chance. Your team will be four or five days ahead of A and B. When you get above Camp Four be careful what you say on the radio. One slip of the tongue and everyone on this side of the mountain will know what we're up to. When you pass us on your way down don't say anything about the summit. We'll sort it out later."
"The other climbers are done with their second trip to ABC," JR persisted. "They're at least a week ahead of us in terms of acclimatization."
He was right. The third trip to ABC was when you usually tried for the summit. We were a trip behind Josh's other climbers.
"If the weather breaks our way we'll try to get them to the top sooner," Josh said. "If not, they'll have to wait it out in Base Camp along with everyone else. We can't all head to the top at the same time. There isn't enough room."
Which meant the other climbers could be sitting at Base Camp for another six weeks before getting their shot at the summit. And I knew that would not sit well with them.
I HAD A LOUSY NIGHT lying in my sleeping bag, thinking of all the ways Zopa and Sun-jo could sabotage my summit try if they wanted to. It was a depressingly long list.
Late the next morning when I finally poked my head out of my tent, a light snow was falling. I got dressed and went over to the mess tent, where I found Zopa and the film crew talking quietly about the shift in the documentary.
(Or were they talking about me until they saw me walk up? Josh was sure right about that thin-air paranoia thing.)
"Are you sick again?" Zopa asked.
Don't you wish, I thought, but told him that I had never felt better in my life. He didn't look like he believed me. I dished up a bowl of oatmeal, then took a seat at the table next to them. We had the tent to ourselves except for the cook cleaning up after the breakfast rush.
"As soon as you finish eating," JR said, "I'll show you how to use the camera."
"Why?"
"Because there's a decent chance that Jack, Will, and I won't make it to the summit. Someone has to get it on film."
They were all strong climbers. It hadn't occurred to me that they might not make it to the top.
"We'll try," Jack said, "but you never know."
"This is my third trip to Everest," JR said. "The closest I've gotten was just above Camp Six. The weather turned us back and that was it. I'll give you one of our minicameras." He looked at his watch. "We'll meet you and Zopa outside HQ in fifteen minutes, then head over to the porter camp to shoot some footage."
They got up and left the tent.
I looked at Zopa. "Have you seen Josh?"
"He took some of his team up the mountain to practice climbing techniques."
I must have looked a little annoyed because Zopa studied me for a moment, then said, "How do you feel about your father now that you have spent time with him?"
"I haven't really spent much time with him," I answered, dodging the question.
Zopa sipped his tea, then said, "He can't help himself, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"In climbing he has found something he is very good at, something he has a passion for. Not many men find that."
"But what do you do when you get too old to climb mountains?"
Zopa laughed. "Most climbers do not get old."
"You did."
"I stopped climbing."
"Why?"
"My children were grown. I no longer needed the money."
"You must have climbed for more than money."
"Of course, but if I wasn't paid I would not have climbed at all. You climb for sport; Sherpas climb to support their families."
"So you're here to help Sun-jo become a Sherpa," I said.
"No. I'm here so Sun-jo does not have to become a Sherpa."
"What do you mean?"
"I know you're angry at me for not telling you about my plan for Sun-jo. And you're upset with Sun-jo for not telling you that I am his grandfather."
"What does that have to do with your not wanting Sun-jo to become a Sherpa?"
"To get him this far there were things I had to keep to myself. Things I asked Sun-jo to keep to himself. He really didn't know what I had in mind until I told him at ABC. I could not tell him until I saw how he did on the mountain. If he makes it to the summit, the notoriety it brings him will allow him to go back to school. I'm hoping he never has to climb again."
"Is that birth certificate real?"
"Yes. Sun-jo is a week older than you."
"What if I make it to the summit, too?"
Zopa shrugged.
This was not the answer I was hoping for. "I know what you're thinking," I said. "You can never tell who the mountain will allow and who it will not."
Zopa smiled and got up from the table. "I'll see you over at HQ."
"I'm going to make it to the summit," I told him as he walked out of the mess tent.
In a strange way the conversation helped to center me. It reminded me that climbing, even though there might be other people in your party, is a solo sport. Your legs, your arms, your muscles, your endurance, your will are yours alone. A partner can encourage you, maybe even stop you from falling, but they can't get you to the top. That's entirely up to you.
&
nbsp; I finished my breakfast feeling a little better and walked over to HQ to meet the film crew. Zopa was there, but Holly wasn't.
"She's already over at the porter camp," JR explained. "Dr. Krieger had some meds for Sun-jo, but didn't want to take them to the camp herself. Captain Shek would find that suspicious. Doctors do not treat porters. Holly took them over for her."
I guess I wasn't the only one being transformed by the mountain. Holly had undergone a remarkable change since we got up to ABC. And it was clear by JR's attitude that I wasn't the only one to notice. Her voice was still a little shrill and she still wore her garish clothes, but she had taken care of me at ABC and now she was looking after Sun-jo. I don't think she would have done that the first day she got to Base Camp.
JR handed me a small camera about the size of a sandwich. "I know it doesn't look like much," he explained. "But it's reliable at high altitudes and it takes pretty good video—not as good as the one we've been using, but hauling the big unit to the summit is a pain in the ass."
He showed me how to zoom in and out, how to frame a shot, how to use the built-in microphone, and how to change the memory card, which held about an hour of video.
"You have to be pretty close to pick up a voice," Jack explained. "Especially if the wind's blowing. Whoever's talking will probably have to shout."
"Consider the camera yours until the climb is over," JR said. "We have another one we'll take to the top if we make it that far. You need to practice with it. The hardest part is hitting the little buttons with gloves on. So practice with gloves. If you take off your gloves above Camp Five your fingers will fall off and you'll be pushing buttons with your nose for the rest of your life."
Pleasant thought.
"What am I supposed to be filming?" I asked.
"The story,"Will said.
"What story?"
"That's the big question," JR answered. "And part of the fun."
"And the mystery," Jack added.
"Josh hired us to film you," JR continued. "Now Sun-jo's been added to the mix, which changes the story. If you and Sun-jo don't make it to the summit the story will shift again. It might be about how you didn't make it—what stopped you. It might be about the friendship between you two..."