by Roland Smith
Then to my utter shock, Yash's headlamp started to rise from the ground. I blinked several times, thinking it was some kind of optical illusion. It wasn't. He was climbing a steep wall.
"Yellow Band!"Yogi shouted above the howling wind. "Careful!"
We started up. Large chunks of yellowish sandstone broke off with almost every handhold, and the crampons strapped on our boots were worse than useless. They're made for ice, not rock, but there wasn't time to take them off. At Base Camp it would take three minutes to shuck the crampons. Up here in the thin air, it might take half an hour or longer. We didn't have a half hour to spare. And we would have to put them back on the next time we came across ice or snow, which takes longer than taking them off.
There were ropes, but most of them were rotten, flapping uselessly in the wind. About an hour into the climb I grabbed one to help me over a difficult pitch and it popped loose from its anchor. I barely caught myself before I keeled over backward. I didn't touch another rope on the way up.
There were three steps leading to the summit and this had to be the first. But if that was the case, why had Yash called it the Yellow Band? Must be the Sherpa nickname for it, I thought.
Five hours later I found out I was wrong.
We got to the top just as the sun was coming up and there it was: the ridge. It looked like a gigantic dragon's tail with switchbacks and scales and complex rocky steps. I counted the so-called steps. One ... two ... crap ... three. The Yellow Band was the Yellow Band. The first step was yet to come.
Yash and Sun-jo caught up to me a few minutes later. I taped them resting with their hands on their knees, then swung the camera around to the summit. Yash pointed to his watch and started toward the base of the first step.
Yogi was sitting on a rock waiting for us. He checked our oxygen tanks, made us drink something, then pointed up.
The first step was about sixty-five feet. It was 7:00 A.M. and minus thirty-five degrees out. Zopa was right about the weather again. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but that could change in a matter of minutes.
The first ten feet led up a crack on the left side of the cliff. Next came a traverse across an unstable ledge, made much harder by our weakened legs. (Mine were shaking almost uncontrollably the entire traverse.) The final part of the climb was a wild scramble between two boulders.
We got to the top of the first step at 8:30 A.M.
The second step was twice as steep and twice as high as the first. Before we attempted it, Yogi changed all of our oxygen tanks. Both Sun-jo and I nearly passed out while we waited for him to reconnect the precious Os.
There were aluminum ladders attached (kind of) to the wall of the first section. They moved and twisted under our weight and made a terrible scraping noise against the rock. Climbing the slippery rungs wasn't made any easier by wearing crampons. It was like trying to climb a ladder with ice skates. I was delighted to get off the ladders, but the final move to the top was much worse. It was a tension traverse where you could only use your arms, then swing up to the top by a bunch of old ropes tied to a sling. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I watched Yogi do it without a hitch. Sun-jo was right behind me. He looked as sick about the move as I did.
I followed Yogi's route move for move, but when I grabbed the rope my crampon slipped and I found myself dangling by the rope like a dead fish with absolutely no momentum to get me to the top of the step. In addition to this I had gotten twisted around with my back to the wall.
I glanced over at Sun-jo and Yash. They stared back at me helplessly. There was nothing they could do. I looked up. Yogi was leaning over the ledge trying to reach the sling so he could pull me up. He wasn't even close. We hadn't brought any rope with us. The extra weight would slow us down and that could kill us.
I knew the longer I hung there the more fatigued my arms would become. If I waited too long for a solution, I wouldn't have the strength to execute it. I had to move. Now!
I flipped back around, smashing my face into the wall, then drove the front spikes of my crampons into the hard rock. One of them stuck, and putting weight on that leg, I was able to relieve the pressure on my arms. Holding as tight as I could with my left hand, I let my right hand go. I pulled off the outer mitten with my teeth and let it drop, then shook the arm out. (I had another pair of mittens in my pack.) I repeated the procedure with my left arm. I was going to need all the strength I could in my arms for the next move. And I hoped Yogi was paying close attention above because I was going to need his help.
I walked up the wall with my crampons until I was in a < position, then I basically stood up, hoping the crampons held. They did. At the last second I let go of the rope with my left hand, hoping I could stretch it high enough for Yogi to grab. He grabbed it, but he was still going to need help getting me up. He had taken off his outer mitts, too, and had me pretty solidly. I let my right hand go and flailed away blindly for a handhold. I found a crack, just big enough to dig the very tips of my sore fingers into. I pulled up with all the strength I had. If it didn't work, Yogi was going to have to let me drop. When I was as high as I thought I could go I brought my right knee up to my chest and tried to get my foot into the sling. I barely snagged it, but it was enough. All I had to do now was stand up and I would be within inches of the top.
Yogi dragged me over the edge and he and I lay there on our backs gasping for breath. He reached over and cranked my tank up to four and I did the same for him. Even with the extra oxygen it took us a good five minutes to catch our breath.
I wondered what was going through Sun-jo's mind after he saw that. Apparently, he had learned by my mistake because a few minutes later he swung up over the edge like a spider monkey. Yash was right behind him.
They let me rest for another fifteen minutes. I needed it. Yogi didn't turn my oxygen down until we were ready to leave. I needed that, too.
The third step was the easiest of the three for me, even though it came higher in the climb. Compared to what I had just been through, it was a breeze.
When we got to the top we saw another corpse. He was lying on his back with one arm splayed out and the other hand buried in the pocket of his down parka. The corpse looked pretty fresh. It might have been one of the German climbers who had died when we were at ABC. There was no sign of the other climber he had been with. I wondered if he had died on the way up to the summit, or the way down. I wondered how many people were waiting for him to come home. No one climbs a mountain thinking they're not coming back down. I looked away from the dead climber, trying to shut out Mom's warning.
Beyond the corpse lay the summit pyramid's ice field, then the summit ridge.
Yogi pointed at his watch, then held up two fingers. Two hours left.
We clipped on to ropes and started across the ice field. I don't know about Sun-jo, but this is when I shifted into summit fever. At this point I should have been completely spent, but instead I was totally juiced. Mom's warning disappeared into thin air. Poof! Nothing was going to stop me from getting to the top.
The snowfield became steeper, curving around into what I thought would be the summit, but instead we ran into fresh avalanche debris. Some of the chunks were as big as school buses. I swore. To come all this way only to be stopped by an avalanche? It would take us hours, if not days, to scramble over the debris.
Yogi pointed at the debris and shook his head.
No kidding, I thought, staring at the debris bitterly. He yanked on my sleeve. I thought he was telling me that we had to go back now. That it was over. I was going to shout that we had to try for Sun-jo's sake, even though I knew it was hopeless.
But Yogi wasn't trying to turn me around. He was pointing at another rock cliff flanking the final buttress. The debris-filled ice field was not the route to the summit.
Once again we had to traverse a narrow ledge along the face, clipping on to a rope that looked like it had been there for three hundred years. About a hundred and fifty feet along the ledge we ran into an outcropping tha
t took a lot of finesse, and time, to get around. At the end of the traverse the route stepped up in a series of small ledges, which took us about twenty minutes to climb. We emerged onto the upper slope of the summit pyramid ice field past all the avalanche debris.
The wind was really blowing now. Yash led us to the shelter of an outcrop, where we rested for a few minutes before our final push. Yogi pointed at his watch again and stood. I took up the rear and recorded him, Sun-jo, and Yash heading for what I thought was the summit. It wasn't. When we reached the top of the ice field the real summit was revealed. The colorful prayer flags on the summit pole were fluttering in the wind 650 feet away.
We stopped again to rest, but I cut mine short.
"I'm pushing ahead!" I shouted above the deafening wind. "I'll film you coming up!"This wasn't exactly the truth. The real reason was that I couldn't wait to get to the top.
600 feet...
Two football fields. At nearly 29,000 feet it felt more like twenty miles.
Three steps ... rest ... three steps ... rest ... two steps ... rest...
I discovered it was best to avoid looking up at the summit. Every time I peeked it appeared farther away, as if I were walking backward. Sun-jo, Yash, and Yogi were about a hundred feet behind me moving at the same snail's pace. I shot them for a couple minutes, then started out again.
100 feet...
90 feet...
I stopped and checked my Os, thinking the tank must be empty. It was half full, hissing out two liters per minute, which didn't seem nearly enough to keep me alive.
80 feet...
50 feet...
I looked at my watch. 1:09 P.M. Twenty-six minutes to turnaround time. I stopped to rest. I was standing at 29,003 feet, higher than any other mountain on earth: 32 feet to go.
It was cold and windy, but the weather was rarely better at this altitude. I could see for hundreds of miles in every direction. "Beautiful" doesn't describe the view, nor does "majestic." The closest word I could think of was "divine," but even that fell short of what it was like.
Sun-jo had made up some time. He was less than twenty feet away from me. Yogi and Yash were walking on either side of him. I wanted to turn around and finish the climb, but instead I took out the camera and recorded my team coming up. I could see now that Sun-jo was struggling and Yash and Yogi were actually helping him along. It was 1:19 by the time they reached me. Sun-jo fell down on his knees and was having difficulty breathing. I checked his oxygen tank gauge and saw they had already cranked it up to four liters per minute.
I gave him some time to rest, then squatted next to him. "You can do this, Sun-jo. It's only about thirty feet away. Look!" I pointed to the ridge pole.
He gazed up at the colorful prayer flags snapping in the wind and gave a dull nod, but he didn't move.
"After you touch the pole," I said, "it's all downhill."
Sun-jo shook his head. "I don't think I can do it."
"You have to do it! For your sisters. For yourself."
He continued to shake his head. I looked at Yogi and Yash. They were in as bad a shape as Sun-jo. Getting Sun-jo this far had nearly done them in. I looked at my watch. Twelve minutes to turnaround time. Even if we left right that second, I wasn't sure we would make the summit by 1:35.
"You go," Sun-jo said weakly. "I'll start back down."
"You can't go down the north side. The Chinese are waiting for you."
"I will get around them."
He and I both knew this wasn't true. I looked down the mountain. Two other climbing parties had topped the third step and were winding their way up the dragon's tail. They must have gotten a late start or had run into problems along the way. If the weather held they might be okay.
You can never tell who the mountain will allow and who it will not.... Sun-jo will not reach the summit without your help....
"Let's go." I pulled Sun-jo to his feet. We started back up and with each little step, Sun-jo seemed to gain strength. 25 feet ... 20 ... 17 feet ...
10 feet...
I stopped and stared up at the summit pole, then turned around and looked below.
"What's the matter?" Sun-jo asked.
I looked back up at the summit pole, then pulled my goggles down and looked at Sun-jo. "Do you know the date?"
He shook his head.
"May thirtieth," I said.
"So?"
"I think this is as far as I'm going."
"What are you talking about? The summit is only a few steps away. What does the date have to—"
"Tomorrow's your birthday. You have a reason to be here, Sun-jo. An important reason. Your future and your sisters' future. I don't have a reason for being here. I'm heading back down the north side."
Sun-jo stared at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was at that moment, but the decision I had made during the last few feet felt right. I didn't want to be the youngest person to summit Everest. Sun-jo's father died saving my father. Reaching the top would save Sun-jo and his sisters. With the money from the equipment endorsements he would receive they would all be able to go back to school.
"It is too much," Sun-jo said.
"It's nothing."
"Come with us down the south side into Nepal."
I shook my head. "If I climb down the south side everyone will know that I reached the summit. The only way down for me is the way I came up. But I do have a favor to ask." I took off my pack and found the Moleskine. The yellow prayer flag with the blue mountain was hidden in a pocket in the back of the journal. I took it out and handed it to him. "When you get to the top tie this on the pole."
"Of course, but—"
"You need to go."
Sun-jo put his thick gloves together in the Buddhist way and bowed. "Thank you, Peak. I will not forget this."
"We're running out of time. I'll tape you getting to the top so there's a record of the climb."
Sun-jo quickly explained what I was doing to Yogi and Yash. At first they looked shocked, then they both broke into broad smiles and clapped me on the back.
"Yogi is coming with you," Sun-jo said.
"I'll be all right."
"He insists," Sun-jo said, "and so do I."
"Fine."
We all shook hands and hugged, then I recorded Sun-jo and Yash taking those last ten steps. When they reached the summit of the highest mountain in the world they took off their masks and smiled and waved for the camera.
Sun-jo tied my yellow flag to the pole, then he and Yash crossed into Nepal.
DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE
I DON'T REMEMBER MUCH about the trip back to Camp Six. We stumbled into camp well after dark. I vaguely remember Yogi hooking up a fresh oxygen tank to my mask, but after that it's a blank. I didn't have any trouble sleeping. I know that. And I didn't have any regrets about not reaching the summit.
I woke up with spit frozen all over my face and the worst headache of my life. The oxygen tank was empty. I grabbed another one and cranked it up to six for a few minutes. That got rid of most of the headache.
Yogi and I were eager to get down and check on Zopa. We bypassed Camp Five and went directly to Camp Four. As soon as we stepped into camp we were confronted by one of the Chinese soldiers. He was dressed like a climber, except for the pistol strapped around his waist. In pretty good English he asked who we were and what we were doing.
"My name is Peak Marcello and this is Yogi Sherpa," I said. "We took supplies up to Camp Five and we're headed back down to Base Camp."
He called Captain Shek on the radio and they had a long conversation in Chinese.
"The captain wants to talk to you," the soldier said and handed me the radio.
"This is Peak Marcello," I said.
"Joshua Wood's son?"
"Right."
"What you doing on mountain?"
"Like I told your officer, I helped take some supplies to Camp Five. Josh is taking a climbing party up tomorrow."
"But you leave mountain!"
"What are yo
u talking about?" I asked, enjoying myself immensely. "I'm up at Camp Four."
"You have big argument with you father."
"Oh that. He told me that he wasn't going to let me try for the summit. It made me mad, but at least he let me get as far as Camp Five."
"What about other boy?"
"What other boy?"
"Sun-jo!"
"Oh him," I said. "He's in Nepal." Which was the absolute truth.
"I don't believe. I have soldier bring you and Sherpa back to Base Camp."
"Whatever," I said and handed the radio back to the soldier.
They had another long conversation in Chinese, but I knew what this one was about. The other soldiers had gathered around the radio and were listening intently. The one with the radio finally signed off and shook his head with resignation.
"You don't have to escort us down," I said.
"We have orders," he said.
"That's fine with me, but we're going to Base Camp. Where else would we go?"
About that time Josh came on the radio asking for me. The soldier handed me his radio again.
"Is everything okay, Peak?"
"I guess. What's the matter with that captain?"
"I don't know. Anyway, we're headed up to ABC tomorrow, so I guess we'll see you on your way to Base Camp. Thanks for helping Yogi get those supplies up to Five."
I could see him and the others gathered at HQ monitoring the call from Captain Shek.
"No problem," I said. "Is there any way you'd reconsider giving me a shot at the summit?"
"We already talked about that, Peak. The answer is no. Maybe next year, or the year after, when you're a little older. You're not ready."
"Out." I handed the radio back, trying to look disappointed.
The soldier looked at me for a moment. "Do I have your word that you are going down to Base Camp?"
I held up my right hand. "You have my word. All I want to do right now is crawl into my tent and go to sleep."
He nodded.
Yogi and I headed over to Zopa's tent not sure what we would find. What we found was a note.