If it was a day it was a year. Or so it felt. From the time my alarm went off telling me it was time to get up to head to camp one to the time I’m able to write this blog will show up as only six days on the calendar. It feels like it’s been a life time. Why? I’ll see if I can convey the feeling.
The day prior to our first rotation each individual of the team stuffed a rice sack with some of the essentials (and maybe a non-essential or two) they needed for the upcoming acclimatization rotation. This included food and snacks for the next four days, our down summit suits, our extra sleeping bag, and expedition weight base layers. Each sack was distributed to a porter who carried it to camp one and subsequently camp two when we moved higher. In our own packs, you would find snacks for the route, water, layers, cameras, ice axe, extra batteries for the headlamps, and maybe a few other things we thought were worth the weight (yes that includes the pee bottle). With bags and packs mostly packed we all went to bed early.
1:20 AM: Beep beep beep be… Alarm turned off. With a 2 AM breakfast and 2:30 boots-on-trail there wasn’t any time to waste. The warmth of the sleeping bag was quickly lost as the layers were dawned, pad deflated and rolled, and feet stuffed into frozen boots. Minus the mental fog of an intermittent 4 hours of sleep the weather was clear and cold. The perfect time to be moving up the icefall. Breakfast was forgettable as was most of the march to Crampon Point. The only thing that really sticks out was the sendoff by the IMG head staff and the ritual of throwing rice at the puja alter and walking around it to the left.
Fast forward 40 minutes and hands are quickly chilled as they are pulled out of their gloves to strap on the crampons. Looking up, the lights of headlamps illuminate the way through the icefall like solar powered garden lamps in a garden walkway. You always know how many vertical feet you have to climb but for some reason it’s always slightly more daunting when you can see it. Maybe mountaineers actually climb in the dark to trick themselves into thinking it’s not as far as it seems.
With iron cleats (crampons) attached, we started up the icefall. The details up through the football field were the same as my last post (Into the Icefall) minus the crowds. Having left 30 minutes earlier seemed to make all the difference as we were pretty much free to go at our own pace without anyone breathing on your heels or blocking the way. I was a few minutes slower than the previous day but I attribute this to good pacing with a heavier pack and another 1,000’ vertical feet to climb.
Above the football field is different. The syracs are bigger, the crevasses deeper, and the feeling of ever-present threat is almost as tangible as the ice itself. You move as quickly as possible from relative safe spot to relative safe spot catching your breath as you stare up at the next section. Some of these tough sections are longer than others causing your heart to race for more than one reason. Whether through necessity or experience, your ladder crossing skills increase to the point that the Sherpa no longer seem annoyed with you but rather see you as an almost tolerable visitor. Even if I had remembered the details of this section it would be for naught as there were several sections of the route that disappeared beneath crashing ice in the next few days and had to be reset.
After a little more than an hour of this jutting, hairpin feeling I emerged from the icefall and took my first steps onto the relatively smooth Khumbu Glacier. It is still sloped as the whole thing flows downhill and this section is particularly “wavy” as it starts to breakup and feed the icefall below. Whether by design or luck, IMG sets up their camp at the lowest point of camp one. I rolled in shortly after 7 AM and set up my sleeping arrangements in an already erected tent. Above base camp we go back to sharing and my tent mate was there only a few minutes behind me. We both crawled into sleeping bags to warm up a bit as we waited for the sun to hit the tent. Thirty minutes later we were properly introduced to the Western Cwm.
If you are not familiar with the South Col route on Mount Everest you can Google “Western Cwm”. You’ll likely learn about some of the geologic features, shape, and orientation which all come together to make it yet another daunting element on this mountain. It acts like a magnifying glass making the existing weather all the more intense. If it’s clear and sunny it feels like you’re in an oven getting baked by the sun and its reflection off the snow and ice on all sides. If it’s overcast and windy the Cwm funnels all the wind and cold either right at your face or right at your back as the cold dry air bites at your lungs. The only happy medium is to not be there.
The sunny situation is where we found ourselves for most of our stay at camp one. Baking in our tents by 9 AM we started trying to find ways to block the intensity of the sun. We took our extra layers and tried to spread them between the two layers of the tent shell. Having a bit of success, we took things a little further and draped our sleeping bags over the top. This created a somewhat tolerable environment inside the tent and we were able to relax for a few hours. Then the afternoon clouds started forming. As soon as you lose the energy from the sun the temperature plummets and you’re sent scrambling for the layers you stuffed in between your tent walls. Then the sun comes back and the cycle repeats until the ridgeline makes the definitive call for you to crawl inside your sleeping bag for the night.
The first night at camp one was the better of the two for me in terms of sleep. The obvious reason is the exertion and lack of sleep from the previous day. And of course, “better” is a relative term as well. If I had to ball park it, I’d say a “good” night would mean a cumulative 4 hours. Not since my freshman year at the Air Force Academy has my sleep expectation been so low. The second night may have seen 2-3 hours.
Part of the reason for the lack of sleep is the altitude. Everybody’s body has a natural breathing rate and depth when they sleep that provides the oxygen they need. When you are higher up your body requires more oxygen than it did when it was lower but the body takes a while to develop a new sleep breathing pattern. Part of the acclimatization process is to force your body to make that adaptation. In the meantime, you get what is called chain stokes breathing. This occurs when you are sleeping and your body reverts to a breathing rate that is not sufficient for the supply/demand of the current altitude. You wake up feeling like you are suffocating or have been underwater for longer than you wanted to be. You instinctually take a huge gasp followed by several quick deep breaths to make up for the deficit. Even as you get back to equilibrium and start to fade toward sleep you know you’ll be awakened in the not too distant future to the same feeling.
Another reason I’ve been sleeping poorly is a sinus issue I developed on the trek to base camp. It started off as minor stifling but over the course of the next two weeks has developed into a full-on sinus infection. Sorry to be graphic but this includes neon yellow production mixed with dark red clots of blood that flows 24/7. Combined with the Khumbu cough (caused by the cold dry air irritating the lungs and throat), nights are a mixture of blowing the nose, coughing up nothing, coughing up something, waking up gasping, waking up to pee in a bottle, trying to get comfortable while keeping out the cold, listening to the wind rip are your tent, or waiting for the next the interruption.
The morning of the full day we spent at camp one we went out on a short hour-hour and a half walk toward camp two to get a little stretch of the legs. Once I crossed the 20,000’ marker I turned around and went back to camp where I spent the rest of the day mostly sprawled out in my tent trying to stay warm or cool depending on the exterior conditions. Despite the temperature flux, three of us come up with a relative fun card game for three people that is similar to spades but you get to call the trump suit. Since we couldn’t (or didn’t) figure out a scoring scheme we decided we all won and basked in our inventive glory.
The next morning wasn’t particularly early, but starting on a glacier is almost always cold. Hot water for our oatmeal packets was ready at 7 AM with an approximate 7:30 walk time. The wavy nature of camp one meant lots of up and down until we cleared the last of the tents. These hurdles included a few more horizontal ladders which are a lot more enjoyable when there are no ice blocks hanging precariously above your head. Once solidly above camp one, around 20,300’, the glacier flattens out and you can see the path leading all the way to camp two. You can also see camp two perched just above the glacier on the rock at the base of the west face of Everest. With the crevasses and ladders behind us we started the slog through the Western Cwn to camp two.
The remaining distance of around 2 miles gains about 800’. It’s not particularly challenging save for the weather conditions the Cwm is throwing at you. Getting to the last ladder (and slightly above), we were dealing with an abundance of sun. Within 30 minutes of that point the skies had greyed, the wind had picked up, and the snow got steadily stronger as we closed in on camp two. Having stared at it for the better part of an hour and a half wondering if it was getting any closer we finally reached the edge of the glacier and stepped onto the rocks where we pulled off our crampons. I thought we were pretty much done but my Sherpa was quick to point to upper camp two with a laugh. It was another 300’ and 30 minutes later before I was in the IMG dinning tent enjoying a warm drink around 10:30 AM at 21,300′.
The rest of the day was spent in a similar fashion to the free time at camp one: inflate mattress, get sleeping bag out of compression sack, use extra layers to level sleeping pad, set up odds and ends in the side panel pockets for ease of reach/use, set boots and socks out to dry, drink water, put on or take off layers, go eat lunch at the dinning tent even though your appetite is almost gone, fill water bottles, figure out an acceptable place to go #1 and find the #2 tent, help anybody who got to camp later with anything that makes their life easier, maybe play cards, listen to music/audio book/podcast, try to keep your phone warm so the battery doesn’t die prematurely, figure out when dinner is, go to dinner, get back to your tent before it is completely dark and frigid, get layers sorted for sleeping, get out of your sleeping bag and back into the cold because you forgot to top off our water bottles for the night, go pee on your way back so you don’t waste precious space in your pee bottle, put your water bottles in thermal sleeves so they don’t freeze, take whatever meds you need, crawl in your bag again, brush your teeth and spit out the back door without leaving your bag. All this while moving very slowly because the air is so thin.
Waking up from another terrible night’s sleep we had breakfast around 8 AM before setting off on a short walk up toward the Lhotse Face. By the time we started walking at 9 AM the sun was already bearing down relentlessly. We were 15 minutes outside of camp two before we threw on the crampons. On our way there we passed several other groups who looked like they were headed (slowly) to camp three. Many of them were wearing their down summit suits and appeared completely out of their element. We looked at them incredulously. The intensity of the heat already had me in a base layer for my upper body with loads of sunscreen piled on all exposed skin. I felt sorry for them. They either knew what they were getting into and decided to it was worth the risk of heat stroke or, even scarier, had no idea what they were getting into in an environment that is completely unforgiving. I hope it was the former as that implies some level of comprehension. By the time we turned around and passed them on our way down they already looked like they were in rough shape with only about 300’ of 2,000’ climbed.
Sometime after lunch the first of IMG Team one started showing up to camp two on their second rotation. From them we hear the tale of an incredibly long day. On their way up through the icefall they encounter two separate sections of the route that had collapsed the previous afternoon/evening that had to be repaired before they could pass. The Icefall Doctors were called but it would take them several hours to even get to the site, let only fix the route. As such, the IMG guides and Sherpa decided to do some triage so the team could pass. It took over three hours to fix the two separate sections but the team was rewarded with passage that other groups did not get that day. The rough part was that the team had to then travel up the Western Cwm in the heat of the day. They truly had a tough day on the mountain.
The rest of Team 3’s time at camp two consisted of meals, resting, and getting our bags ready to head back to base camp the following morning. It was considerably less windy than the night before so at least we weren’t battling noise in our attempts to get some sleep. Unfortunately, my sinuses and cough were at such a point that sleep came in maybe 30 minute segments and maybe four segments in total. I kept hitting my watch illumination button throughout the night to see how much longer until my 4:30 AM alarm. When the time finally came to wake up and layer up I was beyond exhausted. I had been coughing, sniffling, sneezing, and blowing my nose all night. And all those elements were trending in the wrong direction.
It was a calm, clear, and cold morning as we packed, ate, and prepared to head back down. We were on the trail by 6 AM. The trip down through the Cwm was intensely more enjoyable than the trip up. The air was calm and getting thicker by the step. It took no more than 30 minutes from the time we stepped onto the ice to the time we were strapping on our crampons to cross the first ladder at the top of the wavy camp one section. Another 30 minutes and we were down below all of camp one about to head into the icefall.
The sun was shining on the tops of the surrounding peaks but the icefall sits in the early morning shade of Everest itself. We started making our way down as quickly and safely as conditions permitted knowing that just over 30 hours earlier this section saw some pretty big collapses. The two sections that had been triaged by team one the day prior still had not been repaired by the Icefall Doctors (we would later learn that they intended to completely move the route since the subjective danger through that area was now too high). I could immediately see why teams had turned around the day before. There were massive hanging syracs and ice bridges that looked like that could go anytime. We all got our hustle going trying to get through this part as quickly as possible. When we finally made it to the relative safety of the football field we dropped our packs with a shared look of “I’m glad that’s over”.
The rest of the route down was unchanged since our first trip through it almost a week prior. We made it down to crampon point in less than an hour and just a few minutes after the sun finally started shining on the icefall. Trip 2 of 6 through that place completed, we set off toward base camp. However, I had to make a stop, advised by our western guide and fully agreed to by me, at the Himalayan Rescue Association (HRA) to see one of the EBC docs. After describing my symptoms and generally misery including lack of sleep the doc gave me some antibiotics that would help fight off whatever was going on in my sinuses and should help with any lung bugs that may be present as a result of the coughing and drainage. Since we had the rest of that day and four more calendar days of rest scheduled before the next rotation, she also advised that I descend down valley for several nights to give my body a break from the stress of living at and above 17,000’.
I took the meds and the advice back to the IMG expedition lead and he agreed that the lack of sleep and sinus issue warranted a few days down low. He also let me know that a few other guys were in a similar situation and were planning to catch a helicopter all the way down to Lukla at around 9,000’. They were planning on returning in time for the next team three rotation to camp three so no time would be lost on the schedule. The price tag was a bit steep but the thought of getting sleep, getting air, and getting better for the next part of the climb made it very enticing. I don’t want or intend to come back to try this climb again if the summit doesn’t happen on this trip so spending a little more now to give myself the best chance while I’m here made the trip down valley seem worthwhile.
Within three hours of deciding to head down I was on a chopper enjoying one of the sweetest rides you can image. The valley was clouding up so the pilot stayed low to the ground in most areas as we zoomed over trekkers, yaks, and villages. The entire trip took no more than 12 minutes to cover what it will take three days to cover on foot going downhill at the end of the trip. It felt so strange to be going from the extremes of camp two that morning to the relatively lush and raining village of Lukla only eight hours later. The first few breaths at 9,000’ were incredible. No longer was simply breathing a cause for coughing. And the greenery! Trees, flowers, and smells. It was incredible. The mental relief of this “deep dive” will likely be worth way more than the cost of the flight.
Since arriving I have slept over 20 hours in two nights and seem to be making progress on getting rid of this sinus issue. With two more days here in Lukla to rest and recover, I’m hoping to head back to EBC the day prior to starting the next rotation. If nothing else the mental break from the “front line” has been quite rewarding.
So now after reading about the past six days maybe you agree that there was enough mental and physical exertion and exhaustion to make it feel like it was more than 6 days? If not you should come give the mountain a try.
Looking forward: If the weather holds, our next rotation will be 8-12 May and will see us going directly to camp two followed by a rest day. The following day we will trudge up to camp three and spend the night with no supplemental oxygen in what most climbers call the longest camping night of their lives. The next day is back down to camp two and the next is back to EBC. From there its likely four to five more days of rest and hoping for a summit weather window that aligns with the completion of our rest days. If all goes well we could see a summit for team three any time after May 20. Things are finally starting to get exciting around here. The fixed lines should be set to the top in the next couple of days which means the first summit has been made and always adds to the excitement around camp.
Up with Wes 