Ascent

by Roland Smith

  Twenty-Two

  When I woke up the next morning, it took me a couple seconds to remember where I was. My shortness of breath reminded me that I was at 13,000 feet on Hkakabo Razi. I lay there watching the sun filter through the green tent fabric, thinking about the night before.

  Josh had summited Everest eight days ago. When he got back down to the Nepal base camp, he conducted a dozen media interviews, then told everyone that he was returning to his home in Chiang Mai to recuperate. “World’s best climber will reconnect with the world after well-deserved rest.” The quote and adjoining article had gone viral on social media. But Josh had no intention of going home, or resting.

  Sometimes the best thing to do after a triumph is to disappear, he had told me.

  I wondered if he had learned this from Zopa, who was always disappearing and reappearing when you least expected.

  “When Zopa said you were going to try for Hkakabo Razi,” Josh continued, “I told him that I was in—​if I wasn’t too hammered after the seven summits. I’ll admit that I was a little wrecked after Everest, but I’m fine now. I haven’t done anything since I got here four days ago except to eat and sleep. We expected you a couple days ago. Where’s your team?”

  I told him what had happened to my team.

  “Wow! Crazy elephant driver. What do you think the military did with him?”

  I shrugged. Lwin had tried to kill Ethan. I’d know in the next few days if he had succeeded. I didn’t care what happened to the crazy mahout.

  I was happy that Josh had shattered the world’s record. This would certainly help Peak Experience, which I should point out was not named after me. High-paying clients would be lined up outside his tent for a chance to climb with the famous Joshua Wood. But why was he here? There was no glory in climbing Hkakabo Razi except to find out how tall it was. This wasn’t Josh’s thing. I suspected that Josh was being just as cagey as Zopa, but unlike Zopa, if you asked Josh a direct question, he’d answer it, even if it wasn’t the answer you wanted to hear.

  “I still don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you here?”

  “Several reasons. You and I have never climbed together. I mean, we were on Everest together, and you were on my permit, but you climbed with Zopa, Yogi, and Yash.”

  “And Sun-jo,” I added.

  Josh nodded. “I hear he’s getting a lot of endorsement deals. That could have been you.”

  Oh boy, the same old conversation Ethan had with me in Yangon. “I’m glad it isn’t me,” I said.

  Josh smiled. “I keep forgetting. You have my DNA, but we’re wired a little differently. You’re more like your mom. I’ve always wondered what she would have been like if she hadn’t had that accident when you were a baby.”

  She wouldn’t have a limp, I thought. She might not have met Rolf and had the twins, whom I adore. The fall had done more for her and Rolf and me than we’ll ever know.

  “She climbed well in the Pamirs,” I said, which was an exaggeration. None of us had gotten much of a chance to climb in the Pamirs. I had written to Josh about what had happened to us in Afghanistan, but I didn’t know if he had read the letter or not. He hadn’t written back. His letters, emails, or even texts were as rare as weather openings on Everest. This didn’t bother me much anymore. I didn’t expect him to respond. I would have been surprised if he had.

  “It sounded pretty dicey in the Pamirs. I was glad to hear you were all right . . . and your mom of course.”

  “Of course,” I said, trying not to sound too snide. “What are the other reasons you’re here?”

  “Zopa,” he answered. “His son saved me up on K2 and died because of it. That’s a debt that can never be repaid. Zopa asked me to make this climb with you.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No. When I asked, he shrugged.”

  We both laughed at this. A shrug was Zopa’s answer for everything he didn’t want to answer.

  “The final reason is kind of selfish,” Josh said. “Or self-serving, anyway. I’ve made a splash with my latest climb, but I’ve learned that the ripples get weaker the farther they travel from the initial impact. I know I wasn’t forthcoming with you on Everest. I mean . . .” He hesitated. “I did help you out of that skyscraper jam in New York, but . . .” Another hesitation. “Do you remember when you confronted me at base camp?”

  I remembered every word of the confrontation and didn’t regret one word that I had said.

  “You called me out,” Josh said. “And rightly so. I was using you and your age to help my business. It might have helped you too if you had gotten to the summit.”

  “But not as much as it has helped Sun-jo,” I said. “He and his sisters have a future now. They can go to school. They can become anything they want to become.”

  “Is that why you decided not to summit? Yogi and Yash told me that you were less than twenty steps away.”

  I shrugged, not to be mysterious or obtuse, but because I still didn’t know the answer, and I was getting comfortable with not knowing.

  “Okay,” Josh said. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Back to those ripples and me being straight up with you. I could do a hundred more interviews next week, but if I did, everyone would be sick to death of me by the end of the following week. The only way for me to keep the seven-peak momentum going is to put it behind me and keep climbing. Hkakabo Razi is the perfect mountain for this, and you are the perfect partner for the climb.”

  I could just see the articles now:

  JOSHUA WOOD CONQUERS HKAKABO

  RAZI WITH HIS SON, PEAK

  After smashing the world record on the seven summits,

  Joshua Wood takes his son on the climb of his life.

  Blah . . . blah . . . blah . . .

  It would have been nice if Josh had just wanted to climb with me, but that was never going to happen. That’s not who Josh is. I didn’t like him any less for it, and I didn’t love him any more for it either. At least this time he was barely using me. In fact, he really didn’t need me to accomplish his ripple effect. Summiting Hkakabo Razi right after the seven summits would be impressive with or without me.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” I said.

  “So you understand?”

  “I get it,” I answered.

  “Good. That went better than I thought it would. The truth can be awkward. JR and Will are back in the States dealing with the hundreds of hours of video they and others shot on the seven summits.”

  “Where’s Jack?” I asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jack was the third member of JR’s crew. I thought I already knew the answer to where Jack was. There were five other tents on the slope. Yash’s, Yogi’s, Zopa’s, Josh’s. One extra tent, and it wasn’t mine. A yellow tent. The same color the crew used in the Pamirs.

  “Funny you should ask,” Josh said.

  “Because he’s here,” I said.

  “How’d you know?”

  “A wild guess.”

  “He’s going to film us,” Josh said enthusiastically, like a salesman trying to sell something nobody wanted. “What do you think?”

  “I like Jack,” I said, which was true. “But what do you mean by ‘us’? We had in mind a clean climb without any documentation. In fact, we left our cell phones back in Yangon so we wouldn’t be tempted.”

  “Old school, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “I guess I could have Jack wait for us here at base camp,” Josh said.

  I smiled at the weak, and absolutely insincere, offer. “I told you that I totally get what you’re trying to do. Jack can film you. No problem, but I don’t want him to film me. I don’t want to be mentioned in any article or documentary. I didn’t come here . . . We didn’t come here for that. There will be no do-overs, or delays for the light to be right, or waiting for Jack to get ahead of us for continuity. He’ll have to keep up and settle for what he can get in real time. I’m not here to be in a documentary, or to get attention, or to make money. I’m
here to climb.”

  Josh’s smile broadened. “I won’t argue with you at this point. You’re tired, and you’re not acclimated. I’ll talk to Zopa and see what he thinks. We’ll revisit the topic in the morning.”

  Now it was morning, and pretty soon I would find out who was going to lead the climb.

  Zopa, Josh, or me. I didn’t think it was going to be me. Our simple climb had been co-opted, which wasn’t uncommon in high-altitude climbs. I didn’t blame Josh for trying to take it over. He was the obvious leader for any climb, but I did wonder how much research he had done for this climb. I suspected very little, because there wasn’t much out there about Hkakabo Razi and he had been flat-out busy climbing the seven summits.

  I was a little sore and limb-weary, and I still had a headache, but my breaths were coming easier, which was a relief. I got dressed, stepped outside, and squinted at the morning light reflecting off the snow. It was cold and foggy. Visibility about forty or fifty yards.

  Jack was the first one out of his tent. He was bundled in a red snowsuit, a matching muffler, a red sock cap, and a camera bag slung over his shoulder. He waved. I waved back. I hadn’t seen him since we went our separate ways in Afghanistan. We shook hands.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked. “Is there coffee inside? Where’s Ethan and Alessia?”

  I told him that they weren’t climbing and explained why.

  “Oh my God! A slingshot? Is Ethan going to be okay?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  We went inside. I switched the sat phone on. No messages.

  Next up were Yash and Yogi. They came into the green tent together, cheerful as always, and started the water boiling. Last in were Zopa and Josh. Zopa had changed into his climbing clothes. Josh was all smiles and energy.

  “We’re kind of socked in this morning, which is just as well,” he announced to everyone. “Peak needs another day to acclimate and rest. We’ll plan to move up to a higher camp first thing tomorrow morning, weather permitting. This will give us a chance to sort gear and repack today.”

  I guessed that Josh had talked to Zopa and they had agreed that he would be in charge of the climb. Big shock.

  “Jack’s going to be doing a little filming,” Josh continued. He looked at me. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t slow us down too much. Jack knows the routine. We all know the routine. Jack is good, he’ll—”

  “This is not your climb,” Zopa said quietly.

  “What?” Josh asked as if he hadn’t heard correctly, which was ridiculous, because we were in a tent that was barely big enough for six people.

  “This is Ethan’s climb and Alessia’s,” Zopa said. “Now that they have had to abort, this is Peak’s climb. He is the leader unless he wants to pass the leadership on to someone else. The choice is his alone.”

  Alone was right. Five people in the tent with me, ten eyes staring at me, and I was totally alone. I guess Josh hadn’t had time to talk to Zopa. Yogi and Yash were the first to look away from me. I don’t think it mattered to them who led the climb. Their immediate problem was who was going to make breakfast. They cut cards to see who would cook. I hoped Yogi would win; Yash was a much better cook. Yash drew a two of clubs and swore. Zopa stepped over to the burner and poured boiling water into his mug. This left just two sets of eyes on me. Josh’s and Jack’s, although Jack wasn’t staring, he was flipping between me and Josh, looking a little bewildered.

  I was bewildered too. The obvious choice was to relinquish the climb to Josh, but this wasn’t his climb. If I backed down, the intent of the climb would be completely changed. I thought about suggesting that we co-lead the climb, but rejected it, knowing that co-leading never worked. If Alessia and Ethan had been here, I wondered which way they would have gone. I chastised myself. There was no use speculating. The decision was up to me. And I had to make the decision right now because waiting too long was a sign of weakness.

  “I’m going to lead the climb,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “We’ll sort and repack this morning. If the weather clears, we’ll leave this afternoon for the next camp, fourteen thousand feet, give or take.” We wouldn’t know exactly where the camps would be until we got there.

  Yash and Yogi nodded, as if this was perfectly fine. Zopa smiled. Josh was smiling too, but I wasn’t sure how sincere it was. Jack looked worried. I didn’t blame him. I was worried too.

  “I know that Josh wants to film some of the climb,” I continued, looking at Jack. “And that’s okay, but I don’t want to be in the film. That’s not why I’m here. We aren’t slowing down for anything. You’ll have to keep up and take what shots you can get. The goal is to get to the top of Hkakabo Razi and get back down.”

  Jack glanced at Josh, then gave me a reluctant nod.

  “I talked to the Japanese climbers. I made some sketches and took a lot of notes. I think we should all look them over now and figure out our best route.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I pulled my notebook out of my pack, and the long discussion began.

  Twenty-Three

  The discussion took the better part of two hours. It was mostly a two-way conversation between me and Josh with four silent onlookers. It reminded me of the route debates Mom and I had when I was a kid, but this was more intense. On the outside, Josh appeared to have accepted me as the team leader, but I had a feeling that just below the surface, his feelings were very different. I can’t say that I blamed him. Josh had been top dog on every mountain he had climbed for the past two decades. It was hard to say who was the tougher debater, Mom or Josh. We compared my notes and sketches to satellite maps and a crude drawing that Josh had of Takashi Ozaki’s 1996 route up the north face to the summit. He was one of the only climbers to top Hkakabo Razi. We could have debated the route for days, but our discussion, or argument, was interrupted by bright sunlight shining through the green tent. The weather had cleared.

  It took us less than two hours to break camp and redistribute the gear. Yash and Yogi were experts at this, maybe the best in the world. Zopa claimed that they did not spend a month under a roof in any given year. The only family they had was each other. They had spent nearly thirty years in the Himalayas hauling gear, cooking, and setting up camps for climbers and trekkers.

  “You wouldn’t know it to look at them, but the brothers are wealthy,” Zopa commented as we watched them from a distance.

  “Seriously?”

  “They haven’t had to spend a rupee of their own money in decades. They are fed and sheltered, and even clothed by the climbers and trekkers they serve.”

  “Did you pay them for this climb?”

  Zopa shook his head. “They volunteered. For you.”

  Speaking of paying, Josh walked up to the brothers, spoke to them a moment, then started peeling off bills from a wad he had stashed in his pocket.

  “What’s he . . .” I started in his direction.

  Zopa put a restraining hand on my shoulder. “Let it go. Pick your arguments. This is not one of them. Josh is paying them to carry some of Jack’s load, which is not a bad idea. He is a good climber, but not a great climber, and he is not nearly as strong as Yash and Yogi. No one here is.” Zopa smiled. “And they do like their money, even though they don’t spend it. Look at them grin.”

  They were grinning.

  “I don’t want them slowed down by the extra weight.”

  “You are making a joke. Yogi and Yash are two-legged yaks. Let’s talk about your route again. Get out your map.”

  “Is there a problem with it?”

  “No. But I do not have it in my head like you do. Show me where you think the camps will be.”

  I spread out my rough route map on a boulder. By the time we finished looking it over, everyone was ready to go.

  To our right was the avalanche-tumbled glacier that Hiro and his team had discovered to be impassable. They had spent an entire day trying to get through it and another day retracing their steps back to base camp. Directly in
front of us was a 2,000-foot spire. Hiro had said there was a shelf big enough for a few tents at 14,107 feet, or 4,300 meters. We walked up to the base and put our heads back. The top of the spire was shrouded in mist.

  “Camp One, thirteen hundred feet up,” I said to no one in particular.

  The bad news was that there was steady twenty-five-mile-an-hour wind gusting to thirty or forty miles across the wall. The good news was that it was ten degrees below zero, which meant that our ice anchors would not pop out.

  “Kind of blustery,” Josh said, squinting against the bitter wind.

  I shrugged out of my pack and started to strap crampons over my boots. “I’ll climb first and set protection. The face looks pretty level. I think we can rope our packs up to camp.”

  “I agree,” Josh said. “You want me to go first?”

  I hadn’t noticed before, but he had an action camera strapped to his helmet. Jack was standing next to Josh. He had an action camera too.

  “Are those things on?”

  Josh looked at Jack.

  “They’re rolling,” Jack admitted. “I’m controlling both cameras with a remote. We’ll edit out any vid of you. I can switch them off if you want.”

  “Don’t bother.” I looked at Josh. “I’ll go first, but I appreciate the offer.” And I did appreciate it. He wasn’t trying to co-opt the climb by volunteering. He was being practical. He had a lot more experience climbing everything with the exception of skyscrapers. But the person leading the climb was not always the best climber. The reason I wanted to go first was because I didn’t know if the shelf was there. It could have sloughed off in the past week, an avalanche could have destroyed it, and there was a chance, a small chance, that Hiro was talking about a different spire. Yogi and Yash hadn’t seen the Japanese climbers, which meant that their base camp could have been miles from where the brothers had set up our base camp. If the camp wasn’t at 14,107 feet, or if it wasn’t usable, I’d be the only member of my team to waste energy on a dead end.