The Climb
Page 25
At this juncture the first problems in our organizational structure surfaced. The Sherpas were not under my control. They had been hired as support and we had agreed to certain duties: fixing line, establishing camps, and carrying supplies. Because we were the first on the mountain, there was a huge burden of work without the usual help of other expedition Sherpas. Apa was unhappy with me. Our Sherpas alone could not keep up with the work that needed to be done to keep the team moving steadily higher on the mountain. I understood the stress I was placing on Apa, but the limited skill and depth of experience in the Sherpa team was slowing our progress. I had fully intended to have our climbing team sleep at the South Col and ascend to a height of 8,200 meters in active acclimatization. I had also decided to establish a Camp V at 8,500 meters to deal with the possible problem of slow descent or bad weather. Due to the small mutiny now in the Sherpa contingent, I had to abandon this plan for the time being. As a compromise, I helped Apa with the route and fixed line from Camp III to the Yellow Band at 7,500 meters. April 8 we climbed with eight members to the level of the Yellow Band and returned to Camp III. We spent the night, and April 9 we descended to Base Camp.
We began to see a difference in team members’ performance and health. The altitude and effort had the effect of natural selection. The civilian climbers were less motivated and focused than the military climbers. In spite of their lack of experience, three were now obviously the stronger candidates for the summit team. They continued to move with relative ease and were tolerating the altitude without problem. They were still very motivated to succeed on the mountain. Descending, we noticed further deterioration in the performance of team members while our three strong members descended directly from Camp III to Base Camp with no obvious difficulty. The three men we had left were thirty-one-year-old Misirin Serjan, twenty-five-year-old Asmujiono Prajurit and twenty-nine-year-old Iwan Setiawan Letnan. Bashkirov, Vinogradski, and I felt with the deteriorating Sherpa support and the obvious differences in the physical condition and performance of team members, we were set on a summit team of three members, three climbing guides, and all Sherpa support that was healthy and capable.
We returned to Base Camp on April 9 for a week of rest. I firmly believe in low-altitude recuperation before a summit assault. I had team members descend to the forest village of Deboche at 3,770 meters for a full week of rest and recuperation. The green of the lush forest and the air saturated with oxygen restores the human psyche like nothing else. Here you completely escape the desolation of Base Camp, and after three weeks of effort in this icy wasteland your mind and body long for some relief.
I impressed on the military liaison officer, Captain Rochadi, the need to establish Camp V with two tents, ten bottles of O2, and sleeping bags and mats. I expected him to negotiate with Apa and our team of Sherpas to accomplish this in the seven days of our absence. Apa is an extraordinary man, a hard worker, but he now had eight of sixteen men who were still fit to function. It is impossible for one man to take on the physical task necessary to promote the whole expedition’s success. His previous experience had been as a member of other strong Sherpa teams, and here he had been left to hire men of his choice, and many were family or friends who could not accomplish their fair share of the work. In the end only eight of our sixteen Sherpas were able to assist us. This weak point in the organizational structure and ineffective control of the situation by the Indonesian team organizers was an ongoing threat to the effectiveness of our assault plan and our elaborate backup safety plans.
I blame no one here. I know from other expeditions, it takes years of repeated ascents and consistent monetary support to develop a team of Sherpas who can work together in equal strength and skill to assist an expedition.
The choices for us now were to line up with the other expeditions on the route or go up early and have the mountain to ourselves. After last year I had no intention of standing in line for a disaster. You have enough opportunity to face your own mistakes and shortcomings without taking on anyone else’s. This manpower crisis worked itself out, but not optimally. Apa always tried, giving more of himself than he expected of others.
In Deboche, I left members for five days and traveled to Kathmandu to have a cracked filling in one of my teeth repaired. The ravages of time, I suppose, tell on us all. I had many things on my mind: the personal memories that haunted me; how I would function at altitude after the accident; and now this problem with my teeth. These were annoying drains on my energy.
The trip to Kathmandu was an unwelcome interruption of my concentration. I stupidly forgot my park permit and had to jump the fence in the middle of the night to get out of Sagarmatha National Park to catch the helicopter in Lukla. In Kathmandu I was quite fortunate to have the service of the American embassy dentist. I am grateful for his quick attention to my problem.
The team arrived rested and ready at Base Camp on April 21, and we gathered for a ceremony of prayer and supplication. The Indonesians always remembered their God, much like the Sherpas in their morning offerings to the mountain. I appreciate this respectfulness. The faces of team members and the summit group were serious and concentrated during our ceremony. The rest of the day was spent in private organization. It is a tense time, full of expectation. A meditative calm always comes over me, and I have an excitement for the challenge ahead.
I knew Camp V had not been established. Apa assured me it would be supplied as we ascended on summit day. We made arrangements with the Russian Lhotse team members for backup emergency support if necessary. They were now at Camp III acclimatizing. We would leave the second-choice summit team at Camp II with Sherpas for support at our next rung down the ladder. Bashkirov, Vinogradski, Apa, and I would carry radios on the assault. One or two of us would be with the team members at all times. We would have two Sherpas at the South Col with a radio, and radio contact with the Russians at Camp III and our team members at Camp II and Base Camp.
Weather reports from Kathmandu were encouraging. We were at the end of a small weather disturbance, but the five days ahead looked stable. Stable, you understand, is a relative term. At the summit of Mount Everest you are at the apex of long river valleys. The gorges become steeper with intervals of short flat plains of alluvium as the altitude increases. The increase in daytime temperatures condenses moisture in these valleys, and this moves naturally up the gorges to the summits of the mountains in the afternoons. You can always expect wind and some clouds around the summit in the afternoons. At eight thousand meters even these benign weather changes can be a challenge. We expected no malignant changes in the next few days, but the normal weather pattern would have to be respected. We knew we would be slow; Camp V at 8,500 meters was our answer to that unremediable problem.
At twelve midnight in the light of the full moon on April 22, three Russians and six Indonesians left the safety of Base Camp for our journey to the unknown. We ascended directly to Camp II. Our sturdy Indonesian team was moving well, six hours to Camp II with no problems. We rested that day, April 23, at Camp II. On April 24 we left the second summit team and Sherpas at Camp II. Bashkirov, Vinogradski, and I with Misirin, Asmujiono, and Iwan moved to Camp III. Team members were independent, they appeared strong, they needed no emotional reassurance or idle chatter for distraction. April 24, there were strong winds above on the South Col. We contacted Captain Rochadi at Base Camp. He contacted the weather service in Kathmandu, which reported that the winds did not indicate a serious weather change. The next two days the winds would likely be less fierce. We decided to keep all members at Camp III and the Sherpas would descend to Camp II. The decision on the Sherpas’ movement was Apa’s call. Apa reassured me he would see to establishing the emergency camp on our summit day. We rested April 24. Between 3 and 5 P.M. on April 25, all the team arrived at the South Col. The Indonesian members climbed to the South Col with oxygen. They appeared in good shape to us at the South Col. They were coherent, coordinated, and self-motivated.
During our summit bid, all I
ndonesian members would carry two bottles of oxygen, using it continuously at two liters per minute during the summit attempt. Our Sherpas would carry three extra bottles of oxygen for each team member. They would be using oxygen on the summit attempt as well. Conditions on the route were such that trail-breaking would be a huge energy expenditure. The snow was thigh-deep in some places and was knee-deep from 8,100 meters to 8,600 meters. Because we were the first expedition on the route, all ropes on the route would have to be fixed. Bashkirov, Vinogradski and I decided to carry two bottles of oxygen each for the ascent and requested that Apa have the Sherpas carry two additional bottles for each of us.
There were three reasons why I decided to use oxygen on this summit attempt. I have no dogmatic commitment to use or not to use oxygen. The big problem came in ‘96 when no one, not the guides or the clients, were able to function without the use of oxygen. That fact actually increased the potential for disaster.
The first reason I considered oxygen this year was my health. In 1996 I had successfully climbed three 8,000-meter peaks in the fall and winter of ‘96. I underwent a strenuous training program in January, February, and March. Before the 1997 season I had a serious accident, which left me with nagging concerns about my response to high altitude. My training program was completely different in the winter months before the expedition. I had several operations to recover from, and I spent a great deal of time organizing the details of this expedition. I did not feel I had the same reserve of power that I had going into the expedition of ‘96. The week before our ascent I had a tooth abscess and tooth extraction and I was recovering from the operation as we left for the summit.
The second reason evolved out of the expedition acclimitization program. I worked in ‘96 up to the South Col, fixing line without the use of oxygen for several days. This year, because of the manpower shortage with our Sherpa team, we were not able to spend the night of acclimitization at the South Col. I feel this is a crucial adjustment. This 24-hour period at 7,900 m without oxygen gives your body the opportunity to adapt to the stress of this altitude. It is not so important if you use oxygen to the summit, but generally I feel it is a very wise step in the acclimitization program. I was not able to spend the time at 7,900 m that would have reassured me that my body was functioning with its normal response to altitude.
The third reason, when we got to the South Col, we found the conditions on the route were very difficult. The snow was from two to three feet deep in places all along the route. I had only eight Sherpas functioning. I needed an emergency camp established. I could not ask the Sherpas to break trail and to carry heavy loads. Trail-breaking in these conditions is brutal work, exhausting work.
We had eight Sherpas at the South Col. Only Apa and Dawa would go with us to the summit, leaving the rest to shuttle supplies to the 8,500-meter emergency camp. Apa continued to reassure me that the supply of Camp V was under control and that I need not concern myself with this portion of the work. Bashkirov, Vinogradski, and I knew we would have to conserve oxygen, and we knew we would have to be ready to work without oxygen. The numbers simply did not add up. A bottle of oxygen will usually supply you at two liters per minute, which is a moderate flow, for six hours; at one liter it is double that. We had a lot of gear to get up the hill and a long trail to break in deep snow. I knew we were in for some hard work.
We left the South Col at twelve o’clock midnight on April 26. I began to use O2 at one liter. I went to the lead and broke trail. I felt it was unfair to ask the Sherpas with their heavy loads to do this work. The traiI was slow and difficult. Vinogradski and Bashkirov conserved their power and followed after with the Indonesians. By 8,300 meters I realized our speed was the same as last year. I was out ahead, Apa behind me. But the team was quite slow. I continued breaking trail until 8,600 meters. After nine hours of trudging through thigh-deep snow, I arrived at the South Summit fatigued.
Below me, Apa fixed line on the steep section of the route between 8,600 and 8,700 meters. This is the section just below and up to the South Summit. The entire team arrived at the South Summit at eleven in the morning. We discussed the situation with Apa. Apa suggested I go to the summit, breaking trail. I asked Apa for rope. He informed me we had no more rope. I was tired from trail-breaking. The effort you expend at this altitude is a brutal toll on ambition and physical condition. I did not feel strong enough to safely fix this section of route, piecing together fragments of old line. I was incredulous … where was the rope? Apa informed me he had used the last hundred meters of rope on a section of route that did not usually need rope. Because of the unstable snow I felt we needed to fix that section to secure our descent. The margins up here are this close. The shadows of problems you perceive down below, at this moment on summit day, become the consuming problems that predict your success or failure. You can bitch and moan now or you can deal with it. The dozens of conversations where I was reassured my equipment requirements would be covered evaporated.
Apa offered to go down and recover the line. I felt time was now of the essence. The clock was ticking and we had to go forward or go down. Apa, realizing this mistake regarding our supply of rope could compromise the whole effort of the expedition, did a brave thing. He went out and fixed the line with our remaining forty meters of rope and old pieces of rope exposed on the route from previous expeditions. I gratefully had a moment to recover. I began to notice a general improvement in my condition and power.
We understood from Dawa Sherpa when he arrived that we did now in fact have extra oxygen and a tent at 8,500 meters. Apa had pieced together line to the top of the Hillary Step. Our members so far were in fair shape. It was a little after 12:30 P.M. when Apa cleared the Hillary Step. The weather was holding, the emergency camp was set. Bashkirov, Vinogradski, and I decided to attempt the summit even though we would be very late in arriving, about three o’clock in the afternoon.
Misirin, while slow, was still functioning on his own. Asmujiono was moving well but now had the focus of a zombie, his consciousness somewhere deep inside. Iwan was slow and his coordination was beginning to falter; he was still functioning mentally. Misirin appeared overall in the best shape. Misirin, we thought, was the most likely to succeed. All the men had this highly focused determination. Each man wanted the opportunity to summit. I was in favor of going on with only one man, turning the others back. I allowed myself to be convinced we could postpone this crucial decision till above the Hillary Step. I assigned Asmujiono to Dr. Vinogradski because I felt his mental deterioration would be a critical factor, and I wanted a continuous medical assessment of his condition.
Bashkirov and Misirin went out first, then Iwan and me, and after, Asmujiono and Dr. Vinogradski. The ridge was quite different from last year; there was much snow and it was steeper. Iwan was moving slowly; he fell at one point, tenuously stopping on the old fixed rope. I began to show him how to use his ice ax properly on the ridge. Here I realized I was dealing with a man who had never seen snow until four months ago. We had expected the benefit of good ropes, which make an ice ax redundant in crossing an established trail on a ridge. Now here I was giving lessons on technique to this brave, determined young man as he struggled back onto the route. I can only wonder what this experience meant to these men. I am a sportsman; I will never think of the summit of a mountain as an achievement worth the sacrifice of a life. These soldiers were of a completely different mind-set. They were more committed to success than to life.
I focused on the task at hand as Iwan struggled back onto the ridge. We moved slowly on the ridge, and I came to the bottom of the Hillary Step. Here I confronted the body of a man.* He lay entangled in the ropes at the bottom of the Hillary Step, his crampons in the way as you ascend this last technical portion of the route. I could recognize no features. The conditions here are so harsh, I could only say for certain that his down suit was blue. I could not focus on this man, nor could any others of the climbing team. For this I am sorry. Respect is always due to the fallen. Yet here
I was with the last flickering light of life of these three Indonesian men to guard. Our situation was far from stable.
I reached the top of the Hillary Step, Iwan and Asmujiono coming slowly behind me at the end of the ridge. I spoke with Bashkirov. We had to decide whether to turn the other climbers back and proceed only with Misirin. Apa and Dawa had gone on to the summit. Asmujiono climbed the Hillary Step. Vinogradski arrived at the top of the Hillary Step. He had tried to turn Iwan back, but he was now struggling up the Hillary Step. No one was willing to admit defeat. I was worried that these men were coming to the end of their power. It is one thing to go forward, another to get down. I knew they would have to move under their own power. We had come slowly to within one hundred meters of the summit. I gave this advice. I spoke with Iwan and Asmujiono. I recommended they stop and begin to go down. They refused.
We all moved off toward the summit. I went ahead and encountered Apa and Dawa thirty meters from the summit. I discussed my fears concerning the deteriorating condition of Asmujiono and Iwan. They were like zombies, unable to focus on anything but the summit. I wanted them to turn back while they were still functioning. We would very likely be using the camp at 8,500 meters. I wanted us to leave the summit as soon as possible. It was now three o’clock. It was very late. The weather was calm, but I could see thin clouds moving on the face of the mountain. The climbers were taking one step, resting one minute, and taking another step. They would be another thirty minutes at that rate. I arrived at the summit; thirty meters behind me were Misirin and Bashkirov. I watched as Misirin collapsed in the snow. Suddenly Asmujiono passed Misirin. He charged the summit, doggedly running in slow motion, to embrace the tripod of flags and poles that is the officially sanctioned summit of Mount Everest. He replaced his hat with his army beret and unfurled the flag of his country. Here I could only wonder.