The Girl Who Climbed Everest

by Sue Williams

  Others watching on wish her well. The then Queensland premier Campbell Newman says he’s incredibly impressed by what Alyssa has already achieved, and in awe at what she plans to do next. ‘Young Australians like Alyssa Azar give us tremendous hope for our future,’ he says. ‘She embodies everything our nation could possibly wish for in the next generation of leaders, dreamers, pioneers and adventure-seekers. I’m blown away by her courage to tackle, at the still tender age of seventeen, one of the hardest challenges known to mankind – the gruelling ascent of Mount Everest.

  ‘I’m only too happy to concede that her “can do” attitude in this regard outstrips mine.

  ‘It is obvious that this very determined and capable young woman has put in the hard yards, mentally and physically, to make her dream a reality. It is also obvious that Alyssa’s strong self-belief and high sense of adventure have been fanned by the love and support of her family, especially her father, Glenn.

  ‘As she sets out on this exhilarating yet undeniably dangerous quest, I join the people of Queensland in wishing her a safe and successful expedition. Whatever the outcome, we are proud to claim her as one of our own.’

  In her hometown of Toowoomba there’s also lots of interest. Mayor Paul Antonio says it’s great to see someone so young aim so high, and achieve so much. ‘Those kinds of feats take a lot of willpower – and not many people have that much!’ he says. ‘I see Alyssa as setting a great example to others about what can be achieved when you’re so determined, and have such a great aim in life.’

  For Alyssa is also one hell of a hard worker. Occasionally, she might feel like staying in bed instead of getting up at 4 or 5 a.m. to train, but never gives in to the temptation. She’s too aware that, if she’s tested on Everest, she might need that one tiny extra iota of strength she managed to build that morning. Now she’s mostly pack-walking outdoors, tyre-dragging and hill-running, as well as doing strength workouts in the garden of their home. Now his gym has been sold, Glenn has installed all the equipment Alyssa will need in the backyard instead: a rowing machine, a treadmill, an iron edge matrix – a metal cage for chin-ups and other exercises – 300 kg of Olympic weights, a set of kettle bells from 14 kg to 32 kg, and heavy ropes for an intense upper body workout. He’s even had welded in an 8-metre tower from which a rope dangles down for her to practise rope climbing. A ladder is yet to arrive for her to practise walking across with heavy mountaineering boots and crampons, for when she has to inch her way over similar ladders flung across deep crevasses on Everest. Even in any downtime, watching TV or on the computer, she squeezes a little ball specially designed to strengthen fingers for rock climbing.

  Alyssa’s also started eating to gain weight. The hardship of the Everest climb, and all the time spent at altitude, strips kilograms off climbers like nothing else – many of them, on their return, can look like walking skeletons. So she knows she’ll have to put on at least 5 kg now to withstand the punishment in store for her. ‘It’s difficult as you can really eat a lot when you train, and you don’t want to train too much as then you’ll risk losing the additional weight as soon as you put it on,’ says Alyssa. ‘So I’m having to taper my training and my eating just a few weeks prior to going. Then it’ll be a case of eating as many carbs as I can manage . . .’ And, of course, there’s still the schoolwork to fit in; she hopes to take her HSC late in 2014, with Everest behind her.

  But she really doesn’t mind all the hard work and concentration. Her mindset is all about giving it everything she has; there’s no point, she reckons, in going in for anything half-heartedly. Even some of the teachers who had so many doubts about her path now seem to agree. One of the schools asks her back in to talk to their pupils about motivation.

  Many successful Everest mountaineers talk about how climbers need to believe in something bigger than themselves to make it, whether it’s Jesus Christ or Buddha, a mountain god or Allah. They simply need that spiritual side to attempt something so massive. Alyssa agrees completely.

  ‘I never really thought I was that religious because my family’s not, but I’m glad I could find my own beliefs,’ she says. ‘Over time I’ve realised you can’t climb the highest mountains without having a belief in something, particularly when you see the scale of the world. I guess my personal beliefs are along the lines of Buddhism. I’ve studied a little bit and I do believe in a higher force. It sounds silly, but a lot of climbers believe in the mountain goddess and I’m very much part of that. I’ll go to the stupa and temple in Kathmandu and walk all the way around and touch the prayer wheels before the climb. Travelling to these other countries and seeing the cultures opens your mind to the way others live – how they don’t need possessions to be happy; they have a minimalist way of living rather than the drive to accumulate, and they’re very spiritual.’

  Yet there are things Alyssa will never be able to get completely used to, or come to terms with. On her Facebook page and website, trolls routinely post vicious messages, calling her nasty names and questioning why she has to do something so extreme. She insists she doesn’t let it affect her. Glenn says, ‘We are just big believers in living your dream. You get out of bed every day with a choice to make, no matter how bad your life is. You can choose how you react to it, you can choose whether or not to pursue your dreams. With Alyssa’s dream of Everest, I’m not saying whether or not she’s capable of it, but if she’s willing to put in all the preparation, year after year, then who am I to stop her? I don’t want to get to the end of my life and regret firstly, not having a go or secondly, stopping someone else from having a go. So I’m not going to be that person who tells Alyssa, No, you can’t!

  ‘Most people don’t fail to achieve things because they are not capable; they’re just not willing to make the sacrifices, to put the work in. In my professional life, I love to help people realise their dreams and, in my personal life, I’m there to do exactly the same for all my kids.’

  For Alyssa, it’s all about that dream. It’s not for fame or dubious fortune or for the records she might smash. It’s just her drive to see if she can achieve something she’s put her mind to for so long. ‘When you step on a mountain, there’s no fame or records. There’s just a big mountain you attempt to climb, one step at a time. No one else can possibly do it for you. You can be given lots of support in the years before, but the amount of preparation you do, all the training, the mind stuff – that’s all about how hard you alone are prepared to work. For when it comes down to it, it’s just you and the mountain. It’s all you up there, either making it to the top or falling short. It’s you, and you alone. And making the summit of Everest has been my dream for over ten years now.’

  Not even the risk of dying in the attempt can put her off. ‘You know, I would prefer to die on the side of a mountain at twenty than to limp through my life until I’m eighty hating what I do,’ she says. ‘You see people on Facebook, writing about how much they hate every day. To me, another day is always another chance to take a step towards my goal.

  ‘People may think I have a death wish or I don’t see the risks or don’t think it’ll ever happen. Maybe I do sometimes have a more casual attitude to danger, but I am aware of my mortality. It’s just that to me, the risk is something you have to accept if you’re going to do things like climb Everest. And I’m ready to face that.’

  CHAPTER 26

  Everest at Last

  ‘The price of discipline is always less than the pain of regret.’

  – NIDO QUBEIN, PRESIDENT OF HIGH POINT UNIVERSITY, NORTH CAROLINA, US

  It’s 4 a.m. on 2 April 2014 and still pitch black when seventeen-year-old Alyssa Azar leaps out of bed in her small Kathmandu hotel, ready to catch one of the first planes of the Everest season to Lukla to start the trek to Base Camp. This is the day she’s been waiting for and working towards for three solid years. She can barely contain her excitement.

  Yet even as she takes her seat in that tiny plane to start the first leg of her historic assault on Everest,
the mountain is already claiming its first victims of the year.

  One of the icefall doctors – the group of Sherpas who go up before the climbers to fix the ropes up to Camp II and the ice ladders over the most treacherous crevasses and up the cliffs – has fallen down a ravine on the Khumbu Icefall, and has been carried back to Base Camp and helicoptered down to Kathmandu for treatment. Meanwhile, in a separate incident, another Sherpa, Mingma Tenzing, complains of feeling unwell while helping organise Base Camp. He is taken down to Lobuche where he is treated by doctors who realise that, despite being just twenty-six years old, strong and used to altitude, he is suffering signs of acute mountain sickness and pulmonary oedema, with dangerously high levels of fluid in his lungs. At first light, he is also choppered down to Kathmandu. He dies that same morning in hospital.

  ‘It’s very sad,’ says Alyssa. ‘It’s terrible for those men and their families who give so much to Everest every year. It’s also a reminder of how perilous Everest can be, how unpredictable and how even the most experienced, tough and courageous Sherpas can still suffer so much.’

  As soon as the plane lurches and bumps onto the runway at Lukla, Alyssa scrambles off, collects her gear and, together with the four other members of her expedition, sets off immediately on the trek to Base Camp. She’s back with the same expedition leader, this time with his wife and two South Africans, Mark and Donna. Neither of them are particularly experienced climbers, neither seem terribly confident about what lies ahead and, even more worryingly, Mark has never been higher than 2000 metres. Alyssa feels her first stirrings of doubt. Lukla itself is 2800 metres, and from there they’ll be trekking steadily upwards. If her team members aren’t up to it, she knows they might slow the whole expedition down. But she tells herself to take it day by day and just focus on her own efforts.

  This year looks likely to be a big one in any case. Alyssa is going up in the hope of reaching the summit and, in so doing, will become the youngest non-Sherpa female in the world to make the top, as well as the youngest Australian. At the same time, another young Australian is also climbing, twenty-year-old Will Sayer from NSW. The media make much of what it assumes must be rivalry between the pair. Also on his way up this year is American adventurer Joby Ogwyn who plans to jump from the top of Everest in a wingsuit, a feat that will be filmed live by a Discovery Channel team. Theirs aren’t the only cameras, either. An Australian-UK documentary team are already in Nepal, making a film about the veteran Sherpa Phurba Tashi, who is preparing for a world-record twenty-second ascent of Everest. Australian director-writer Jennifer Peedom and producer John Smithson, who previously made the hit Touching the Void, plan to accompany him most of the way from Base Camp.

  It’s going to be a little crowded at Base Camp, but Alyssa’s team are in high spirits and make good progress. They hit Namche Bazaar in beautiful weather but as they continue to Tengboche, Everest remains shrouded in clouds and snowfalls. That just serves to make the surroundings even more beautiful, however.

  Alyssa feels she’s back home among the mountains and with everyone trekking well, her anxiety gradually subsides. At Upper Pangboche, they drop in on Everest legend Lama Geshe, who is visited every season by overseas climbers and local Sherpas alike to receive blessings, then they move on to Pheriche. By now, Mark is clearly feeling the altitude. Pheriche lies at a height of 4720 metres and Mark is coughing and complaining of headaches and not feeling well. They all decide to take a rest day while Mark visits the doctor. He’s given some medication and told to try to take it easy. But the next morning he feels worse. Mark and Donna decide to take a second rest day, while Alyssa heads off with the leader and his wife. The plan is for the other two to meet up with them later down the track.

  This year, there are a few new rules to observe around the climb. Because of an altercation the previous year between a few western climbers and some Sherpas, guards from the Nepalese Army and armed police have been posted at Base Camp to stop any more trouble breaking out. In addition, a checkpoint has been set up at the entrance to make sure everyone has their climbing permit. And finally, all climbers are being instructed to collect and carry down 8 kg of rubbish each to try to keep the route pristine. ‘That’s a great idea,’ says Alyssa. ‘We’re going up there anyway, so why shouldn’t we bring down rubbish? It’s much better than asking Sherpas to risk their lives to collect other people’s debris.’

  Alyssa’s finding the trekking very comfortable, and she’s loving the excitement of approaching Everest. The next stop is Lobuche and it’s there she hears that Mark has been evacuated back to Kathmandu. She’s sad for him but surprised that he’s fallen so sick so early, without even reaching Base Camp. Donna, however, seems to be doing better and is on her way up.

  The four catch up along the way, and at Gorak Shep, the last stop before Base Camp, there’s a major surprise in store. Mark has been choppered back up and has trekked there, ready to continue to Base Camp.

  ‘Seeing him was a shock,’ says Alyssa. ‘I wondered why he’d come back since he’d been so sick at a lower altitude, and you’d imagine he’d remember how that felt, but he said he was determined. But he looked ten years older than when we’d last seen him. He looked terrible. And by the time we reached Base Camp on 10 April, he could barely move. He was trying to eat but he couldn’t, and he fainted a few times on the way to his tent, so we helped him there. He was on oxygen that night, and then said he didn’t want to climb Everest. He was evacuated out again the next day.’

  Alyssa goes about making herself back at home at Base Camp. This is her third time there, but the first time she’s planning to move on up to the summit of Everest. She’s feeling strong and confident and can’t wait to get going. She talks to some of the Sherpas she knows from previous years and generally gets ready for the adventure of her life. She does some training climbs to get used to the altitude, ascending the southern flank of Pumori, with its spectacular views of Everest, and the dreaded Khumbu glacier. ‘You’re waiting for your opening to start climbing Everest, so you use the time to train for it,’ she says. ‘You have to keep moving and keep climbing to higher altitudes to acclimatise yourself. You’re just waiting for the green light for your rotation. Every day you hope it might be that day.’

  Then, in the early morning of 18 April, Alyssa wakes with a start, crawls out of her tent and makes her way to the mess tent. The atmosphere feels strange, but she can’t quite work out why. There are a few people running around and she can hear a man shouting. As she gets closer to him, she can make out the words. ‘Avalanche!’ he’s yelling. ‘Avalanche!’ She instantly knows that something is terribly wrong. At Base Camp and on the lower slopes of Everest, you’re constantly hearing the crash of distant avalanches; the noise becomes almost the background track to your life up there. But this must be different. To be sending out the alarm in that way, it must be something serious, very serious.

  Alyssa doesn’t know it yet, but an immense tragedy is playing itself out on the Khumbu Icefall. On that first part of the route up Everest, the most perilous part of the climb, a block of ice the size of a ten-storey apartment building and weighing an estimated 64 000 tonnes – heavier than the Titanic – has sheared off and plunged 400 metres down towards around 100 Sherpas toiling below. Most of the Sherpas, who are on the mountain fixing ladders or carrying gear up for the foreign climbers, hear the falling serac and have just seconds to either get out of its way or take shelter. It smashes into the slope with a deafening crash, sending great fragments of ice and clouds of snow in all directions. One Sherpa later describes it as being like a thunderbolt, striking and scattering its victims.

  Down at Base Camp, people quickly realise what must be happening and teams of rescuers are sent up to help. On arrival, they find the bodies of the dead, either crushed or suffocated by the debris, and many stunned and partly buried injured survivors. A huge operation is launched to bring the survivors back down.

  Alyssa sits and waits down at Base Camp, knowing there’s
nothing she can do to help. As if in a trance, she watches the helicopters flying up and bringing the injured back on stretchers to be flown straight down to Pheriche, Lukla and then Kathmandu. Later, the operation switches to body retrieval. The choppers go up and then return, dangling the bodies on ropes below them, and then unloading their terrible cargo in full view of everyone at Base Camp. The climbers can only look on in stunned horror.

  The final toll is another shock. Sixteen Sherpas have been killed in the avalanche, and many more badly injured. Only thirteen bodies, however, have been recovered; the other three either are not found or have to stay in their icy graves since it’s been judged too dangerous to try to bring them home.

  ‘As the day unfolded, the toll went up and up and up,’ says Alyssa. ‘At first, we thought there were five dead. By the end, we knew it was sixteen. Everything went very, very quiet. It felt very surreal. There’s such an air of invincibility around Sherpas and you know them as the best climbers in the world. So when something like this goes wrong, you keep asking yourself, How and why? A lot of Sherpas are related to each other, so everyone knew everyone. It was just so terribly, terribly sad.’

  At first, the Sherpas ask the climbers to join them in a few days of mourning and suggest no one goes through the icefall as a mark of respect. All the foreign climbers agree. They’re still in shock, and feel it’s the very least they can do to show their sympathy with the bereaved. After all, the Sherpas were only up there to help them. But after three days, an air of impatience starts to seep into Base Camp. No one seems to be in charge, no one knows what’s happening and rumour and counter-rumour spreads through the ranks. Some people say the Sherpas now want to resume their climb; others say they want to abandon Everest for the season. The Sherpas themselves are in a bind. Local custom means they don’t like to upset the climbers, financial imperatives make some want to continue the season, but others, deeply shocked and saddened, would rather call the whole thing off, preferably without losing face.