After a while, Kami spoke.
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It’s over. We can go back down, to Base Camp.’
‘Thank God!’ Anatoly said. ‘I don’t think I would have had the strength to go any higher.’
Zhanna said nothing. The events of the day had taken her to a place beyond words.
I stared up at the summit. Foreshortened by the angle, it looked tantalisingly close. Close enough to touch, even if it was two full days of climbing away. For a moment I let my imagination soar up those crystal slopes, savouring how it would feel to …
I felt Kami’s stare on me.
‘What are you thinking?’ he said.
I snapped out of my daydream.
‘Oh, nothing,’ I answered. ‘Just wondering if I will ever get this high again.’
Kami sighed.
‘I know how you feel,’ he said gently. ‘It looks beautiful up there. But Shreeya … the baby …’
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘We’ll have to save these dreams for another time.’
‘We should radio the girls,’ Kami said. ‘They need to know we’re coming down.’
We activated the radio and put out the call. Within minutes we heard Tashi’s voice on the line.
‘Everything’s changed,’ I told her. ‘The Viking problem has been solved and we’re free to descend. We’ll come down as fast as we can.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ Tashi broke into a delighted peal of laughter at the news. ‘Wait, Shreeya wants to speak to Kami.’
Kami took the handset, talking warmly to Shreeya in Nepali for some moments, his face wreathed in smiles. Then he frowned, his eyes clouding over as the mood of the conversation changed.
The tone of Shreeya’s voice shifted. She was speaking urgently and with great conviction.
Kami was shaking his head and interjecting with the occasional word.
‘What’s happening?’ Zhanna mouthed at me.
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine what could cause Kami and Shreeya to be stressed with one another.
Then, to my surprise, Kami’s smile returned. ‘OK,’ he told Shreeya in English. ‘I understand and I accept. I see the beauty in the plan.’
He handed me the radio.
‘Shreeya wants to talk to you,’ he said.
‘Ryan?’
‘Hi.’
‘I’ve told Kami he’s not coming back.’
I felt a gust of wind race across the face.
‘What?’
‘Not until he’s placed the shrine bell on the summit.’
Kami laughed at the expression on my face.
‘Seriously?’
‘It is written,’ she continued. ‘Destiny. You must go with him and say that prayer on the top of the world. Then bury the shrine bell and bring Kami back safely for me. Will you do that?’
I felt a lump growing in my throat. How typical of Shreeya to suggest something so selfless, particularly when she had to be counting the minutes until Kami could be back with her.
I looked at Kami, but I didn’t need to ask his feelings, I could see the joy in his eyes.
‘What do you think?’ Shreeya asked.
‘Can I speak to Tashi, please?’ I replied.
I heard the crackle as the walkie-talkie was passed over.
‘Hey, Tashi. What do you think about this crazy plan?’
‘I’m totally cool with it,’ she replied. ‘You have to end your Everest obsession somehow, right? But I need you to take care, you hear? Don’t take any mad risks.’
‘OK.’ I felt the back of my neck prickle with excitement.
‘My love goes with you,’ Tashi said. ‘The gods will protect you both, have no doubt.’
Emotion welled up inside me as Kami took back the radio.
The conversation continued for a few more moments, then Kami said goodbye.
Zhanna got to her feet, throwing her arms around Kami then hugging me too.
‘It’s a perfect plan,’ she said. ‘You deserve the chance to try for the summit. Me and Papa will be OK going back alone.’
Anatoly nodded. ‘It’s fine with me. Viking’s men will not fight on without her.’
Kami took out the shrine bell, gazing at it with great reverence.
‘So the story continues,’ Kami said quietly. ‘The shrine bell has a destiny to fulfil.’
I stared up at Everest. That enigmatic mystery of a mountain. I had the feeling that the last piece of an extraordinary jigsaw had just fallen into place. As always, the highest ridge was alive with ice crystals, that ever-moving shroud, flowing ceaselessly with the caress of the wind. I thought of the shrine bell, guarded safely in Kami’s pocket, and of what it would mean to Kami to get that bell to the top.
And what it would mean to me too. To reach the summit. For real. It was a dream beyond imagining.
‘Let’s finish this,’ I said. ‘Once and for all.’
I felt a new wave of energy pulse through me. Things had changed now. It was no longer about escape. No longer about running for our lives.
Kami and I could focus in a more personal way. For Kami, a more spiritual way.
It was about fulfilment. The completion of a dream we both shared. Long minutes passed. We stared down the valley, where the tents of Camp 2 could just be seen, nestled against the rock wall.
‘OK,’ Anatoly said. ‘It is decided.’
He rose groggily to his feet.
We embraced our two friends one last time, wishing them speed on their descent.
I felt a pang of guilt to be leaving them. But this was our moment, Kami’s and mine.
Shortly after we had begun to climb we heard a terrible cry. We turned to look down the slope, seeing that Zhanna had fallen suddenly to her knees. For a few seconds she was still. Then she threw her head back and screamed. The cry merged with the sound of the rising wind, echoing off the walls of Lhotse and Everest.
Anatoly stood near her, motionless, holding back, his head bent.
Zhanna sobbed for a while. Kami and I watched, both wondering if she would be able to get to her feet again. I flexed my fingers inside my gloves, trying to keep them from freezing.
Finally Zhanna rose, shakily. Anatoly put his arms round her shoulders and the two of them began to descend once more.
‘She’s moving OK,’ Kami said. ‘Let’s go.’
We climbed on, ever higher on the Lhotse Face, glad of the oxygen feeding into our masks. Both of us had cranked our flow rates up to four litres a minute, aware that we needed a boost on this second climb of the day.
Finding the best route was difficult. The avalanche had swept away all the waymarkers along with the top layer of snow and ice. We were climbing mostly on bare rock, our metal crampons clattering and scraping as we moved awkwardly upwards.
The wind was in a skittish mood. Like spirits playing a game. Chasing one way, then another. Not strong enough to be threatening, but breaking our rhythm and forcing us to pause during the more violent gusts.
Rockfall kept us alert, pebbles and fist-sized stones whirring down the face almost continually from great heights.
‘The mountain is restless,’ Kami said. ‘But no more avalanche for now.’
We kept an eye on Zhanna and Anatoly. By mid-afternoon they were just two dots, almost 1,500 vertical metres beneath us.
‘They’ve reached the end of the fixed ropes,’ Kami observed.
I took the lead on the next section, counting off twenty steps before each rest, bending over my ice axe, gulping in air from the mask and wishing there was more.
It was gradually sinking in: the momentous decision we had made, the danger still ahead.
Everything felt different.
But the risks were still real.
We crossed out of the avalanche strike path. Back on to the slippery, loose ice and snow. Fixed ropes began to appear and we clipped on gratefully, happy for the illusion of safety.
Four
o’clock came and went. Then five.
Knee and hip joints began to ache with a dull, insistent pain. My body was protesting at this incessant fight against gravity, every sinew and muscle joining in with complaints of their own as we crawled through a gully of deep snow.
We dragged ourselves wearily up the Geneva Spur, arms and legs like chunks of lead. As the final rays of daylight faded we hit the col, returning in silence to the tent. I collected ice and we began the process of melting it down for tea.
The endless mission to rehydrate our bodies began. Porridge laced with copious amounts of honey was the only thing we could bear to eat.
We ate in silence, thinking of our families and loved ones. Thinking of Zhanna and Anatoly who, we hoped, would be safely down in Camp 2.
In a few hours the real test would begin.
Summit day.
‘Let’s sort out the oxygen,’ Kami suggested. We spent a busy hour making sure that our bottles were fully charged, checking that the feed line to the masks really did connect to the thread.
Without the extra gas we would have no chance of the summit.
As I busied myself, my body felt like I was hooked up to an adrenaline drip, a potent mixture of excitement and dread running through me.
A voice kept chanting in my head.
Summit day. Summit day. Summit day.
It was thrilling. And chilling. So many things could go wrong. We couldn’t afford to make even the tiniest mistake.
As soon as the cooker was turned off, the temperature inside the tent fell to freezing and below. Bundled up in my sleeping bag, I shone my head torch at the canvas and watched, fascinated, as tiny crystals of hoar frost formed on the Dacron of the tent interior.
Our breath was freezing instantly as it left our bodies.
We had no thermometer to measure the extreme cold that night. My guess is it must have been thirty degrees below freezing outside. Maybe twenty below inside the tent.
We resolved to leave at midnight after a couple of hours’ sleep. I tossed and turned in my bag, too hyper to switch off.
Kami was definitely snug. He was out for the count as soon as his head went down.
I thought about Tashi as the gentle sound of Kami’s snores filled the tent. She would be so happy if we made it to the summit.
I smiled as I thought about all the good times we had shared at the refugee camp, feeling a strong surge of emotion. The higher we got on the mountain the more I seemed to miss her.
Kami suddenly awoke. He sat bolt upright with a great gasp of fear.
‘Nightmare?’
‘Yes.’
I switched on the head torch and saw that his eyes were wide. He unscrewed his water bottle to take a big gulp of juice, then fell back on to his sleeping bag, moaning softly.
‘The avalanche?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘Always. I get the same dream every few days. The sensation of being buried, deep beneath the snow. Unable to move. Unable to cry for help.’
We were silent for a while.
‘I won’t sleep again,’ he said finally. ‘Why don’t we get ready?’
We brewed up a final litre of water for our flasks then took our time to kit up. Thermals, climbing trousers, shirts. Inner shell of fleece. Outer shell of Gore-Tex. Fullbody down suit. Pertex wind suit on top.
Then the socks. Three layers. The plastic barrier to stop sweat freezing. The inner boots. Outer boot shell. The neoprene gaiter. Crampons checked and ready to snap into place as soon as we left the tent.
Head torch. Spare batteries. Camera. Swiss army knife. Energy bars. A couple of high-calorie gels.
Walking out across the col was an emotional moment for me. To think that we were treading in the footsteps of Everest’s greatest climbers, of Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, Reinhold Messner and Junko Tabei.
My spirits soared with the thought that this day might see us reach the top of the world.
‘Don’t have any fear, Ryan,’ Kami told me with conviction. ‘Everything will work out for us today. The shrine bell will take care of us.’
His words were comforting, but I was still dreading the long hours of darkness, the disorientating effect of climbing with just a tiny pool of head torch light to rely on.
The first steps sent tremors of hot pain through my legs. Our bodies had rested too well and our muscles were not remotely interested in more punishment.
‘We need to pace ourselves,’ Kami said. ‘There’s a long way to go.’
Too right, I thought.
We passed the last of the tents. Hit the rocky terrain leading towards the ridge. Doubts flooded into my mind like invading demons.
Would my body fail at this last hurdle?
Did I have the technical skills to surmount the razor-sharp precipice of the final ridge?
Would two bottles of oxygen be enough to get us to the summit?
I stared at the dark, brooding shoulder of the mighty West Ridge.
How about Kami? Was he hiding damage from his slip in the Icefall? Would his newly rehabilitated spine stand up to the challenge of this, the ultimate climb?
It would have been reassuring to have others on the skyline above us, other lights we could follow, removing the pressure of route finding from our situation.
But of course there was no one there.
We were totally dependent on ourselves. Just the two of us. A very intimidating thought.
The snow conditions were poor; fresh snow had fallen on the ridge the previous evening, and we were wading through heavy powder, taking turns to break trail.
Half an hour for Kami. Half an hour for me. Step-by-step progress, crazily slow, stepping up high to push through the metre-deep snow.
Waymarkers loomed out of the darkness. A red pennant, attached to a bamboo wand, the colour muted by darkness. The ripped-up remains of a discarded tent.
A strangely shaped mound of snow, which I suspected was a covered-over corpse.
‘We are not the only ones up here,’ Kami said, as he stared at the bump in the ridgeline. He had made the same bleak conclusion as me.
Another hour went by, the gradient continuously sharpening, the steepening terrain meaning every single step cost a fraction more effort than the previous one.
The broad swathe of the shoulder became narrower as we gained height, gradually funnelling down into a sharp ridge, which offered little room for error.
I thought of Tashi, wondering where and how she was. I thought about the descent we would make back through the Western Cwm and the Icefall – still a long and risky journey. We could so easily run out of time, energy and resources after our summit climb.
Without help we could be twenty-four hours from death. Just one factor – like running out of oxygen – would be enough to finish us.
When it came to the weather it was pot luck. The only tools we had were the ones that nature had given us – the ability to judge the complicated play of wind, cloud and snow by eye and by instinct.
On a normal expedition, science would have been on our side. We would have had accurate weather forecasts, satellite data coming in from meteo stations in Europe and the USA.
We had none of that.
‘We’re like the early explorers,’ Kami said. ‘Looking at the sky to see if a storm is on the way.’
Distant thunder rumbled away to the south. I closed my mind to the implications of this. This window of good weather had to last.
Several hours passed. We had reached the Balcony, a famous landmark on this classic route. On any other mountain it would hardly be noticed, just a flattish area of level terrain about twice the size of the average dining table.
On Everest’s final ridge, every single step is taken on a seventy-degree incline; this scrap of even ground was an irresistible invitation to take a rest.
Kami flopped down on the ice, his head forward, resting on his knees.
‘My eyesight is starting to feel weird,’ he said faintly. ‘Black and fuzzy round
the edges.’
I unclipped his rucksack and checked the gauge on his oxygen bottle. It was reading one third full.
‘Your oxygen line might be frozen,’ I told him. Tashi and I had had similar problems on the northern side the previous year.
Tunnel vision is a sure-fire sign of an oxygen problem. The optic nerve shuts down when a breathing tube gets blocked with ice.
I pinched the rubber line that ran to Kami’s mask. There was a hard plug of ice inside. Frozen condensation from his breath. I squeezed the line then flexed it gently until I heard the ice crackle inside as it broke up.
‘That’s better!’ Kami said. ‘I can feel it flowing again.’
Ten minutes later his vision had improved.
‘You OK to keep going?’
‘Of course,’ he replied. Kami’s raw courage was beginning to show.
The night went well, fuelled by adrenaline, physical effort and the gentle hiss of the oxygen as it entered our masks.
Just after daybreak we hit the final ridge.
The two of us celebrated by cracking open our flask and pouring out some hot tea. The warm drink gave us a welcome boost and we followed it with some mint cake, pure compacted sugar that zapped energy straight into our bodies.
We spent a while staring to the south, enchanted by the awesome cluster of mighty peaks that now lay beneath our position.
Faint streaks of light heralded the dawn. The inky black sky of night yielded to delicate pastels of orange and red. With every passing minute we could see further and better into the valleys that surrounded us.
‘Lhotse is lower than us!’ Kami said.
It was true. The fourth highest mountain in the world was now beneath us.
‘Let’s go,’ Kami said. He stood upright, striking his boots with his ice axe a few times to remove the balled-up snow that had collected in his crampons.
Kami was always the first of us to want to keep climbing. The summit was luring him on with irresistible force.
I think the turbulence that Nepal was experiencing had acted as a trigger, firing up an even greater desire to reach the top.
‘Imagine the stories you will be able to tell your child,’ I said.
Kami turned to me in surprise.
Killer Storm Page 16
