by Roland Smith
Zopa asked if I wanted to go, too. I did, but I told him I'd stay and help him with the climbers coming down from Camp Four.
The weather had broken during the night. It was still cold, but the clouds had thinned and the wind had died down some. The climber with mild HAPE had gotten worse during the night and they put him in a bag. This meant they would not be able to bring him down the treacherous ice wall. The chopper would have to rescue him at Camp Four.
Our job was to help Yogi and Yash get the remaining climbers and Sherpas down to ABC as quickly as possible. If some of them needed to be flown to Base Camp they had to be ready to go when the chopper landed at ABC. There would only be one flight.
WE TRAVELED LIGHT and got to the base of the Col just as Yogi was coming down. He said that Yash was staying with the injured climbers at Camp Four.
"How many?" Zopa asked.
"Three. Two with bad frostbite and the one with HAPE."
He looked up. "Some of those coming down could also use a ride to Base Camp."
There were six climbers all together, exhausted but happy to get off the wall. Zopa offered them hits of oxygen, which most of them gratefully took. No point in acclimatization now. After they got to Base Camp they would be going home.
A half hour outside ABC the chopper flew over us on its way up to Camp Four. Zopa hurried everyone along thinking the pilot would not stay long after he landed at ABC.
It turned out the stay was longer than expected.
The chopper landed ten minutes after we arrived. Zopa picked two of the most debilitated climbers for the ride down and one backup in case Captain Shek had listened to reason and stayed at Base Camp.
He hadn't.
He stepped through the miniblizzard caused by the rotors wearing a full uniform including a pistol. The pilot followed behind him and looked as unhappy as all of us did. Helicopters aren't designed to fly at that altitude. If the weather got worse it wouldn't be able to fly.
Captain Shek didn't appear to be in any hurry at all. He casually walked over to the mess tent and looked inside, then smelled the pot of stew simmering on the gas stove like he was some kind of gourmet.
"I will see everybody papers," he said.
He had to be kidding. It was one thing to check everyone coming off the mountain, but to do it at 21,161 feet with injured climbers waiting to be evacuated was outrageous. Several of the climbers let out a howl of protest despite the thin air and their condition.
"Why would we have our bloody papers up here?"
"This is an emergency! We need to get the injured to Base Camp!"
"Are you crazy?"
Captain Shek seemed a little shocked at the response, and changed his tact. "We search camp before we leave," he said, causing another vocal outburst, which he ignored.
He and the pilot went through all the tents (although the pilot was clearly not happy about the duty).
When they finished Captain Shek said, "We looking for boy."
Everyone looked at me.
"Not that boy. Nepal boy. Same age."
"He went back home over a week ago," Zopa said.
Captain Shek shook his head. "I don't think." He pointed at the chopper. "You come with me."
"We have injured climbers," Zopa said mildly. "I'll check in with you when I get to Base Camp tomorrow."
"No," Shek said. "You come with me now. I arrest you."
One of the German climbers took a step toward the captain. He was the team leader who had talked to us from Camp Six. His name was Dietrich. His face was bright red and it wasn't from the cold. He began shouting in German, which I didn't understand.
I don't think Captain Shek understood, either, but he put his hand on his pistol.
Zopa stepped in front of Dietrich and said something to him in German, then turned to the pilot and asked something in Chinese.
The pilot thought about it for a moment, then answered.
"He thinks he can take four climbers," Zopa said.
There were two additional climbers who could have used a ride, but Dietrich relaxed a little and gave a terse nod.
"What about you?" I asked Zopa.
Zopa shrugged. "It's just a misunderstanding."
He and I knew it was more than that. The question was, how much did Captain Shek know?
"I'll radio Josh and tell him what's going on."
"Be careful going down," Zopa said. "You'll have to leave early and go slow. Ask Josh to send some Sherpas up to meet you in case I'm detained longer than I expect."
Ten minutes later they took off. I radioed Josh and told him about Zopa's arrest.
"Shek's a maniac!" he shouted. "The Sherpas and porters down here are going to go nuts when they find out."
I wondered if Captain Shek's men would pass this on to him. I suspected they would. I also suspected that's exactly why Josh said it.
FAMILY HISTORY
THE NEXT DAY I expected to see Sun-jo at one of the intermediate camps, but he wasn't hiding out in either one. This meant they had figured out a way to get him down to the porter camp, or else Captain Shek had gotten his hands on him. Whatever his fate, I didn't have a lot of time to worry about it because our trip down to Base Camp was a nightmare.
Once again the weather had warmed up, turning some of the glacial rivers into raging torrents. If we'd had boats and paddles instead of crampons and ice axes we could have been down to Base Camp in minutes.
By the time we reached the first intermediate camp about half our party was ready to give up and spend another night high on the mountain.
"We should push on," Dietrich urged them. "We need to get the frostbite taken care of. We can be at Base Camp in three hours."
Unfortunately, no one else seemed to share his opinion (including the other Germans on his team, who I think blamed him for their summit failure). They sat on rocks staring at him dully as if he had lost his mind. But Dietrich was right. We were headed downhill. Even with their injuries it wouldn't take long to get to Base Camp. I knew they were tired and hurting (so was I), but spending another night at a crummy camp this close to Base was stupid. The Sherpas appeared to be behind Dietrich 100 percent. None of them had even sat down to rest.
"I think Dietrich is right," I said.
One of the Germans laughed. "Ah, now we have a child telling us what to do." Some of the others laughed with him.
Ouch. I should have kept my mouth shut. I wasn't really in a position to tell them what to do, even if I was right.
"What's the matter with all of you?" someone behind us shouted.
I turned around and was shocked to see Josh. And he wasn't alone.
"Bad weather coming in tonight," Zopa added. "You cannot stay here."
Josh was grinning, but I could tell he wasn't feeling well. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked pale and haggard. He patted Dietrich on the back. "Sorry about the trouble up on the mountain."
Dietrich looked like he was about ready to cry. I wasn't sure if it was from grief over the dead climbers or relief that Josh and Zopa had shown up to give him a hand.
Josh walked over to the sitting climbers. "If we leave right now we should be able to get down before dark. We have a team of doctors waiting to treat you. Hot food. Get up. Let's go."
No one was laughing at Joshua Wood. I remembered what my mother said about there being no one better than Josh when you are at the end of your rope. He was obviously sick, but here he was encouraging climbers who weren't even members of his own expedition.
Slowly, one by one, they started getting to their feet. Zopa took the lead with Dietrich. Josh and I followed behind.
"How was Camp Four?" he asked tiredly. "Any problems?"
"It was hard, but not as bad as I thought it would be. My ribs hurt from trying to get enough air."
"No worries. Everybody goes through it. Zopa says you're ready for the summit."
It was one thing for Zopa to give me some words of encouragement after a hard climb. It was another thing for him to t
ell Josh that I was ready to summit. I didn't know what to say. At that point the summit seemed like too big of a subject to tackle, and maybe even bad luck to talk about. I think Josh knew how I felt, maybe better than I did, because he didn't say any more about it. The squirt of paranoia from a few days before seemed to have evaporated.
"What happened with Zopa and Captain Shek?" I asked.
"A minirevolution. As soon as the porters and Sherpas heard about Zopa's arrest they all gathered around Shek's headquarters to hold a silent vigil. They were there when the chopper landed. Shek tried to disperse them, but they wouldn't budge. He hauled Zopa into the building, hoping to outwait them, but that didn't work. They'd still be there if he hadn't cut Zopa loose. He had no choice but to let him go."
"And Sun-jo?"
"That's the best part. Shek pulled all the soldiers back to headquarters, which made it easy to sneak Sun-jo back into the porter camp. If he hadn't detained Zopa, I'm not sure how we would have gotten Sun-jo off the mountain. He might have had to stay at one of the intermediate camps until he tried for the summit."
"Why is Captain Shek so worried about him?"
"I think he knows more about what we're trying to do than he's saying."
"How'd he find out?"
Josh shrugged. "It's hard to keep a secret up here, even if everybody keeps their mouths shut. Speaking of which..." He slowed down. "Your mom called."
The grin was gone. His easygoing mood had completely changed.
"Why'd you write her?" he asked.
"Because she wrote to me," I said a little more belligerently than I intended. (I guess my mood had changed, too.) Josh looked confused.
I knew that one day I'd have this conversation with him, but I didn't think it would be at 20,000 feet with him sick and me so tired I could barely lift my feet. But I guess there is no ideal time or place for something like this.
"I thought we had an agreement," he said. "I thought we were going to let me handle your mother."
"There was no agreement," I said, and I didn't think anyone could "handle" my mother.
We glared at each other.
"The least you could have done," he said, "was to tell me that you wrote her so I wasn't blindsided."
"The least you could have done is to write me back!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I sent you letters."
"You mean when you were a kid?"
"Yeah."
"So?"
"You got the letters?" I shouted.
He stopped and pulled his goggles around his neck. "Yeah, I got your letters. What does that have to do with telling your mother about Everest?"
"Everything," I said.
He didn't get it and he didn't seem to care. "Well, she's royally pissed off," he said. "It was all I could do to stop her from flying over here and yanking you off the mountain. At least I think I stopped her. She wants you to call her as soon as you get to Base Camp."
"Fine," I said.
"She insisted that I take you to the top myself, which screws up everything. I'm either going to have to go with you and Sun-jo, or you'll have to join my team. Which means there will be a long delay in your summit attempt because it looks like we'll be the last team to go. I'm in no shape to climb and neither is anyone else on the team."
"Lucky you have a backup in Sun-jo," I said. "Either way you'll get the youngest climber in the world to the summit."
"Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You're mad because it's not about just you anymore?"
"It was never about me," I said. "It's always been about you."
I walked away from him, past the injured climbers, past Dietrich, past Zopa, arriving back at Base Camp a half hour before any of them. I barged into HQ, grabbed the sat phone, and punched in the number as I stomped over to my tent. Mom answered on the first ring.
"Peak."
I got a little choked up when I heard her voice, and it was a second or two before I could respond.
"Hi, Mom."
Silence. That went on so long that I thought I'd lost the connection.
"You should have told me," she finally said.
I was tempted to say that I had told her in the Moleskine, but I knew that wouldn't fly. "Sorry," I said.
"That didn't sound very sincere, but I'll accept it. How'd you do at Camp Four?" she asked quietly.
I was shocked at how calm she was. "It was hard," I answered. "But I'm good."
"Your ribs are okay?"
"A little sore, but yeah, they're fine. You're not mad?"
"Furious."
That was more like it, but she didn't sound furious. "Josh told me you were sick."
"I'm over it, but a lot of the others have it now." (Including Josh, but I didn't tell her that.)
"I know," she said. "Since I got your journal I've been surfing the Everest websites. Looks like a lot of climbers are leaving the mountain. I also read about the deaths at Camp Six."
"I walked down the mountain today with the German team leader," I told her. "His name is Dietrich."
"And how is he?"
"I don't know ... devastated, I guess."
"And how are you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, four people died less than a mile away from you," she said, sounding a little more like my mother. "Any thoughts on that? Feelings? Reaction?"
I didn't know what to say. "I feel bad" didn't quite cut it. Mom was just getting warmed up.
"Four people died on the mountain. Human beings, Peak, with mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends sitting at home worrying about them. By now they've gotten a phone call or an e-mail with the bad news. 'Sorry, your husband/wife/daughter isn't coming home. No, we can't retrieve a body above Camp Four. It's too dangerous...'"
I reached my tent and climbed inside.
"Let me ask you a question," she said.
"Go ahead."
"Do you think you're a better climber than the four who died?"
"No."
"Do you think you're luckier than they were?"
"I guess," I said. "I'm alive."
"That's not what I'm getting at."
"You're saying that the same thing could happen to me."
"You're not on the wall in back of our cabin or at a climbing camp. You're on Everest. People die up there, Peak. You might die."
"The guys who died weren't acclimatized," I protested. "They should have waited. They saw a break in the weather and got summit fever. They made a mistake."
"You think that means anything to those who were waiting at home for them?"
I looked up at the drawings that the two Peas had sent.
"Well?" Mom persisted.
One of the drawings was a stick figure clinging to a skyscraper with a helicopter hovering overhead. Just above the stick figure was a little blue mountain.
"I'm trying for the summit," I said. "I've gone through too much to give up now."
This was followed by a longer silence than the first.
"I wish you wouldn't do it, Peak, but I'm not surprised by the decision. I know what I would have said to my mother if I were on Everest getting ready for the climb of my life."
She rarely talked about her parents. They still lived in Nebraska and I had met them only twice. It wasn't much fun either time. They didn't approve of Mom, me, Josh, Rolf, or even the two Peas. Mom had left home right after high school and never lived there again.
"I'll be careful," I said.
"No one climbs a mountain thinking they're not coming back down."
"How are the two Peas?" I asked. "You're changing the subject."
"Yeah."
Mom sighed. "Hang on a minute."
About thirty seconds later the sat phone earpiece was filled with a pair of screaming, giggling six-year-olds.
"Where are you?"
"When are you coming home?"
"I miss you!"
"No, I miss you!"
&nb
sp; "Did you get our letters?"
"Mommy was mad at you."
"Are you coming home for our birthday?"
This went on for a while and I just listened with a big stupid grin on my face. Until I heard them, I hadn't realized how much I missed them.
Mom finally took the phone away from them. "Okay, okay," she said. "You have to let Peak answer your questions. I'm going to put him on speakerphone. You two are going to sit there quietly. If you make one sound, the phone call's over."
I heard a click.
"I miss you, too," I said. "I'm on a big mountain called Everest. In a country called Tibet. I have your drawing hanging up in my tent. I'm looking at it right now. I'm not sure if I'm going to be there for our birthday or not. I have to get to the top of the mountain first—"
"Can I ask, Mommy?" Patrice asked.
"Yes, but only one question. Then Paula can ask a question. Then you both need to go back to the kitchen and finish breakfast or you'll be late for school."
"But—"
"No." Mom cut her off. "One question each, then back to breakfast. Do we have a deal?"
The twins reluctantly agreed.
"Did you get our other letter?" Patrice asked. "The heavy one?"
"Not yet," I said. "But I'm sure it's on its way. The mail is very slow where I am."
"My turn," Paula said. "Mommy gave your black diary to Mr. Vincent."
"I hope he likes it," I said.
"He's funny," Paula said.
"Okay, that's it," Mom said.
"But I didn't ask a question," Paula complained.
"We had a deal. Both of you go back to the kitchen."
There was some grumbling and whining, but the two Peas obeyed.
"What time is it there?"
"A little after eight in the morning."
I hadn't even thought about what time it was. Mom had probably been waiting all night for my call.
"How's Rolf?"
"He's out of town on a business trip. He'll be back tonight. And he's going to be upset that he missed your call."
Mom sighed. "Peak, I gave it my best shot to try to talk you out of trying for the summit. But now that the decision has been made, you need to focus on the task. You can't think about me, Paula, Patrice, Rolf, or anyone else. To stay alive you are going to have to think only about yourself.
