The Everest challenge was everything and more than my original expectations. Heading back up the Khumbu Valley after 40 years (December 1969) and especially arriving in Namche Bazaar, was a moving moment for me. That original experience of trekking to Everest Base Camp alone 40 years ago and having a dream, even if it was in a distant recess of my mind, to go back and climb this great mountain some day, was a fulfilling and huge life experience. It made me realize that I am exactly the same guy now as I was then, needing adventure, needing challenges, living life with passion. I had no idea if I would make it, but I knew that nothing, at least under my control, would stop me from giving it my best shot. There are some things in life you just have to do.
The climb itself was unique. The time duration was long. Everest Base Camp is a small international community that is a ‘one of a kind’ in the world. I think there is no other comparison to any other sport or adventure that resembles those 2 months every year so many diverse people assemble with one purpose to test themselves and risk everything on this Himalayan icon of mountaineering. The friendship one develops spending literally day and night together with a small group who depend on each other for support and safety. The absolute decisiveness and clarity of mind one must have to hang in there and succeed. The significant cost involved that one is prepared to spend just to have a ‘go’ at it.
The rewards are many. Climbing through the dangerous Ice Fall crossing ladders and crevasses teaches managing fear. Getting up at 2am in the cold, day after day, teaches diligence and strength of character. The long hours of physical endurance teaches fortitude and determination. The passion to want to do it at all teaches spirit and love of life. The beauty, albeit stark, teaches appreciation of life at the extreme end.
Hemingway once said something like this: there are only 2 sports in the world – race car driving and mountaineering, and everything else is entertainment. Last week having dinner with my good friend Martin Husar who formerly was a race car driver in Europe, asked me if I had experienced any truly profound life moments climbing Everest. He had a serious crash in France some years ago and wondered how my recent scary moment descending the Hillary Step may have impacted me. Certainly, over time and through the filters of life, the hues in your personality must get richer. Our experiences either weaken us or strengthen us. I think the more we experiment, attempt, ‘go for’, especially when we dare our limits, broaden our characters more than we can imagine. Picasso late in his career had a period where he painted like a child, yet no child could paint or fathom to the depths of a Picasso. I feel stronger psychologically as a result of all parts of this Everest challenge.
During the climb and sending the updates, I avoided mention of deaths and casualties. At camp 2 some of my team discovered a body emerging from the glacier. A Russian died on Lhotse. At least 3 more deaths occurred on the north side. A lady fell into a crevasse in the Ice Fall and broke her back. The medical tent at Base Camp was usually very busy. I am pointing out this simply because it is the reality of an Everest season. The risks are clear. I read some time ago that 1 in 4 climbers over 60 who have summited Everest will die descending.
Some funny and not so funny moments. Getting a hemorrhoid on our last rotation before our summit bid and wondering how I would explain not summiting because of it. Leaving Base Camp at 2am on our final six day summit push and near the bottom of the Ice Fall breaking through some thin ice up to my knees. I had to remove my plastic boots and pour out the ice cold water and climb the rest of the night up to C1 with cold soggy feet. High on the mountain on summit day and desperate to pee wearing down pants that had no zipper and a waist harness leaving no access, but really having to find a way. Seeing a sparrow size bird alive on Everest’s summit. Waking up the morning after summiting with my face all puffed-up from peripheral edema (probably lack of oxygen during the night) and my finger black from frostbite.
I have been asked repeatedly over the years how I manage to suffer and endure these climbs. The simple answer is ‘one step in front of the next will get you to the top’.
Last, I was very lucky to be part of such a strong, experienced and focused team. We encouraged and supported each other. That all of us were able to summit is an extraordinary occurrence and achievement on such a difficult mountain as Everest. My congratulations again to: Mike Hamill, Eben Reckord, Louis Carstens, Sandhosh Kumar, Jason Vandalen, Tim Igo and Mayk Schega.
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v I have created 4 new ‘EVEREST’ photo galleries: Ice Fall; Western Cwm; Lhotse Face to South Col; Summit.
v I am currently working on a video of the Everest climb I hope to publish soon.
v A video interview of me by Louis Carstens called EVEREST 2010 - CAMP 3 INTERVIEW filmed just before our summit bid will be on my site and YouTube.
v A video interview after the summit at C2 will soon be available.
v I wish to acknowledge and credit some wonderful photos I am using on my site from my teammates: Mike Hamill, Eben Reckord, Louis Carstens, Sandhosh Kumar, Jason Vandalen, Tim Igo, Mayk Schega, and Justin Merle from IMG.
Back at Patriot Hills
KATHMANDU is an ancient city kingdom surrounded by mighty mountains overflowing with Hindu temples and Buddhist stupas existing in total harmony together,
Looking down at the city from the Monkey Temple.
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A Hindu temple located on the shore of the Bagmati river and is the most widely used place of cremation for the deceased in Nepal.
An ancient religious complex atop a hill in the Kathmandu Valley, overlooking Kathmandu. It is also known as the 'Monkey Temple' as there are holy monkeys living in parts of the temple. Although the site is considered Buddhist, the place is revered by both Buddhists and Hindus. It is one of the oldest religious sites in Nepal and was founded in the 5th century.
Waiting for our Tibet visa's to be approved, we spent 4 days hiking in the breathtakingly beautiful hills of this region.
We crossed into Tibet on the "Friendship Highway/ Bridge" September 6th, 2008. The first night we stayed near the border town of Zhangmu, altitude 7,546' (2,300m). The next morning we continued to move up higher unto the Tibetan plateau to a dusty, windy one street town called Nyalam, 12,300'. We stayed here 2 nights to acclimatize.
Tibet is a vast, elevated plateau in Central Asia. It is the highest region on Earth and is commonly referred to as the "Roof of the World". We are crossing the Lalunga-la at 5,050m and another 8,000m mountain Shishapangma (8,027m) is looming in the background.
Tibet: I have always wanted to visit this unique and mysterious land and its indigenous people. Sitting so high on the severly dry and barren plateau surrounded by the most striking mountains of the world. Walled villages with elaborately fashioned and painted entrances.
The town of Tingri overlooks a sweeping plain bordered by towering Himalayan peaks. Old and new customs and lifestyles mingle seamlessly in what appears like an old wild western Tibetan town. Packs of dogs yelp all night long. Pigs and livestock roam the streets. Altitude 14,200' (4,340m).
Coming into Tingri to trade.
Tibetan prayer flags are often found strung on man-made and natural objects to bless the surrounding countryside. Cho Oyu in background.
This is our 1st view of Cho Oyu. Everest and the Nangpa-la (pass) are also in view.
Yaks will porter all our provisions to IC (interval camp) and onto ABC. We need 2 more nights here to acclimatize. Altitude 16,500'.
The Yaks arrive at camp.
Our private quarters (toilets) at ABC.
This pass has traditionally been a trading route between Tibet and Nepal for hundreds of years. Recently it had also become a deadly escape route for Tibetan refugees.
Chinese army checking pass. Photo taken from ABC.
Prayer flags on man-made alter with Cho Oyu in background.
Beginning of our important Buddhist ceremony.
Buddhist prayer flags sway gently during our important "puja" ceremony. Before a man-made rock altar where we have placed our technical climbing gear, we chant for several hours asking the "Mountain Goddess" to bless and protect us up high.
Mike Chapman receives blessing of barley flour from Sherpa.
Picking our way up glacier to camp1.
Enormous penitentes punch out of the glacier diverting us on our hike up to camp 1. They are constantly rumbling and occasionally crashing.
Tibetan/ Chinese, Korean & mixed expeditions advanced base camp.
Huge storms brewing in the Bay of Bengal a thousand miles away regularly slam Cho Oyu with hurricane force winds. Our team endured 3 such storms with over 2 dozen 'bullet proof' tents being shredded and blown off the glacier. From ABC, this photo shows the upper reaches of the mountain in absolute chaos.
Al Schumer and Nathan Dolbeare killing time at ABC.
The most important guys of the 'party'.
Morning before leaving ABC for the summit push.
Back row: Greg Vernovage, Paul Garry, Karel Masek, Nathan Dolbeare, Louis Carstens, Mike Chapman, Mike Hamill, Al Schumer.
Front row: Tseten Gyurme, Tashi Tshering, Phunuru SHERPA, Da Sonam SHERPA, Chris Bergum, Theodore Fairhurst.
C1 20,997' (6,400m). After weeks of acclimatizing to such extreme altitude, and with a narrow weather window of opportunity, we are 'going for it'. Our last time here at C1, we were litterally blown off the mountain.
Theodore Fairhurst, Greg Vernovage.
Greg Vernovage, Paul Garry.
Thin air 'up here'. Theodore fairhurst, Greg Vernovage.
Climbers approaching C2.
Sunset far above the clouds in the highest mountain range on the planet. Does it get any better than this? Tomorrow to C3, and then with luck we will make our 'summit bid'.
Looking down directly at C2, lower left is C1, and top right corner ABC. The face we are climbing on has already avalanched earlier in the trip.
Theodore Fairhurst.
We will be climbing this rock wall tonight in the dark.
Sunrise near the summit plateau. Cho Oyu drops her 'Divine Shadow' onto the distant horizon of the ice-crowned Himalayas. We have been climbing for over 6 hours and we are so near our goal.
We arrived at camp 3, 24,934' (7,600m) around 4pm yesterday. Our plan was to sleep for a few hours and start moving by midnight. At 11:30 in the cold and dark we were already climbing the near vertical rock face called the Yellow Band. This is an altitude with so little oxygen that it is known as the 'death zone'. Your body is physically breaking down and dying. Yet, in this absolute black stillness of the night, with only the light from our headlamps, it felt oddly serene.
Wind whips up snow into minature twisters on this hostile yet grand polar oasis.
The sun barely breaking the horizon behind Everest and Lhotse.
The sun barely breaking the horizon behind Everest and Lhotse
We made it.
It is 6am, October 5 2008. I am standing on the 'Roof of the World'. Mount Everest and Lhotse are directly behind me. It is extremely cold yet I feel warm. I am probably higher than any other human being in the world at this moment. I admit I have an inner feeling of awe.
Nathan Dolbeare, Tseten Gyurme, Theodore Fairhurst.
We have been over a month on the mountain. Many more of preparation. Years of training. Why do we do it? To question what's inside? To push our limits? To Dare our spirit? To Reach our star? Nothing is impossible! Only our bolsness.
DARE to REACH Tibet / Antarctica poster can be printed on large size format (25" x 33" minimum).
Total exhaustion. It has been over 17 hours since we left C3 last night for the summit. I am just minutes away from C1, tent, food and sleep. Glorious.
Taken just below C1.
October 6, 2008. The last descent from C1 to ABC.
WOW, was that good.
The climb is over and the yaks and the Tibetan drivers return to haul out all of our gear, tents, garbage and last supplies.
Air Taxi porter us with all our gear and food for a month to the Southeast fork of the Kahiltna Glacier at 7,200', basecamp.
Near C3, Theodore Fairhurst.
May 20 to 24, we were held hostage by the weather at C4. Our weather at C3 was up and down but higher on the ridge it was nasty. It started to seem like our summit bid was rapidly dissolving. Food was getting low and our flight dates out were fast arriving. It was demoralizing to think that all our excruciating work of dragging such heavy loads higher and higher up the mountain was in vain. Would we be denied our chance to try for the summit. We were reduced to lying in our tents and waiting.
May 25, the sun shines. We break camp and start climbing up. We stop before the headwall 1,400' up to take a break and prepare our gear. Above the headwall at the col we collect our cache and start climbing the narrow ridge. It is circuitous and steep. No place for errors. Finally after many hours we arrive at 17,200' Camp 4. The winds are sharp and cold. using an ice saw we cut out blocks from the snow packed ground and build 3' high walls around a radius big enough to fit three 3 man tents. The day is 11 1/2 hours long before we start dinner. We are totally exhausted.
The marvel of it all.
Again it is sunny. Strange, 2 good days in a row. This is our chance. Eric Larsen and I start off roped together. We move up diagonally across a steep slope called the 'Autobahn' (don't fall) about 1000 feet of altitude to Denali Pass. Above this pass we start climbing a steep ridge. We are far above all other mountains in the range. All of North America is below us. We push on one foot in front of the next. Jeff Garvin switches teams to join us since we are moving quicker. We continue up and up until we arrive at what is called the 'football field'. It is a huge expanse of relatively flat terrain separateing the summit ridge from the Archdeacon's Tower.
May 26 2007, summit day. Again it is sunny. Strange, 2 good days in a row. This is our chance. Eric Larsen and I start off roped together. We move up diagonally across a steep slope
After crossing up and down a knife-edged ledge often not wider than a foot with cliffs 600 feet on one side and several thousands of feet on the other, we finally set foot on a irregularly shaped spoon-sized crown. We are literally on top of North America.
We have beaten the odds. It is one of those rare moments in life, however brief, that you feel a pride of numbness. You forget the anticipation, the physical and emotional pain. It is not even the glory. It is just a little tear in the eye. No one would even notice. We did it.
My personal logo and Esprit de Corps logo.
My 1st successful high-altitude summit. Sporting logo's of 'Esprit de Corps' and my own.
It is 4am, the sky is clear, the wind low. We are 'going for it'. Today is "summit day". We all know how tough it is going to be. 3,500 feet straight up into thinner air.
Looking direction South Summit.
David Ferreira, Mike Dunbar, Craig Dean, John Thompson, Chris Burrows & Theodore Fairhurst.
On the summit I left a photo of Rosanna, David and myself taken on top of Gros Morne mountain that we had climbed together in Newfoundland August 2004.
Highest and largest salt lake in the world at an altitude of 3,650m and covering 12,000 sq. km. Depth of salt varies between 2-20m.
Small island in middle of salt lake.
Driving on the mostly flat and dry desert altiplano we came to several very shallow lakes of different colors with high mineral content and full of flamingos.
Means colored lake and is at altitude 4,278m, about 1 meter deep and is this flaming red color from wind, sun and micro-organisms that live in it. It supports rare James, Chilean and Andean flamingos.
Surreal Dali-esque landscapes.
Had to turn back at about 5,700m because of avalanche and crevasse danger. Heavy snowfalls had fallen on previous days and we experienced 2 avalanches yesterday.
Stephanie, Martine, Jacques & Marie-Josée.
'DARE to REACH' website
Dare to Reach is about the 'Magic and Genius of Being Bold.'
To realize your dreams, regardless of age or circumstance.
'Go for it' and dare to reach your dream.
Training over the course of the last number of years at Esprit de Corps in Montreal with people half my age and less, I have often been told that I am a positive example for them. Certainly, it is in my own best interest to stay fit to continue to do all the challenges and sports I love. But increasingly I realize I could be in a position to encourage others, younger and older, to Dare to Reach their own challenges and dreams.
Some say it has to be in you to train and live such a lifestyle. I don’t believe that. I have not always been so active in sports or exercise by a long shot. I believe that most of what we do in life does not come from just being born or good at it ‘naturally’. Practically everything we do is ‘learned’ and we make our choices along the way. It is we who decide where we want to go, what we want to be.
Turning 40, 50 or 60 should not mean a time to pack it in, quiet down, or get a bigger TV. Now is the time to expand your horizon, to dream bigger, to Reach further. Every study has shown that keeping active and motivated, significantly extends health and quality of life. Often people have more time and resources once job and family are more settled, to return to aspirations lost along the way. Being older is being wiser and allows you to condense your energy more efficiently. Being wiser means tying up those loose ends of the stuff that got away or just couldn’t be realized.
Breaking our mental mould, even in small ways can be daunting. Going out at night in the cold of winter to train in the snow, even for me, is definitely not easy. But 2 hours later I am euphoric. I fought the elements, I pushed myself with other crazy souls, and I felt like a million bucks. It is really just the question of setting up new habits, reshuffling the pack a little bit, seeing and feeling results. Everything starts somewhere, and possibilities will grow beyond your imagination. Once fit the list of opportunities and challenges are endless.
People sometimes ask me ‘how do you push yourself when the going gets really tough’. Perhaps best said by Ray Zahab who ran 7,500km across the Sahara desert in 111 days, about 70 km a day. Interviewed he said, “it is 90% psychological”. When questioned what the other 10% was, he said “mental”. Fixing your sights on a landmark a hundred meters above you as a goal will get you to the top. One little step at a time. One day at a time. Take a decision, act on your decision, make it a reality. Dare.
So it really comes down to the simple expression ‘use it or lose it’. It applies to body, mind and spirit. Body is obvious: get out there and be active to keep your physical body strong, or lose it. Mind: get out and look for new ways to challenge yourself and Dare, big or small. Spirit is vital: keep that desire to still be a little bit of a kid in you all the time.
This philosophy is so important to everyone, especially as we age. Gradually descending into a living slumber is not an intelligent option. It gets exponentially more difficult to resurface. I’m 62, and in 2008 I climbed the 6th highest mountain in the world. January 2009, I climbed the highest mountain in Antarctica. It is possible to take on even the biggest challenges at any age. All that holds us back is our willingness to get out there and Dare to Reach.
It is my hope to be able to inspire others to get motivated through example, talks and slideshows.
email address: theodorefairhurst@hotmail.com
ANTARCTICA - WOW, what an Awesome World!
January 5, 2009, I received an email from Phil Ershler at IMG offering me to join an expedition to climb Mount Vinson, the highest mountain in Antarctica. I was to replace another climber who was unable to go. Only trouble was - I had to leave in 36 hours. IMPOSSIBLE!!! Well just maybe… I’m coming.
I have wanted to go to the Arctic and Antarctic for a long time. It is just so hard and expensive to get there. The notion of being in such an inhospitable and extreme climate and landscape has always appealed to me. So few people have ever ventured there. It has so much history and culture of extreme survival and exploration.
I had just got back from climbing Cho Oyu in Tibet last September & October, and I had frankly been very lazy with my training. Was I fit enough to climb Vinson at 4897m (16,067ft) in extreme cold?
The Vinson Massif is at 78o latitude and only 1190km (700 miles) from the South Pole. It is in the Sentinel Range of the Ellsworth Mountains. It is also one of the Seven Summits being the highest on the icecap continent. Getting there is difficult and expensive. You need to fly to the most southern tip of Chile - Punta Arenas - then cross your fingers and wait for good weather at both ends before boarding a Russian-built cargo plane, an Ilyushin, to fly you almost 5 hours across the Antarctic Ocean to a desolate, windswept place called Patriot Hills. This place is well chosen to land the Ilyushin because it has a natural formed runway. Cross winds descend over the Patriot’s leeward side creating a perfectly flat and icy landing strip parallel to the hills. Big problem is the winds need to be very low before the ‘Big Bird’ can land.
On call to fly anytime, we get word after 2 ½ days to prepare to leave in 1 hour. It is Monday 9pm, January 12. We board the Ilyushin decked out in our mountaineering gear - double plastic boots, down pants and parkas, many layers - and one duffel bag full of crampons, ice ax, harness, glacier goggles, food, tents, etc. We step into a big open cargo hold without windows, with some seats, and full of supplies and gear. Thirty seven adventurers from all over the world to challenge themselves to ski to the South Pole, to climb Vinson, retrace Ernest Shackleton’s 1916 epic of endurance, etc. I am captivated by the rare abundant energy and circumstance emanating in that cargo hold. I have never experienced anything like this before. This is an adventure of a lifetime.
My team is multi-national. Two Czechs, 1 Mexican, 1 German, 5 Americans and myself, Canadian. We are all pumped. We land at Patriot hills at 3am. It is sunny and bitterly cold. We eat in the Camp dining tent and put up our own 2 man tents and sleep to 11am. At 1:30pm we are packed and climbing into a Twin Otter en route to Vinson base-camp about 1 hour away. Don’t ask me about the views- just look at the pictures. Simply marvelous and pristine.
The Sentinel Range stretches for more than 130km (80 miles) and is drawn up like pieces on a chess board against the edge of the greatest sweep of ice in the world – a vast barren dry desert plain, bigger than North America. Antarctica is the coldest, most windswept continent on Earth. Its mean altitude of 2290m (7,500ft) is three times greater than that of any other land mass, and it holds 90 % of the world’s ice, which at its deepest lies up to 4776m (15,700ft) thick. This ice covers the whole continent – only a few mountain tops poke through it. Winds that blow normally at 10-15 knots, can often reach up to 100 knots. And now, during the Antarctic summer when there is 24 hours of daylight, the sun simply rotates in the sky 360o just above the horizon.
At about 2:30pm we land on the Branscomb Glacier at 2100m (6900ft) and make camp. Next morning we saddle up the sleds and haul up to intermediate camp, cache and return to base-camp for a 2nd night. Thursday morning the 15th January, again we load-up all the sleds with the rest of our gear and provisions, pick-up our upper cache, and move to camp 1 at 2700m (8800ft). It is situated on a broad flat plateau covered in sastrugi – furrows or irregularities formed on a snow surface by the wind. We set up our camp and saw out ice blocks from the surface to build walls around our tents in case the weather gets nasty. Friday, we load up backpacks with gear and provisions we need at high camp and climb a fairly steep headwall on fixed ropes for about 1200m (4000ft) and cache at a rocky outcrop, then drop back down to C1 for the night. Saturday is a rest day.
Sunday we pack up camp and climb up the headwall again to our cache, load up and continue climbing up to a small flat patch thousands of feet directly above our lower camp with outrageous views of Mount Shinn on our right and far below the broad white desert that seems to go to infinity. My breath is taken away. This is living. Whatever happens tomorrow on our summit push, I feel very lucky to be here.
Monday, 19th January, 7:45am we rope up in 2 teams of three and 1 of four. The weather is perfect, sunny and warm. We head out of high camp on a long curving slope until finally over a rise Vinson towers in the distance. It is still kilometers away and yet you feel you can run to it. We are in the broad valley of the massif, the intense reflection of the sun on the glacier is unnaturally overheating us in this high altitude polar world. I am supposed to be wearing everything I brought including down, yet I have on only two layers. There is barely any wind. It is so quiet, so peaceful.
We push on hour after hour. At 3pm, we are just below the final long ridge to the summit. The mountain had looked rounded from below, but now it has become one of the most beautiful summits and ridges I have ever seen. You have to snake up and down and around over rock outcrops and icy ledges to advance forward. This is the fun part. We are so close.
We are finally standing on a small table top summit. It is rocky, icy and corniced. We all made it. It is 4pm, January 19th, 2009. We hug, take group photos, laugh, congratulate. We have made it to the top of this incredible continent. The views have just got even better. It is probably more than minus 40oC with the 5 to 10 knot wind-chill. Yet in this dry cold it does not feel it. We have not only climbed a very special mountain, this is Antarctica – the most unknown and untouched land on the planet. We are very privileged. I want this moment to last forever.
On the long descent back to high camp I got lost in my thoughts about this extraordinary trip and climb. It is definitely not one of the most spectacular and difficult mountains I have climbed. But the mountain is only one part of this great experience. Being here in a land so few have travelled or spoiled. Making your own tracts in the snow. Standing on ice a hundred thousand years old. Sleeping in daylight 24 hours long. Flying in the open cargo hold of the Ilyushin with so many other excited souls. This is what life is about. This will go down as one of my most treasured adventures.
Our luck held with weather. Back at base-camp on Tuesday, there was heavy cloud cover. No planes could fly. Next morning the skies were perfectly clear. The Twin Otter was coming for us. At Patriot Hills, the news was good and bad. The Ilyushin may leave Punta Arenas at 3pm if the winds decreased a bit more here, but if not, there was a large bank of clouds moving in and we would be stuck here at least for days. At 3pm we heard that ‘Big Bird’ was in the air. What a sigh. At 9:30pm we took off probably forever leaving this remarkable land behind. The trip may be over but it will never be forgotten.
Team members: Dan Garst, American; Mayk Schega, German; Mike Boaz, American; Milos Burysek, Czech; Petr Leidl, Czech; Walt Elrod, American; Moises Nava, Mexican; & myself Theodore Fairhurst, Canadian.
Special acknowledgment to guides: Mike Hamill, American; & Greg Vernovage, American.
Mike has a third sense in the mountains. I have known him for years and he has an uncanny ability to pull off the right moment for summit day. But more important, I trust his mountain judgment totally.
Greg has a committed determination to make you succeed. Even though he won a gold medal as a ‘player’ of beach volleyball at Sydney, his eyes shine when he reflects back as a ‘coach’ of the game. He brings that same energy to mountaineering.
Special gratitude to IMG: Phil Ershler & Eric Simonson for their leadership.
For some non apparent reason my sub-conscious restlessness drives me to challenge myself physically and emotionally and usually in faraway places. This time it was the acclaimed and magnificent mountain Denali (Mount McKinley) 20,320' in Alaska. At 63 degrees north bordering the Arctic Circle, it is light for almost 24 hours a day this time of the year. It was cold, weather extreme, excessively glaciated and unpredictable.
My climb began on the 8th May 2007 as 7 of us plus guides boarded 3 Beaver prop planes equipped with snow landing pads to land us with a huge amount of gear and food onto the Kahiltna Glacier at 7,200 feet. 30 minutes after take-off from Talkeetna airfield as we approached the mountains word came via Base-camp that weather had closed in so we did a 180o and returned to Talkeetna. Four hours later we re-boarded and this time succeeded to land on the glacier around 6:30 pm. By 10 pm we had established Base Camp, eaten and climbed into our sleeping bags.
May 9 we practiced crevasse rescue techniques and discussed strategy.
May 10 we set off for Camp 1 descending from the Southeast Fork to the main Kahiltna Glacier each one of us pulling a sled weighing about 90 lbs (40 kg) of gear, food, fuel, etc. and also carrying a backpack of 50- 60 lbs mostly of personal and technical gear and clothes. The initial descent and the long ascent were gradual but grueling. Six long hours later exhausted, we arrived at our Camp 1 position. The lower Kahiltna Glacier is laced with crevasses so travelling on it requires zigzagging around large open cracks and tediously stepping over snow-bridged ones. They are everywhere and your travel is precipitous.
May 11 we hauled up to 10,300', cached food and gear in a dug-out snow hole, and then returned to Camp 1 to sleep. The idea is to separate the weight into 2 halves when moving up on steeper slopes and also to acclimatize by climbing high but sleeping low. This was a 9 hour day and at least 5,000 burned calories later.
May 12 & 13 it snowed 3 feet. We were buried in our tents and had to regularly dig out.
May 14 one member of our expedition Tim from Florida decided to throw in the towel and return to Base-camp and fly-out. Together with Jason our guide and 2 other climbers from another expedition they started out roped up trudging through the deep snow. Later we learned that Jason fell 20' into a crevasse almost yanking 2 other climbers with him. He got out unharmed. We on our part, trudged in the opposite direction up the glacier to 9,800' and made camp. That night it snowed another 2 feet.
May 15. Late in the day when the snow stopped, we moved up to 11,200'- Camp 2. Immediately after arriving, we then dropped down to our cache at 10,300' and dragged it up to our new Camp 2. By midnight we were ready for our bags.
May 16 we moved up some steep and long slopes this time carrying only heavy backpacks ( probably 65- 70 lbs ) and cached at 13,800'. Once again we descended to Camp 2 at 11,200' to sleep. Sleds and snowshoes now would stay at Camp 2 and crampons would be the order of the day above this point. This day was 8 1/2 long tough hours.
May 17 we moved up to Camp 3 at 14,250' with the rest of our loads. Camp 3 is advanced base camp in so much that you are within striking distance of Camp 4 and the summit and the weather is still moderate. 14,000 feet is considered a sort of threshold where one must manage carefully acclimatization to prevent AMS - acute mountain sickness. At 14,000' oxygen pressure decreases to 58% from sea level. Ultraviolet sunlight increases 5% per 1000 foot gain. Since oxygen pressure decreases 3% per 1000' gain the summit will have only 40% of the oxygen pressure we get down below. Also weather becomes considerably more severe above Camp 3 on the ridge and higher. It will be preferable to spent as little time as possible at camp 4. On our way up the mountain we encountered several international parties who had all been defeated by the severe temperatures at camp 4. They told me that the high daytime temperature was 37o below.
May 18 we retrieved our cache at 13,800 and rested.
May 19 we moved up to 16,430' into a col and cached. We had to climb a steep headwall using ascenders so travel was slow and difficult. It took us 8 hours to get back to Camp 3.
May 20 to 24 we were held hostage by the weather at Camp 4. Our weather at Camp 3 was up and down but higher on the ridge it was nasty. It started to seem like our summit bid was rapidly dissolving. Food was getting low and our flight dates out were fast arriving. It was demoralizing to think that all our excruciating work of dragging such heavy loads higher and higher up the mountain was in vain. Would we be denied our chance to try for the summit. We were reduced to lying in our tents and waiting.
May 25. The sun shines. We break camp and start climbing up. The slope is moderate but consistent. We stop before the headwall 1400 feet up to take a break and prepare our gear. Above the headwall at the col we collect our cache and start climbing the narrow ridge. It is circuitous and steep. No place for errors. Finally after many hours we arrive at 17,200' Camp 4. The winds are sharp & cold. Using an ice saw we cut out blocks from the snow packed ground and build 3 foot high walls around a radius big enough to fit 3 three man tents. The day is 11 1/2 hours long before we start dinner. We are totally exhausted.
May 26. Summit day. Again it is sunny. Strange, two good days in a row. This is our chance. Eric Larsen and I start off roped together. We move up diagonally across a steep slope known as the Autobahn for about 1000 feet of altitude or so to Denali Pass. Above this pass we start climbing a steep ridge. We are far above all other mountains in the range. Even Mount Foraker is way below us now. The views are spectacular. All of North America is below us. We push on one foot in front of the next. Jeff Garvin switches teams to join us since we are moving quicker. We continue up & up until we arrive at what is called the Football Field. It is a huge expanse of relatively flat area separating the summit ridge from the Archdeacon's Tower. We drop our packs and push up a moderate headwall. We are finally on the summit ridge. The worst is over. The summit is almost in view. 45 minutes later, after crossing up and down a knife-edged ledge often not wider than a foot with cliffs 600' on your left & thousands of feet down on the right we set foot on a irregularly shaped spoon sized summit. It is 6:15 pm. We have beaten the odds. It is one of those rare moments in life, however brief, that you feel a pride of numbness. You forget the anticipation, the physical and emotional sweat, it is not even glory, it is just a little tear in the eye. No one would even notice. We did it.
Few minutes later reality sets in. The weather is closing in. Their is a hint of wind and clouds are thickening all around us. We start back along that cutting-edge ridge to what is called Pig Hill and down to the Football Field and our packs. The wind is now more than 25 miles per hour, the temperature has dropped and the visibility has considerably worsened. We wait for the others. After 15 minutes or so we are freezing and begin moving on. Conditions now are much different than before. Winds are getting stronger and stronger, the snow deeper and visibility difficult. It becomes hard to spot the wands. The wind knocks us down at times. It is hard to get a footing in the loose deep snow on this steep slope.
Finally we arrive at Denali Pass. There is only 1000 feet more of altitude. That exhausting 1000 feet down the steep Autobahn is intense and we fall many times. Finally, we make it down to camp. It has been 13 hours for us and it will be 2 more hours before the rest of the group shows up. Mark Walsh from England arrives almost delirious with exhaustion. He had pushed well outside of his energy threshold to just get to the summit ridge and descend. Nick Cole also from England had summitted shortly after us with Jason and on their descent came across Mark. We were all given our summit chance. Some made it- some didn't. We gave it our all.
May 27. Winds are raging all night. Half a foot of snow has fallen and visibility is poor. We stay in our tents all day resting and recovering.
May 28 we break Camp 4. The wind has decreased but visibility is poor. We slowly descend the steep, narrow ridge to the headwall. Descending the headwall on the fixed lines is always a feat. At Camp 3 we eat and continue down to Camp 2.
May 29. We want out. It has already been 23 days on the mountain. We are dreaming of showers, real food , families and comforts. Saddled again this time with lighter sleds and backpacks, we wearily descend onto the Kahiltna glacier and finally at 6pm to Basecamp. To our huge disappointment, snow starts falling and the Beavers are grounded. Next morning our worst fears are realized. Visibility is horrible and it is snowing hard. Will we be socked in here for days? Almost everyone has already missed their flights home anyways. We wait.
Around noon the sky starts clearing and we hear that the planes are coming for us. You cannot imagine what a sigh of relief that overcomes you. Before I know it I am in a 3 seater plane banking around the awesome mountains of Foraker and Hunter with massive tongues of glaciated ice flowing like rivers below me. I know this moment is so special. This whole experience will be over in seconds and I will have only my memoires to savour. I know that each climb I do takes me out of my Comfort Zone in many ways. The lessons you learn are the great lessons of life. I know I have been lucky on this climb. I also know, even with my success, I have been humbled..
I sort of became a mountain climber in 1969. While travelling around the world, I stumbled into Nepal and got whip-lashed by a story from a New Zealand climber who had just returned to Kathmandu from trekking about 300 miles to Everest Base Camp and back. His account so inspired me, I immediately decided to try to do it too. Alone, without mountaineering experience, not even a tent, I spent 32 days backpacking in the most spectacular mountains on Earth, the Himalayas, and succeeded to make it up the Khumbu Glacier to the base of Everest at about 19,000’.
Many years later in 2008, after having climbed some of the highest mountains in South America, North America and Europe, I set my sights to return to where it had begun, the Himalayas and an 8000m mountain. There are only 14 mountains in the world over 8000m, and it is the ultimate for any mountain climber to attempt one. No one knows how they will do at such high-altitude and extreme conditions.
I left Montreal on the 29th August 2008 and arrived several flights later in Kathmandu, Nepal on the 31st where I met my team of nine international climbers. Our plans were to climb Cho Oyu from Tibet’s north side and to fly from Kathmandu to Lhasa where we would begin our overland journey to the mountain. Since the summer’s Olympics in Beijing, China had closed the Tibet border to everyone. After arriving in Kathmandu, the Chinese embassy told us to leave our passports with them for 5 days and that maybe we would be granted our visa’s to cross into Tibet en route direct to the mountain. To fill-in time, we flew to Pokhara for 4 days of hiking in the Annapurna Hill District. Saturday, September 5th we were on our way overland to the Tibet border and Cho Oyu. The first night we stayed in the border town of Zhangmu just inside Tibet. Next day our small bus slowly zigzagged for hours up a very winding, often washed-out mountainous dirt road. We bounced over rock fall, crossed rushing mountain streams, peered-down within inches of thousand foot cliffs, and banged our heads on the roof of the jolting bus. Finally we arrived in the dusty, windy one street town of Nyalam, 12,000’, high on the perimeter of the Tibetan plateau.
After two nights of acclimatizing and hiking, we pushed on over this vast, elevated plain and crossed Lalunga-la (pass) at 5050m heading toward Tingri. Tibet is the highest region on Earth and is commonly referred to as the “Roof of the World”. We ambled along this barren hilly landscape devoid of much visible life, occasionally passing a small yet colorful walled-in village that would usually sit next to a cold glaciated stream or river.
The town of Tingri, situated at over 14,000’, overlooks a sweeping broad plain bordered by the great Himalayan peaks. Old and new customs and lifestyles mingle seamlessly in what appears like an old wild western Tibetan town. Packs of dogs yelp all night long. Pigs and livestock roam at will. Butchered goat carcasses hang for sale in open stalls on the street. Horse drawn wagons stand beside modern motorcycles in the dusty, unpaved road. We get our first full views of the towering snowy giants of Cho Oyu and Everest, seemingly so near now. It is a wake-up call that we are almost there.
The bus drops us off far up the broad barren river valley at a desolate Chinese military post we call Base Camp, 16,500’. Manned by kids in military uniform, a red flag hangs near a Chinese/ Tibetan expedition group also attempting Cho Oyu. Yaks grazing nearby on very marginal pickings, are waiting to porter all our gear and provisions up to Advanced Base Camp. We leave a few minor clothes behind and hike further up this bleak moonscape to interim camp, then continue up over long glacier moraine ridges, heaped-up rock hills, always moving parallel to a several kilometer-wide winding glacier until we arrive at ABC in light snow and gray visibility.
Advanced Base Camp (ABC) at 18,500 feet sits on loose rock-fall high above the twisted and choked-up Nangpa Glacier, and in the long mighty shadow of Cho Oyu, the ‘Turquoise Goddess’. Directly opposite us lies Nangpa-la pass, the traditional trading route between Nepal and Tibet. For several hundred years Tibetan and Sherpa porters have struggled over this high pass trading salt and barley with each other. Recently, it has also become an escape route for Tibetan refugees and on September 30, 2006 the Chinese Border Security Police shot and killed 2 unarmed Tibetan pilgrims attempting to leave Tibet, 18 others went missing and are presumed dead. The victims were shot from a considerable distance by the Security Police as they moved slowly away through chest-high snow. In the early morning when the sun is rising over the summit of Cho Oyu, its rays create an amazingly picturesque canvas of long curved shadows over Nangpa-la that are so beautifully framed by the shaded and brightly reflecting mountains on either side.
After establishing ourselves at ABC, the first item of business was to perform the important ‘Puja’ ceremony. We have a team of Sherpa’s and Tibetans coordinating and assisting our expedition, and according to Buddhist tradition and faith, we must request approval from the Mountain Goddess to climb Cho Oyu. Before a man-made altar, with Buddhist prayer flags streaming out in all directions, our technical climbing gear placed at its base, we chant for hours asking the ‘Turquoise Goddess’ to bless and protect us up high. Ringsing, our cook assistant who is also a Lama, performs the colorful and captivating ceremony. It is a moment and experience never to be forgotten.
Using ABC as home base for the next month, we will gradually be acclimatizing to the high-altitude here (18,500’) and by progressively climbing higher on the mountain, we will further increase our red blood cells. The key is the body needs time to adapt to low oxygen to avoid hypoxia and acute mountain sickness. High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) and High-Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE) are a climber’s worst nightmare since they can rob him very quickly of the summit and his life. Generally, there is a 3% loss of air pressure per thousand foot gain in altitude. Effectively, at ABC we have only 50% of oxygen that is available at sea level and on the summit at 27,000’ there will be only about 25% or less oxygen. The sun’s radiation is another serious issue as well.
September 18 we left ABC at 8am on our first rotation to Camp 1. Light snow was falling and the winds gusty. Falling rock from adjacent mountains cover most of the glacier as we headed up its flank. Huge penitentes, many 5 to 10 stories tall, suddenly appeared like ancient frozen behemoths in the foggy, misty conditions. After hours of crossing up and down over rocky ridges and circumventing icy obstacles, we came to the foot of a steep scree slope. After a brief break we started climbing this loose rocky hill, two steps up, slipping one down. Finally, about 1500’ up and near C1 in strong winds, we returned back down to ABC.
Although a thousand miles away, huge storms brewing in the Bay of Bengal regularly slam Cho Oyu with hurricane force winds. From ABC, we would regularly witness the upper reaches of the mountain in absolute chaos. Sitting on the north, leeward side we were spared much heavy snow. Our route above Camp 2 avalanched early in September, thus making it safer before we tackled it. However, on our next 2 rotations up to C1 and attempting C2, we were forced to retreat by these very gale force winds. Several other expeditions at C1 and C2 literally lost over 30 of their bullet-proof tents, being shredded or physically blown off the mountain. We were experiencing the full consequences of climbing an 8000m mountain.
Without fully acclimatizing as we had wished, not being able to get to or sleep at C2 over the last several weeks, and also being forced to act before the Jet Stream started to return south over the mountains, we had to make a decision. We received a weather report that there would be a narrow 3 day window of opportunity with low winds. October 2nd we would leave for the top.
I prepared my pack for our summit bid. An error of judgment at this point can cost you the summit and/ or your life. Seven upper layers, five lower, double plastic boots with overboots, goggles, glacier glasses, multi-layer mitts and gloves, balaclava, tuques, medical bag, crampons, ice ax, pee bottle, water bottles, and very important- food. You can burn 5,000 to 10,000 calories a day. You need to eat, period. Also, a lot of sun protection; at this altitude with so little ozone, you will be burned. Prepare.
Thursday, October 2nd after breakfast, we took a group photo and I made my ‘peace’ with the ‘Turquoise Goddess’. Five grueling days lay ahead. Our day of reckoning was here. The Chinese/ Tibetans, Koreans and another international group were already a day or two in front of us. It was sunny. We were hyped.
First night at C1. Mike Chapman feels unwell at daybreak and decides to go down. Climbing between C1 and C2 is tough and technical. Negotiating several ice cliffs, backing-up your protection, staying alert and very focused. Himalayan climbing is climbing alone, not roped-up as a team. There are crevasses but they are usually very large and visible. Anyways, roped-up is usually too dangerous on the steeps. It is a 9+ hour day to C2, (23,622’). We are now above the clouds, above almost every other mountain in view. At C2 we are sitting on about 18 feet of recently avalanched ice.
October 4, Nathan and I climb together. Starting right out of C2 is a somewhat steep 450 slope. The air is thin, the views magnificent. Just above C2 you can see both camps below and far to the right following the arcing flow of the glacier, ABC. We both feel lethargic. About 1500’ above camp, there is a long ridge I hope high camp is situated. I have needed a little psychology today to inch myself up one step at a time. Just below the ridge it begins to snow heavily and visibility is cut sharply. On the ridge we realize C3 is still somewhat higher. There is already about a foot of new snow on the ground. We push up the last few hundred feet to C3 (25,000’) and arrive around 3:30pm. We have only about 7 hours to rest and eat before striking out in the dead of night for the summit.
I tent with Mike Hamill and Greg Vernovage. We start using supplemental oxygen for the first time to keep our bodies warm and charged for the climb. Packed three to a two-man tent, resting is the best one can do. At 10pm, I light my stove to boil water and prepare porridge. About 11:30pm, after the difficult task of putting on boots and crampons in this extreme cold, I am the last one out of camp. Right above camp begins the near vertical rock face called the ‘Yellow Band’. In the absolute dark of night, with only a small headlight as your visual compass, but with the millions of stars above keeping you company, you anxiously climb focusing on every detail. This is an altitude with so little oxygen that it is known as the ‘death zone’. Your body is physically breaking down and dying.
Over the years I have personally observed that our minds at high-altitude work like a pyramid. The more extreme and difficult the environment, the more focused we are on basic survival. You forget about fingers and toes and concentrate only on your next step, and staying alive. It must be in your arsenal of experience to remember, from time to time, to check the feelings in your extremities.
I was climbing with Tseten Gyurme, a Tibetan who had fixed the lines to the top of Everest for the Tibetan/ Chinese team that carried the Olympic Torch to the summit in early May, 2008. He is an amazingly strong climber and he kept his eyes on me in case I messed up. I overheard that Al Schumer had decided to return to C3. We passed several other members of our team. Over the years I usually get a runny nose in cold temperatures. It is not normally a problem since I generally have a hanky nearby or use a more elementary method. Today however, it was a much more miserable dilemma. I was wearing an oxygen mask. It was like Chinese water torture. It kept dripping and dripping and there was no easy way to deal with it. Somehow, psychologically, I told myself that this was the most important climb of my life and I would not let a little snot stop me. It was mind over matter and I won. We pushed on up in the dark. We had this whole great mountain to ourselves. I had no idea of time. I felt energized on the oxygen. I felt a serenity I have never known before in my life.
The night seemed to pass so quickly. I suddenly realized that it was getting light. The slope had begun to mellow considerably. The huge tooth just below the summit was now so near. We were almost there. Suddenly the ‘divine shadow’ of Cho Oyu appeared in the distant sky above the peaks. I knew I was going to make it. Mike Hamill was just in front of me. We slowly rounded the crest and saw the rising sun just edging up behind Mount Everest and Lhotse. Nathan Dolbeare had arrived first, followed by Karel Masek and Chris Bergum. We stood there in awe. We hugged. We took pictures. We all tried to absorb this momentous moment.
In the minus 400 temperature, with a light wind rising up the mountain from the west side twirling the snow into miniature tornadoes, I managed only a few photos before my camera batteries froze. I had really wanted to do a short video tribute to my aging mother and to the Tibetan people, but it was not possible. Standing there, on the ‘roof of the world’, probably higher than any other human being at that moment, I stood fixated with my mind numb in awe. So many weeks on the mountain, so many years of training, reaching a goal that sometimes seemed impossible. This moment would be way to short.
Before I knew it, I was on my way down. Did I leave to soon? Christ, stay focused, descending is the most deadly part. I struggled to get my crampon points to bite the near vertical rock down-climbing through the Yellow Band. At C3 I packed-up and was the 1st one out to C2. At C2, we all gathered to rest for awhile and snack. We decided we would continue down to C1 to sleep. Just below C2, crossing a steep slope and misjudging the snow my left foot found air and I fell maybe 30’. Fortunately, I had attached protection and the rope held my fall. Being very steep with soft new snow, I had to angle side-slope to get back on track. The first rappel was over blue ice and a bergschrund (crevasse). The 2nd rappel was over a sheer 15+ story drop. My heart raced so fast I had to stop to rest for a minute half way down. Only later did I hear that a Slovenian climber, Miha Valic, had fallen exactly here yesterday and died. I finally got into camp 1 around 5pm after a 17 hour day.
News soon surfaced that 2 climbers had died and another had fallen but survived. Guy Leveille, a Canadian policeman from Winnipeg turned around 60m from the summit exhausted. He was climbing with the FTA Team led by Stu Remensnyder. Apparently Stu, after summiting had found Guy on his way down and spent the next 40 hours with him above 7500m trying to help get him down. Guy fell and was gone, Stu barely made it back to camp himself. Another climber had to be resuscitated with CPR after collapsing. Miha Valic, a Slovenian guide fell in the ropes on rappelling the icefall above C1, landed on his head and died. He was a great climber who succeeded to climb 82 of the 4,000m peaks in the Alps in only 102 days in early 2007. It is thought he was suffering from HAPE. When I got to C1 at 5pm, Miha was already wrapped-up and laying just outside of camp. Both deaths were a great tragedy.
We arrived back at ABC late morning on the 6th October exhausted but content after 5 long days. We had luckily managed to summit before the Jet Stream hit. Coming down below C1 I saw behind me sitting right above Cho Oyu a large Lenticular Cloud, which usually means very powerful winds circling the peak. We were actually the last ones to summit for the season. Next day the yaks arrived to carry out all our gear and the rest of the supplies and garbage. It was finally great to be getting off the mountain and going back home to our families and lives. A washed-out road delayed our return by a day. We managed to get back to Kathmandu at night October 9th, and the following morning I called home and received bad news from Rosanna that my Mum had passed away September 29th.
It was really strange because on the 29th I had repeatedly tried calling home but was unable to make a connection using the SAT phone. I did manage to reach her October 1st, the day before we left ABC for the summit. I had asked her about Mum but she was reluctant to say much. I knew something was wrong, but didn’t expect that. I very much appreciate that she held back the heartbreaking news. I would not have been able to do anything and I definitely needed all of my energy and concentration for the mountain. This essay and my summit is dedicated to my mother; Kathleen Armstrong Stewart Fairhurst, 95. Besides being a very loving mother, she was a real trouper.
I have a great deal of respect for every member of my team. Nathan Dolbeare, Louis Carstens, Paul Garry, Karel Masek, Mike Chapman, Al Schumer, Chris Bergum, Greg Vernovage, Mike Hamill.
Although the vast majority of photos are mine, I have used some amazing pictures from my climbing partners. Recently in the 2008 Cho Oyu album, there are some shots from Nathan Dolbeare, Colorado; Paul Garry, California; & Louis Carstens, South Africa. In the 2007 Denali album, I have included some great shots from Terri Schneider, California. Likewise the Mount Washington album has many shots from my good friends Francis Tremblay and Gilles Barbot. I am indeed grateful. I hope in time to identify the photos individually in the albums.