Mount Everest Summit: a different kind of fun at 29,000ft
Apr 18, 2016, 10:50 am
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Dorset, United Kingdom. Frequently at higher altitudes.
Programs: BAEC Gold and a few others
Posts: 103
Mount Everest Summit: a different kind of fun at 29,000ft
This report is probably quite a departure from the usual tales of flights in First and beautiful hotels. However, after some good feedback from our last couple of reports, I wanted to share a different sort of adventure from 29,000ft.
This year marks ten years since I climbed Mt Everest. The phrase “adventure of a lifetime” is much overused, but in the case of this trip, there’s no description which could be more accurate.
I’m not going to share the whole climb, but instead, the final 36hrs. The ones that matter most. The moment you know if you’re going to make it, or not.
As a brief forward, I should explain that when I went to climb Everest I was 19 years old. I’d already climbed the highest peaks on every continent except Asia. I suppose it was a sort of tier point run, but punctuated by some huge mountains! I’d started climbing aged 14, in Scotland, and gradually climbed bigger and bigger mountains. My mother is from the Netherlands, and my father is scared of heights, so it’s fair to say that climbing wasn’t in my genes. Nevertheless, I loved it. I’m often asked what the hardest part of the project was, and I always give the same answer; raising the money. Unfortunately it also wasn’t a bank-of-mum-and-dad adventure, and I was very fortunate to receive full sponsorship from INEOS, a chemicals company, at the eleventh hour.
Anyway, back to the mountain.
The launchpad for the summit attempt on Everest is Camp IV, at 7,950m perched on the South Col. To say it’s an inhospitable place would probably not do it justice. It’s called “The Death Zone”, and suffice to say that camping there for the night is about as enjoyable as it sounds.
By this stage, you’re climbing on bottled oxygen. You’re also trying to rest with the mask on, sleep, melt snow for water, and generally not take off the mask as much as you can help. It’s a rubberised fighter pilot style mask and initial reaction is to rip it off, as it feels so restrictive. It’s a claustrophobes worst nightmare.
At 9pm, it was time to leave for the summit. We’d been listening to the wind for hours, and it’d been gusting viciously. No chance we’d climb until it had calmed down. After another couple of false starts, we stepped in to the darkness at 11pm.
Climbing in the Death Zone is like total sensory deprivation. It’s dark. Your world is the tiny patch of snow immediately in front of you, illuminated by your head torch which seems to struggle with the cold as much as our bodies. You can’t see your feet because your down climbing suit is so puffy. You can’t feel anything because you’re wearing huge mittens. You can’t hear properly because you’re wearing a hat, and a balaclava, and two hoods. You haven’t eaten properly for a couple of days, and have to find the motivation to push out the hardest day of your life.
Those first few hours before sunrise are mentally very, very tough.
This year marks ten years since I climbed Mt Everest. The phrase “adventure of a lifetime” is much overused, but in the case of this trip, there’s no description which could be more accurate.
I’m not going to share the whole climb, but instead, the final 36hrs. The ones that matter most. The moment you know if you’re going to make it, or not.
As a brief forward, I should explain that when I went to climb Everest I was 19 years old. I’d already climbed the highest peaks on every continent except Asia. I suppose it was a sort of tier point run, but punctuated by some huge mountains! I’d started climbing aged 14, in Scotland, and gradually climbed bigger and bigger mountains. My mother is from the Netherlands, and my father is scared of heights, so it’s fair to say that climbing wasn’t in my genes. Nevertheless, I loved it. I’m often asked what the hardest part of the project was, and I always give the same answer; raising the money. Unfortunately it also wasn’t a bank-of-mum-and-dad adventure, and I was very fortunate to receive full sponsorship from INEOS, a chemicals company, at the eleventh hour.
Anyway, back to the mountain.
The launchpad for the summit attempt on Everest is Camp IV, at 7,950m perched on the South Col. To say it’s an inhospitable place would probably not do it justice. It’s called “The Death Zone”, and suffice to say that camping there for the night is about as enjoyable as it sounds.
By this stage, you’re climbing on bottled oxygen. You’re also trying to rest with the mask on, sleep, melt snow for water, and generally not take off the mask as much as you can help. It’s a rubberised fighter pilot style mask and initial reaction is to rip it off, as it feels so restrictive. It’s a claustrophobes worst nightmare.
At 9pm, it was time to leave for the summit. We’d been listening to the wind for hours, and it’d been gusting viciously. No chance we’d climb until it had calmed down. After another couple of false starts, we stepped in to the darkness at 11pm.
Climbing in the Death Zone is like total sensory deprivation. It’s dark. Your world is the tiny patch of snow immediately in front of you, illuminated by your head torch which seems to struggle with the cold as much as our bodies. You can’t see your feet because your down climbing suit is so puffy. You can’t feel anything because you’re wearing huge mittens. You can’t hear properly because you’re wearing a hat, and a balaclava, and two hoods. You haven’t eaten properly for a couple of days, and have to find the motivation to push out the hardest day of your life.
Those first few hours before sunrise are mentally very, very tough.
Last edited by MrAndMrsJones; Apr 18, 2016 at 11:12 am
Apr 18, 2016, 10:50 am
#2
Original Poster
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Dorset, United Kingdom. Frequently at higher altitudes.
Programs: BAEC Gold and a few others
Posts: 103
By the grace of God or whoever you’ve been asking to watch over you for the other two months you’ve been climbing, the sun rises. You see how far you’ve come, and how far you’ve still got to go.
At a spot known as The Balcony, at 8,400m, you stop for a break. The first rest, after about 6hrs of climbing.
Here we change oxygen bottles.
At this point, a couple of strong teams turned around and abandoned their summit bid. This was a major blow for us. As the first team of the year to make a summit bid from the South, we had to break trail in the snow and fix ropes all the way. Without their manpower, we knew it would be harder. They thought it would be impossible or too risky.
We decided to switch things up a little. Most climbers have a climbing sherpa on a 1:1 basis on summit day, carrying spare oxygen and generally helping. We knew our sherpas would need all of their energy if any of us were going to get to the top, so we relieved them of the burden of our spare bottles. Oxygen bottles are heavy, and we had 2 or 3 each.
From the Balcony, the ground stays quite steep, until you reach the South Summit.
From here you can see the final piece of ridge line between you and the true summit.
It’s pretty bloody intimidating, more so because as the first team, there was virgin snow in front of us, no tracked out path.
The last real difficulty is the Hillary Step, named after the first ascenionists. Its about 40ft of steep rock, but beyond that the ridge is relatively straightforward and it’s only about 20 minutes until you hit the summit.
One of the problems was that due to the fresh snow, there was a cobweb of old ropes from previous years, constantly snagging crampons.
Luckily, at 3:15pm, after about 16hrs of climbing, 54 days since leaving home, 3 years on the Seven Summits and 6 years of training, we were, literally, on top of the world.
It was even my 20th birthday, but we spent no more than 5 minutes there.
The emotion is a mixture of elation, exhaustion, and an over riding desire to get as far down the mountain as quickly as possible.
You’re very much on borrowed time at 8,850m, and with a finite amount of oxygen, we were really pushing our limits after such a late summit.
We made rapid progress back to Camp 4, abseiling the steep sections and wrapping a hand around ropes when it was shallower.
(Spot the tents at C4...)
At almost 7pm, we were back in the tent, completely drained, physically and emotionally. I rang home on the sat phone, and went to bed. It was a terrible night’s sleep, but I knew that if could just keep it together for another 48hrs, I’d be back a Base Camp. All went well, and 7 days after stepping off the summit, I was back home in England.
Thanks for reading. I hope it was an interesting snapshot in to the last 24hrs of a climb to the top of Everest.
Please do check out our other trip reports:
http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/trip-...win-otter.html
and
http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/trip-...ay-safari.html
My wife and I now live in the UK and run a luxury expedition company: http://www.monixadventures.com
At a spot known as The Balcony, at 8,400m, you stop for a break. The first rest, after about 6hrs of climbing.
Here we change oxygen bottles.
At this point, a couple of strong teams turned around and abandoned their summit bid. This was a major blow for us. As the first team of the year to make a summit bid from the South, we had to break trail in the snow and fix ropes all the way. Without their manpower, we knew it would be harder. They thought it would be impossible or too risky.
We decided to switch things up a little. Most climbers have a climbing sherpa on a 1:1 basis on summit day, carrying spare oxygen and generally helping. We knew our sherpas would need all of their energy if any of us were going to get to the top, so we relieved them of the burden of our spare bottles. Oxygen bottles are heavy, and we had 2 or 3 each.
From the Balcony, the ground stays quite steep, until you reach the South Summit.
From here you can see the final piece of ridge line between you and the true summit.
It’s pretty bloody intimidating, more so because as the first team, there was virgin snow in front of us, no tracked out path.
The last real difficulty is the Hillary Step, named after the first ascenionists. Its about 40ft of steep rock, but beyond that the ridge is relatively straightforward and it’s only about 20 minutes until you hit the summit.
One of the problems was that due to the fresh snow, there was a cobweb of old ropes from previous years, constantly snagging crampons.
Luckily, at 3:15pm, after about 16hrs of climbing, 54 days since leaving home, 3 years on the Seven Summits and 6 years of training, we were, literally, on top of the world.
It was even my 20th birthday, but we spent no more than 5 minutes there.
The emotion is a mixture of elation, exhaustion, and an over riding desire to get as far down the mountain as quickly as possible.
You’re very much on borrowed time at 8,850m, and with a finite amount of oxygen, we were really pushing our limits after such a late summit.
We made rapid progress back to Camp 4, abseiling the steep sections and wrapping a hand around ropes when it was shallower.
(Spot the tents at C4...)
At almost 7pm, we were back in the tent, completely drained, physically and emotionally. I rang home on the sat phone, and went to bed. It was a terrible night’s sleep, but I knew that if could just keep it together for another 48hrs, I’d be back a Base Camp. All went well, and 7 days after stepping off the summit, I was back home in England.
Thanks for reading. I hope it was an interesting snapshot in to the last 24hrs of a climb to the top of Everest.
Please do check out our other trip reports:
http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/trip-...win-otter.html
and
http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/trip-...ay-safari.html
My wife and I now live in the UK and run a luxury expedition company: http://www.monixadventures.com
Last edited by MrAndMrsJones; Apr 18, 2016 at 11:11 am
Apr 18, 2016, 12:09 pm
#5
Join Date: Apr 2015
Programs: AA
Posts: 286
Not to detract from the bravery, fitness, and guts it takes to climb Everest but I thought that it is so well traveled now that it is not that big a deal among mountaineers. Is it true that it is tougher to climb mountains that are less high but less traveled and the climbing less well supported?
Apr 18, 2016, 6:32 pm
#11
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: LAX
Programs: AA ExPlat, HHonors Diamond
Posts: 1,130
Very impressive! I feel like randomly I've been surrounded with Everest stories recently, without seeking them out specifically. I read "Into Thin Air" about a month ago and then saw the movie and heard a related podcast.
I have a question, which has been on my mind since doing a Google Image search based on some things in the book: did you climb/walk past any of the deceased climbers who are still stranded on the mountain? If so, how did it affect you or other climbers, if at all? The book makes the whole trek up to the top seem very dehumanizing and utterly selfish (meaning that people don't really stop to think about the others in either their group or those who came and perished before them). I'm just curious if you can comment on this part of the experience?
But stellar photos and huge kudos for making it there and back again! Thanks for sharing.
I have a question, which has been on my mind since doing a Google Image search based on some things in the book: did you climb/walk past any of the deceased climbers who are still stranded on the mountain? If so, how did it affect you or other climbers, if at all? The book makes the whole trek up to the top seem very dehumanizing and utterly selfish (meaning that people don't really stop to think about the others in either their group or those who came and perished before them). I'm just curious if you can comment on this part of the experience?
But stellar photos and huge kudos for making it there and back again! Thanks for sharing.
Apr 19, 2016, 5:05 am
#13
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: London, UK
Programs: AA 2MM - PLT, BA GGL, SPG Plat, Hilton Diamond
Posts: 6,221
Wow, as someone who has read every book there is to read on that fateful day 10 years earlier than your summit I have great admiration for your feat.
Thanks for posting the pictures and story of your final ascent. ^
Thanks for posting the pictures and story of your final ascent. ^
