May 18th:
They moved Damian to another dining tent because I'm sick. Smart move. Totally agree with it. But I actually got up on time to join him for breakfast today. Feeling even more isolated, but this too shall pass. It's snowing today. I am less sick today than I was yesterday. Definitely still sick, though. I actually slept breathing through my nose. Small victory. Can't taste much. Annoying. Sticking with my water, vöost, and nuun routine. The power did go out like it was supposed to last night. I was cold. But I can't complain. Being able to stand up, to not walk as far to the bathrooms or dining tent, to have periodic heat, to have the sleeping mat off the floor and blankets instead of a sleeping bag...I am literally a happy camper. Spent the day working on almost catching up with my blog. Still falling asleep. Eating breaks up the day, gives it purpose. One of our Sherpa died this morning just before Camp 2. He stepped wrong and fell into a crevasse. This is why Tenji always had us roped in that section. So awful. He had three children, the youngest of which is 9 months old. He went to the summit with Steve from my summit wave. This is a dangerous place. There are no words for such grief. Tried to get online but couldn't. Poops are a bit better today. Is it half the Imodium from yesterday? Fancy skillet dinner. Alone, but vegetarian! Way to go Gelbo! The left side of my back has really been bothering me the last day or so. It is hypersensitive and numb at the same time. It is secondary to a needling procedure I had done a couple of years ago, but it normally doesn't sting this much. Still a one-NyQuil night. "It's not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves." Sir Edmund Hillary
0 Comments
May 17th:
And it turns out, two NyQuil will not only stop a cough for 12 hours, but will seriously make me a zombie. Holy cow. I still woke up to pee a bunch and heard the whole procession of people leaving from 01:00-04:00, but I was like in a softly padded room for the entire thing. So weird. The power (heat and light) in the tent was supposed to go off at 22:00 and then on again at 07:00. It never went off... Maybe for those leaving? I'm so happy I'm in this tent now, especially since I'm sick. (THANKS RYAN!!!!!!) It's Damian's 41st birthday today, and I made him eat breakfast alone. (I blame the NyQuil.) I did tell Mike, though, so there will be a cake later. It is just the two of us in the dining tent with everyone else gone. Kinda a lonely existence, but at least we have each other! Today's activities: sleep, cough, blow my nose, diarrhea, eat (mostly Welch's fruit snacks), write, repeat. I tried Sudafed during the day. Helped some. Still fell asleep every time I tried to blog. Zzzzz. (I hope my writing doesn’t have that effect on you!) I got some immunity vöost tablets from Mike Hammil and had some normal daily nuun vitamin tablets today too. Keeping up my intake of at least 2-2.5 liters of water a day. Sat and talked about travel with Damian for a while after dinner. Oh how I miss it. Iceland, the Congo, and Ethiopia are higher on the list now. South Africa too. Pakistan, Iran, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan... Any travel buddies out there?! Gelbo is checked out, I think. He keeps bringing me my food platters with meat. Seems like two people aren't that hard to manage, but honestly, I can't blame him. Damian got his cake, his serenade, his balloons, and his khata. AND, the whole Western team came to wish him a happy birthday! It was really nice. Lights out. Just one NyQuil tonight. May 16th:
Spent most of the morning hanging out in the sun outside the dining tent, eating sticky dates, trying to catch up on my blog but falling asleep, and coughing. There seemed to be a shift in the camp today, and I don't think it was just me. They started taking down some of the fancy tents that weren't in use. With the warmer weather, too, the ice is melting, so we could hear and see a lot more mini rock-falls. Some of the tents and other structures are losing their foundations and sliding away. EBC is falling! Gelbo, our dining/toilet/shower guy, who is normally quite responsive, was also noticeably off today. For example, he made Asma wait for the shower, and, when I reminded/asked him for my egg whites, he told me to go ask the kitchen myself. My O2 saturation was 82%. I think part of me was disappointed it didn't show I was super-human. Ha. It is still so easy to get out of breath here. I took a shower to help clear my sinuses. A hot shower is always so rewarding. But by the afternoon, I think I decided I was sick. Bah-humbug. Oh. And I have diarrhea again too. I could feel some real life trying to seep back in, but to a certain extent, I kept it at bay. I am exhausted. My right elbow still hurts from the fall while rappelling in the Ice Fall a while ago. I need to reorganize my haphazardly-packed duffels from the tent swap. And all my laundry is dirty again. Waaaa. Everything seems so surreal: I feel like I'm in limbo in so many ways. I guess I am. It is just hitting me all at once. I don't feel like I belong anywhere right now. Do I ever? Everyone will leave tomorrow. We'll, everyone except Damian and the Western-guided group. I am SO EXCITED for them!!!!!! They all kept asking me to go again with them, and some joked that I could be their guide. Honestly, going up I would do again. I think just knowing what it entails is most of the battle for me. Now I could do it knowing what to expect and be so much better prepared. However, I would not be so keen to go down again... Remy came by in the afternoon to chat about the summit bid. It was nice to talk through my experience and share what little pieces of advice I had. She will be the first South African to summit Lhotse, I think. She's planning Everest followed by Lhotse. Early dinner for the departurees. It was fun to be there for their "last supper" before summit. Everyone was anxious. I did my best to be encouraging and supportive. Lots of hugs. I can't wait to follow their progress! I took two NyQuil so my cough wouldn't keep anyone up. May 15th:
I made an early morning call to my parents who helped me decide to just go with the flow, figure out all my options, and not rush in making such a big (and expensive) decision. Well, it's done. It's not over, but it's done. Still sinking in. I haven't really had time to even reflect on it. That's what the walk out is for. I showed up to breakfast as usual. Tenji came in at the end and brought Nema, "my personal sherpa" that disappeared on summit day. Tenji said Nema was leaving, so if I wanted to tip him, I needed to do so now. I was shocked. Even Tenji had complained that he hadn't seen my sherpa after the Balcony on summit day. I didn't know what to do. I didn't feel as though I needed to tip him. Even Big Tendi, before we left, said if the sherpas don't get your O2 there on time, or don't do a great job, we don't need to tip them because they get paid well. But over the next 30 min or so, just moving around camp, I kept seeing Nema standing around in places he would be visible to me in order to receive a tip. I spoke to Big Tendi about it. He said I could do what I wanted, but by then I was feeling guilty, so I did: I tipped him a little. I apologized for it not being much. Such an awkward situation. Rob and Ryan were leaving, and Pemba, Ashish, and Tenji were going with them. I gave the rest of my key lime cookies to Rob. Ryan hadn't packed yet, so I helped him pack his duffels. My reward were his left over Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. 😜 I tipped Tenji. Remy had the great idea of having people sign Ryan's down suit, so I took that around to get some signatures...and then I copied the idea. I gave Rob and Ryan hugs and saw them off after circling the lapsu. Ryan had said I could take over his fancy tent. I was afraid of Mike after the Lukla incident, so I waited until I could get his permission, which I did, surprisingly. Remy (and Mario) helped me move. I ran into Taylor who congratulated me and said one of these nights we needed to get together and drink scotch. He was having another bottle delivered. Sounds good to me! Throughout the day, people kept congratulating me, asking me questions, and saying how good I looked. I put my gold nose ring back in. I ate some sticky dates. I kept thinking I needed to stop eating like I was on an expedition: I should start doing sit-ups and push-ups and watching my carb intake. Those thoughts didn't make it far, though. But that's OK. That's why there is a beer called "Diet Starts Tomorrow." I lent Remy my summit gloves. In the afternoon, we all celebrated Francesco's 50th birthday in the white dome. There was beer, soda, cake, popcorn, and fries. It was a good party and the best cake thus far - strawberry flavored. Everyone had slightly elevated personalities because they had been told for the last day or two that they'd be heading up the mountain only to find out in the afternoon that they weren't. These tensions came to a head after dinner when Mike came to our dining tent to discuss the weather. He doesn't handle conflict or stress very well. Terms I learned today: Chinese whispers A fish thinks from the head "I've got Nutella on a knife, I need some light." - Damian Tonight was my first night in the fancy tent. Slept like shit, but I will choose to blame my cough and hope tomorrow is better. Real time message - 07:21 EST/17:06 Nepal time -- she's back at EBC!
And I'll bet she's never been happier to be at 17,000 feet! --------------//-------------- May 14th: I didn't sleep. Again. Which is crazy, considering how big the last few days were. I felt like I needed oxygen, but I was acclimatized to Camp 2, so I don't know what the deal was. (I suppose I never slept well at Camp 2...) Frustrating, because I "awoke" so tired and just felt out of it the whole day. I remember wanting to take my socks off in the middle of the night, but my fingers were so raw I couldn't handle the pain. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep: I hate sleeping with socks. Ha. I also use my big toe to help zipper up my sleeping bag, and it was raw as well, so maybe I should just blame my injuries. But still, I think it's the damned tent: uneven so I roll around too much and it's too cold all by myself. I also had the opposite of a smoker's cough - an oxygen dry-throat cough. I was sluggish getting ready. It is such a process getting ready to go: I certainly won't miss that about extended mountaineering adventures. Rob and Ashish climbed down with us. I looked for "the rock" on the way out of Camp 2, but alas, I didn't see it. About halfway to Camp 1, Ryan stopped us, and we took one last look at Everest and the path of our climb there. He said how odd it was that a pile of rocks could hold so much meaning to us. Everest isn't really just a pile of rocks, though, is it? Just as the body of a loved one isn't really them, isn't really what you love... There is an energy, an invisible super glue, that unites what is seen and unseen and creates a more complete version of that pile of rocks, or that body, to which we then assign love and meaning. Anyway. I digress. We stopped at Camp 1 for a break. Unintentionally, I sat apart from everyone. I was definitely a bit out of it the whole way back. There were no staff at Camp 1, so we just ate and drank from our own stashes and pushed onward into the Ice Fall. I took the time to appreciate the ladder crossings, since I don't know when again I'll be balanced over a crevasse using crampons to cling to flimsy ladder rungs like my life depends on it. Ryan insisted on more breaks today, to Tenji's chagrin. To be fair, more time spent in the Ice Fall is dangerous. I nearly twisted my right ankle three times - the first three times of this whole trip, and a sign I was getting less careful. I started looking for images in the ice, and found a fish, a sea turtle, and a marmot - I think I took a picture of the fish. At one point, Ashish told me to go ahead, so I took off. I was safe and actually more focused on my own. I navigated my way back, doing all my ropes and rappels. It felt good to finally have an uneventful day: lots of time for introspection. I felt ready to move on with my life. Though the summit was anti-climactic, as they all are, I think the experience immediately leading up to and following it were momentous enough that I don't need to mourn the loss of a goal, but rather I can move forward into the stage of processing what it meant/means/will mean to me. I beat everyone back by about 30 min. I came strolling into camp to find Remy and HP outside the dining tent. They congratulated me. Soon others came around. I still haven't stopped hearing how good I look(ed). Ha. It's kind of funny, actually. Remy said I looked like I just went for a stroll around camp; Mario said I looked better than when he saw us on our way up at Camp 2; the general consensus was that I didn't look like I just summitted Mt. Everest, but maybe they were traumatized by the other four who, within hours of being back, were on a helicopter out. I felt good, I guess, just tired and puffy from the altitude. I didn't have any complaints. Soon the others arrived. Big Tendi came around with drinks (Sprite, Coke, or San Miguel beer) and a khata (scarf) for each of us. I took two beers and two khata: there were extra beers and I said one of the khata was for my birthday. It was a nice, albeit small and unassuming, reunion. Mike Hammil didn't show. As we were dispersing, two photographs later, I mentioned that I wanted to take a shower. Big Tendi immediately said that I shouldn't, because I-think-he-said-my-body-was-already-tired-or-something-I-can't-remember and that if I did, I would catch a cold. Well, I needed to take a shower because (I probably don't need to explain myself to you: not bathing for six days, sharing a tent with a variety of equally dirty - and let's be real, dirtier - men, climbing the highest mountain in the world, having pooping issues, sweating like crazy in a down suit, no clean underwear or socks for two days,...) I felt chilled and just tired. I thought a shower would warm me up and make me feel a bit more alive. So, after he left, I asked Gelbo - the guy who has managed the dining tent, shower, and toilet since Akash got COVID and was sent to Kathmandu, so sad - to prep the shower. He was hesitant to go against Big Tendi, but with Ryan and Rob on board as well, he went with it. Little Tendi then broke the news to us about the nationwide lockdown due to COVID. He said we'd all been provisionally booked on a chartered UN humanitarian flight leaving Kathmandu for the states on the 17th. The flights were ~$1,700.00 and to either Newark, Chicago, or San Francisco. We had to decide tonight if we wanted to be on that flight, because we would be leaving by chopper to Kathmandu the next morning. The chopper was $6,000.00, but would be split three ways. We would have two nights at the Marriott Hotel in Kathmandu - at least one of which was paid for, where we would have to pass a COVID test in order to get on the plane. Then, there was still figuring out how to get from Newark/Chicago/S.F. to our actual destination. Our original flights would be lost. Whoa. Talk about overwhelming. We just got back from standing on top of the world, and now we're bombarded with having to pack up everything and get on an expensive helicopter to the capitol in less than 24 hours. That's when it hit me that I had no one to go home to. I love my family and I love my friends and I love my new town, but there was no one at home waiting for me to come back: no one who couldn't wait to see me and hold me and hear all of my stories. So why should I spend $6k and go through the stress (physical, emotional, and mental) of packing everything up and ending this life's journey so abruptly? I knew there'd be more flights and I had wanted to walk back out to Lukla, like the expedition in reverse, to help process the whole thing. True, with the country shut down, and no tourism available, the worst case scenario was spending two weeks at EBC, but then again, here, I could support the other climbers, sort through my experience, and just enjoy a place I never plan to come again. I took that shower. (Two days later, I caught a cold. Coincidence? Inevitable? Karma?) Dinner was interesting. I don't even remember what we ate. The dining tent was full with the old lot and some newcomers from Dining Tent B. Lots of questions. Ryan, mostly, shared our summit-bid misadventures. Lots of appropriate concerns about infrastructure being in place for the next group to head up the mountain. I was distracted by the question of what to do next. My bones weren't ready to leave, but my mind is constantly looking for the best deal. I went to bed exhausted and torn. But clean. Day’s stats (all estimated/calculated - not measured): 7.3km 1,070m net down 1.27km/hr ave. speed 5:45hrs total time (10:00-15:45) 5365m = 17,600ft elevation at EBC An unexpected overnight at Camp 4 due to a storm. Here is April's message:
"Stayed in Camp 4 last night through the storm. Climbed down in same storm to Camp 2 today. Ran out of O2. Exhausted. Ice Fall unstable. Staying here tonight". That message came in around 06:30 EST (15:00 April's time, today, May 13). Send good vibes for continued strength and safety down to base camp. -----------------//---------------- May 13th: ...and then I woke up barely able to breathe. I wasn't sure what had awaken me, but then I noticed I had to urinate, so I did. I lay back down but still couldn't really breathe. I thought maybe I was out of O2, but I had no idea where my headlamp was and it was pitch black in the tent. I tried to just relax and breathe evenly, but something wasn't right. Finally, I found my power block that has a light on it, and checked my tank. It was empty. Shit. I lay back down. I didn't want to bother anyone. We were all so tired. I thought maybe I could go without oxygen, so I just focused on my breathing and tried to settle down in my little groove. My body wasn't having it. David was next to me, so that meant either Ryan or Tenji was next to him. I just reached over, and I found a pair of hands folded on a chest. They were Ryan's. I told him I was out of O2 and that I didn't know what to do. I said I was trying to deal with it because I didn't want to wake anyone up, but I couldn't really breathe. He reminded me that we were above the Death Zone and that of course we needed to wake Tenji up because duh I needed oxygen. (Except he said it all nicely.) He said it was a good thing I woke up, because some people don't and just die in their sleep. He woke up Tenji for me and we got my O2 tank replaced. What a start of a day, eh? Not long later, it was time to get up. It is challenging enough getting ready in a tent with one or two other people, but imagine four...and four with their stuff literally all over the tent and one with delicate frostbitten toes. I'd be trying to brush my teeth or eat a peanut butter ball when Ryan or David would ask me to hand them their goggles or a boot. David would have to pee in the middle of me trying to stretch out to get my pants on. And it is a much more energy-consuming process - truly breathless - packing in the Death Zone. It was a bit chaotic. Simply not enough room. Also not enough time. Tenji wanted to get going - said the storm was better down low, so we didn't get water or breakfast. We did each get one cup of black tea, and that was it. So now, in the last 36 hours, we have eaten 1/4 of a package of ramen each, plus some snacks, and managed to summit the highest mountain in the world and were about to descend two camps. Nutrition, nutrition, nutrition. Whatever happened to nutrition? The winds were still crazy-intense as we started on our way. Winds blowing me over and blowing snow every which way. Ryan was with the Camp 4 manager and Sherpa, Namgyal, in the lead, then it was Tenji and David, and I was in the back, followed by Dorgi and someone else. I had another problem with my mask - like I literally couldn't pass air through it without sustained effort, which then made me need more air. I felt like I was suffocating. I had to keep lifting the mask off my face to breathe. I tried telling Tenji and David, but they both said it was normal. It wasn't normal!!! It was frustrating how I never really got Tenji's attention nor one-on-one help like Ryan and David did, and whenever I had a complaint or concern, no one took me seriously. Every. Single. Time. I had to solve my own problem (which is fine, except I get tired and nervous too, and I paid a lot of money too for help on the mountain). Change my own carabiners. Get myself up and down the fucking mountain. I think I was feeling some of this frustration, while not being able to breathe, after being dismissed by Tenji, and trying to fix my mask, when Dorgi came up behind me, hit my pack, and yelled at me to move. I turned around and, finally, shouted back at him. I shouted at him to stop shoving me and to quit yelling at me. Wtf. The nerve of that guy. Ditching us on the mountain yesterday and then attacking me for stopping momentarily so that I could figure out how to breathe! Ugh. Anyway, he was polite to me after that...well, for the next few minutes until he got too far behind - as usual - to be a bother to anyone. (By the way, I did talk to Wolf later, and Dorgi would do the same to him. Dorgi needs to not work on the mountain.) Shortly into our windy descent, Ryan had sped off with Namgyal. I got my mask working but was stuck behind Tenji and David. David was having a really difficult time. It seemed to be more than his toes, but he could barely walk. He said he couldn't feel his feet. Every couple of steps, he'd stumble and lose his balance: he fell several times. It was slow going. After a bit, David started asking Tenji if I could go ahead of them, but Tenji said I needed to stick with them. I didn't want to leave, but I also wanted to get down the mountain. I offered to help David - carry his bag, or anything he needed - but he kept saying no. Eventually, another Sherpa was coming down and was about to pass us. Tenji said I could go with him, and I was glad to get moving. He shouted some warning to me about using my figure eight at a certain place, but I wasn't really sure what he said. I asked, but I still didn't understand the answer. Shortly after I left, though, it turns out David ran out of O2, passed out, and hit his head. He had to essentially be lowered down the mountain by Tenji, and since CTSS had completely taken down our Camp 3, there was no respite there with food, water, or O2. Tenji had to get help from another, smaller, company at Camp 3 before continuing down. At some point on the way down, Rob passed David, and then Dr. Mike and David arrived at Camp 2 around the same time. Rob was a wreck, Dr. Mike was in tears to be alive, and David had a terrible headache and frostbite. What a shit show. My descent wasn't as dramatic, but it was still eventful. My new Sherpa and I started down together. He didn't know my experience level, so initially he tried to change my carabiners for me at the different anchors - a nice gesture, but I was feeling strong at that point and didn't need the extra support. We made a few rappels before we came to a sketchier section: steeper and mixed with rock. He told me to use my figure eight, so I took one rope, and he the other. I did my rigging and started down. It was three pitches. On the third, I had to change my rigging mid-way because of a knot in the rope. He was slower on the other rope since he didn't have a figure eight, and a different sherpa got upset with him over something. I remember looking up and seeing the altercation. I signaled to him asking if he was OK before continuing down. After that, he moved over to my rope. It was a bit intense going down. I was in the lead, and at several of the anchors, the rope was buried, so I had to balance, hanging there, while kicking with my crampons and clawing at the snow to find the rope. Just the strength of the wind itself and the blowing snow made standing and seeing impossible at times. Once through that section, and a few rappels later, I started to feel like I was having a hard time breathing again. I asked my companion to check my O2 tank. Sure enough, it was empty. No reserves. We were still about an hour above Camp 3, meaning we were at an altitude I hadn't acclimatized to. But what choice did I have? He told me to leave the mask on to get any leftover O2 fumes, but after a few more sherpa rappels, I had to take it off: it was just harder to breathe through the mask. I felt hungry and weak. I stopped again to have a snack. I shared the vegan jerky I had in my pocket. I switched from my goggles that were filling up with ice to my glasses. But I could tell I wasn't moving as quickly. We got to another section where I wanted to use my figure eight, and he got impatient with me: he started down without me. I couldn't get enough slack to set up my figure eight, so I ended up having to sherpa rappel it anyway. I was nervous with my footing, so I went even slower. He got to the bottom of the rappel and just kept going. I made it to the bottom and tried to speed up, hoping I'd catch him, but the terrain was tricky and I was tired. I didn't want to go down alone. I got close enough that I tried yelling ahead, asking him to please wait. He heard me, but continued to stay far enough ahead that he was barely in ear shot, and therefore not a ton of help to me. Though, honestly, there was some mental peace knowing he was within sight. Then I got to another section where I wanted to use my figure eight - it is just easier and safer. The rope was really tight, though, and there was a guy above me taking up some slack, so I couldn't rig it. I decided to wait for him to get down to me, and then together, we rigged my figure eight. (Doesn’t that seem like it should have a second meaning??) This guy, I think he was Pakistani, noticed that my Sherpa was leaving (again), and yelled out to him to wait for me. I made it down the rappel and to the bottom of Camp 3, to find my Sherpa waiting. From that point on, he stayed with me, every step of the way. I was exhausted, hungry, and out of oxygen, so I let him switch over my carabiners at the anchors. I don't understand why he was so helpful, then not, then helpful again, but I was glad he was there. We made our way down from Camp 3 together. Once at the base of the steep rope section - at the bergschrund, we came upon Pasang. He was one of the assistant cooks from Camp 2. He was just standing there, with two thermoses of hot drinks and a bag of snacks, to greet those of us coming down. It was quite the welcome sight. (I must admit, it went through my head that CTSS/TAG Nepal can coordinate "fancy" gestures like that while leaving us without enough food or oxygen up high to survive...) I had two cups of powdered warm juice and some almonds. I had noticed, over the course of the expedition, random almonds scattered along the snow trail. I notice things like that, but I also love almonds, so I probably paid extra attention. I remember finding it odd that of all foods spilled, almonds were it. As I sat there in the snow, eating nepalese almonds, I accidentally dropped at least 2-3. I thought about picking them up and eating them, but the thought of a wet almond wasn't appealing, so I left them there in the snow. And suddenly, I became part of the mystery mountain almond trail. Turns out my Sherpa's name was Pemba Rinji-Rinji, and this had been his fourth Everest summit. He had been Dr. Mike's Sherpa on summit day and was planning on going up again this season with the next wave of CTSS climbers. We talked much of the rest of the way down to Camp 2, arriving around 13:15. We had lunch in the cook tent. It was good to be back at Camp 2. I wasn't really sure what the plan was - to stay there or head down to EBC, but after lunch I found Ryan in the dining tent. Turns out, all things considered, I was only about 30-40 min behind him getting in to Camp 2. I made good time. He had spoken with Mike Hamill on the radio and we were to stay at Camp 2 for the evening. The Khumbu Ice Fall reportedly was particularly unstable, so it was unsafe for us to cross. That was fine with me! We chatted a bit and then I went to my tent - the same tent I've had every time I've been to Camp 2. (I probably should have tried a different one to maybe sleep better.) I was finally ready to have the poop I'd been holding since the night before summit. Hallelujah. After, I tried to do a mini baby wipe bath, since it had been days, but my baby wipes were frozen and my individually packaged wipes were dry. Someone came by with sugary black tea, and being desperate, I used that to wet my wipes. 😬 I spent the next couple of hours, while waiting for the rest of the climbers to arrive, going through my stuff, trying to get warm, and reading the last few letters I'd been sent: Katy's, Roe's, and Brandon's. They were all phenomenal. I'm glad I saved them, because after the hard past couple of days, they were exactly what I needed. Thank you for believing that I am enough and that I am strong and that just being me is pretty cool. I love you guys. I also realized that I missed my summit tradition of a peppermint patty on the summit. I had carried three of See's Candy's dark chocolate peppermint patties to the top of the world, and then had forgotten to eat them. Damn. So...I ate two right then in my tent, and saved one for when I got to EBC. I was grateful that my era of headaches at altitude was over for this trip, as I hadn't had a bad one in days. I took stock of any injuries, but didn't find many. I had developed a dry cough from the oxygen, my right Achilles was a bit sore, and otherwise, just the usual: dry and cracked lips and fingers, hurt right elbow, and the bleeding crack on my toenail-less big toe. Not too shabby. Honestly, my biggest complaint was how sore my neck and shoulders were. Wearing the pack - so much heavier with the O2 bottle - and then constantly craning the neck down to see the way - the goggles and O2 mask obscure so much real estate, one really has to contort to see where their feet are going - is hard on the body. Soon the whole team was back. That's when I heard what had happened to David. Dr. Mike and I tended to him most the night, and Ryan tented with him to keep an eye on things as well. Dr. Mike diagnosed him with cerebral edema, so we treated that and his frostbite the best we could. I had dosed him the night before with aspirin for his frostbite. We communicated with EBC and arranged for a helicopter to pick him up in the morning. That's also when we heard about the two deaths on the mountain. Once David was set-up in the tent, I had my dinner with the others in the cook tent. Ryan reminded me to keep an eye on Dr. Mike as well, considering he had almost died the night before. He had Pemba, though, tenting with him and to get him set up on O2 as well. (Come morning, though, he was helicoptered out with David.) I realized that I should be grateful that I never really needed the attention from Tenji because I was never the one in the worst predicament. I wasn't home free yet, though, as the Ice Fall awaited us in the morning. Until then, I was safe enough, and it was time to go to bed. Day’s stats (all estimated/calculated - not measured): 4.65km 1,500m net down 1.0km/hr ave. speed 4:30hrs total time (08:45-13:15) 6,422m = 21,070ft elevation at Camp 2 Today was yesterday and yesterday was today. It was all one fluid space in time...time that couldn't pass fast enough, as far as I was concerned. Jessica had told me that no one remembers summit day because they're so hypoxic and out of it that it’s all sort of a blur. I beg to differ. I had the complete opposite experience, and I am grateful for that. I think I remember every moment of summit day: it was a hard day. It’s always hard to make these types of statements accurately, or objectively, but I feel as though I can say, with some certainty, that it was the hardest day of my life. So many components of it were a challenge... It was a mental game of multi-tasking or constantly re-directing my brain to keep it from shutting down.
The first eight hours were spent in complete darkness. There was lightning on the horizon to the north. This was a bit disconcerting, but I guess it was a long way off. The whole situation was surreal. I kept seeing lights flashing, or twinkling on what seemed like a natural horizon, so my brain instinctively thought civilization, humans in their homes, humans going about their normal lives, humans eating in restaurants, etc. Then I would realize that I was too high up for that, and in fact, I was seeing the stars. I made that same confusion over and over again. But who looks down, and all around, at the stars? It was an out-of-body feeling. And there wasn't a moon that I can recall, so the darkness - apart from our headlamps and the stars - was tangible, was all-encompassing. It felt, for me, surely disorienting, and at times both suffocating and completely endless, like I was climbing in the abyss of space. I couldn't see what was coming next. I couldn't see from where I had come. I couldn't monitor my progress. I had no sense of time or space. I kept feeling (really more like wishful thinking) like I should be reaching a flat area, a col, a ridge, a traverse...anything flat...any reprieve from up, but it never came. I mean, I knew I was climbing Mt. Everest, but doesn’t every mountain have ups and downs?! Jeez! Without any light, and without an intimate knowledge of the mountain, I had no sense of place to ground my mind. I wasn't able drop mental milemarkers or to create intermediary goals to help me mentally grasp the bigger (biggest) picture of what I was trying to accomplish. I was literally just blindly following ropes and footsteps and time...up. Just up. And up. And UP. Always up. I would try to look ahead at the path of light shed by headlamps to get a sense of measure - distance, time, fate, but I was near the front of my group, with only one or two small groups a ways ahead, so at times it was hard to connect the dots. If I happened to not see anything up ahead, I would become hopeful that there was a change: a turn in our course, a small plateau, a feature to move around...something, anything, other than the endless up. I don't suppose it is needless to say, but I was always disappointed. It seemed as though we were climbing into the heavens, and in a way, we were. But everytime I saw the lights still headed up, I needed to redirect my brain. So, maybe the fact that I had to poop was actually a blessing. Every few steps I would have a rather intense urge to defecate - kind of like a diarrhea gurgle. I debated the pros and cons of pooping while it was still dark or waiting for daylight. Ultimately, indecision was my decision. I would allow myself to pass gas only about 3% of the time because I was sure more would come out with it. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but perhaps it was the perfect nine-hour distraction. I remember contemplating, even in the moment, whether that preoccupation with pooping was keeping me from calmly accepting/enjoying/appreciating the climb, or if it was making the time pass faster. Another annoying distraction was trying to breathe. Bear with me: I am being completely serious. I get it, I was on Everest, so breathing obviously wasn't going to be an easy activity, but it didn't need to be quite the conscious chore, either. I'm just saying it would have been great to not have to worry so incessantly about it. Here was the deal: it was cold - we're talking -40°F, and I needed to keep my whole face covered, but even between my head buff, goggles, O2 mask, and hoodS (no helmet), there were still little areas on my cheeks that were getting windburnt, so I worried about frostbite. (On the way to Camp 4 yesterday, I chatted for a moment - until Dorgi yelled at me and shoved me forward - with a guy coming down from the summit who had gotten frostbite in his fingers, so it was fresh on my mind.) As a result, I kept trying to pull up my neck buff and tuck it under the base of my goggles. This, in and of itself, was a chore, because it required removing both outer gloves and micro-adjusting the whole head get-up. (It's exhausting just thinking about it.) AND, this inevitably pulled the buff over my mouth, which made inhaling feel like I was trying to mouth-breathe through a cotton gag after running up a flight of stairs, not that I have any idea what that actually is like, mind you. I would then try to use my mouth - lips, tongue, teeth - to push the edge of the buff just under my lower lip and try to hold an open-fishy-face pout to breathe, in an effort to keep the buff in place. Constant. Battle. If I took off my glove to reach under my mask to lower the buff, I would, pretty much unavoidably, pull it out from under my goggles, and I'd have to start all over again. Are you tired yet? One of my other distractions was looking for constellations among the stars. (A much more enjoyable distraction.) If there was a pause in the train up the mountain, I would just push my ascender as far forward as I could, lean away from it, completely physically turn 180° around - putting my back to the summit, dig my crampons into the snow, and scan the expanse of sky behind me. So much dark and twinkly space to examine. Considering the incline we were on, it sort of felt like I was flying. I saw O'rion, the dipper, Cassiopeia, etc. (I made yet another of the same promise to myself to learn more constellations. Someday...) I just needed to make it to sunrise. At least that's what I told myself. So I kept checking the horizon for any sign of light. I needed something to break the monotony. The difficult monotony. Something to give me perspective - a reference point, in either time or place. I'd accept either. I needed to see progress, to feel the presence of a marker of sorts. I told myself that at least I knew the sun would rise. Because it always does. It's one of those inevitabilities, right? Death, taxes, and a sunrise? Anyway, that kept me going too. We had two breaks, only, the whole way to the summit, and I had to ask for both. (I was mostly with Ryan, and I'm not counting the time - within the first hour or two of the climb - we both heard his regulator pop (read: break), they had trouble getting it replaced, he went to all fours, slumped forward, passed out, and didn't come to until they got his flow back up. He paid for extra O2, so he was used to a higher flow and had two personal sherpas to carry his extra bottles. However, one of his sherpas, Dorgi (yes, the Dorgi), had already turned around because he couldn't handle the climb, so Tenji was carrying some of his O2.) We were supposed to climb with our personal sherpa(s) because they were supposed to be carrying our oxygen. You might be wondering why I'm using the words "supposed to." Well, when I was granted my first water break, at the Balcony - finally a few steps of flat - we were only a couple of hours in. I drank my water and sat for a few minutes, but I was then eager to keep moving because the cold sets in quickly. Tenji told me to wait for my sherpa, Nema. I was a bit irritated as I felt myself getting dangerously cold. (I really had no true sense of time, but 2 hours sounds like a reasonable guess. Also, despite having kept a water bottle in my inner chest pocket of my down suit for "easy access," it was still quite the ordeal to remove gloves, try to break through the thick ice coating the zipper to get to the water bottle, open the frozen lid, and have the breath to take a few sips. So, a full-on break was required to drink water.) Finally I was told I could go. So I did. But I did without looking back, and I never saw my sherpa again. (Well, until he wanted a tip, several days later back at EBC.) Turns out I got quite a ways ahead of everyone, just going at my own pace, slowed by the group in front of me. Some time later, I heard Tenji shouting from below, asking me to wait for the group. I knew he wanted me to be near an O2 source in case my bottle was low, so I slowed way down. I couldn't completely stop because I'd get too cold. Eventually they caught up. The sherpa Ryan had left checked my tank: I was good. Turns out I don't use much O2, kinda like I don't breathe much when I SCUBA dive. At the time, I didn't really think much of the fact that it wasn't my sherpa checking my O2 reserves - I just figured he was stuck down the line. By our second break, though, I realized something was up because Tenji said he hadn't seen my sherpa since the Balcony. Translation: I had no one carrying oxygen for me. Ryan still, but not for much longer, had his one sherpa, so Tenji said he'd give me one of the bottles he was carrying for Ryan. I didn't need it yet, but I would in about an hour he said, and we were about that far from the summit. I asked for that second break because I couldn't hold my poop any longer, and I wanted to be able to enjoy the summit. So, right there, on the ridge-side of the bootpack, I squatted to poop. I had been having strong urges for hours and hours, but just like the night before, once I got my harness loose, my down suit spread, and my long underwear and underwear pulled down (the hardest part), nothing would come out. Seriously?! I strained and strained. Full focus. Willed myself to go. 100% effort. And I was "rewarded" with the tiniest little rabbit turd. Wtf. I stood up, pulled up my undergarments, and just waited for a few minutes. The urge just had to come again. Ryan was getting a new mask sorted, so I figured I had a little time. Then I tried again. Nothing. Damn. It wasn't until I stood again and fully re-dressed, that the urges returned. Too late. I had already easily used 30 min with my eating, drinking, sorting, and "pooping," that I just decided I'd have to live with the urges. (Tenji told me to poop on the summit, but I knew this was my one shot.) I guess I should be proud to have potentially the highest, and smallest, turd - it doesn't even qualify as a shit - in the world. Anyway, I also used the break to change my camera battery and stuff my pockets with paraphernalia for the summit so I wouldn't have to take my pack off again. At least the break was good for something. #Chestfallen So, I missed an important event/marker: the sun rose. I know it was expected, but it really did make the biggest difference to me. I had been checking the horizon throughout the night for the slightest hint of light, and then, suddenly, it was there. Somehow with the start of the day, I saw an end to the day, and that livened my spirits. (I make it sound as though I was utterly miserable, but really, it was more of the worry that utter misery was coming, and I wanted to be able to show myself it would have boundaries and that I was prepared for it.) What a glorious sight. It truly was the most beautiful view in the world. Words can't describe it, and my phone wouldn't unlock with my gloves and my camera battery had died, so I can't even show you a photo...not that it could have done the image a shred of justice. Simply unspeakable. Unreal. Not of this earth. Absolutely, unforgettably, perfect. #ChestSwell Between my poop spot and the summit was the Hillary Step - or what's left of it. Not only was this the most difficult part of the whole climb, but it is also where the dead body of a man from Utah lies. He died there in 2019, reportedly attaching himself to a rock to await help. He does not have green boots: his boots are black, he still has on his crampons, he is wearing a light green down suit (at least that's the color the sun has turned it), with the hood up, goggles, mask, etc. He's fully covered. Seeing his whole body just sitting/lying there affected me a lot more than I expected it would. That was a question Erica Perdue's class asked me before I left on this expedition. From the looks of him, other than the obvious stiffness, he could have been me, or any other of my fellow climbers, taking a rest, oddly not engaging with passers-by. Definitely a weird feeling that I haven't fully processed. The Hillary Step was the hardest part of the climb because it wasn't covered in snow. This meant that we had to make our way across slanted slabs of rock, with crazy drop-offs, a chaotic rope system, and a dead body, while wearing crampons that don't bite into rock. I call it a chaotic rope system, but it really isn't a system at all. The ropes aren't taken down year to year, so there are numerous ropes of different colors and sizes and ages and materials going in multiple different directions, attached to a number of different points, making it hard, at times, to know which to attach to. Also, the haphazard network of ropes, not unlike the Cat's Cradle string game I used to play as a kid, drastically increased the odds of getting tangled or, worse, catching a crampon point and tripping/tumbling away. It was intimidating enough going up, and I like going up things, that I began to worry, even more than I already was, about going back down it. This section made me legitimately anxious about going either direction. Tenji switched out my O2 tank within sight of - probably a 2-min walk from - the summit. I had used one bottle to get to the summit - not bad. I wasn't quite out yet, but he didn't want us to have to rush on the summit. I was grateful for that sentiment while simultaneously wishing he had changed it at a lower elevation - either earlier or later. I sat down on the snow for him to switch tanks. Him switching it then meant I was off oxygen for maybe a minute at ~29,000ft. (Remember, the Death Zone starts at 26,000ft.) Sitting there on the snow, I just stared forward at the horizon. I tried to focus on slow/normal and steady breaths, willing myself to stay conscious. (Also remember that Ryan passed out between 26-27,000ft when his regulator broke.) I could feel myself getting lightheaded and the periphery less focused, and I wanted to ask Tenji to hurry. I knew that request wouldn't change his speed, though, so I said nothing and just sat motionless...well, motionless other than the more and more rapid rise and fall of my chest. I made it. When the oxygen came back on, I felt kind of like what I imagine one of the toys I played with as a kid felt like: a dehydrated blue-purple plastic (?) frog that, when dropped in a glass of water, would significantly expand, losing its shriveled look and becoming a more lively blue. Ryan and I summited together at exactly 08:00, just under 12 hours after starting. We arrived after a decent-sized Asian group, but within 15min, we had the summit to ourselves. Tenji took some photos for me: Peppa the Pig - I just love pigs, Quintopia - thank you for the support and the gear, Sand Creek Brewing Co. - thank you for the kindness and the job, and Plumas District Hospital - thank you so much for making this dream of mine happen this year; I'm so happy to have found my home in Quincy. I also took some of my own photos. Summit = photo-fest. I left a flower for Fatima at the very top - you are part of my soul for eternity; "love" is not a powerful enough word for the bond we share. ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you to the moon and back for the support, well-wishes, positive vibes, prayers, letters, emails, texts, trinkets, goodies, thoughts, and everything else that all of you sent me. You got me here. You allowed me to realize my childhood dream. You made this possible. I felt and internalized all of your positivity. You were on the top of the world with me. Thank you from the tips of my mostly-healthy-looking toes to the curly little hairs on the top of my head. Thank you. We had passed, at the Hillary Step, Michael and Steve headed down; we passed David headed down just as we approached the summit; Rob left the summit shortly after we arrived; Dr. Mike arrived on the summit about 30 min after we did. David later didn't remember seeing us; Rob had hallucinations on the way down; Dr. Mike, well, he almost didn't make it down. Michael and Steve went all the way down to Camp 2 and then walked to EBC the next day. Michael was "pretty knackered" and Steve thought he had frostbite. They were both on choppers out the next day. David had frostbite worst on his right big toe, but instead of going down, he waited for us at Camp 4 to talk to Tenji. Rob, we met again at the Balcony, and Dr. Mike was a miracle return to Camp 4 in the white-out after a 21+ hour summit bid. The descent was brutal. I completely understand how people die on Everest. For me, it wasn't summit fever - honestly, I never really felt that, at least not what I imagine it to be - rather, it was the sudden realization of the magnitude of what it would take to get back down. Typical, maybe, as most deaths happen on the way down. But I had been worried about getting down from the start, so it also wasn't like I had ignored that part. It is sort of surreal to think back on that moment, because I have never in my life felt so powerless to my fate. There have been other instances where I thought death was a real possibility - once flying a little Cessna and once canyoneering, but nothing ever where I felt too weak to change that course. This time, I didn't even have that burst of energy or brain power to try to find a way out. Such a strange feeling. I hope I never have it again. My moment came shortly after the summit - maybe 5-10 min. I simply wanted to give up. I just wanted to sit down and let whatever happen, happen. I imagined the disappointment of people at home that I didn't make it back: the brief disbelief followed so quickly by acceptance, it was as though they expected it. I didn't feel much else...maybe disappointment in myself. I didn't feel anything strongly. My thoughts were moving so slowly. I could almost feel them forming. Molasses. Glycerin. I'm sure I cared about dying - I mean, I was still moving, I just didn't care urgently. I really didn't think I had it in me to keep going. It was too long of a way down, and there was no chance of rescue at any point. If I just had to make it part of the way, I think I could have kept going, but the whole way...my brain just couldn't compute. The abrupt, though at that altitude, abrupt things happen softly and roundly, realization that I was the only way down kept me moving while I contemplated that harsh reality. The descent felt like an insurmountable obstacle between me and freedom. I was already lightheaded. Everything was fuzzy. I felt like I was swimming in gravity. I couldn't get enough air. My legs didn't want to move. I slumped down, unsteady and in resignation, on the snow, hyperventilating and barely having the wherewithal to keep my upper body from tipping over. I told Tenji I just needed a break. He said, "No, we still have a long way to the South Col." I didn't hesitate. I didn't want to look weak. I rolled myself back to standing, worrying, wondering, how it ever was going to be possible for me to get back to the South Col. And that's when I realized I'd had water once, maybe twice, in 12 hours, and I had eaten nearly nothing in those same 12 hours. There was a glimmer of hope for me yet. I got out my Skratch energy gummies with caffeine - cranberry? - that were in my left breast pocket and made my way through the pack, sharing a few with Ryan and Tenji. Sure enough, my brain started to come back to life. Turns out, that was all I needed. Little Tendi had told us to eat and drink something every hour, but this wasn't Tenji's philosophy. At least now I know it needs to be mine. Soon we ran into Dr. Mike. He and Pemba, his Sherpa guide must have left the summit just before us. Dr. Mike looked like I had felt, just minutes ago. I asked him the last time he had eaten or drank anything, and he said it had been a while. I tried to be encouraging and waited there while he had a snack. He also said (I think) that his left eye was partially frozen, so he was having a hard time seeing out of that eye. (By the time he got to Camp 4, both eyes were affected.) We all kept moving together. We got to the Hillary Step. I had been dreading this section since we went up it a couple of hours before. I made it down ok - no mishaps. Ryan, however, tumbled, was airborne, and landed on his right hip, almost upside down, on a rock, right next to the corpse. Tenji gave his typical after-the-fact, "Be careful," warning, but Ryan was ready to be proactive. From that point on, he asked Tenji to stay close to him, to help actually guide him down, and to short-rope him for a while. This put me out in the lead for a while and on my own to manage my gear and the ropes for the rest of the descent. For a short time, before we passed Dr. Mike and Pemba, I tried to stick close to them, thinking Pemba would help me, but his hands were full. And, I guess I didn't need help, but it would have been graciously accepted. The rest of the descent, though gruesomely long, was relatively uneventful. Sure, the weather hit us, but after what we'd been through, I could handle horizontal snow and humongous bursts of wind. To everyone's surprise, my feet were fine in my old boots with the duck-taped overboots and HotTronics. I kept the setting at 2/4 for most of the climb, but I did bump it up to 3/4 after sunrise. My hands were also fine in the gloves I re-purchased in Kathmandu. I never had to use my summit mits, which is good, because I would have had them off half the time changing my carabiners. There were moments of cold and numbness, of course, but nothing worrisome: I was always able to tell I was moving my fingers and toes. I followed Big and Little Tendi's advice by shaking my hands out, adjusting my pack, and not holding the jumar for too long in either hand. I also put hand warmers on the dorsal aspect of both the liners and the big gloves. My fingers themselves were beat up and in pain from gripping and just manipulating the ropes on the descent - new cracks and bleeding from knuckles, cuticles, under the nails, etc. Most importantly, 😜, my plastic nose ring stud did the trick! The oxygen bottle Tenji swapped out for me on the top lasted the whole way down, and then some. At one point, my mouth/throat was so dry from wearing the oxygen mask that I asked Tenji for a water break - the first of two on the whole descent. He told me I had to wait 20 min, of course, which was difficult. Being unable to produce any saliva at all elicited a slightly panicky sensation because I felt like my throat was closing. I was also losing my voice. When I finally got to drink some water, I almost choked on it. By about 13:30, we reached the Balcony, which was our second break, and kind of the start of the home stretch. I was surprised but happy to see Rob sitting there. We had another drink of water and a snack before heading the rest of the way down. The white-out was closing in on us, and by the last few rappels, it was difficult (read: unavoidable) - at times - to not be blown over by the crazy winds. But we made it back to Camp 4 around 14:00. We had been preceded by David and followed by Rob, and several hours later, by Dr. Mike. Again, it's a miracle that he made it. Heck, I feel lucky that I made it! There was no way we were going down to Camp 2, and of this I was glad. I had a big enough day as it was. What a relief, what a wonderful feeling, to be back in the relative warmth and safety of our tent. David should have gone down to Camp 2 due to the frostbite in his toes, but he wanted to wait for Tenji. By the time we got back, though, the white-out was too bad for David to go down. I don't think he wanted to, anyway. He had been pushed really hard and fast on summit day, was tired, and in pain. His O2 regulator had also malfunctioned, like Ryan's, but higher up - actually, at my poop spot. So, since his sherpa had no back up and they were so far ahead, David had to wait about 30 min for a fix. I'm sure that didn't help his frostbite. In the tent, he had his gloves on his feet to keep them warm. His right big toe was the worst, but I guessed he'd get to keep it. I dosed him with aspirin. At the tent, I finally asked for a different mask because it was really difficult to breathe through mine - maybe a frozen valve or something. Tenji didn't even look at it: he just said no. He said everyone only got one. I pointed out that he had switched two masks for Ryan for the same complaint, but Tenji's reply was that those were emergencies. I had been there, and the only difference I could see was that I waited until we were off the mountain to bring it up. As far as I was concerned, not being able to exchange air was an emergency, but Tenji wasn't budging. So, I just sat there, breathing harder than I needed to, occasionally taking the mask off for a break. I don't remember if it got better, but it must have, so maybe it really was just a frozen valve that needed to thaw. Tenji was shot. He hadn't slept in Camp 3, he said, nor rested last night, so he told us he was going to close his eyes for an hour. He climbed into the tent with the three of us and immediately fell asleep for 2-3 hours. We respected that, of course, but we were also starving and wanted/needed water. (Everyone's urine looked like bloody black tea in the snow. Took me urinating myself to realize that was what I kept seeing on the side of the trail: the color was just so odd.) We devoured the snacks we all had left, but Tenji had instructed us to leave most of our snacks in Camp 3. He had said we wouldn't need them up high, since people don't eat much at high altitude and the plan was to go down to Camp 2 from the summit. However, we obviously weren't fitting the mold. (He failed to tell us, until later, that no sherpa would carry our snacks back down, so what we left at Camp 3 was gone for good. I found this upsetting not only because my food is precious to me and I left some good stuff down there, but also because I left my food in my down suit stuff sack...and now it is all MIA.) Tenji left the tent open while he slept because his O2 bottle was outside. He got covered in snow but didn't care. The winds were so intense they just blew snow through any gap in the vestibule or tent. His backpack was in the vestibule and was completely coated with probably an inch of snow in just a few hours. Outside, helmets were literally flying in the air. I still had to poop, but I held it. After a couple of hours, Ryan finally woke Tenji asking about food and water. We had apparently just about run out of camp food too, so the four of us split one package of ramen for lunch/dinner: my portion didn't even half-fill my little camp bowl. That was our grand meal after a 12-hour summit. Obviously, we were left hungry. It took Tenji another several hours to melt snow/boil water for us. Meanwhile, David slept stretched out along the side of the tent and the three of us sat and lie scrunched up with our feet against his side: Tenji by the usable tent entrance, I was in the middle, and then Ryan protected in the other corner. Ryan and I tried to doze off, but I had restless leg and needed to straighten my legs, so sleep was impossible for me. And then, being a cat, moisture bothers me. Tenji was sitting inside the tent while boiling water in the vestibule, so the tent door was fully open and the vestibule was vented. With the winds, this meant he was getting just covered in snow. That translated into me also getting directly (from the outside) and indirectly (from Tenji moving next to me) snowed upon while inside the tent. (See, I mentally expect the tent to be like a "safe space," which in my mind, means dry...a respite from the elements. So much for that.) My butt was getting wet from the snow on the mats seeping through my down suit. Ryan and I had been using my sleeping bag to drape over us for warmth, and it was getting wet too. My boots and backpack in the corner were also building a notable collection of snow. It was making me crazy. Neither Ryan nor David would switch places with me, but I think they liked watching me squirm. It didn't help that all of our down suits were still covered in slowly-melting ice, so we were damp to begin with. Tenji also didn't appreciate my moisture aversion, saying, quite matter-of-factly (and accurately, of course) that we were on the South Col. Basically, what did I expect?! Sigh. I know, I know. Tenji had warned us there was an oxygen shortage, so in order to conserve what we had left, he asked us to all turn down our flow to 1LPM. Before we went to sleep, he needed to replace Ryan's O2. I didn't think to check mine. He struggled a bit with Ryan's, so I shared my mask with him. I knew I wasn't up for going five minutes without O2, and I guessed he wasn't either. Bedtime. Finally. Just as Big Tendi had predicted, we had just survived a 40-hour summit day. I convinced David to move over so I could sleep against the side of the tent on looker's right. This way, if/when I had to pee, the others would be shielded from my bare butt by my sleeping bag. Quite the ordeal to rearrange four adults, their sleeping utensils - we left the mats going sideways, and their attached O2 tanks, but I appreciated the effort. It felt so good just to straighten my legs. Four adults, with their oxygen tanks, boots, backpacks, etc., just simply don't fit in one tent. I had to sleep half on people's gear, and still, there wasn’t room for me to square my shoulders. Luckily, I was so tired, I slept. And quite well, I think. We did pass the two people who died on the mountain today: they were going up in the white-out, while we were going down. I will always wonder what was going through their heads. I didn't know them, but they were part of the team of an acquaintance I'd made. Heartwrenching. This is a dangerous place. What a day: disappearing sherpas, was the "tallest" woman in the world for a day, mostly solo ascent and descent, corpse on trail, pooped on almost the top of the world, thought about giving up, not enough food, O2 shortage, white-out storm, insane winds, almost lost a teammate, four people to a tent, two deaths, frostbite... Day’s stats: 2.23km 901m up 876m down 0.1km/hr ave. speed ~18:00hrs total time (~20:00 on the 11th until ~14:00 on the 12th) 8,849m = 29,032ft elevation at the summit of Mt. Everest ~7,900m = 26,000ft elevation at Camp 4 (not measured) Message came in around 22:30 EST -- 08:15 Nepal TIME! YESSSSSSS!!
May 11th:
Surprisingly, I slept pretty well. I think I expected to sleep terribly, and with having to wake up early, I also expected to not sleep enough. However, whether it was the body heat of two other humans in the tent, or the comfort of company, or the oxygen, I slept soundly between routine interruptions. Every time I awoke, I figured it was time to get up, but there was still time to sleep - always a nice surprise. I did notice I couldn't turn onto my right side because then the oxygen mask/tubing would make weird noises and I was afraid I was either wasting O2 or was going to break something. Plus the sound was annoying. My O2 flow was at 1 LPM and the inside of the mask did build up condensation and cause some dripping, but this wasn't as irritating as expected. One interesting thing I noticed was that my third of the tent had less frost than the rest of the tent. Dorgi did cough a lot and was a noisy sleeper - kept Tenji up, but that didn't phase me. I didn't set an alarm because I was with the guide and assistant guide, so I figured I'd just get up with them. They had to boil water and such, so I thought I'd have time to get ready. Nope. I was still late. But I don't think I was that late, relatively speaking. It just takes SO dang LONG to get ready in the morning. Bleh. On the bright side, I had a successful poop pretty much in front of a group of men in down suits "behind" a tent on a ~24,000ft ridge. No big deal. I was grateful for the evacuation: still not that substantial, but so very welcomed. I had about eight frozen lemon bars for breakfast. (Thanks James!) I did share four with Ryan and left four for later. Not too shabby a breakfast - beat oatmeal! Then we started the climb to the South Col. What a journey. It was a harder/longer day than I'd imagined, probably because no one really talks about that day: it's sort of thought of as a point A to point B day, I think. (Or rather, "just" a Camp 3 to Camp 4 day.) It was a challenge, but I suppose there wasn't anything novel about it. At 11:25, when I tried sending an InReach message, I was having a moment where I was like, why did I want to do this again?! Surprisingly, that was my first, and I think, my last of that specific thought. Once we finally stopped for a break, and I got to drink some water, I felt better. Revolutionary concept, I know. It's sort of funny, because one of my complaints about climbing in groups is often that, for my tastes, at least, we stop too much, take too many breaks: I lose momentum, get cold, etc. But Tenji would never stop, I bet, if he could get away with it, and it turns out I need fuel sometimes...I'm human, afterall. Per typical mountain weather, the sun was blazing for part of the day. I sweat inside my down suit, despite unzipping and rolling up every part that I possibly could. I hate that feeling. And it really does drain one of energy. Even through my thin glove liners I could feel the intensity of the sun just saturating everything and anything within its reach. I ate some peanut brittle that my Aunt Denise made for me (Sooooooo good! Thank you!!!!) that I had actually remembered to stash in one of the pockets of my suit. It was good practice: I have needed to get better at remembering to make things like food, water, and sunscreen accessible without having to take off the pack. Wearing oxygen - the bottle is in the backpack but the mask is obviously attached to your head - and a climbing harness - under the backpack but with carabiners attached to loops on the pack, together just with the bulky down suit, spiky crampons, etc. make taking off the pack quite a complicated feat. On a comical note, I realized I have a really hard time urinating with one foot higher than the other - at least while standing up, but probably while squatting too. Ha. Pretty much the whole day required an ascender, as we were going straight up the the Lhotse face of snow and ice. As a result, there wasn't really any place where both feet were level with each other. It's odd, as I have gotten used to peeing in front of, and in close proximity to, strangers in super exposed places, but for some reason, my body still needs both feet at the same altitude. #AlwaysLearningNewThingsAboutWhatMyBodyIsCapableOf Overall, the climb was fairly uneventful. I got really good at using the ascender quickly and one-handedly. (I'm kinda proud of that.😜) In the morning it was cold enough that the dripping of condensation from inside the mask froze on the front of my suit, rendering the zipper inoperable. At one point, on the short traverse - meaning relatively flat part of the trail, I couldn't hold my urine any longer and just whipped out my P-style and urinated on the trail, still on the rope between two men and in the middle of a long line of people. (Also kinda proud of my lack of stage fright these days.) Going over a particularly difficult overhang, however, I bent over too much and one of my gloves that I had stashed in the breast of my suit fell out. Luckily, Dorgi picked it up. I'm sorry to say this, but that was my only positive experience with him. Otherwise, his shoving, barking, hitting of my pack, and just general impatience - if I was taking a photo or talking to another climber - were quite frustrating...especially since we were all in a line to the next camp anyway, meaning there wasn't anywhere to go. I much preferred Ashish, Rob's guide, following me. He was a considerate, patient, and appreciative climbing partner. The weather started to change just as we reached the Geneva Spur: clouds came in, winds picked up, snow started to fall, but we were almost to Camp 4. Interesting to note that there are still birds above 26,000 ft! Crazy. We had one tent for the four of us and only four hours (or less) to rest before starting the final summit push. I had to poop. It was terrible out - total storm - but I didn't have a choice. There also wasn't a place to go. Pemba, one of the Sherpa, just waved to outside in the storm...so outside into the white-out I went. On my first attempt, I tried walking a decent distance away, but I kept post-holing and stumbling through the snow, so on my second attempt, I didn't go far at all. I wasn't successful. I don't know why...too cold, too windy, too public... I had the rumbling intestines and the strong urges, but by the time I'd get "into position," it would all go away. I also had the slightest of headaches, so I took a paracetamol. I'd been taking 600 mg of ibuprofen at the start of each of the last couple of days just prophylactically for headache or aches and pains. So far so good. And then countdown began. It was 15:00; Tenji wanted to leave at 19:00; we all needed water and lunch/dinner. The three of us (Ryan, David, and I) got in the tent, and Tenji sat in the vestibule to melt snow/boil water. I used probably the first hour to prepare everything: packed my backpack, prepared my harness, got out my HotTronics, chose my snacks, put my snacks and emergency meds as well as my camera and phone in their planned down suit pockets, etc. Several of my fingernails were broken, so I cut them all to keep them from catching and ripping. Then I fully changed my clothes - every article of clothing was fresh. I even donned my Peppa the Pig sweater. And then I just lay there, with my eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of me, arms crossed, leaning against my backpack and O2 bottle, David to my right and Ryan next to him, my sleeping bag draped over me, breathing my oxygen, for about an hour or two. No sleep came to me, but I rested. Eventually the ramen was ready. Spicy, hot, and delicious. Tenji hadn't gotten any rest at all. At one point, he'd caught his boot on fire: probably not the best idea - but there were no alternatives - to be cooking with a gas stove and open flame in an enclosed vestibule with oxygen bottles all around. It was time to get moving. The water had taken longer than expected. Everyone (all the climbers) had taken Imodium, so I decided to take a half dose. I was already mostly ready, but I plugged in my HotTronics, using the extensions to weave the wires up to my inner chest pockets for easier access to the controls. I put on my down suit and my harness. I put on and laced and zipped up my boots. I got out of the tent and put on my backpack. I thought about trying to poop again, but I didn't figure I'd be successful and there was so much chaos and anticipation milling around in the dark, I didn't want to lose momentum. I had one crampon on when Tenji wanted to change my O2 bottle. I tried putting my second crampon on without oxygen and decided it wasn't worth the energy. I was the first one ready and just stood there, taking it all in. By 20:10, we were on our way. I did see and greet my Sherpa, Nema. At the start of "summit day," I had already been awake 16 hours and, unless you count the lemon bars I had for breakfast at 05:00, ramen had been my only meal that day. Day’s stats: 0.97km 496m up 5m down 0.1km/hr ave. speed 8:25 total time ~7,900m = 26,000ft elevation at Camp 4 (not measured) May 10th:
Two days until summit, but really, it starts today. My right arm is super swollen. I maybe fell asleep two hours ago, but still awoke every 30-45 min. Last night was the worst sleep thus far, which really really sucks. AND I could hear snoring around me all night, so I might be alone in the lack of sleep. My bowel and bladder were largely to blame - I peed numerous times and finally left the tent at 00:00 for the babiest poop ever. I also was cold the entire night without a solution, and I couldn't get comfortable to save my life. Juggling water bottles that got cold, no level surface, switching pillows, cold areas of the sleeping bag, cold air and frost, couldn't spread out, probably needed to stretch, pre-occupied with packing in the morning and how much time I'd need... Come morning, when it was a bit warmer and exhaustion started to win over into sleep, I was greeted with a cacophony of more weird snoring, zippers, boot crunching, coughing, and chanting. Hopeless is my cause. Maybe years of medical training will help me function adequately on little to no sleep for three days...🤞🏽 (Traditionally, climbers spend one night in each camp on their way to the summit, but we are fast-tracking it by skipping a night in Camp 1. We have no choice to make our weather window.) On a positive note, it is amazing how great/normal I feel at this altitude. I don't feel sore or out of breath. Nothing really hurts. I still have an appetite. No headache. No nausea. Their whole acclimatization strategy, and my training, worked! Right after I wrote that, I used my pee bottle in my sleeping bag and missed. Damn. My personal Sherpa's name is Nema. I did a decent job narrowing everything down. We were instructed to wear our down suits. I was very hesitant, but I'm not sure what my alternative was...we were told not to bring many other clothes, and my down suit didn't fit in my backpack. I just worried about being way too hot and sweating in the down suit all day. I decided to go with it, but I only wore the thinnest of my base layer bottoms and then a tank top with a sun hoody on top. Still, I was hot most of the day. Before leaving my tent, I had to give up my bag to Nema and, really, get as ready to go as possible. I cut the rotten ends off some cheese and ate one of Marisa's ginger white chocolate cookies. So yummy! Breakfast was just ok: hard-boiled eggs and pancakes. I tried to eat more of my snacks. I had no altitude symptoms, but I just felt tired. I had a cup of black tea to try to help with both altitude and headaches. I was in a rush to be ready on time, but I think I essentially made it. I had to make my crampons a half size larger in order to fit over my over boots, I had to put my over boots over my boots, I then had to put all three layers of my boots on - no easy task, then I had to put the crampons on the boots. Phew. I finished just before 10:30 and was in the process of putting the O2 container in my backpack, when Tenji said now we were leaving at 11:00. That's when I sat and drank my tea. I also put my poles away. We wouldn't need them once we hit the rope section on the way to Camp 3, and carrying them would be a drag and leaving them, if they got stolen, would really suck too. Before putting my crampons on, I also went to go poop. I'm happy to say it was the first normal poop I've had in a long time. Please please please please PLEASE let that continue!!! I was unprepared for how much heavier my backpack was with the O2 canister in it. Damn. Shoulda been practicing. Just starting our walk, I felt a bit off: my pack was super heavy, I was tired, I was the only one with crampons on, and without poles, which was disorienting in and of itself, it was hard to balance on the rocks, etc. Ryan paid extra for more O2, so he started the walk with O2. The rest of us just carried ours until we hit the rope section. All of us CTSSers took off together. The trek and climb were long but not unexpected. The route was much improved from when Ryan and I went, but there were lines. Overall, the weather was decent. It was a white-out or snowing for a good percentage of it, but at no point did I get too cold. In fact, for most of it, I had the down suit as zipped open as possible. I did well on the climb, it just dragged on. Once to Camp 3, I found out Ryan and David were sharing a tent, so I was splitting a tent three-ways with Tenji and Dorji, an assistant guide. I asked to sleep on the skier's left side of the tent, so when I have to pee in the middle of the night, I won't be baring everything to them. Rearranging the tent took some effort, but it'll be worth it. Dinner was spicy ramen. I had to poop, but there's no place to go. They told me just to go behind the tent, but the snow was so soft, I just kept sinking until my butt was touching the snow. Wasn't going to work for me. 😬 I guess we'll see what happens tonight. After dinner, Tenji made me put the O2 mask back on. I still feel fine, but we're supposed to sleep with it on. It was set at 1LPM. I'm sure that'll help my ease of sleep... I should put more layers of clothes on, or at least try to wear/pack what I'm going to use tomorrow, but I don't want to move and I'm not sure how warm it will be when both guys are in here. Day’s stats: 2.98km 549m up 0m down 0.5km/hr ave. speed 5:34 total time ~7,200m = 23,622ft elevation at Camp 3 (not measured) Early morning tomorrow, so goodnight! |