Can't wait to go back- if you haven't visited you must. It really is incredible.
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A long time since my last blog, the team have been up on the hill for the past 5 days and have now finished our acclimatisation, having been to 7100m, and await a weather window for the summit.
This is therefore a very nerve-racking time at BC, every time a weather report comes in we sit with baited breath to hear whether the summit of Everest continues to be battered by the jet stream, or if the monsoon has pushed the winds north enough for us to sneak to the top- currently, we are still waiting.
*
So, the past couple of days- our rotation on the hill started as usual, we left BC in the dead of night, climbing over rock and scree to get to crampon point at the bottom of the ice fall for around
Out of the blue- disaster very nearly struck. A bottle neck had occurred at one of the last ladders, I was one of many climbing down the ladder, and there were Sherpas and climbers trying to climb up.
Then- a huge BOOM, followed by a deafening crash, out of the corner of my eye I saw a massive block of ice under our little ledge collapse and fall into the depths of the glacier. The climbers and sherpas exploded into panic- At the bottom of the ladder I could hear a lady: ‘please help’. She was tangled in the fixed ropes, and was asking everyone who passed to simply help sort her ropes out- no one stopped.
The lady was getting very panicky, climbers and Sherpas kept rushing past- we were on a very small ledge and I was trying to unclip her jumar and re-set her ropes whilst trying to calm her down and snap her back into reality. I wasn’t being particularly nice, but I did sympathise with her as I knew how it felt to be that scared.the Spanish lady and me were frozen in horror as we watched the ice under our path just disappear- would the whole lot go? Would our ledge collapse?
Adrenaline then kicked into action and I realised that this woman would be even more of a danger to me and to everyone else if she panicked even more- we all had to get out of this area as fast as possible, it was not safe and could go any second. I made her my responsibility to get her across the ledge and onto the next section as fast as possible.
As I finally sorted out her jumar and we turned to jump off the ledge I was met with a climber trying desperately to get out of this section- his eyes said it all- he was terrified. He barged past without a thought to his or our safety- I suppose that’s what fear does to you. Sherpas followed with the same expression on their faces- they were all praying aloud as they rushed past us- the lady and I were forced to the side of the ledge as the fearful hoards rushed up the ladder. That was the first time I had ever seen such fear in any human.
Finally it was time to jump the ledge, ‘ok, we must move quickly- this is very dangerous- you jump and do not stop, carry on to the next ladder, ok?’ I shouted at the woman over her fearful sobbing. ‘Go!’ I nudged her forward and she got more hysterical: ‘my jumar- I cannot do it without my jumar’. I couldn’t believe it- this was not the time for jumars! ‘No! You must jump!’ Thankfully she followed, and we both moved a few feet away from the edge, clipped into an anchor and collapsed into an exhausted heap- adrenaline causing our hearts to still pump at a million miles an hour.
The whole episode was probably only a minute long- it had gone from calm to terror in a matter of seconds and I realised after that I had not stopped to help; I could have been jumping over the ledge as the ice collapsed underneath me. As stressful as it was, I was thankful to be focussing on getting this woman untangled- it allowed me to block out the chaos and danger around us as I simply tasked myself with sorting her ropes and trying to calm her down.
The lady let the one thing you don’t let happen to you on a mountain happen- she broke mentally. I have done the same on the descent off of Manaslu. I am aware that this could happen to me at any time- when you are exhausted and in a dangerous environment, it is so easy to crack. I think it is simply experience and conditioning that allows you to overcome it. I pray that my mental strength is enough.
*
After this short episode the rest of the climb to camp 1 was un-eventful. We slept most of the time at camp, before leaving the next morning at
The climb to camp 2 has been described to me as like ‘being in an oven’. The route, which snakes through the Western Cwm crosses a glacier and on either side is towered by huge ice walls. The sun reflects off of the ice from all angles, climbers have been known to burn the insides of their mouths and nostrils on this short climb.
Bearing this in mind, I was dripping in sun cream as I left camp. The climb was pretty easy- we were only ascending around 3-400m. I trotted along without crampons and soon made the edge of camp in just over 2 hours, and then got lost trying to find my way in. Finally saw Kenton and collapsed onto a rock outside the mess tent in 2hrs 30, which is good considering that KC predicted 3 hours at least. The boys (Rick and Tom) arrived shortly after- we were together at camp 2, life was great.
*
The next day was an ‘active rest day’. The aim was to tag the bottom of the great
We made the bottom of the face in good time- Kenton and I chilled on the ice as we waited for Rick and Tom to arrive, it was a great morning looking down the valley and looking up at the climb ahead.
That night at supper, Kenton announced that the weather reports were pretty confusing- they predicted low winds but lots of snow. He recommended down suits and high altitude boots. None of us were sure if we would make camp 3 the next day.
Rob’s team had attempted the climb to C3 but had failed because of the cold, they had had to re-attempt the next day and had persevered until they tagged the camp at 7,100m. It showed just how unforgiving the weather on the face could be. I was sure that we would also be given the same fate if the weather reports were true.
*
As the sun rose over my tent, my stomach churned with fear- I had never been to 7000m without oxygen, and certainly not in treacherous weather. But hang on- the sun on my tent, not a breath of wind? Kenton shouted up to us: ‘hey guys, re-think the down suits- weather looks good.’
Our team was off by
The climb to 3 was perfect- we were blessed with awesome weather. I had hardly slept the night before had been praying for a good day- it looked like it had paid off and according to Kenton we were making great time as we climbed up the ladders and onto the face itself.
The face is extremely icy this year. The foot holds hadn’t quite formed yet as we were one of the first teams making the ascent. This meant lots of delicate crampon action as we balanced on blue ice.
After 5hrs and 30mins exactly I made our stop at 3. Rick and Kenton had been waiting an hour by the time I arrived- they had had a great time and moved fast over the ropes, avoiding the que’s that unfortunately Tom and I had gotten stuck in. We were now above 7000m- under 2000m to the summit. From our stop we could see all the way down the valley- camp 2, camp 1, Pumori and the entire Western Cwm spread out below us. I couldn’t believe how high we were- and whilst tired from the climb, altitude was not as debilitating as we predicted.
From this point acclimatisation is finished- I wondered whether I would ever see this spot again- what if something happened on the descent? Would it all mean nothing if I never made it back here? All the sweat and pain and exhaustion to climb to this point, only to leave when the summit is seemingly so close. I didn’t want to leave this spot- this glorious place where the
The descent was fast- Rick and Tom had already gone and so Kenton and I went together. We were nearly running down the face at some point- its easier than walking when its that steep! At every anchor Kenton would attach our karabiners together and wrap a prussic around the fixed line- this meant that if we tripped, we should hold safe. This was proven at one point when Kenton let go of the prussik as I was charging down the face, we were both pulled to a halt and I fell flat on my back with a jolt. ‘Oops!’ from Kenton, we dusted ourselves down and carried on.
*
The descent back to BC yesterday was just as fast- 3hrs 40mins from camp 2. Rick and I wearily trudged through the bloody pinnacles back to base camp, and finally we were allowed to take off our packs, sit down on a rock, and drink a cold cup of grape tang in the sun- ‘safety’ was what I was most thankful for.
That night a few of us stayed up until midnight playing cards, laughing hysterically at Tom’s bad jokes and not even mentioning the climb ahead. We needed the chill out time, the last few days had had us all constantly on edge- the weather, the going into unknown territories and for Tom and Rick- new altitudes.
*
Today I am slowly getting my kit together for the summit push. A bowl of hot water and a cup was much appreciated for a shower. Undressing in the shower tent I realised how my body has changed- my thighs have huge muscles, my hands are tanned dark but my arms are ghostly white, I have lost a bit of weight, but definitely have enough fat for the summit!
*
So we aim to be back down where the air is thick (base camp) on the 1st or 2nd May, this depends on whether we decide to sleep at camp 3. Sleeping at 3 isn’t necessary this time, but is an option that we are open to depending on how the team feels.
Yesterday we trekked down to Gorak Shep with David, who has unfortunately hung up his climbing boots this time due to not sleeping properly at altitude. Kenton and I are now the only Brits on the team. I am really sad to see David go as he always knew how to drum up everyone’s spirit and quite logically convince you that the summit was within your reach. Now that is gone, something is definitely missing at base camp.
We all left Gorak Shep in our own time- I spent quite a while in the internet café down there (facebook!), then made the trek back to BC alone. It felt good to go at my own pace- I went as fast as possible, as if the faster I went the easier it became to get over losing David from the team.
Within an hour I was back at the trekkers shrine to Everest base camp- it’s a plateau amongst the scree that looks down on BC. It marks the entrance for climbers, and gives the best views for trekkers. Apparently there is an un-written rule that trekkers are not supposed to pass this point, due to spreading coughs and colds that if caught, could potentially ruin a climber’s summit bid.
I almost fell foul of this rule yesterday as I walked straight past the shrine and headed down the track towards camp. I was instantly stopped by a trekking guide, our conversation went something like:
‘Where are you going?’
‘Base camp?’
‘Base camp is for climbers only’
‘Yeah, I know’
‘Trekkers not allowed’
‘Yes, I know’
I carried on walking, and he shouted over: ‘So what are you doing?’ I stopped briefly to say ‘going home!’ before turning and sliding out of sight down the scree towards base camp.
Last night we had a movie night- School of Rock. It was great though computer died before we saw the end- bloody life on an expedition! Tonight hopefully we will have enough luck and battery power to find out whether Jack Black wins his rock tournament, though somehow I think I already know the answer…
Back at base camp with a cup of hot cocoa- what can I say? Life is great! Its mid afternoon here and everything and everyone is moving at a very slow pace- people are lounging around listening to the BBC world service, gentle humming and singing sounds from the cooks tent, I am taking some respite from the sun to write you all an update of camp 1, at just above 6000m.
The team left yesterday morning in darkness, at about 4.30am, and trudged silently through BC to crampon point at the edge of the ice fall- Tom and Rick set a pretty good pace, I was having what is called a ‘bad day’ and couldn’t keep up. KC was staying close by, which I was thankful for. Well- a ‘bad day’ I was slower by 10 minutes to our first stopping point at the beginning of the ladders, and soon after caught Tom in the distance, and eventually Rick at the top of the icefall- so us three generally move at a similar pace, which is great.
The top of the ice fall is pretty dodgy- we all had to master Kenton’s jammy move up and around the deadly ladder, to find then that the route goes into a massive bowl- so more climbing down ladders and losing height (for some reason people jumaring DOWN ladders? This confused me and also made me cold as I had to wait).
In general, I am now much more scared of the ice fall than what I was before- unfortunately on the ascent to camp 1 the lines got particularly busy as our team caught up with other teams who had left earlier. I found myself stuck behind a few climbers who liked to stop often- and often in dangerous places. Its times like these where I have to stop myself panicking and getting stressed, and move past safely. There will always be faster and slower people than yourself, we just have to constantly be aware of one another and make the ice fall as safe as possible for everyone.
The top of the icefall is marked by three vertical ladders tied together by rope and hung over an ice cliff. Again, people were jumaring up the ladder- perhaps this is best practice, I don’t know. My personal approach is to clip in a karabiner and climb the ladders as efficiently as possible- i.e. exactly as I would at home, I was over the top in under a minute whilst the two blokes in front of me took a good five each, balancing their crampons on the rungs as they tried to hold on AND push their jumars up. Which is safer? I’ll let you all decide.
The moment I came over the final lip of the icefall, the sun burst into view and its warmth flooded me as I took my first look at Lhotse and the Western Cwm- incredible. I am so lucky to witness such a sight. Tom and Rick were taking packs off ready for a rest, and I happily joined them- though really struggling to eat and drink, so I took loads of photo and video instead.
The final walk to camp 1 is awesome compared to the stress of the ice fall- a few more ladders were crossed in no time, and the gentle walk up the cwm in the morning sun was glorious- we stopped many times just to take the scenery in, photograph each other looking hard core on the ladders, and enjoy the climb for what it was.
The first tents came into view soon after, which in our minds represented hot tea and warm sleeping bags- we soon stopped mucking about and marched single file into camp, arriving in good time at around 10am. All in all, a 5 hour ascent from crampon point was a great time for the three of us- Kenton was happy, we were happy- we were at camp one on Everest- I had to pinch myself again.
So, tent life- I was by default given the job of setting up mine and Lynette’s tent as I arrived before here. It’s a matter of: boots, crampons and harness in the back porch, thermarest and sleeping bag straight out on the tent floor, and the stove straight on in the front porch. Luxuries of changing into dry socks can wait- the top priority is to collect a bag full of snow (not yellow) and melt it into drinking water, no matter how repulsed you feel by anything passing your lips- hydration is key to acclimatisation, to having energy for the climb, and to surviving up high.
Lynette arrived soon after and so the cycle started again of helping her take her boots off, arranging her sleeping mats and getting her a hot drink asap. This is simple tent etiquette- if you are there first, make the arrival for your tent buddy as efficient as possible so you can close down the hatches and both recover from the day’s exertion.
As we brewed snow water and sorted out food, the sunny weather outside disintegrated in a matter of minutes. A grey cloud settled itself over C1, snow began to fall and the winds picked up dramatically. This annoyed me intensely as I hadn’t had time to (ahem) visit the outside toilet! I do not recommend squatting at 6000m in a snow storm to do your business- it’s very cold!
The storm lasted all night- katabatic winds pummelled the tent and at one point I thought we would be blown away with the force of the wind- it was like 50 men were punching and shoving the tent from every direction. I had also insisted on leaving the tent doors slightly open (for more oxygen circulation), meaning that we both woke up to snow drift rushing into our warm slumber, making everything wet and icy. Sorry Lynette.
As the sun rose, the winds did not abate- Lynette began boiling water at 6am and more than once a freak gust knocked over the stove, spilling our precious water everywhere. We could just about hear each other over the roar, and getting ready and packed to head back down to BC took nearly two hours- trying to stuff a sleeping bag into a little stuff sack at 6000m took me about 15 minutes, with many breaks to catch my breath!
I told myself that for breakfast I would have a cup of tea and 4 custard cream biscuits- I managed 3, my appetite evidently dwindling as we head higher into the atmosphere. Yes, this really is your daughter, mum- the one you usually nickname the gannet!
The descent back to BC was soon underway- uneventful until I chickened out on two ladders strung together across a crevasse above the ice fall- I had to stop and climb back onto the snow twice, absolutely terrified as the ladder was swaying so much. The third time I told myself to ‘man-up’ and have faith in myself- all went smoothly and I cursed myself for making such a fuss!
As I descended the ladders into the top section of the ice fall, Tom caught up and we climbed together into the first gnarly section. I was in front as we climbed down a ladder and were met with an explosion of blue ice blocks in our path- only yesterday had Tom sat under this huge pinnacle of blue ice and commented on whether it was sturdy. Today, it was a car crash of ice blocks which had completely buried the fixed line and now forced us to gingerly climb over its shattered remnants- the pinnacle must have collapsed in the night, but we didn’t want to hang around in case something else decided to fall.
I was cursing all the way along this jumble of ice, trying to locate the rope and forge a route through the mess- we didn’t stop to catch our breath until we were safely clipped into some undamaged line- nothing more was said, we carried on moving as fast as possible until we reached the football field for a rest- Kenton caught us up and simply said to Tom: ‘you are one lucky bugger!’
The ice fall was oddly empty- Kenton and Tom went off together from our rest stop, and I passed maybe 3 sherpas and no climbers for the rest of the way down- it was like having this world of ice all to myself. Lovely, I thought, as I took a break at a ‘safe’ section. As I swigged from my water bottle I heard a deep rumbling and then a boom far to my left, then the sound of ice and snow rushing into the depths of the glacier. From that point onwards I didn’t waste a second- I ran and jumped where I could, only clipping in when absolutely necessary- my heart raced for over an hour as I rushed past blocks of ice and over ladders to the relative safety of the pinnacles- I did not want to hear that sound any closer than I had- it shook me to the core.
Finally back at BC, I realised that the altitude gain to camp 1 didn’t affect me much- apart from the loss of appetite I had no headache and resting pulse and breathing rates are all good. Camp 2 is a couple of hundred meters higher and we hope to head up in a few days time- so I hope that my acclimatisation continues to go as well as it has gone so far.
So prob not much to report for the next few days as we rest at BC- at least, that’s the way it should be!
Off for another hot chocolate now- as I said hydration is very important!
There has been plenty of relaxation at base camp- lots of debating and tea drinking, washing of smelly socks and fighting for the right to toilet paper in the girls loo!
But we haven’t been sitting around all the time- yesterday Kenton took Rick, Tom and I into the icefall- the aim was to tag the top lip of this jumbling mass of ice and head back down before the sun hit us, meaning that we wouldn’t quite reach camp 1, but would certainly benefit from the altitude and familiarisation with the route itself.
The night before I’ll admit I had a bad feeling about the plan- heading into the icefall in the dead of night, when temperatures are extremely low and the darkness, I was nervous as anything and couldn’t sleep.
After a hurried breakfast we emerged into the darkness with our harnesses and big boots to head for the ice fall- the sherpas had lit juniper to wish us safe passage, the eerie golden flames and smoke cast across base camp as we slowly trudged to crampon point, and tried not to wake other dozing climbers by tripping over their tent strings- easier said than done!
We entered the ice fall just before 5am, our crampons crunching on the frozen snow that had settled the night before. First of all we must cross what is known as the ‘pinnacles’, I would take a guess at 10 stretching ice ridges jutting out of the ground, which one must climb across in order to reach the first of the ladders. Passage is usually marked by another climbers footsteps, or at this time in the morning when snow has covered tracks, there are little red flags that mark a safe crossing.
After an hour and fifteen minutes we reached the first ladder, and our first resting point. A good time to make, especially at dawn. The four of us gulped down some water. We could mark the time we had before the sun hit us by keeping an eye on Pumori- a mountain that sits behind base camp. As we watched and drank our water we saw the very tip of the peak turn a blazing orange- the sun would slowly move down the mountain, across the glacier and then up the icefall. We had about 4 hours until the sun would hit us on the descent- meaning blazing hot temperatures, risk of snow blindness and of course- the weakening of the ice from the intense heat.
So, we started on the ladders, which offer passage over gaping crevasses. Crampons sliding on the metal frames, each of us tightly gripped the ropes to balance ourselves and negotiate spiked feet on the rungs. Some decide that speed is the way to do it- i.e. if you launch yourself across and trip you will have enough momentum to get to the other side (!), the other is to scare yourself to death moving extremely slowly and realising how far down you will go if you fall. My approach is the Sherpa style- grip the ropes, extend your arms straight behind your back and put all your weight on your arms, leaning forward as far as possible- it seems to work, but I still worry that one false move will land me ‘in America’, as is the Sherpas belief.
For many hours we seemed to be the only team in the icefall, head torches were put away as a morning glow turned the sky a hazy blue- Pumori was becoming ever more orange as the sun rose threateningly. In fact, I was almost praying for that intense heat to hit us- I was so cold. My hands and nose were especially frozen, the only thing to do was to keep moving and fling our arms around like crazed chickens as we moved up over seracs and around ice boulders.
As the team evened out, we found ourselves increasingly alone- I was in the middle between Rick and Tom, and would occasionally see their heads bobbing above and below me- we were only about 5 minutes apart. I was no longer afraid of the ice fall- it seemed in the dawn hours to be sleeping, there were no sudden cracks and no rushes of water under the ice- it felt like we were passing a sleeping giant, trying not to wake him from his slumber.
As I climbed higher, the terrain became more dangerous and prayer flags marked the most deadly sections. I almost wished the flags weren’t there to mark the potential death traps, my ignorance would keep me much calmer. Nonetheless the Sherpas superstitions paid off, as I soon emerged from the ‘popcorn’ area (as it is called) into the ‘football fields’, which are welcome respite of open plains of ice, with little overhead but the stars.
Kenton and Rick were there taking a rest and a drink- I opened my mouth to try and say hello, but the cold had numbed my face so all that came out was slurring gibberish. Some photos were taken of us standing there freezing our bums off- I haven’t seen them yet but I imagine we are a sorry looking sight!
I moved on first, determined to make the top lip of the ice fall, which is marked by prayer flags. Finally it was time to turn back and head for a late lunch and the safety of base camp.
The descent was a whole different matter- I passed Rick and Tom on the way down and told them about the ladder, they wanted to continue to the bottom of the lip like I did before turning back, so I went down alone.
By this point, Sherpas from various teams were moving up and down the fall carrying great loads for the high camps, the sun still hadn’t hit the upper section where I was descending but everything was warming up quickly- the ice fall was waking up and it was time to get down as fast and as safely as possible.
Descending is pretty straight forward, you may or may not choose to ‘clip in’ with a karabiner- if you do you are technically safe from falling as the rope will hold you, however- you are not safe from something falling on you if you are clipped into a rope and cant run away fast enough! Its common sense- our team doesn’t use jumars or ice axes in this section, some teams I found did, and this slowed theirs and our progress significantly. The ice fall is not somewhere you want to be faffing around- our teams approach is to use a karabiner where we see fit- on ladders and heavily crevassed sections, and hold the ropes with our hands where it was safer. We therefore move faster and get out of the icefall before the rays of the sun truly start to disintegrate the ice.
On the descent I was stopped by a chap coming up the rope, we exchanged pleasantries like everyone does as they pass on the route. ‘What’s your name?’ he demanded, I told him and he said ‘finally! I’ve been asking all sorts their names looking for a Bonita’. Turns out he is a Royal Holloway graduate and now a guide on the hill- it seems that there is something in the water at Holloway, any other grads been to Everest?
Quite suddenly and without warning, the sun hit me as I was traversing around a block of ice on a fixed line, immediately I knew I had to stop and get on sunglasses, sun cream, a hat and have a drink- the effects of the heat are so quick that if you don’t react straight away you will almost certainly regret it. After an hour of so, I finally emerged from the icefall and back to base camp, KC and I had a chat with Rob Casserley who was about to head in, before trudging almost deliriously over the scree of base camp back to our site, about a 15 minute walk away.
We were pretty tired and happy to lap up the sun for an hour or so waiting for Rick and Tom to arrive- sitting in the sun letting the tiredness wash over us, neither bothered to think about sun cream- this morning we both have badly burnt ankles from taking our socks off and drying our feet in that midday sun- lesson learnt, I suppose…
Now, today is a rest day- I am intending to sort my kit for our trip to camp 1 tomorrow, which the whole team will join us on, and also sew up my sleeping bag which is spewing down everywhere (again…).
Sadly, our trekkers Lewis and Mick left the day before last- I was really upset to see them go, they were great fun and I spent most of the walk in with them- so it feels as if something is missing at base camp. There is talk that we will do Ama Dablam together next winter- hopefully they were serious! Mick left a letter that was read out at supper, thanks to both of you boys- we wish you could’ve stayed until June!
Base camp has all of a sudden (in my eyes) become a little more ferocious- yesterday there was the biggest avalanche I have ever seen- it sounded like thunder, but we realised there was no way that thunder was that loud and continuous. The team rushed out the mess tent to see a massive cloud of snow and ice rushing down a face opposite camp- over half a mile away. The same happened this morning, though albeit looked tame in comparison to yesterdays. We are safe here up high on the glacier, but at night when I hear rumbles in the distance, I still wonder which one will sweep over us as we lie in our tents. Another one at night is the cracking of the glacier underneath us- it sounds like gun shots going off as the ice splits and fractures due to the rapid drop in temperature. It’s something that now doesn’t even faze me, but I remember those first few nights at Manaslu BC hearing the same noises, and realise how despondent I have become.
Finally, I have been given the messages to go on the flags which I will be taking with me to the summit- of course, I will not disclose what will be written, but to those who’s messages I will be carrying- I can’t think of a better or more motivating reason to get to the top of the world and fly those flags from the top.