Outer Edge Magazine

In punter public’s eyes it remains the ultimate climb – and it’s hard to beat the ‘highest point on the planet’ platitude – but is summiting Everest easier than ever before? Or is it still a deadly walk in dangerous park, champagne tours notwithstanding? Just what does it take to survive modern day Mt Everest? WORDS: Gavin Melgaard

The American mountain guide Scott Fischer once said that they had built “a golden brick road to the summit of Mt Everest”. Today, climbers pass his weathered and frozen body at rest just beyond camp four, as they make their final push to the world’s highest point.

This past May the amount of total summits broke the 5000 mark. The list of people who have stood at the top of the world now includes a 76-year-old and a 13-year-old. And just about every other ‘record’ to be set on the mountain has been broken in the last season or so (including the most summits – 20 – by Apa Sherpa this May).

So is getting to the summit of Mt Everest something that grandpa and grandson can notch up easily enough, an outing to take trumps in the family album? Or do the records and sheer weight of numbers hovering around base camp give a false sense of security?

The 50 per cent increase in the amount of people attempting to climb Mt Everest in the last decade has made it crowded, especially when the number of suitable weather summit days is limited to the spring season of May. There is no regulation on numbers for people climbing the mountain, meaning base camps both on the northern slopes in Tibet and south in Nepal swell with up to 600 tents in season. In the all too infrequent good weather windows – last season there was a total of six days – there are 513 people looking to summit and up to 150 making the final push at any one time. And while they come from different directions, they are all heading for the same spot on top, which generally has room for a few.

After acclimatising at base camp for several weeks, climbers head through the icefall to camp one. It’s dark and silent outside when teams leave the tents at 3AM, which is when the obstacles in the icefall are solid and somewhat safer in the minus ten degree temperature.

A heaven of stars above doesn’t twinkle: with the thin atmosphere they simply pierce the sky. Climbers pass the Buddhist shrine made of rocks and pay homage to the goddess of the mountain to ask for protection. Then they slip into the eerie grey light as frozen ground crunches underneath.

Getting through the icefall in the early morning is imperative. This is where more climbers have been killed in recent times by either falls into crevasses, avalanches or huge towers of collapsing ice that make up seracs. Mt Everest has claimed over 200 lives, giving you a 4.1 per cent chance of dying (in 1990 it was 37 per cent). Most expeditions will make four trips through the Khumbu Icefall while conditioning themselves for that one chance at the summit. There are queues to use the ropes and climb the ladders. From a distance it looks like a row of black ants weaving their way through huge ice pillars.

It’s once you leave camp three at 7000 metres that you are committed; this is where the clock really starts ticking. You have about eight hours of oxygen to traverse the exposed and steep Lhotse Face to camp four on the South Col. What makes this extra difficult is that you will most likely be carrying a load of equipment and using an oxygen mask for the first time.

In May, as climbers traversed towards camp four, in the distance they could see what appeared to be a person hunched over the rope. A team member pointed it out to their Norwegian guide Tore, who was on his second summit attempt, this time from the south.

“I don’t have any energy to help,” said the 62-year-old to his stunned charges. The ‘person’ turned out to be a backpack that had been clipped to the rope. Tore is not shy at telling people to turn back when he thinks they should. He once turned back his mother-in-law a few hundred metres from the summit of Mt Kilimanjaro.

“People should pass a test at base camp,” says Tore. “They should show that they have attained a certain standard of climbing and physical ability; and they should also have a blood oxygen saturation test.”

A set up on Mt Aconcagua in South America – the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas and one of the glorified seven summits – gives people a free pulse and blood oxygen saturation reading, the idea being to identify altitude sickness problems before any push to the summit.

But that is part of the problem with the crowding issue on Everest: there are no prerequisites for climbing ability or fitness. The only real requirement is that you have the funds – tens of thousands – and two months at your disposable to attempt a climb.

Most reputable companies will insist that you have either climbed an 8000-metre peak before or other suitably difficult mountains, preferably with them, so they can assess your climbing ability and to see if you can operate where there is only a third of the oxygen available at sea level. This is not only for your safety, but for the safety of the entire team, as you will most likely be climbing with people you have never met before.

Rob Casserly, a guide who has summited seven times, including twice last May, points out: “If I stop for a near dead person then I may be putting the safety of the other eight in my own team at risk.”
He explains further: “When you are paying that much money to climb with a reputable company, it’s not just so you can watch DVDs and have a better base camp. You are paying for that safety net. For the weather forecasts and the team of Sherpas and guides that will come to your rescue.”

It’s possible to attempt a summit as a self-guided group or solo. A unsupported team or individual will usually get by paying only for a few cooked meals at base camp, a peak permit and maybe some oxygen. Some people believe these soloists are foregoing the safety net of support and relying on the goodwill – and even risking the safety – of others if things do go wrong. It is left up to their judgement – not that of experienced guides - to operate within their own limits. If they push the envelope and climb outside the possibility of self rescue, then they need to be prepared to pay the ultimate price: frostbite or death.

One of Australia’s most experienced mountaineers Duncan Chessell has been running expeditions on Mt Everest since 2001. He reckons that “the frustrating thing is when people don’t really know what they are getting themselves in for. They go with a cheaper (and therefore) riskier operator or go with friends and make mistakes that a more experienced team would not. They pay the price.”

Some have suggested that there should be a rescue team assembled and on-hand for the climbing season. But who would or should be responsible? On Mt Denali in Alaska, another of the seven summits and the highest in North America, there is a team of rangers that patrol the mountain and initiate rescues as necessary. Usually this means involving commercial guides and private climbers. Mt Everest is a different situation all together. The governments – Nepal and China – that charge fees for climbing appear not to show any interest. It is many of the long established and larger operators, with the help of the volunteer doctors at the Himalayan Rescue Association, who coordinate rescues. At present if, or sadly when, the next large-scale tragedy happens it remains every team for themselves.

Another problem on the mountain is that some operators are not so fussy about who they sign up. One such company had an 18-year-old on their team last May. She had never done any mountaineering before. In fact, she had never even seen snow. Nevertheless, Bhagyashree Sawant was a focused and driven person. As she climbed the steep Lhotse Face to camp three, a metal oxygen bottle skidded out of control down the hard ice, narrowly missing her head. At camp three she become disorientated with the symptoms of acute mountain sickness and her Sherpa made her return to base camp. There were plenty other anecdotes of inexperienced climbers, including one claiming to have never used a harness before.

Duncan Chessell’s favourite saying is Caveat Emptor: “Let the buyer beware”. Never more is this more true than on Everest.

“There is a lot of information out there and anyone who goes on Everest without the relevant research into the deadly game is a fool,” says Duncan. “Make no mistake, climbing is a serious game, if you want to play you need to be prepared to lose as well as win.”

Once you are at camp four on the South Col you have about eight hours to rest your body, drink and eat as much as possible even though, at 8000m, that’s the last thing you feel like. If lucky, you will be able to sleep a little. Then, as you leave around 9PM for the final push to the summit, the odds of survival start to plummit. A huge 82 per cent of deaths since 1982 have occurred during the final push to reach the summit and on the descent. The secret to minimising the odds is speed. It should take between nine and 12 hours – at the very most 13. That’s one of the main reasons for the cut-off time and turn around point. The problem is that with very few days of suitable weather windows and the huge amount of expedition members and Sherpas on the slopes, a bottle neck forms, slowing everyone down to a shuffle and forcing a lot of waiting. One climber told how he would sit for a 20-minute power nap at such times. Throw in -25°C temperatures, add winds to the mix and the cause of so much angst on the mountain becomes apparent.

Not all accidents are fatal. One expedition member had an uncontrollable bowel emergency during the night of his summit push. Something in the class two diarrhoea category. With muffled yells through his oxygen masks to his friend behind of “Get my pants down. Quick, get them down!” his friend tried with bulky mitts to get the four layers free. Before: “Oh shit it’s too late.” He continued onto the summit and down again with the mess in his pants.

With fixed ropes all the way to the summit from base camp, everyone clips in with an ascender for safety in case they fall. Near the Hilary Step there are up to 50 people clipped in at once to a nine-millimetre rope, which has just one anchor point. The rope is sometimes rubbing over rock, causing abrasions and there is a 2000-metre drop on both sides.

Another guide who summited Everest this season said: “I could think of no other situation where I would take such a risk, as clipping onto that rope. This is where the next big accident will happen on the mountain. The anchor will come loose or the rope will break and the whole load of clipped in climbers will die.”

Under the current set up, a coalition of companies contribute manpower and equipment to put in the fixed ropes at the beginning of the season. Through a self-initiated association, it is the bigger companies that do it for the good of all climbers. But many think that they need to take it a step further and drill permanent anchors into the rock. Tore even suggested two ladders at the Hillary Step, an unpopular thought with the purist, however there are already plenty of ladders used across the icefall and on the north side.

Many think that everything changed when Mt Everest went from succumbing to the exploration stage to being inundated by the commercial stage in the 1980s.

It was when the story hit the media of the slew of deaths in 1996 (when eight people died on one day and 15 in the season – resulting in Jon Krakuer’s book Into Thin Air about his experience of surviving Everest) that the world came to know popularly that Mt Everest was accessible not only to the elite climbers but also to Mr and Mrs cashed-up recreational mountaineer. While marking a tragic day in the history of mountaineering and in that of Everest, it also marked the full commericalisation of Everest and was a harbinger of the state of play today.

Some people think that you can be dragged up to the summit, with anecedotal stories abounding about the underprepared guy who made it thanks to his guides. True, sherpas may carry all your gear, so all you have is a four and a half kilogram oxygen bottle and essentials in your backpack. But a climber still needs to put one foot in front of the other to get themselves to the top. A good level of fitness, climbing skills and mental toughness is essential.

And getting to the summit is only half the story. More people die coming down than going up.

Ask summiteer Angus, who on decent began to loose his balance and stumble. After the twentieth trip and with some medical knowledge, he realized he was at risk of HACE, High Altitude Cerebral Oedema. Swelling of the brain is the biggest contributor to deaths at altitude. By the time it’s diagnosed, it’s usually too late. Angus clicked on early, cranked up his oxygen flow and focused on getting down.

Turning back a mere one hundred metres from the summit of the world after months of preparation and a twelve hour summit push may have been the hardest decisions Australian Zac Zaharias could make. But it is the ‘common sense’ survival attitude that saw him reach the summit this year on his third attempt.

“Don’t underestimate Everest,” says Zac. “Just because a thirteen year old summited doesn’t make it easy. There were four deaths this season. The mountain can still kill you.”

“You need to monitor yourself and your progress and be realistic about your rate of ascent. Set milestones and turn around points and stick to them. You need to keep your ego under control and just because you get up one mountain, even if it is Everest, that doesn’t automatically make you a great climber.”

That outlook of ‘the mountain will still be here next time’ may just see Zac realise his goals of getting to the summit of other mountains over eight thousand metres including Makalu and K2, and living to tell the tale.

For the $50,000 or so it costs to attempt ascending Mt Everest, you could easily fund half a dozen expeditions to other mountains in the Himalayas. Possibly more scenic, definitely less crowded.
So why are people hell-bent to the point of oblivion – to the point of ignoring a call for help on the mountain – on conquering this particular mountain? Simply because it is the highest point on the earth; the pinnacle. To many a driven man and woman powered by grand achievements in their lives at sea level, professional and otherwise, Everest beacons as the ultimate test of mettle; the pointiest end of success.

Everest is also more popular than ever thanks to a man called Dick Bass, an American who in 1985 was the first person to climb the highest mountain on each of the seven continents. Now, 25 years later, there are just under 300 people who have completed the ‘Seven Summits’. It is a bucket list challenge, the ultimate peak bagger’s ‘to do’.

While Mt Everest may just have become one big tick box for many, as the numbers swarming its slopes grow so too does the probability of a bigger tragedy. If there are going to be unlimited climbers then the logistics of crowds, human waste and better rescue options need to be addressed. Fourteen years on, the golden brick road to the summit of the world may have just turned into a duel carriageway, one that for the sheer push of numbers is even more dangerous than it ever was when Hilary and Tenzing took one step after another, each on an untrodden, unroped, litter and corpse- free path.

MORE INFO ON EVEREST

www.everestnews.com/  (general info including current expeds)
www.explorersweb.com/everest_k2/   (general everest info including current expeds)
http://www.panoramas.dk/fullscreen2/full22.html (Panorama image from top of Everest)
www.restofeverest.com/ (podcast videos taking you from the beginnings of a mission to get up everest)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=STFb-aPYYM8  Rex Pemberton’s attempt to become the youngest Australian to the summit in 2005.

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