PraiseforJonKrakauer’sINTOTHINAIR

“Abookthatoffersreaderstheemotionalimmediacyofasurvivor’stestamentaswellasthe precision, detail, and quest for accuracy of a great piece of journalism.… It isimpossibletoreadthisbookunmoved.”

—ENTERTAINMENTWEEKLY

“Brilliant,haunting.…Thisisanangrybook,madeevenmoresobythefactthathardlyanyoneseemstohavelearnedathingfromthetragedy.”

—SANFRANCISCOEXAMINER

“Everybitasabsorbingandunnervingashisbestseller,IntotheWild.”

—THENEWYORKTIMES

“Asearingbook.”

—OUTSIDE

“Krakauer is anextremelygifted storytelleraswell asa relentlesslyhonestandeven-handed journalist, thestory is rivetingandwonderfullycomplex in itsownright,andKrakauermakesoneexcellentdecisionafteranotherabouthowtotellit.…Tocallthebookanadventuresagaseemsnottorecognizethat it isalsoadeeplythoughtfulandfinelywroughtphilosophicalexaminationoftheself.”

—ELLE

“Krakauer introduces themany players until they feel familiar, then leads the readerwiththemupthemountainandintotheso-called‘DeathZone’above25,000feet.”

—SANFRANCISCOCHRONICLE

“Time collapses as, minute-by-minute, Krakauer rivetingly and movingly chronicleswhatensued,muchofwhichisnearagonytoread.…Abrilliantlytoldstory.”

—KIRKUSREVIEWS

“[Krakauer] proves as sure-footed in prose as he was on the mountain … quietly

buildingthesuspenseaswefollowtheill-fatedexpeditionthroughitspreparationandshakedownforays,andthendeliveringalucid,blow-by-blowaccountofthecataclysmicstormandthedeathandagonyfollowinginitswake.”

—THENEWYORKOBSERVER

“IntoThinAirreadslikeafinenovel—themaincharactersbreathetheirwaythroughaplotsocommanding,thebookishardtoputdown.”

—AMAZONREVIEWS

“Make room on your shelf for mountaineering classics.… Krakauer’s grip on youremotionswillleaveyougaspingforbreath.”

—LOSANGELESTIMES

“[A] riveting account of events leading to the death of guides Rob Hall and ScottFischer,assistantAndyHarrisandtwoclients.”

—BOSTONHERALD

“[A]grippinganalysisofthetragedy.”

—THETENNESSEAN

“Into Thin Air is the … intense, taut, driving account of what happened. It is anengrossingbook,difficultforthereadertoputdown…superblyreported.”

—ROCKYMOUNTAINNEWS

“Astounding…honest…eloquent.…Throughobjectiveandthoroughresearchandinsparklingprose,Krakauertellsastorythatarousesfury,disgust,admirationandtears.”

—THETIMES-PICAYUNE(NEWORLEANS)

“Meticulouslyresearchedandexceptionallywell-written,IntoThinAiravoids thehypeandeasycondemnationthathaveinfestedotheraccounts.Thebookoffersinsteadvividdetailstoldmatter-of-factly,almostquietly.Theresultisadeeplymovingnarrativethathonorsthecourageofthepeopleonthemountainwhileraisingprofoundandpossiblyunanswerablequestionsabouthumanbehaviorinacrisis.”

—NASHVILLEBOOKPAGE

“JonKrakaueroffersfreshinsightsintothetragedyinhissuperbIntoThinAir,inwhichheadroitlysiftsthroughthemisunderstandings,miscalculationsandmisguidedzealthatled his fellow climbers to their doom. His new book is, on every level, a worthy

successortohisoutstandingIntotheWild.”

—THEPLAINDEALER

“Ataut,harrowingnarrativeofthemostlethalseasoninEverest’shistory…Krakaueroffersadisturbinglookathowtechnology,publicity,andcommercialismhavechangedmountaineering.”

—WISCONSINSTATE-JOURNAL

“Just as he did in his previous book, the acclaimed Into theWild, Krakauer employsexhaustive reporting, attention to detail, and a crisp, unpretentious writing style toshapethestory.”

—HARTFORDCOURANT

“The intensity of the tragedy is haunting, and Krakauer’s graphic writing drives ithome.”

—PUBLISHERSWEEKLY

“[Krakauer]has produced anarrative that is bothmeticulously researched anddeftlyconstructed.…Hisstoryrushesirresistiblyforward.”

—THENEWYORKTIMESBOOKREVIEW

“Thoughitcomesfromthegenrenamedforwhatitisn’t(nonfiction),thishasthefeelofliterature:KrakauerisIshmael,thenarratorwholivestotellthestorybutisforevertrappedwithin it.…Krakauer’s reporting is steadybut ferocious.Theclinkof ice inaglass,apoemofwintersnow,willneversoundthesame.”

—MIRABELLA

“Everyonceinawhileaworkofnonfictioncomesalongthat’sasgoodasanythinganovelistcouldmakeup…IntoThinAirfitsthebill.”

—FORBES

“Deeplyupsetting,genuinelynightmarish.…Krakauerwritesindelibly.…He’sbrilliant.…Hisstorycontainswhatmustbeoneoftheessencesofhell:theunceasingpotentialforthingstobecomeworsethanyoufear.”

—SALON

“IntoThinAir isaremarkableworkofreportageandself-examination.…Andnobookon the 1996 disaster is likely to consider so honestly the mistakes that killed his

colleagues.”

—NEWSDAY

“JonKrakauercombinesthetenacityandcourageofthefinesttraditionofinvestigativejournalismwiththestylishsubtletyandprofoundinsightofthebornwriter.HisaccountofanascentofMountEveresthasledtoageneralreevaluationofclimbingandofthecommercializationofwhatwasoncearomantic,solitarysport,whilehisaccountofthelifeanddeathofChristopherMcCandless,whodiedofstarvationafterchallengingtheAlaskanwilderness, delves evenmore deeply and disturbingly into the fascination ofnatureandthedevastatingeffectsofitslureonayoungandcuriousmind.”

—ACADEMYAWARDINLITERATURECITIATIONFROMTHEAMERICANACADEMYOFARTSANDLETTERS

ALSOBYJONKRAKAUER

IcelandEigerDreamsIntotheWild

UndertheBannerofHeaven

JONKRAKAUER

INTOTHINAIR

JonKrakaueristheauthorofEigerDreams,IntotheWild,IntoThinAir,UndertheBannerof Heaven, and Where Men Win Glory, and is the editor of the Modern LibraryExplorationseries.

AnchorBooksMass-MarketEdition,August2009

Copyright©1997byJonKrakauerMapcopyright©1997byAnitaKarl

Postscriptcopyright©1999byJonKrakauerAllrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyAnchorBooks,adivisionofRandomHouse,Inc.,NewYork,andsimultaneouslyinCanadabyRandomHouseofCanadaLimited,Toronto.OriginallypublishedinhardcoverintheUnitedStatesbyVillardBooksin1997.TheAnchorBookseditionispublishedbyarrangementwith

VillardBooks.

AnchorBooksandcolophonareregisteredtrademarksofRandomHouse,Inc.

PortionsofthisworkwereoriginallypublishedinOutside.

LibraryofCongressCataloguing-in-PublicationDataKrakauer,Jon.

Intothinair:apersonalaccountoftheMountEverestDisaster/JonKrakauer.—1stAnchorBooksed.

p.cm.Originallypublished:NewYork:Villard,c1997.

1.Mountaineeringaccidents—Everest,Mount(ChinaandNepal).2.MountEverestExpedition(1996).3.Krakauer,Jon.I.Title.

[GV199.44.E85K7251998]796.52′2′092—dc2197-42880

eISBN:978-0-67946271-2

www.anchorbooks.com

v3.1_r1

ForLinda;

andinmemoryofAndyHarris,DougHansen,RobHall,YasukoNamba,ScottFischer,NgawangTopcheSherpa,ChenYu-Nan,BruceHerrod,LopsangJangbuSherpa,andAnatoliBoukreev

Contents

CoverOtherBooksbyThisAuthor

AbouttheAuthorTitlePage

CopyrightDedication

EpigraphMap

Introduction

ChapterOne-EverestSummit:May10,1996•29,028FeetChapterTwo-DehraDun,India:1852•2,234FeetChapterThree-OverNorthernIndia:March29,1996•30,000FeetChapterFour-Phakding:March31,1996•9,186FeetChapterFive-Lobuje:April8,1996•16,200FeetChapterSix-EverestBaseCamp:April12,1996•17,600FeetChapterSeven-CampOne:April13,1996•19,500FeetChapterEight-CampOne:April16,1996•19,500FeetChapterNine-CampTwo:April28,1996•21,300FeetChapterTen-LhotseFace:April29,1996•23,400FeetChapterEleven-BaseCamp:May6,1996•17,600FeetChapterTwelve-CampThree:May9,1996•24,000FeetChapterThirteen-SoutheastRidge:May10,1996•27,600FeetChapterFourteen-Summit:1:12P.M.,May10,1996•29,028FeetChapterFifteen-Summit:1:25P.M.,May10,1996•29,028FeetChapterSixteen-SouthCol:6:00A.M.,May11,1996•26,000FeetChapterSeventeen-Summit:3:40P.M.,May10,1996•29,028FeetChapterEighteen-NortheastRidge:May10,1996•28,550Feet

ChapterNineteen-SouthCol:7:30A.M.,May11,1996•26,000FeetChapterTwenty-TheGenevaSpür:9:45A.M.,May12,1996•25,900FeetChapterTwenty-One-EverestBaseCamp:May13,1996•17,600Feet

Epilogue-Seattle:November29,1996•270Feet

Author’sNotePostscript

SelectedBibliographyAcknowledgments

Menplayattragedybecausetheydonotbelieveintherealityofthetragedywhichisactuallybeing

stagedinthecivilisedworld.

—JoséOrtegayGasset

INTRODUCTION

InMarch1996,OutsidemagazinesentmetoNepaltoparticipatein,andwrite about, a guided ascent ofMount Everest. Iwent as one of eightclientsonanexpedition ledbyawell-knownguide fromNewZealandnamedRobHall.OnMay10Iarrivedontopof themountain,butthesummitcameataterriblecost.Amongmyfiveteammateswhoreachedthetop,four,includingHall,

perishedinaroguestormthatblewinwithoutwarningwhilewewerestill high on the peak. By the time I’d descended to Base Camp nineclimbers from fourexpeditionsweredead,and threemore liveswouldbelostbeforethemonthwasout.Theexpedition leftmebadly shaken, and thearticlewasdifficult to

write.Nevertheless,fiveweeksafterIreturnedfromNepalIdeliveredamanuscripttoOutside,anditwaspublishedintheSeptemberissueofthemagazine. Upon its completion I attempted to put Everest out of mymind and get on with my life, but that turned out to be impossible.Througha fogofmessyemotions, I continued trying tomake senseofwhathadhappenedupthere,andIobsessivelymulledthecircumstancesofmycompanions’deaths.The Outside piece was as accurate as I could make it under the

circumstances, butmydeadlinehadbeenunforgiving, the sequenceofevents had been frustratingly complex, and the memories of thesurvivorshadbeenbadlydistortedbyexhaustion,oxygendepletion,andshock. At one point duringmy research I asked three other people torecountanincidentallfourofushadwitnessedhighonthemountain,andnoneofuscouldagreeonsuchcrucialfactsasthetime,whathadbeensaid,orevenwhohadbeenpresent.WithindaysaftertheOutsidearticlewenttopress, Idiscoveredthatafewofthedetails I’dreportedwere inerror.Mostwereminor inaccuraciesof thesort that inevitablycreepintoworksofdeadlinejournalism,butoneofmyblunderswasin

no sense minor, and it had a devastating impact on the friends andfamilyofoneofthevictims.Onlyslightlylessdisconcertingthanthearticle’sfactualerrorswasthematerial that necessarily had to be omitted for lack of space. MarkBryant,theeditorofOutside,andLarryBurke,thepublisher,hadgivenmeanextraordinaryamountofroomtotellthestory:theyranthepieceat 17,000 words—four or five times as long as a typical magazinefeature.Evenso,Ifeltthatitwasmuchtooabbreviatedtodojusticetothe tragedy. The Everest climb had rocked my life to its core, and itbecamedesperately important forme to record theevents in completedetail,unconstrainedbyalimitednumberofcolumninches.Thisbookisthefruitofthatcompulsion.Thestaggeringunreliabilityofthehumanmindathighaltitudemadethe research problematic. To avoid relying excessively on my ownperceptions, I interviewedmostof theprotagonistsatgreat lengthandon multiple occasions. When possible I also corroborated details withradio logs maintained by people at Base Camp, where clear thoughtwasn’t in such short supply. Readers familiar with theOutside articlemay notice discrepancies between certain details (primarilymatters oftime) reported in the magazine and those reported in the book; therevisionsreflectnewinformationthathascometolightsincepublicationofthemagazinepiece.Several authors and editors I respect counseledme not towrite thebookasquicklyasIdid;theyurgedmetowaittwoorthreeyearsandputsomedistancebetweenmeandtheexpeditioninordertogainsomecrucialperspective.Theiradvicewassounds,butintheendIignoredit—mostlybecausewhathappenedonthemountainwasgnawingmygutsout.IthoughtthatwritingthebookmightpurgeEverestfrommylife.It hasn’t, of course.Moreover, I agree that readers are often poorlyservedwhenanauthorwritesasanactofcatharsis,asIhavedonehere.But I hoped something would be gained by spilling my soul in thecalamity’simmediateaftermath,intheroilandtormentofthemoment.Iwantedmyaccounttohavearaw,ruthlesssortofhonestythatseemedindangerofleachingawaywiththepassageoftimeandthedissipationofanguish.

SomeofthesamepeoplewhowarnedmeagainstwritinghastilyhadalsocautionedmeagainstgoingtoEverestinthefirstplace.Thereweremany,manyfinereasonsnottogo,butattemptingtoclimbEverestisanintrinsically irrational act—a triumph of desire over sensibility. Anypersonwhowould seriously consider it is almost bydefinitionbeyondtheswayofreasonedargument.TheplaintruthisthatIknewbetterbutwenttoEverestanyway.Andin doing so I was a party to the death of good people, which issomethingthatisapttoremainonmyconscienceforaverylongtime.

JonKrakauerSeattleNovember1996

DRAMATISPERSONAEMountEverestSpring1996*

AdventureConsultantsGuidedExpedition

RobHall NewZealand,leaderandheadguide

MikeGroom Australia,guide

Andy“Harold”Harris NewZealand,guide

HelenWilton NewZealand,BaseCampmanager

Dr.CarolineMackenzie NewZealand,BaseCampdoctor

AngTsheringSherpa Nepal,BaseCampsirdar

AngDorjeSherpa Nepal,climbingsirdar

LhakpaChhiriSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

KamiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

TenzingSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

AritaSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

NgawangNorbuSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

ChuldumSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

ChhongbaSherpa Nepal,BaseCampcook

PembaSherpa Nepal,BaseCampSherpa

TendiSherpa Nepal,cookboy

DougHansen USA,client

Dr.SeabornBeckWeathers USA,client

YasukoNamba Japan,client

Dr.StuartHutchison Canada,client

FrankFischbeck HongKong,client

LouKasischke USA,client

Dr.JohnTaske Australia,client

JonKrakauer USA,clientandjournalist

SusanAllen Australia,trekker

NancyHutchison Canada,trekker

MountainMadnessGuidedExpedition

ScottFischer USA,leaderandheadguide

AnatoliBoukreev Russia,guide

NealBeidleman USA,guide

Dr.IngridHunt USA,BaseCampmanager,teamdoctor

LopsangJangbuSherpa Nepal,climbingsirdar

NgimaKaleSherpa Nepal,BaseCampsirdar

NgawangTopcheSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

TashiTsheringSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

NgawangDorjeSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

NgawangSyaKyaSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

NgawangTendiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

TendiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

“Big”PembaSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

JetaSherpa Nepal,BaseCampSherpa

PembaSherpa Nepal,BaseCampcookboy

SandyHillPittman USA,clientandjournalist

CharlotteFox USA,client

TimMadsen USA,client

PeteSchoening USA,client

KlevSchoening USA,client

LeneGammelgaard Denmark,client

MartinAdams USA,client

Dr.DaleKruse USA,client

JaneBromet USA,journalist

MacGillivrayFreemanIMAX/IWERKSExpedition

DavidBreashears USA,leaderandfilmdirector

JamlingNorgaySherpa India,deputyleaderandfilmtalent

EdViesturs USA,climberandfilmtalent

AraceliSegarra Spain,climberandfilmtalent

SumiyoTsuzuki Japan,climberandfilmtalent

RobertSchauer Austria,climberandcinematographer

PaulaBartonViesturs USA,BaseCampmanager

AudreySalkeld U.K.,journalist

LizCohen USA,filmproductionmanager

LieslClark USA,filmproducerandwriter

WongchuSherpa Nepal,sirdar

JangbuSherpa Nepal,leadcameraSherpa

TaiwaneseNationalExpedition

“Makalu”GauMing-Ho Taiwan,leader

ChenYu-Nan Taiwan,climber

KaoTienTzu Taiwan,climber

ChangJungChang Taiwan,climber

HsiehTzuSheng Taiwan,climber

ChhiringSherpa Nepal,sirdar

KamiDorjeSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

NgimaGombuSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

MingmaTsheringSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

TenzingNuriSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

DorjeSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

PasangTamang Nepal,climbingSherpa

KiKamiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

JohannesburgSundayTimesExpedition

IanWoodall U.K.,leader

BruceHerrod U.K.,deputyleaderandphotographer

CathyO’Dowd SouthAfrica,climber

DeshunDeysel SouthAfrica,climber

EdmundFebruary SouthAfrica,climber

AndydeKlerk SouthAfrica,climber

AndyHackland SouthAfrica,climber

KenWoodall SouthAfrica,climber

TierryRenard France,climber

KenOwen SouthAfrica,journalistandtrekker

PhilipWoodall U.K.,BaseCampmanager

AlexandrineGaudin France,administrativeassistant

Dr.CharlotteNoble SouthAfrica,teamdoctor

KenVernon Australia,journalist

RichardShorey SouthAfrica,photographer

PatrickConroy SouthAfrica,radiojournalist

AngDorjeSherpa Nepal,climbingsirdar

PembaTendiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

JangbuSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

AngBabuSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

DawaSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

AlpineAscentsInternationalGuidedExpedition

ToddBurleson USA,leaderandguide

PeteAthans USA,guide

JimWilliams USA,guide

Dr.KenKamler USA,clientandteamdoctor

CharlesCorfield USA,client

BeckyJohnston USA,trekkerandscreenwriter

InternationalCommercialExpedition

MalDuff U.K.,leader

MikeTrueman HongKong,deputyleader

MichaelBurns U.K.,BaseCampmanager

Dr.HenrikJessenHansen Denmark,expeditiondoctor

VeikkaGustafsson Finland,climber

KimSejberg Denmark,climber

GingeFullen U.K.,climber

JaakkoKurvinen Finland,climber

EuanDuncan U.K.,climber

HimalayanGuidesCommercialExpedition

HenryTodd U.K.,leader

MarkPfetzer USA,climber

RayDoor USA,climber

MichaelJorgensen Denmark,climber

BrigitteMuir Australia,climber

PaulDeegan U.K.,climber

NeilLaughton U.K.,climber

GrahamRatcliffe U.K.,climber

ThomasSjögren Sweden,climber

TinaSjögren Sweden,climber

KamiNuruSherpa Nepal,sirdar

SwedishSoloExpedition

GöranKropp Sweden,climber

FredericBloomquist Sweden,filmmaker

AngRitaSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpaandfilmcrewmember

NorwegianSoloExpedition

PetterNeby Norway,climber

NewZealand-MalaysianGuidedPumoriExpedition

GuyCotter NewZealand,leaderandguide

DaveHiddleston NewZealand,guide

ChrisJillet NewZealand,guide

AmericanCommercialPumori/LhotseExpedition

DanMazur USA,leader

ScottDarsney USA,climberandphotographer

ChantalMauduit France,climber

StephenKoch USA,climberandsnowboarder

BrentBishop USA,climber

JonathanPratt U.K.,climber

DianeTaliaferro USA,climber

DaveSharman U.K.,climber

TimHorvath USA,climber

DanaLynge USA,climber

MarthaJohnson USA,climber

NepaliEverestCleaningExpedition

SonamGyalchhenSherpa Nepal,leader

HimalayanRescueAssociationClinic(inPhericheVillage)

Dr.JimLitch USA,staffdoctor

Dr.LarrySilver USA,staffdoctor

Dr.CecileBouvray France,staffdoctor

LauraZiemer USA,assistant

Indo-TibetanBorderPoliceEverestExpedition(climbingfromtheTibetansideofthemountain)

MohindorSingh India,leader

HarbhajanSingh India,deputyleaderandclimber

TsewangSmanla India,climber

TsewangPaljor India,climber

DorjeMorup India,climber

HiraRam India,climber

TashiRam India,climber

SangeSherpa India,climbingSherpa

NadraSherpa India,climbingSherpa

KoshingSherpa India,climbingSherpa

Japanese-FukuokaEverestExpedition(climbingfromtheTibetansideofthemountain)

KojiYada Japan,leader

HiroshiHanada Japan,climber

EisukeShigekawa Japan,climber

PasangTsheringSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

PasangKamiSherpa Nepal,climbingSherpa

AnyGyalzen Nepal,climbingSherpa

*NoteveryonepresentonMt.Everestinthespringof1996islisted.

S

ONE

EVERESTSUMMIT

MAY10,1996•29,028FEET

Itwould seemalmostas though therewereacordondrawnround theupperpartof thesegreatpeaksbeyondwhichnomanmaygo.Thetruthofcourseliesinthefactthat,ataltitudesof25,000feetandbeyond,theeffectsoflowatmosphericpressureuponthehumanbodyaresoseverethatreally difficultmountaineering is impossible and the consequences even of amild stormmay bedeadly,thatnothingbutthemostperfectconditionsofweatherandsnowofferstheslightestchanceofsuccess,andthatonthelastlapoftheclimbnopartyisinapositiontochooseitsday.…No,itisnotremarkablethatEverestdidnotyieldtothefirstfewattempts;indeed,itwouldhavebeen very surprising and not a little sad if it had, for that is not the way of greatmountains.Perhaps we had become a little arrogant with our fine new technique of ice-claw and rubberslipper,ourageofeasymechanicalconquest.Wehadforgotten that themountainstillholds themaster card, that itwill grant successonly in itsowngood time.Whyelsedoesmountaineeringretainitsdeepfascination?

EricShipton,in1938UponThatMountain

traddling the top of the world, one foot in China and theother in Nepal, I cleared the ice from my oxygen mask,

huncheda shoulderagainst thewind,and staredabsentlydownat thevastness of Tibet. I understood on some dim, detached level that thesweep of earth beneath my feet was a spectacular sight. I’d beenfantasizing about thismoment, and the release of emotion thatwouldaccompanyit,formanymonths.ButnowthatIwasfinallyhere,actuallystanding on the summit ofMount Everest, I just couldn’t summon theenergytocare.ItwasearlyintheafternoonofMay10,1996.Ihadn’tsleptinfifty-

seven hours. The only food I’d been able to force down over theprecedingthreedayswasabowloframensoupandahandfulofpeanutM&Ms.Weeksofviolentcoughinghad leftmewith twoseparated ribs

thatmadeordinarybreathinganexcruciatingtrial.At29,028feetupinthetroposphere,solittleoxygenwasreachingmybrainthatmymentalcapacity was that of a slow child. Under the circumstances, I wasincapableoffeelingmuchofanythingexceptcoldandtired.I’d arrived on the summit a few minutes after Anatoli Boukreev, aRussianclimbingguideworkingforanAmericancommercialexpedition,andjustaheadofAndyHarris,aguideontheNewZealand–basedteamto which I belonged. Although I was only slightly acquainted withBoukreev,I’dcometoknowandlikeHarriswellduringtheprecedingsixweeks. I snapped four quick photos of Harris and Boukreev strikingsummitposes,thenturnedandheadeddown.Mywatchread1:17P.M.Alltold,I’dspentlessthanfiveminutesontheroofoftheworld.A moment later, I paused to take another photo, this one lookingdowntheSoutheastRidge,theroutewehadascended.Trainingmylensonapairofclimbersapproachingthesummit,Inoticedsomethingthatuntil thatmoment had escapedmy attention. To the south,where theskyhadbeenperfectlyclearjustanhourearlier,ablanketofcloudsnowhid Pumori, Ama Dablam, and the other lesser peaks surroundingEverest.Later—aftersixbodieshadbeenlocated,afterasearchfortwoothershadbeenabandoned,aftersurgeonshadamputatedthegangrenousrighthand of my teammate Beck Weathers—people would ask why, if theweatherhadbeguntodeteriorate,hadclimbersontheuppermountainnotheededthesigns?WhydidveteranHimalayanguideskeepmovingupward,usheringagaggleofrelativelyinexperiencedamateurs—eachofwhomhadpaidasmuchas$65,000tobetakensafelyupEverest—intoanapparentdeathtrap?Nobodycanspeakfortheleadersofthetwoguidedgroupsinvolved,becausebothmenaredead.ButIcanattestthatnothingIsawearlyontheafternoonofMay10suggestedthatamurderousstormwasbearingdown. Tomy oxygen-depletedmind, the clouds drifting up the grandvalley of ice known as the Western Cwm* looked innocuous, wispy,insubstantial. Gleaming in the brilliantmidday sun, they appeared nodifferent from the harmless puffs of convection condensation that rosefromthevalleyalmosteveryafternoon.

AsIbeganmydescentIwasextremelyanxious,butmyconcernhadlittle todowith theweather:acheckof thegaugeonmyoxygentankhadrevealedthatitwasalmostempty.Ineededtogetdown,fast.TheuppermostshankofEverest’sSoutheastRidgeisaslender,heavilycorniced fin of rock andwind-scoured snow that snakes for a quartermile between the summit and a subordinate pinnacle known as theSouthSummit.Negotiatingtheserratedridgepresentsnogreattechnicalhurdles,but the route isdreadfully exposed.After leaving the summit,fifteenminutesofcautiousshufflingovera7,000-footabyssbroughtmeto the notorious Hillary Step, a pronounced notch in the ridge thatdemandssometechnicalmaneuvering.AsIclippedintoafixedropeandpreparedtorappeloverthelip,Iwasgreetedwithanalarmingsight.Thirty feetbelow,more thanadozenpeoplewerequeuedupat thebaseoftheStep.Threeclimberswerealreadyintheprocessofhaulingthemselvesuptheropethat Iwaspreparingtodescend.Exercisingmyonly option, I unclipped from the communal safety line and steppedaside.Thetrafficjamwascomprisedofclimbersfromthreeexpeditions:theteamIbelongedto,agroupofpayingclientsundertheleadershipofthecelebratedNewZealandguideRobHall;anotherguidedpartyheadedbythe American Scott Fischer; and a noncommercial Taiwanese team.Movingatthesnail’spacethatisthenormabove26,000feet,thethronglaboreduptheHillarySteponebyone,whileInervouslybidedmytime.Harris, who’d left the summit shortly after I did, soon pulled upbehindme.Wantingtoconservewhateveroxygenremainedinmytank,Iaskedhimtoreachinsidemybackpackandturnoff thevalveonmyregulator,whichhedid.ForthenexttenminutesIfeltsurprisinglygood.My head cleared. I actually seemed less tired than I hadwith the gasturned on. Then, abruptly, I sensed that I was suffocating. My visiondimmed and my head began to spin. I was on the brink of losingconsciousness.Insteadofturningmyoxygenoff,Harris, inhishypoxicallyimpairedstate,hadmistakenlycranked thevalveopen to full flow,draining thetank. I’d just squandered the lastofmygasgoingnowhere.TherewasanothertankwaitingformeattheSouthSummit,250feetbelow,butto

getthereIwouldhavetodescendthemostexposedterrainontheentireroutewithoutthebenefitofsupplementaloxygen.And first I had towait for themob to disperse. I removedmy now

useless mask, plantedmy ice ax into themountain’s frozen hide, andhunkered on the ridge.As I exchanged banal congratulationswith theclimbersfilingpast,inwardlyIwasfrantic:“Hurryitup,hurryitup!”Isilently pleaded. “While you guys are fucking around here, I’m losingbraincellsbythemillions!”Mostof thepassingcrowdbelonged toFischer’sgroup,butnear the

backoftheparadetwoofmyteammateseventuallyappeared,RobHalland Yasuko Namba. Demure and reserved, the forty-seven-year-oldNamba was forty minutes away from becoming the oldest woman toclimbEverestandthesecondJapanesewomantoreachthehighestpointoneachcontinent, theso-calledSevenSummits.Althoughsheweighedjust ninety-one pounds, her sparrowlike proportions disguised aformidableresolve;toanastoundingdegree,Yasukohadbeenpropelledupthemountainbytheunwaveringintensityofherdesire.Laterstill,DougHansenarrivedatoptheStep.Anothermemberofour

expedition, Doug was a postal worker from a Seattle suburb who’dbecomemy closest friend on themountain. “It’s in the bag!” I yelledoverthewind,tryingtosoundmoreupbeatthanIfelt.Exhausted,Dougmumbled something from behind his oxygenmask that I didn’t catch,shookmyhandweakly,thencontinuedploddingupward.At theveryendof the linewasScottFischer,whomIknewcasually

from Seattle, where we both lived. Fischer’s strength and drive werelegendary—in1994he’dclimbedEverestwithoutusingbottledoxygen—soIwassurprisedathowslowlyhewasmovingandhowhammeredhelookedwhenhepulledhismaskasidetosayhello.“Bruuuuuuce!”hewheezed with forced cheer, employing his trademark frat-boyishgreeting.WhenIaskedhowhewasdoing,Fischerinsistedthathewasfeeling fine: “Just dragging ass a little today for some reason. No bigdeal.”With the Hillary Step finally clear, I clipped into the strand oforange rope, swungquicklyaroundFischerashe slumpedoverhis iceax,andrappelledovertheedge.Itwasafterthreeo’clockwhenImadeitdowntotheSouthSummit.

By now tendrils of mist were streaming over the 27,923-foot top ofLhotse and lapping at Everest’s summit pyramid. No longer did theweather look so benign. I grabbed a fresh oxygen cylinder, jammed itontomyregulator,andhurrieddownintothegatheringcloud.Momentsafter I droppedbelow theSouthSummit, it began to snow lightly andvisibilitywenttohell.Fourhundredverticalfeetabove,wherethesummitwasstillwashedin bright sunlight under an immaculate cobalt sky, my compadresdalliedtomemorializetheirarrivalattheapexoftheplanet,unfurlingflagsandsnappingphotos,usinguppreciousticksoftheclock.Noneofthem imagined that a horrible ordeal was drawing nigh. Nobodysuspectedthatbytheendofthatlongday,everyminutewouldmatter.

*TheWesternCwm,pronouncedkoom,wasnamedbyGeorgeLeighMallory,whofirstsawitduringtheinitialEverestexpeditionof1921fromtheLhoLa,ahighpassontheborderbetweenNepalandTibet.CwmisaWelshtermforvalleyorcirque.

T

TWO

DEHRADUN,INDIA

1852•2,234FEET

Far from the mountains in winter, I discovered the blurred photo of Everest in RichardHalliburton’sBookofMarvels. Itwasamiserable reproduction inwhich the jagged peaks rosewhiteagainstagrotesquelyblackenedandscratchedsky.Everestitself,sittingbackfromthefrontones,didn’tevenappearhighest,butitdidn’tmatter.Itwas;thelegendsaidso.Dreamswerethekeytothepicture,permittingaboytoenterit,tostandatthecrestofthewindsweptridge,toclimbtowardthesummit,nownolongerfarabove.…Thiswasoneofthoseuninhibiteddreamsthatcomefreewithgrowingup.Iwassurethatmineabout Everest was not mine alone; the highest point on earth, unattainable, foreign to allexperience,wasthereformanyboysandgrownmentoaspiretoward.

ThomasF.HornbeinEverest:TheWestRidge

heactualparticularsoftheeventareunclear,obscuredbythe accretion of myth. But the year was 1852, and the

settingwas theoffices of theGreatTrigonometrical Surveyof India inthenorthernhillstationofDehraDun.Accordingtothemostplausibleversion of what transpired, a clerk rushed into the chambers of SirAndrewWaugh, India’s surveyorgeneral,andexclaimedthataBengalicomputer named Radhanath Sikhdar, working out of the Survey’sCalcuttabureau,had“discoveredthehighestmountainintheworld.”(InWaugh’sdayacomputerwasajobdescriptionratherthanamachine.)DesignatedPeakXVbysurveyors in the fieldwho’d firstmeasured theangle of its risewith a twenty-four-inch theodolite three years earlier,themountain inquestion jutted fromthe spineof theHimalaya in theforbiddenkingdomofNepal.UntilSikhdarcompiledthesurveydataanddidthemath,nobodyhad

suspected that therewas anythingnoteworthy about PeakXV. The sixsurvey sites from which the summit had been triangulated were in

northern India,more thanahundredmiles from themountain.To thesurveyorswhoshotit,allbutthesummitnubofPeakXVwasobscuredby various high escarpments in the foreground, several ofwhich gavetheillusionofbeingmuchgreaterinstature.ButaccordingtoSikhdar’smeticulous trigonometric reckoning (which took into account suchfactorsascurvatureoftheearth,atmosphericrefraction,andplumb-linedeflection), Peak XV stood 29,002* feet above sea level, the planet’sloftiestpoint.In1865,nineyearsafterSikhdar’scomputationshadbeenconfirmed,Waughbestowed thenameMountEverestonPeakXV, inhonorofSirGeorge Everest, his predecessor as surveyor general. As it happened,Tibetans who lived to the north of the great mountain already had amoremellifluousnameforit,Jomolungma,whichtranslatesto“goddess,motherof theworld,”andNepaliswhoresidedtothesouthreportedlycalled the peak Deva-dhunga, “Seat of God.”† But Waugh pointedlychose to ignore these native appellations (as well as official policyencouraging the retention of local or ancient names), and Everestwasthenamethatstuck.Once Everestwas determined to be the highest summit on earth, itwasonlyamatteroftimebeforepeopledecidedthatEverestneededtobeclimbed.After theAmericanexplorerRobertPearyclaimed tohavereachedtheNorthPole in1909andRoaldAmundsen ledaNorwegianparty to the South Pole in 1911, Everest—the so-called Third Pole—became themostcovetedobject in the realmof terrestrialexploration.Getting to the top, proclaimed Gunther O. Dyrenfurth, an influentialalpinist and chronicler of early Himalayan mountaineering, was “amatter of universal human endeavor, a cause from which there is nowithdrawal,whateverlossesitmaydemand.”Those losses, as it turned out,would not be insignificant. FollowingSikhdar’s discovery in 1852, it would require the lives of twenty-fourmen, the efforts of fifteen expeditions, and the passage of 101 yearsbeforethesummitofEverestwouldfinallybeattained.

Amongmountaineersandotherconnoisseursofgeologicform,Everestis not regarded as a particularly comely peak. Its proportions are too

chunky,toobroadofbeam,toocrudelyhewn.ButwhatEverestlacksinarchitecturalgrace,itmakesupforwithsheer,overwhelmingmass.DemarcatingtheNepal-Tibetborder,toweringmorethan12,000feetabovethevalleysatitsbase,Everestloomsasathree-sidedpyramidofgleaming ice and dark, striated rock. The first eight expeditions toEverest were British, all of which attempted the mountain from thenorthern, Tibetan, side—not so much because it presented the mostobviousweakness in thepeak’s formidabledefensesbut ratherbecausein 1921 the Tibetan government opened its long-closed borders toforeigners,whileNepalremainedresolutelyofflimits.The first Everesters were obliged to trek 400 arduous miles fromDarjeeling across the Tibetan plateau simply to reach the foot of themountain.Theirknowledgeofthedeadlyeffectsofextremealtitudewasscant, and their equipment was pathetically inadequate by modernstandards.Yetin1924amemberofthethirdBritishexpedition,EdwardFelixNorton, reachedanelevationof28,126 feet—just900 feetbelowthesummit—beforebeingdefeatedbyexhaustionandsnowblindness.Itwas an astounding achievement that was probably not surpassed fortwenty-eightyears.I say“probably”becauseofwhat transpired fourdaysafterNorton’ssummitassault.AtfirstlightonJune8,twoothermembersofthe1924British team, George Leigh Mallory and Andrew Irvine, departed thehighestcampforthetop.Mallory,whosenameisinextricablylinkedtoEverest,wasthedrivingforcebehindthefirstthreeexpeditionstothepeak.Whileonalantern-slide lecture tour of the United States, it was he who so notoriouslyquipped “Because it is there” when an irritating newspapermandemanded to knowwhy hewanted to climb Everest. In 1924Mallorywas thirty-eight, amarried schoolmasterwith three young children. Aproduct of upper-tier English society, he was also an aesthete andidealist with decidedly romantic sensibilities. His athletic grace, socialcharm,andstrikingphysicalbeautyhadmadehimafavoriteofLyttonStracheyandtheBloomsburycrowd.WhiletentboundhighonEverest,Mallory and his companions would read aloud to one another fromHamletandKingLear.

AsMalloryandIrvinestruggledslowlytowardthesummitofEvereston June 8, 1924,mist billowed across the upper pyramid, preventingcompanions loweron themountain frommonitoring the twoclimbers’progress.At12:50P.M., thecloudspartedmomentarily,andteammateNoelOdellcaughtabriefbutclearglimpseofMalloryandIrvinehighonthe peak, approximately five hours behind schedule but “movingdeliberatelyandexpeditiously”towardthetop.Thetwoclimbersfailedtoreturntotheirtentthatnight,however,and

neitherMallorynorIrvinewaseverseenagain.Whetheroneorbothofthemreachedthesummitbeforebeingswallowedbythemountainandinto legend has been fiercely debated ever since. In 1999, the well-knownAmericanclimberConradAnkerdiscoveredMallory’sbodyonaslopingledgeat27,000feet,whereithadcometorestafteranapparentfall seventy-five years earlier. Several intriguing artifacts were foundwithMallory’s remains, but Anker’s astonishing discovery raisedmorequestions than it answered. The balance of the evidence stronglysuggested that Mallory and Irvine did not reach the top before theyperished.In1949,aftercenturiesofinaccessibility,Nepalopeneditsbordersto

theoutsideworld,andayearlaterthenewCommunistregimeinChinaclosed Tibet to foreigners. Those who would climb Everest thereforeshiftedtheirattentiontothesouthsideofthepeak.Inthespringof1953alargeBritishteam,organizedwiththerighteouszealandoverpoweringresourcesofamilitarycampaign,becamethethirdexpeditiontoattemptEverest from Nepal. OnMay 28, following two and a half months ofprodigious effort, a high camp was dug tenuously into the SoutheastRidge at 27,900 feet. Early the following morning Edmund Hillary, arangy New Zealander, and Tenzing Norgay, a highly skilled Sherpamountaineer,setoutforthetopbreathingbottledoxygen.By 9:00 A.M. they were at the South Summit, gazing across the

dizzyingly narrow ridge that led to the summit proper. Another hourbrought them to the foot of what Hillary described as “the mostformidable-looking problem on the ridge—a rock step some forty feethigh.…Therockitself,smoothandalmostholdless,mighthavebeenaninterestingSundayafternoonproblem to a groupof expert climbers intheLakeDistrict,buthereitwasabarrierbeyondourfeeblestrengthto

overcome.”WithTenzingnervouslypayingoutropefrombelow,Hillarywedgedhimselfintoacleftbetweentherockbuttressandafinofverticalsnowat its edge, then began to inch his way up what would thereafter beknownastheHillaryStep.Theclimbingwasstrenuousandsketchy,butHillarypersisteduntil,ashewouldlaterwrite,

Icouldfinallyreachoverthetopoftherockanddragmyselfoutofthecrackontoawideledge. For a fewmoments I lay regainingmy breath and for the first time really felt thefiercedeterminationthatnothingnowcouldstopusreachingthetop.Itookafirmstanceonthe ledge and signaled to Tenzing to come on up.As I heaved hard on the rope Tenzingwriggledhiswayup the crackand finally collapsedexhaustedat the top likeagiant fishwhenithasjustbeenhauledfromtheseaafteraterriblestruggle.

Fightingexhaustion,thetwoclimberscontinueduptheundulatingridgeabove.Hillarywondered,

ratherdully,whetherwewouldhaveenoughstrengthlefttogetthrough.IcutaroundthebackofanotherhumpandsawthattheridgeaheaddroppedawayandwecouldseefarintoTibet.Ilookedupandthereaboveuswasaroundedsnowcone.Afewwhacksoftheice-axe,afewcautioussteps,andTensing[sic]andIwereontop.

Andthus,shortlybeforenoononMay29,1953,didHillaryandTenzingbecomethefirstmentostandatopMountEverest.Threedayslater,wordoftheascentreachedQueenElizabethontheeveofhercoronation,andtheTimesofLondonbroke thenewson themorningofJune2initsearlyedition.ThedispatchhadbeenfiledfromEverestviaacodedradiomessage(topreventcompetitorsfromscoopingtheTimes)byayoungcorrespondentnamedJamesMorriswho,twentyyears later, having earned considerable esteem as a writer, wouldfamouslychangehisgendertofemaleandhisChristiannametoJan.AsMorris wrote four decades after the momentous climb in CoronationEverest:TheFirstAscentandtheScoopThatCrownedtheQueen,

Itishardtoimaginenowthealmostmysticaldelightwithwhichthecoincidenceofthetwohappenings[thecoronationandtheEverestascent]wasgreetedinBritain.Emergingatlastfromtheausteritywhichhadplaguedthemsincethesecondworldwar,butatthesametimefacingthelossoftheirgreatempireandtheinevitabledeclineoftheirpowerintheworld,

theBritishhadhalf-convincedthemselvesthattheaccessionoftheyoungQueenwasatokenofa freshstart—anewElizabethanage,as thenewspapers like tocall it.CoronationDay,June 2, 1953,was to be a day of symbolical hope and rejoicing, inwhich all the Britishpatriotic loyaltieswould findasuprememomentofexpression:andmarvelofmarvels,onthat very day there arrived the news from distant places—from the frontiers of the oldEmpire,infact—thataBritishteamofmountaineers…hadreachedthesupremeremainingearthlyobjectiveofexplorationandadventure,thetopoftheworld.…The moment aroused a whole orchestra of rich emotions among the British—pride,

patriotism, nostalgia for the lost past of the war and derring do, hope for a rejuvenatedfuture.…Peopleofacertainage remembervividly to thisday themomentwhen,as theywaitedonadrizzlyJunemorningfortheCoronationprocessiontopassbyinLondon,theyheardthemagicalnewsthatthesummitoftheworldwas,sotospeak,theirs.

Tenzing became a national hero throughout India, Nepal, and Tibet,eachofwhichclaimedhimasoneoftheirown.Knightedbythequeen,SirEdmundHillarysawhisimagereproducedonpostagestamps,comicstrips, books, movies, magazine covers—over night, the hatchet-facedbeekeeper from Auckland had been transformed into one of the mostfamousmenonearth.

HillaryandTenzingclimbedEverestamonthbeforeIwasconceived,soIdidn’tshareinthecollectivesenseofprideandwonderthatsweptthe world—an event that an older friend says was comparable, in itsvisceralimpact,tothefirstmannedlandingonthemoon.Adecadelater,however, a subsequent ascent of the mountain helped establish thetrajectoryofmylife.OnMay 22, 1963, TomHornbein, a thirty-two-year-old doctor from

Missouri, and Willi Unsoeld, thirty-six, a professor of theology fromOregon, reached the summit of Everest via the peak’s daunting WestRidge, previously unclimbed. By then the summit had already beenachieved on four occasions, by eleven men, but the West Ridge wasconsiderablymoredifficultthaneitherofthetwopreviouslyestablishedroutes: the South Col and Southeast Ridge or the North Col andNortheastRidge.Hornbein’sandUnsoeld’sascentwas—andcontinuestobe—deservedly hailed as one of the great feats in the annals ofmountaineering.

Late in thedayon their summitpush, the twoAmericans climbedastratum of steep, crumbly rock—the infamous Yellow Band.Surmountingthiscliffdemandedtremendousstrengthandskill;nothingso technically challenging had ever been climbed at such extremealtitude. Once on top of the Yellow Band, Hornbein and Unsoelddoubtedtheycouldsafelydescendit.Theirbesthopeforgettingoffthemountain alive, they concluded,was to goover the top anddown thewell-established Southeast Ridge route, an extremely audacious plan,giventhelatehour,theunknownterrain,andtheirrapidlydiminishingsupplyofbottledoxygen.HornbeinandUnsoeldarrivedonthesummitat6:15P.M.,justasthe

sunwassetting,andwere forcedtospendthenight in theopenabove28,000 feet—at the time, thehighest bivouac inhistory. Itwas a coldnight, butmercifullywithoutwind. AlthoughUnsoeld’s toes froze andwouldlaterbeamputated,bothmensurvivedtotelltheirtale.IwasnineyearsoldatthetimeandlivinginCorvallis,Oregon,where

Unsoeldalsomadehishome.Hewasaclosefriendofmyfather’s,andIsometimesplayedwiththeoldestUnsoeldchildren—Regon,whowasayearolderthanme,andDevi,ayearyounger.AfewmonthsbeforeWilliUnsoelddepartedforNepal,Ireachedthesummitofmyfirstmountain—anunspectacular 9,000-foot volcano in theCascadeRange that nowsports a chair-lift to the top—in the company of my dad, Willi, andRegon.Notsurprisingly,accountsofthe1963epiconEverestresonatedloud and long in my preadolescent imagination. While my friendsidolizedJohnGlenn,SandyKoufax,andJohnnyUnitas,myownheroeswereHornbeinandUnsoeld.Secretly, I dreamed of ascending Everest myself one day; for more

thanadecadeitremainedaburningambition.BythetimeIwasinmyearly twenties climbing had become the focus of my existence to theexclusionofalmosteverythingelse.Achievingthesummitofamountainwas tangible, immutable, concrete. The incumbent hazards lent theactivityaseriousnessofpurposethatwassorelymissingfromtherestofmy life. I thrilled in the fresh perspective that came from tipping theordinaryplaneofexistenceonend.And climbing provided a sense of community aswell. To become a

climber was to join a self-contained, rabidly idealistic society, largely

unnoticed and surprisingly uncorrupted by the world at large. Thecultureofascentwascharacterizedbyintensecompetitionandundilutedmachismo, but for themost part, its constituentswere concernedwithimpressingonlyoneanother.Gettingtothetopofanygivenmountainwas consideredmuch less important than how one got there: prestigewas earned by tackling the most unforgiving routes with minimalequipment, in theboldest style imaginable.Nobodywasadmiredmorethan so-called free soloists: visionaries who ascended alone, withoutropeorhardware.InthoseyearsIlivedtoclimb,existingonfiveorsixthousanddollarsayear,workingasacarpenterandacommercialsalmonfishermanjustlongenoughto fundthenext trip to theBugaboosorTetonsorAlaskaRange.Butatsomepoint inmymidtwenties Iabandonedmyboyhoodfantasyof climbingEverest.By then ithadbecome fashionableamongalpinecognoscentitodenigrateEverestasa“slagheap”—apeaklackingsufficient technical challenges or aesthetic appeal to be a worthyobjective for a “serious” climber, which I desperately aspired to be. Ibegantolookdownmynoseattheworld’shighestmountain.Suchsnobberywasrootedinthefactthatbytheearly1980s,Everest’seasiestline—viaSouthColandtheSoutheastRidge—hadbeenclimbedmorethanahundredtimes.MycohortsandIreferredtotheSoutheastRidge as the “YakRoute.”Our contemptwas only reinforced in 1985,when Dick Bass—a wealthy fifty-five-year-old Texan with limitedclimbing experience—was ushered to the top of Everest by anextraordinaryyoungclimbernamedDavidBreashears,aneventthatwasaccompaniedbyablizzardofuncriticalmediaattention.Previously, Everest had by and large been the province of elitemountaineers. In thewordsofMichaelKennedy, theeditorofClimbingmagazine,“TobeinvitedonanEverestexpeditionwasanhonorearnedonly after you served a long apprenticeship on lower peaks, and toactuallyreachthesummitelevatedaclimbertotheupperfirmamentofmountaineering stardom.” Bass’s ascent changed all that. In baggingEverest,hebecamethefirstpersontoclimballoftheSevenSummits,*afeat that brought him worldwide renown, spurred a swarm of otherweekendclimberstofollowinhisguidedboot-prints,andrudelypulledEverestintothepostmodernera.

“To aging Walter Mitty types like myself, Dick Bass was aninspiration,” Seaborn Beck Weathers explained in a thick East TexastwangduringthetrektoEverestBaseCamplastApril.Aforty-nine-year-oldDallaspathologist,BeckwasoneofeightclientsonRobHall’s1996guided expedition. “Bass showed that Everestwaswithin the realm ofpossibility for regular guys. Assuming you’re reasonably fit and havesomedisposableincome,Ithinkthebiggestobstacleisprobablytakingtimeofffromyourjobandleavingyourfamilyfortwomonths.”Foragreatmanyclimbers,therecordshows,stealingtimeawayfromthe daily grind has not been an insurmountable obstacle, nor has theheftyoutlayofcash.Overthepasthalfdecade,thetrafficonalloftheSevenSummits,butespeciallyEverest,hasmultipliedatanastonishingrate. And tomeet the demand, the number of commercial enterprisespeddling guided ascents of the Seven Summits, especially Everest, hasmultiplied correspondingly. In the spring of 1996, thirty distinctexpeditionswereontheflanksofEverest,atleasttenofthemorganizedasmoney-makingventures.The government of Nepal recognized that the throngs flocking toEverest created serious problems in terms of safety, aesthetics, andimpact to the environment. While grappling with the issue, Nepaleseministerscameupwithasolutionthatseemedtoholdthedualpromiseof limiting the crowdswhile increasing the flowofhard currency intotheimpoverishednationalcoffers:raisethefeeforclimbingpermits.In1991theMinistryofTourismcharged$2,300forapermitthatallowedateamof any size to attempt Everest. In 1992 the feewas increased to$10,000 for a teamof up tonine climbers,with another$1,200 tobepaidforeachadditionalclimber.ButclimberscontinuedtoswarmtoEverestdespitethehigherfees.Inthe spring of 1993, on the fortieth anniversary of the first ascent, arecord fifteenexpeditions,comprising294climbers,attempted to scalethe peak from theNepalese side. That autumn theministry raised thepermit fee yet again—to a staggering $50,000 for as many as fiveclimbers,plus$10,000foreachadditionalclimber,uptoamaximumofseven. Additionally, the government decreed that no more than fourexpeditionswouldbeallowedontheNepaleseflankseachseason.WhattheNepaleseministersdidn’t take intoconsideration,however,

was that China charged only $15,000 to allow a team of any size toclimb themountain fromTibet and placed no limit on the number ofexpeditionseach season.The floodofEveresters therefore shifted fromNepal to Tibet, leaving hundreds of Sherpas out ofwork. The ensuinghueandcrypersuadedNepal,inthespringof1996,toabruptlycancelthe four-expedition limit. And while they were at it, the governmentministersjackedupthepermitfeeonceagain—thistimeto$70,000foruptosevenclimbers,plusanother$10,000foreachadditionalclimber.Judging from the fact that sixteenof the thirty expeditions onEverestlastspringwereclimbingontheNepalesesideofthemountain,thehighcost of obtaining a permit doesn’t seem to have been a significantdeterrent.Evenbeforethecalamitousoutcomeofthe1996premonsoonclimbing

season,theproliferationofcommercialexpeditionsoverthepastdecadewas a touchy issue. Traditionalists were offended that the world’shighest summit was being sold to rich parvenus—some of whom, ifdeniedtheservicesofguides,wouldprobablyhavedifficultymakingitto the top of a peak asmodest asMount Rainier. Everest, the puristssniffed,hadbeendebasedandprofaned.Suchcriticsalsopointedoutthat,thankstothecommercializationof

Everest, the once hallowed peak has now even been dragged into theswamp of American jurisprudence. Having paid princely sums to beescortedupEverest,someclimbershavethensuedtheirguideswhenthesummit eluded them. “Occasionally you’ll get a clientwho thinks he’sbought a guaranteed ticket to the summit,” laments Peter Athans, ahighlyrespectedguidewho’smadeeleventrips toEverestandreachedthe top four times. “Some people don’t understand that an Everestexpeditioncan’tberunlikeaSwisstrain.”Sadly,noteveryEverestlawsuitisunwarranted.Ineptordisreputable

companies have on more than one occasion failed to deliver cruciallogistical support—oxygen, for instance—as promised. On someexpeditionsguideshavegonetothesummitwithoutanyoftheirpayingcustomers, prompting the bitter clients to conclude that they werebrought along simply to pick up the tab. In 1995, the leader of acommercial expedition abscondedwith tens of thousands of dollars ofhisclients’moneybeforethetripevengotofftheground.

InMarch 1995 I received a call from an editor atOutsidemagazineproposing that I join a guided Everest expedition scheduled to departfive days hence and write an article about the mushroomingcommercializationofthemountainandtheattendantcontroversies.Themagazine’s intent was not that I climb the peak; the editors simplywantedmetoremaininBaseCampandreport thestoryfromtheEastRongbuk Glacier, at the foot of the Tibetan side of the mountain. Iconsideredtheofferseriously—Iwentsofarastobookaflightandgettherequiredimmunizations—andthenbowedoutatthelastminute.GiventhedisdainI’dexpressedforEverestovertheyears,onemight

reasonablyassume that Ideclined togoonprinciple. In truth, thecallfromOutsidehadunexpectedlyarousedapowerful,long-burieddesire.IsaidnototheassignmentonlybecauseIthoughtitwouldbeunbearablyfrustrating to spend two months in the shadow of Everest withoutascendinghigherthanBaseCamp.IfIweregoingtotraveltothefarsideof the globe and spend eight weeks away frommy wife and home, Iwantedanopportunitytoclimbthemountain.I asked Mark Bryant, the editor of Outside, if he would consider

postponing the assignment for twelve months (which would give metimetotrainproperlyforthephysicaldemandsoftheexpedition).Ialsoinquired if themagazinewouldbewilling tobookmewithoneof themorereputableguideservices—andcoverthe$65,000fee—thusgivingmeashotatactuallyreachingthesummit.Ididn’treallyexpecthimtosayyestothisplan. I’dwrittenmorethansixtypieces forOutsideoverthepreviousfifteenyears,andseldomhadthetravelbudgetforanyoftheseassignmentsexceededtwoorthreethousanddollars.Bryant called back a day later after conferring with Outside’s

publisher. He said that the magazine wasn’t prepared to shell out$65,000butthatheandtheothereditorsthoughtthecommercializationofEverestwasanimportantstory.IfIwasseriousabouttryingtoclimbthemountain, he insisted,Outside would figure out a way tomake ithappen.

During the thirty-three years I’d called myself a climber, I’dundertaken some difficult projects. In Alaska I’d put up a hairy new

route on theMooses Tooth, and pulled off a solo ascent of theDevilsThumb that involved spending threeweeksaloneona remote ice cap.I’ddoneanumberoffairlyextremeiceclimbsinCanadaandColorado.NearthesoutherntipofSouthAmerica,wherethewindsweepsthelandlike “the broom of God”—“la escoba de Dios,” as the locals say—I’dscaledafrightening,mile-highspikeofverticalandoverhanginggranitecalled Cerro Torre; buffeted by hundred-knot winds, plastered withfrangibleatmospheric rime, itwasonce (thoughno longer) thought tobetheworld’shardestmountain.Buttheseescapadeshadoccurredyearsearlier,insomecasesdecades

earlier, when I was inmy twenties and thirties. I was forty-one now,well past my climbing prime, with a graying beard, bad gums, andfifteen extra pounds around my midriff. I was married to a woman Iloved fiercely—and who loved me back. Having stumbled upon atolerablecareer,forthefirsttimeinmylifeIwasactuallylivingabovethepoverty line.Myhunger to climbhadbeenblunted, in short,byabunchofsmallsatisfactionsthataddeduptosomethinglikehappiness.Noneof the climbs I’ddone in thepast,moreover,had takenme to

evenmoderatelyhighaltitude.Truthbetold,I’dneverbeenhigherthan17,200feet—notevenashighasEverestBaseCamp.Asanavidstudentofmountaineeringhistory,IknewthatEveresthad

killedmorethan130peoplesincetheBritishfirstvisitedthemountainin 1921—approximately one death for every four climbers who’dreached the summit—and that many of those who died had been farstrongerandpossessedvastlymorehigh-altitudeexperiencethanI.Butboyhooddreamsdiehard, Idiscovered,andgoodsensebedamned. InlateFebruary1996,BryantcalledtosaythattherewasaplacewaitingformeonRobHall’supcomingEverestexpedition.Whenheasked if Iwas sure I wanted to go through with this, I said yes without evenpausingtocatchmybreath.

*Modernsurveysusinglasersandstate-of-the-artDopplersatellitetransmissionshaverevisedthismeasurementupwardamere26feet—tothecurrentlyacceptedaltitudeof29,028feet,or8,848meters.

†Currently,theofficialNepalidesignationforMt.EverestisSagarmatha,“goddessofthesky.”

Butthisnamewasapparentlylittle,ifever,usedpriorto1960.Atthattime,duringaborderdisputebetweenNepalandChina,PrimeMinisterB.P.KoiralabelieveditwouldhelpNepalassertitsclaimtothesouthernsideofEverestiftherewereawidelyrecognizedNepaliappellationforthegreatmountain.So,actingupontherecommendationofadvisersandhistorians,hehastilydecreedthatthroughoutNepalthepeakwouldthereafterbeknownasSagarmatha.

*Thehighestpeaksoneachofthesevencontinentsare:Everest,29,028feet(Asia);Aconcagua,22,834feet(SouthAmerica);McKinley(alsoknownasDenali),20,320feet(NorthAmerica);Kilimanjaro,19,340feet(Africa);Elbrus,18,510feet(Europe);VinsonMassif,16,067feet(Antarctica);Kosciusko,7,316feet(Australia).AfterDickBassclimbedallseven,aCanadianclimbernamedPatrickMorrowarguedthatbecausethehighestpointinOceania,thegroupoflandsthatincludesAustralia,isnotKosciuskobutratherthemuchmoredifficultsummitofCarstenszPyramid(16,535feet)intheIndonesianprovinceofIrianBarat,Basswasn’tthefirsttobagtheSevenSummits—he,Morrow,was.MorethanonecriticoftheSevenSummitsconcepthaspointedoutthataconsiderablymoredifficultchallengethanascendingthehighestpeakoneachcontinentwouldbetoclimbthesecond-highestpeakoneachcontinent,acoupleofwhichhappentobeverydemandingclimbs.

T

THREE

OVERNORTHERNINDIA

MARCH29,1996•30,000FEET

SpeakingabruptlyIgavethemaparable.Isaid,it’stheplanetNeptuneI’mtalkingabout,justplainordinaryNeptune,notParadise,becauseIdon’thappentoknowaboutParadise.Soyouseethismeansyou,nothingmore, justyou.NowtherehappenstobeabigspotofrockIsaid,upthere,andImustwarnyouthatpeopleareprettystupidupinNeptune,chieflybecausetheyeachlivedtiedupintheirownstring.Andsomeofthem,whomIhadwantedtomentioninparticular,someofthemhadgotthemselvesabsolutelydeterminedaboutthatmountain.Youwouldn’tbelieveit,Isaid, lifeordeath,useornouse, thesepeoplehadgotthehabit,andtheynowspenttheirsparetimeandall theirenergies inchasing thecloudsof theirowngloryupanddownall thesteepestfacesinthedistrict.Andoneandalltheycamebackuplifted.Andwelltheymight,Isaid,foritwasamusingthateveninNeptunemostofthemmadeshifttochasethemselvesprettysafelyuptheeasierfaces.Butanyhowtherewasuplift,andindeeditwasobservable,bothintheresolutesetoftheirfacesandinthegratificationthatshoneintheireyes.AndasIhadpointedout,thiswasinNeptunenotParadise,where,itmaybe,thereperhapsisnothingelsetobedone.

JohnMenloveEdwardsLetterfromaMan

wo hours into Thai Air flight 311 from Bangkok toKathmandu, I left my seat and walked to the rear of the

airplane.NearthebankoflavatoriesonthestarboardsideIcrouchedtopeer throughasmallwaist-levelwindow,hoping tocatchaglimpseofsomemountains.Iwasnotdisappointed:there,rakingthehorizon,stoodthejaggedincisorsoftheHimalaya.Istayedatthewindowfortherestof the flight, spellbound,hunkeredovera trashbag fullofemptysodacansandhalf-eatenmeals,myfacepressedagainstthecoldPlexiglas.Immediately I recognized thehuge, sprawlingbulkofKanchenjunga,

at 28,169 feet above sea level the third-highest mountain on earth.Fifteenminutes later,Makalu, theworld’s fifth-highestpeak,cameintoview—andthen,finally,theunmistakableprofileofEverestitself.

Theink-blackwedgeofthesummitpyramidstoodoutinstarkrelief,towering over the surrounding ridges. Thrust high into the jet stream,themountain ripped a visible gash in the 120-knot hurricane, sendingforthaplumeoficecrystalsthattrailedtotheeastlikealongsilkscarf.AsIgazedacrosstheskyatthiscontrail,itoccurredtomethatthetopofEverestwasprecisely the sameheightas thepressurized jetbearingme through the heavens. That I proposed to climb to the cruisingaltitude of an Airbus 300 jetliner struck me, at that moment, aspreposterous,orworse.Mypalmsfeltclammy.Fortyminutes later Iwason theground inKathmandu.As Iwalkedintotheairportlobbyafterclearingcustoms,abig-boned,clean-shavenyoungmantooknoteofmytwohugeduffelsandapproached.“WouldyoubeJon,then?”heinquiredinaliltingNewZealandaccent,glancingat a sheet of photocopiedpassport photosdepictingRobHall’s clients.HeshookmyhandandintroducedhimselfasAndyHarris,oneofHall’sguides,cometodelivermetoourhotel.Harris, who was thirty-one, said there was supposed to be anotherclient arriving on the same flight from Bangkok, a fifty-three-year-oldattorney from Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, named Lou Kasischke. Itendedup takinganhour forKasischke to locatehisbags, sowhilewewaited Andy and I compared notes on some hard climbs we’d bothsurvived in western Canada and discussed the merits of skiing versussnowboarding. Andy’s palpable hunger for climbing, his unalloyedenthusiasm for the mountains, made me wistful for the period in myownlifewhenclimbingwasthemostimportantthingimaginable,whenIchartedthecourseofmyexistenceintermsofmountainsI’dascendedandthoseIhopedonedaytoascend.JustbeforeKasischke—atall,athletic,silver-hairedmanwithpatricianreserve—emerged from the airport customs queue, I asked Andy howmany times he’d been on Everest. “Actually,” he confessed cheerfully,“thiswillbemyfirst time,sameasyou. Itshouldbe interestingtoseehowIdoupthere.”Hall had booked us at the Garuda Hotel, a friendly, funkyestablishment in the heart of Thamel, Kathmandu’s frenetic touristdistrict, on a narrow avenue choked with cycle rickshas and streethustlers.TheGarudahaslongbeenpopularwithexpeditionsboundfor

the Himalaya, and its walls were covered with signed photographs offamous alpinists who’d slept there over the years: Reinhold Messner,PeterHabeler,KittyCalhoun,JohnRoskelley,JeffLowe.Ascendingthestairs tomy room I passed a large four-color poster titled “HimalayanTrilogy,” depicting Everest, K2, and Lhotse—the planet’s highest,second-highest, and fourth-highest mountains, respectively.Superimposed against the images of these peaks, the poster showed agrinning, beardedman in full alpine regalia. A caption identified thisclimberasRobHall;theposter,intendedtodrumupbusinessforHall’sguiding company, Adventure Consultants, commemorated his ratherimpressivefeatofascendingallthreepeaksduringtwomonthsin1994.Anhour later ImetHall in the flesh.Hestoodsix footthreeorfourandwasskinnyasapole.Therewassomethingcherubicabouthisface,yethelookedolderthanhisthirty-fiveyears—perhapsitwasthesharplyetched creases at the corners of his eyes, or the air of authority heprojected.Hewasdressed inaHawaiianshirtandfadedLevispatchedononekneewithanembroideredyin-yangsymbol.Anunrulythatchofbrownhaircorkscrewedacrosshisforehead.Hisshrublikebeardwasinneedofatrim.Gregarious by nature, Hall proved to be a skillful raconteur with acausticKiwiwit.LaunchingintoalongstoryinvolvingaFrenchtourist,a Buddhist monk, and a particularly shaggy yak, Hall delivered thepunch linewithan impish squint,pausedabeat foreffect, then threwhis head back in a booming, contagious laugh, unable to contain hisdelightinhisownyarn.Ilikedhimimmediately.Hallwasborn into aworking-classCatholic family inChrist church,NewZealand, theyoungestofninechildren.Althoughhehadaquick,scientific mind, at the age of fifteen he dropped out of school afterbuttingheadswithanespeciallyautocraticteacher,andin1976hewenttoworkforAlpSports,alocalmanufacturerofclimbingequipment.“Hestartedoutdoingoddjobs,workingasewingmachine,thingslikethat,”remembersBillAtkinson,nowanaccomplishedclimberandguide,whoalsoworkedatAlpSportsatthetime.“ButbecauseofRob’simpressiveorganizational skills, which were apparent even when he was sixteenand seventeen, hewas soon running the entire production side of thecompany.”

Hallhadforsomeyearsbeenanavidhillwalker;aboutthesametimehewenttoworkforAlpSports,hetookuprockandiceclimbingaswell.Hewasa fast learner, saysAtkinson,whobecameHall’smost frequentclimbingpartner, “with theability to soakup skillsandattitudes fromanybody.”In 1980, when Hall was nineteen, he joined an expedition that

climbedthedemandingNorthRidgeofAmaDablam,a22,294-footpeakof incomparablebeautyfifteenmilessouthofEverest.Duringthattrip,Hall’s first to theHimalaya, hemade a side excursion to Everest BaseCamp and resolved that one day he would climb the world’s highestmountain. It required ten years and three attempts, but inMay 1990,HallfinallyreachedthesummitofEverestastheleaderofanexpeditionthatincludedPeterHillary,thesonofSirEdmund.OnthesummitHalland Hillary made a radio transmission that was broadcast livethroughout New Zealand, and at 29,028 feet received congratulationsfromPrimeMinisterGeoffreyPalmer.BythistimeHallwasafull-timeprofessionalclimber.Likemostofhis

peers, he sought funding from corporate sponsors to pay for hisexpensive Himalayan expeditions. And he was savvy enough tounderstand that the more attention he got from the news media, theeasier itwouldbetocoaxcorporationstoopentheircheckbooks.As ithappened, he proved to be extremely adept at getting his name intoprintandhismugonthetelly.“Yeah,”Atkinsonallows,“Robalwaysdidhaveabitofaflairforpublicity.”In 1988, a guide from Auckland named Gary Ball became Hall’s

primaryclimbingpartnerandclosestfriend.BallreachedthesummitofEverestwithHallin1990,andsoonafterreturningtoNewZealandtheyconcoctedaschemetoclimbthehighestsummitsoneachofthesevencontinents, à la Dick Bass—but to raise the bar by doing all seven ofthem in sevenmonths.*With Everest, themost difficult of the septet,already taken care of, Hall and Ball wangled backing from a bigelectricalutility,PowerBuild,andwereontheirway.OnDecember12,1990,merehoursbeforetheirseven-monthdeadlinewasduetoexpire,they reached the crest of the seventh summit—the Vinson Massif, at16,067 feet the highest point in Antarctica—to considerable fanfarethroughouttheirhomeland.

Despitetheirsuccess,HallandBallwereconcernedabouttheirlong-term prospects in the professional climbing racket. “To continuereceiving sponsorship from companies,” explains Atkinson, “a climberhastokeepuppingtheante.Thenextclimbhastobeharderandmorespectacularthanthelast.Itbecomesanever-tighteningspiral;eventuallyyou’renotuptothechallengeanymore.RobandGaryunderstoodthatsoonerorlatertheywouldn’tbeuptoperformingatthecuttingedge,orthey’dhaveanunluckyaccidentandgetkilled.“So they decided to switch direction and get into high-altitudeguiding. When you’re guiding you don’t get to do the climbs younecessarilymostwanttodo;thechallengecomesfromgettingclientsupand down, which is a different sort of satisfaction. But it’s a moresustainable career than endlessly chasing after sponsorships. There’s alimitlesssupplyofclientsoutthereifyouofferthemagoodproduct.”During the“seven summits in sevenmonths”extravaganza,HallandBallformulatedaplantogointobusinesstogetherguidingclientsuptheSevenSummits.Convincedthatanuntappedmarketofdreamersexistedwith ample cash but insufficient experience to climb theworld’s greatmountains on their own, Hall and Ball launched an enterprise theychristenedAdventureConsultants.Almost immediately, they racked up an impressive record. In May1992HallandBallledsixclientstothesummitofEverest.Ayearlaterthey guided another group of seven to the top on an afternoonwhenfortypeoplereachedthesummitinasingleday.Theycamehomefromthat expedition, however, to unanticipated public criticism from SirEdmund Hillary, who decried Hall’s role in the growingcommercialization of Everest. The crowds of novices being escorted tothe top fora fee,huffedSirEdmund,“wereengenderingdisrespect forthemountain.”In New Zealand, Hillary is one of the most honored figures in thenation;hiscraggyvisageevenstaresoutfromthefaceofthefive-dollarbill. ItsaddenedandembarrassedHalltobepubliclycastigatedbythisdemigod, this ur-climber who had been one of his childhood heroes.“HillaryisregardedasalivingnationaltreasurehereinNewZealand,”saysAtkinson. “Whathe sayscarriesa lotofweight,and itmusthavereally hurt to be criticized by him. Rob wanted to make a public

statementtodefendhimself,butherealizedthatgoingupagainstsuchaveneratedfigureinthemediawasano-winsituation.”Then,fivemonthsaftertheHillarybrouhahaflared,Hallwasrocked

by an even greater blow: in October 1993, Gary Ball died of cerebraledema—swelling of the brain brought on by high altitude—during anattempt on 26,795-foot Dhaulagiri, the world’s sixth-tallest mountain.Ball drewhis last, labored breaths inHall’s arms, lying comatose in asmall tent high on the peak. The next dayHall buried his friend in acrevasse.InaNewZealand television interview following theexpedition,Hall

somberly described how he took their favorite climbing rope andloweredBall’sbody into thedepthsof theglacier. “Aclimbing rope isdesignedtosortofattachyoutogether,andyounever letgoof it,”hesaid.“AndIhadtoletitjustsortofslipthroughmehands.”“Rob was devastated when Gary died,” says Helen Wilton, who

workedasHall’sBaseCampmanageronEverest in1993, ’95,and ’96.“Buthedealtwithitveryquietly.ThatwasRob’sway—togetonwiththings.”HallresolvedtocarryonalonewithAdventureConsultants.Inhis systematic fashion he continued to refine the company’sinfrastructure and services—and continued to be extraordinarilysuccessfulat escortingamateurclimbers to the summitsofbig, remotemountains.Between1990and1995,Hallwasresponsible forputtingthirty-nine

climbers on the summit of Everest—threemore ascents thanhad beenmade in the first twenty years after Sir Edmund Hillary’s inauguralclimb.Withjustification,HalladvertisedthatAdventureConsultantswas“theworldleaderinEverestClimbing,withmoreascentsthananyotherorganisation.”Thebrochurehesenttoprospectiveclientsdeclared,

So, you have a thirst for adventure! Perhaps you dream of visiting seven continents orstandingon topofa tallmountain.Mostofusneverdareactonourdreamsandscarcelyventuretosharethemoradmittogreatinneryearnings.Adventure Consultants specialises in organising and guiding mountain climbing

adventures.Skilledinthepracticalitiesofdevelopingdreamsintoreality,weworkwithyoutoreachyourgoal.Wewillnotdragyouupamountain—youwillhavetoworkhard—butweguaranteetomaximisethesafetyandsuccessofyouradventure.

Forthosewhodaretofacetheirdreams,theexperienceofferssomethingspecialbeyondthepowerofwordstodescribe.Weinviteyoutoclimbyourmountainwithus.

By1996Hallwascharging$65,000aheadtoguideclientstothetopoftheworld.Byanymeasurethisisalotofmoney—itequalsthemortgageon my Seattle home—and the quoted price did not include airfare toNepal or personal equipment. No company’s fee was higher—indeed,someofhis competitors chargeda third asmuch.But thanks toHall’sphenomenalsuccessratehehadnotroublefillingtherosterforthis,hiseighthexpeditiontoEverest.Ifyouwerehell-bentonclimbingthepeakand could somehow come up with the dough, Adventure Consultantswastheobviouschoice.

OnthemorningofMarch31, twodaysafterarriving inKathmandu,the assembled members of the 1996 Adventure Consultants EverestExpeditionwalkedacrossthetarmacofTribhuvanInternationalAirportandclimbedaboardaRussian-builtMi-17helicopteroperatedbyAsianAirlines.AdentedrelicoftheAfghanwar,itwasasbigasaschoolbus,seated twenty-six passengers, and looked like it had been rivetedtogether in somebody’s backyard. The flight engineer latched the doorandhandedoutwadsof cotton to stuff inourears, and thebehemothchopperlumberedintotheairwithahead-splittingroar.The floor was piled high with duffels, backpacks, and cardboard

boxes.Jammedintojumpseatsaroundtheperimeteroftheaircraftwasthe human cargo, facing inward, knees wedged against chests. Thedeafeningwhineoftheturbinesmadeconversationoutofthequestion.Itwasn’tacomfortableride,butnobodycomplained.In 1963, TomHornbein’s expedition began the long trek to Everest

from Banepa, a dozen miles outside Kathmandu, and spent thirty-onedays on the trail before arriving at Base Camp. Like most modernEveresters, we’d elected to leapfrog over the majority of those steep,dusty miles; the chopper was supposed to set us down in the distantvillage of Lukla, 9,200 feet up in the Himalaya. Assuming we didn’tcrashenroute,theflightwouldtrimsomethreeweeksfromthespanofHornbein’strek.Glancingaround thehelicopter’s capacious interior, I tried to fix the

namesofmyteammatesinmymemory.InadditiontoguidesRobHallandAndyHarris therewasHelenWilton,a thirty-nine-year-oldmotheroffourwhowasreturningforherthirdseasonasBaseCampmanager.CarolineMackenzie—anaccomplishedclimberandphysicianinherlatetwenties—wastheexpeditiondoctorand,likeHelen,wouldbegoingnohigherthanBaseCamp.LouKasischke,thegentlemanlylawyerI’dmetat the airport, had climbed six of the Seven Summits—as had YasukoNamba, forty-seven, a taciturn personnel director who worked at theTokyo branch of Federal Express. Beck Weathers, forty-nine, was agarrulouspathologist fromDallas. StuartHutchison, thirty-four, attiredin a Ren and Stimpy T-shirt, was a cerebral, somewhat wonkishCanadiancardiologiston leavefromaresearchfellowship.JohnTaske,atfifty-sixtheoldestmemberofourgroup,wasananesthesiologistfromBrisbane who’d taken up climbing after retiring from the Australianarmy. Frank Fischbeck, fifty-three, a dapper, genteel publisher fromHong Kong, had attempted Everest three times with one of Hall’scompetitors; in1994he’dgottenall thewaytotheSouthSummit, just330 vertical feet below the top. Doug Hansen, forty-six, was anAmericanpostalworkerwho’dgone toEverestwithHall in1995and,likeFischbeck,hadreachedtheSouthSummitbeforeturningback.I wasn’t sure what to make of my fellow clients. In outlook andexperience theywerenothing like thehard-coreclimberswithwhomIusuallywentintothemountains.Buttheyseemedlikenice,decentfolks,and therewasn’t a certifiable asshole in the entire group—at least notone who was showing his true colors at this early stage of theproceedings.Nevertheless, I didn’t havemuch in commonwith any ofmy teammates except Doug. A wiry, hard-partying man with aprematurelyweathered face thatbrought tomindanold football,he’dbeenapostalworkerformorethantwenty-sevenyears.Hetoldmethathe’dpaidforthetripbyworkingthenightshiftanddoingconstructionjobsbyday.BecauseI’dearnedmylivingasacarpenterforeightyearsbeforebecomingawriter—andbecausethetaxbracketwesharedsetusconspicuously apart from the other clients—I already felt comfortablearoundDouginawaythatIdidn’twiththeothers.ForthemostpartIattributedmygrowinguneasetothefactthatI’dneverclimbedasamemberofsuchalargegroup—agroupofcomplete

strangers,noless.AsidefromoneAlaskatripI’ddonetwenty-oneyearsearlier, all my previous expeditions had been undertakenwith one ortwotrustedfriends,oralone.Inclimbing,havingconfidence inyourpartners isno small concern.One climber’s actions can affect the welfare of the entire team. Theconsequencesofapoorlytiedknot,astumble,adislodgedrock,orsomeothercarelessdeedareaslikelytobefeltbytheperpetrator’scolleaguesas by the perpetrator. Hence it’s not surprising that climbers aretypically wary of joining forces with those whose bona fides areunknowntothem.But trust in one’s partners is a luxury denied thosewho sign on asclientsonaguidedascent;onemustputone’sfaithintheguideinstead.As the helicopter droned toward Lukla, I suspected that each of myteammateshopedasferventlyasIthatHallhadbeencarefultoweedoutclientsofdubiousability,andwouldhavethemeanstoprotecteachofusfromoneanother’sshortcomings.

*IttookBassfouryearstoascendtheSevenSummits.

F

FOUR

PHAKDING

MARCH31,1996•9,186FEET

Forthosewhodidn’tdally,ourdailytreksendedearlyintheafternoon,butrarelybeforetheheatandachingfeetforcedustoaskeachpassingSherpa,“Howmuchfarthertocamp?”Thereply,wesoonweretodiscover,wasinvariable:“Onlytwomilemore,Sah’b.…”Eveningswerepeaceful,smokesettlinginthequietairtosoftenthedusk,lightstwinklingontheridge we would camp on tomorrow, clouds dimming the outline of our pass for the day after.GrowingexcitementluredmythoughtsagainandagaintotheWestRidge.…There was loneliness, too, as the sun set, but only rarely now did doubts return. Then I feltsinkinglyas ifmywhole life laybehindme.Onceon themountain Iknew(or trusted) that thiswould giveway to totalabsorptionwith the taskathand.Butat times Iwondered if I hadnotcomealongwayonlytofindthatwhatIreallysoughtwassomethingIhadleftbehind.

ThomasF.HornbeinEverest:TheWestRidge

rom Lukla the way to Everest led north through thecrepusculargorgeoftheDudhKosi,anicy,boulder-choked

river that churnedwith glacial runoff.We spent the first night of ourtrekinthehamletofPhakding,acollectionofahalfdozenhomesandlodgescrowdedontoashelfoflevelgroundonaslopeabovetheriver.The air took on awintry sting as night fell, and in themorning, as Iheaded up the trail, a glaze of frost sparkled from the rhododendronleaves. But the Everest region lies at 28 degrees north latitude—justbeyond the tropics—and as soon as the sun rose high enough topenetrate the depths of the canyon the temperature soared. By noon,afterwe’dcrossedawobblyfootbridgesuspendedhighovertheriver—thefourthrivercrossingoftheday—rivuletsofsweatweredrippingoffmychin,andIpeeleddowntoshortsandaT-shirt.Beyond the bridge, the dirt path abandoned the banks of the Dudh

Kosi and zigzagged up the steep canyon wall, ascending through

aromatic stands of pine. The spectacularly fluted ice pinnacles ofThamserku andKusumKangrupierced the skymore than twoverticalmilesabove.Itwasmagnificentcountry,astopographicallyimposingasany landscape on earth, but it wasn’t wilderness, and hadn’t been forhundredsofyears.Everyscrapofarablelandhadbeenterracedandplantedwithbarley,bitterbuckwheat,orpotatoes.Stringsofprayerflagswerestrungacrossthe hill-sides, and ancient Buddhist chortens* and walls of exquisitelycarvedmani† stones stood sentinel over even the highest passes. As Imademyway up from the river, the trail was cloggedwith trekkers,yak‡ trains, red-robed monks, and barefoot Sherpas straining beneathback-wrenchingloadsoffirewoodandkeroseneandsodapop.Ninety minutes above the river, I crested a broad ridge, passed amatrix of rock-walled yak corrals, and abruptly found myself indowntown Namche Bazaar, the social and commercial hub of Sherpasociety.Situated11,300feetabovesea level,Namcheoccupiesahuge,tiltingbowlproportionedlikeagiantsatellitetelevisiondish,midwayupa precipitous mountainside. More than a hundred buildings nestleddramaticallyontherockyslope, linkedbyamazeofnarrowpathsandcatwalks. Near the lower edge of town I located the Khumbu Lodge,pushedasidetheblanketthatfunctionedasafrontdoor,andfoundmyteammatesdrinkinglemonteaaroundatableinthecorner.When I approached, Rob Hall introduced me to Mike Groom, theexpedition’s third guide.A thirty-three-year-oldAustralianwith carrot-colored hair and the lean build of a marathon runner, Groom was aBrisbane plumber who worked as a guide only occasionally. In 1987,forcedtospendanightintheopenwhiledescendingfromthe28,169-footsummitofKanchenjunga,hefrozehis feetandhadtohaveallhistoes amputated. This setback had not put a damper on hisHimalayancareer, however: he’d gone on to climb K2, Lhotse, Cho Oyu, AmaDablam, and, in 1993, Everest without supplementary oxygen. Anexceedingly calm, circumspectman,Groomwas pleasant companybutseldom spoke unless spoken to and replied to questions tersely, in abarelyaudiblevoice.Dinner conversation was dominated by the three clients who weredoctors—Stuart, John, and especially Beck, a pattern that would be

repeated formuchof the expedition. Fortunately, both John andBeckwerewickedlyfunnyandhadthegroupinstitches.Beck,however,wasin the habit of turning his monologues into scathing, Limbaughesquerantsagainstbed-wettingliberals,andatonepointthateveningImadethemistakeofdisagreeingwithhim:inresponsetooneofhiscommentsI suggested that raising the minimum wage seemed like a wise andnecessarypolicy.Well informedandavery skilleddebater,Beckmadehashoutofmyfumblingavowal,andIlackedthewherewithaltorebuthim.AllIcoulddowastositonmyhands,tongue-tiedandsteaming.AshecontinuedtoholdforthinhisswampyEastTexasdrawlaboutthenumerous folliesof thewelfarestate, Igotupand left the table toavoidhumiliatingmyselffurther.WhenIreturnedtothediningroom,Iapproachedtheproprietress,NgawangDoka,toaskforabeer.Asmall,gracefulSherpani,shewasinthemidstoftakinganorderfromagroupofAmericantrekkers.“Wehungry,”aruddy-cheekedmanannouncedtoherinoverlyloudpidgin,mimingtheactofeating.“Wanteatpo-ta-toes.Yakburger.Co-caCo-la.Youhave?”“Would you like to see themenu?”NgawangDoka replied in clear,sparklingEnglishthatcarriedahintofaCanadianaccent.“Ourselectionis actually quite large. And I believe there is still some freshly bakedapplepieavailable,ifthatinterestsyou,fordessert.”TheAmericantrekker,unabletocomprehendthatthisbrown-skinnedwoman of the hills was addressing him in perfectly enunciated King’sEnglish, continued to employ his comical pidgin argot: “Men-u. Good,good.Yes,yes,welikeseemen-u.”Sherpas remain an enigma to most foreigners, who tend to regardthemthrougharomanticscrim.PeopleunfamiliarwiththedemographyoftheHimalayaoftenassumethatallNepaleseareSherpas,wheninfacttherearenomorethan20,000SherpasinallofNepal,anationthesizeofNorthCarolinathathassome20millionresidentsandmorethanfiftydistinct ethnic groups. Sherpas are a mountain people, devoutlyBuddhist, whose forebears migrated south from Tibet four or fivecenturies ago. There are Sherpa villages scattered throughout theHimalaya of eastern Nepal, and sizable Sherpa communities can befoundinSikkimandDarjeeling,India,buttheheartofSherpacountryistheKhumbu,ahandfulofvalleysdrainingthesouthernslopesofMount

Everest—a small, astonishingly rugged region completely devoid ofroads,cars,orwheeledvehiclesofanykind.Farming is difficult in the high, cold, steep-walled valleys, so the

traditionalSherpaeconomyrevolvedaroundtradingbetweenTibetandIndia, andherding yaks. Then, in 1921, theBritish embarked on theirfirst expedition to Everest, and their decision to engage Sherpas ashelperssparkedatransformationofSherpaculture.BecausetheKingdomofNepalkeptitsborderscloseduntil1949,the

initialEverestreconnaissance,andthenexteightexpeditionstofollow,were forced to approach themountain from the north, through Tibet,and never passed anywhere near the Khumbu. But those first nineexpeditions embarked for Tibet from Darjeeling, where many Sherpashademigrated,andwhere theyhaddevelopeda reputationamong theresident colonialists for being hardworking, affable, and intelligent.Additionally,becausemostSherpashadlivedforgenerationsinvillagessituated between 9,000 and 14,000 feet, they were physiologicallyadapted to therigorsofhighaltitude.UpontherecommendationofA.M.Kellas, aScottishphysicianwho’dclimbedand traveledextensivelywithSherpas,the1921Everestexpeditionhiredalargecorpsofthemasloadbearersandcamphelpers,apracticethat’sbeenfollowedbyallbutasmatteringofexpeditionsintheseventy-fiveyearssince.For better and worse, over the past two decades the economy and

cultureoftheKhumbuhasbecomeincreasinglyandirrevocablytiedtotheseasonalinfluxoftrekkersandclimbers,some15,000ofwhomvisitthe region annually. Sherpas who learn technical climbing skills andworkhighonthepeaks—especiallythosewhohavesummittedEverest—enjoy great esteem in their communities. Thosewho become climbingstars,alas,alsostandafairchanceoflosingtheirlives:eversince1922,when seven Sherpas were killed in an avalanche during the secondBritish expedition, a disproportionatenumberof SherpashavediedonEverest—fifty-threealltold.Indeed,theyaccountformorethanathirdofallEverestfatalities.Despite thehazards, there is stiffcompetitionamongSherpas for the

twelvetoeighteenstaffpositionsonthetypicalEverestexpedition.Themostsought-after jobsare thehalfdozenopenings for skilledclimbingSherpas,who can expect to earn $1,400 to $2,500 for twomonths of

hazardouswork—attractive pay in a nationmired in grinding povertyandwithanannualpercapitaincomeofaround$160.To handle the growing traffic from Western climbers and trekkers,new lodges and teahouses are springingupacross theKhumbu region,butthenewconstructionisespeciallyevidentinNamcheBazaar.Onthetrail toNamcheIpassedcountlessportersheadedupfromthelowlandforests,carrying freshlycutwoodbeamsthatweighed inexcessofonehundredpounds—crushingphysicaltoil,forwhichtheywerepaidaboutthreedollarsaday.LongtimevisitorstotheKhumbuaresaddenedbytheboomintourismandthechangeithaswroughtonwhatearlyWesternclimbersregardedas an earthly paradise, a real-life Shangri-La. Entire valleys have beendenuded of trees to meet the increased demand for firewood. Teenshanging out in Namche carrom parlors are more likely to be wearingjeansandChicagoBullsT-shirts thanquaint traditional robes.Familiesare apt to spend their evenings huddled around video players viewingthelatestSchwarzeneggeropus.ThetransformationoftheKhumbucultureiscertainlynotallforthebest, but I didn’t hear many Sherpas bemoaning the changes. Hardcurrencyfromtrekkersandclimbers,aswellasgrantsfrominternationalrelief organizations supported by trekkers and climbers, have fundedschoolsandmedicalclinics, reduced infantmortality,built footbridges,andbroughthydroelectricpowertoNamcheandothervillages.Itseemsmore thana little patronizing forWesterners to lament the loss of thegoodolddayswhenlifeintheKhumbuwassomuchsimplerandmorepicturesque.Mostofthepeoplewholiveinthisruggedcountryseemtohavenodesiretobeseveredfromthemodernworldortheuntidyflowof human progress. The last thing Sherpaswant is to be preserved asspecimensinananthropologicalmuseum.

A strong walker, pre-acclimatized to the altitude, could cover thedistance from the Lukla airstrip to Everest BaseCamp in two or threelongdays.Becausemostofushadjustarrivedfromsealevel,however,Hallwascarefultokeepustoamoreindolentpacethatgaveourbodiestimetoadapttotheincreasinglythinair.Seldomdidwewalkmorethan

three or four hours on any given day. On several days, when Hall’sitinerarycalledforadditionalacclimatization,wewalkednowhereatall.OnApril3,afteranacclimatizationday inNamche,weresumedthe

trektowardBaseCamp.TwentyminutesbeyondthevillageIroundedabendandarrivedatabreathtakingoverlook.Twothousandfeetbelow,slicing a deep crease through the surrounding bedrock, theDudhKosiappeared as a crooked strandof silver glinting from the shadows.Tenthousand feet above, the huge backlit spike of Ama Dablam hoveredovertheheadofthevalleylikeanapparition.Andseventhousandfeethigherstill,dwarfingAmaDablam,was the icy thrustofEverest itself,all but hidden behind Nuptse. As always seemed to be the case, ahorizontalplumeofcondensationstreamedfromthesummitlikefrozensmoke,betrayingtheviolenceofthejet-streamwinds.I stared at the peak for perhaps thirtyminutes, trying to apprehend

whatitwouldbeliketobestandingonthatgale-sweptvertex.AlthoughI’d ascended hundreds of mountains, Everest was so different fromanything I’d previously climbed that my powers of imagination wereinsufficient for the task. The summit looked so cold, so high, soimpossiblyfaraway.IfeltasthoughImightaswellbeonanexpeditionto the moon. As I turned away to continue walking up the trail, myemotions oscillated between nervous anticipation and a nearlyoverwhelmingsenseofdread.Late that afternoon I arrived at Tengboche,* the largest, most

importantBuddhistmonasteryintheKhumbu.ChhongbaSherpa,awry,thoughtful man who had joined our expedition as Base Camp cook,offered toarrangeameetingwith the rimpoche—“thehead lamaof allNepal,” Chhongba explained, “a very holyman. Just yesterday he hasfinishedalongperiodofsilentmeditation—forthepastthreemonthshehas not spoken.Wewill be his first visitors. This ismost auspicious.”Doug, Lou, and I each gave Chhongba one hundred rupees(approximatelytwodollars)tobuyceremonialkatas—whitesilkscarvestobepresented to the rimpoche—and thenweremovedour shoesandChhongbaledustoasmall,draftychamberbehindthemaintemple.Seatedcross-leggedonabrocadepillow,wrappedinburgundyrobes,

wasashort,rotundmanwithashinypate.Helookedveryoldandverytired. Chhongba bowed reverently, spoke briefly to him in the Sherpa

tongue, and indicated for us to come forward. The rimpoche thenblessedeachofus in turn,placing thekataswehadpurchasedaroundournecksashedidso.Afterwardhesmiledbeatificallyandofferedustea. “This kata you should wear to the top of Everest,”* Chhongbainstructedmeinasolemnvoice.“ItwillpleaseGodandkeepyoufromharm.”Unsure how to act in the company of a divine presence, this living

reincarnation of an ancient and illustrious lama, I was terrified ofunwittinglygivingoffenseorcommittingsomeirredeemablefauxpas.AsI sipped sweet tea and fidgeted, his Holiness rooted around in anadjacent cabinet, brought out a large, ornately decorated book, andhanded it tome. I wipedmy dirty hands onmy pants and opened itnervously. It was a photo album. The rimpoche, it turned out, hadrecently traveled to America for the first time, and the book heldsnapshotsfromthistrip:hisHolinessinWashingtonstandingbeforetheLincoln Memorial and the Air and Space Museum; his Holiness inCalifornia on the Santa Monica Pier. Grinning broadly, he excitedlypointed out his two favorite photos in the entire album: his HolinessposingbesideRichardGere,andanothershotofhimwithStevenSeagal.

The first sixdaysof the trekwentby inanambrosialblur.The trailtook us past glades of juniper and dwarf birch, blue pine andrhododendron, thundering waterfalls, enchanting boulder gardens,burblingstreams.TheValkyrianskylinebristledwithpeaksthatI’dbeenreadingaboutsinceIwasachild.Becausemostofourgearwascarriedbyyaks andhumanporters,myownbackpackheld littlemore thanajacket, a few candybars, andmy camera.Unburdened andunhurried,caught up in the simple joy ofwalking in exotic country, I fell into akindoftrance—buttheeuphoriaseldomlastedforlong.SoonerorlaterI’d rememberwhere Iwasheaded,and the shadowEverest castacrossmymindwouldsnapmebacktoattention.We all trekked at our own pace, pausing often for refreshment at

trailsideteahousesandtochatwithpassersby.IfrequentlyfoundmyselftravelinginthecompanyofDougHansen,thepostalworker,andAndyHarris,RobHall’slaid-backjuniorguide.Andy—called“Harold”byRob

and all his Kiwi friends—was a big, sturdy lad, built like an NFLquarterback,withruggedgoodlooksof thesort thatearnmenroles incigaretteadvertisements.Duringtheantipodalwinterhewasemployedas amuch-in-demand helicopter-skiing guide. Summers heworked forscientistsconductinggeologicresearchinAntarcticaorescortedclimbersintoNewZealand’sSouthernAlps.Aswewalkedup the trailAndy spoke longinglyof thewomanwithwhomhelived,aphysiciannamedFionaMcPherson.Aswerestedonarockhepulledapictureoutofhispacktoshowme.Shewastall,blond,athletic-looking.AndysaidheandFionawereinthemidstofbuildingahousetogetherinthehillsoutsideofQueenstown.Waxingardentabouttheuncomplicatedpleasuresofsawingraftersandpoundingnails,AndyadmittedthatwhenRobhadfirstofferedhimthisEverestjobhe’dbeenambivalent about accepting it: “It was quite hard to leave Fi and thehouse, actually.We’donly just gotten the roofon, yeah?ButhowcanyouturndownachancetoclimbEverest?EspeciallywhenyouhaveanopportunitytoworkalongsidesomebodylikeRobHall.”AlthoughAndyhadneverbeentoEverestbefore,hewasnostrangertotheHimalaya.In1985heclimbedadifficult21,927-footpeakcalledChobutse,aboutthirtymileswestofEverest.Andinthefallof1994hespent fourmonths helping Fiona run themedical clinic in Pheriche, agloomy, wind-battered hamlet 14,000 feet above sea level, where westayedthenightsofApril4and5.The clinicwas fundedby a foundation called theHimalayanRescueAssociationprimarily totreataltitude-related illnesses(althoughitalsooffered free treatment to the local Sherpas) and to educate trekkersabouttheinsidioushazardsofascendingtoohigh,toofast.Atthetimeof our visit, the staff at the four-room facility included a Frenchphysician, Cecile Bouvray, a pair of youngAmerican physicians, LarrySilver and Jim Litch, and an energetic environmental lawyer namedLaura Ziemer, also American, who was assisting Litch. It had beenestablished in 1973 after four members of a single Japanese trekkinggroup succumbed to the altitude and died in the vicinity. Prior to theclinic’sexistence,acutealtitudeillnesskilledapproximatelyoneortwoout of every 500 trekkers who passed through Pheriche. Ziemeremphasizedthatthisalarmingdeathratehadn’tbeenskewedupwardby

mountaineeringaccidents; thevictimshadbeen“justordinary trekkerswhoneverventuredbeyondtheestablishedtrails.”Now,thankstotheeducationalseminarsandemergencycareprovidedby the clinic’s volunteer staff, thatmortality rate has been cut to lessthanonedeathper30,000trekkers.AlthoughidealisticWesternerslikeZiemer who work at the Pheriche clinic receive no remuneration andmust even pay their own travel expenses to and from Nepal, it is aprestigiouspostingthatattractshighlyqualifiedapplicantsfromaroundtheworld.CarolineMackenzie,Hall’sexpeditiondoctor,hadworkedattheHRAClinicwithFionaMcPhersonandAndyintheautumnof1994.In1990, theyearHall first summittedEverest, theclinicwasrunbyanaccomplished,self-confidentphysicianfromNewZealandnamedJanArnold.Hallmetherashepassed throughPhericheonhisway to themountain,andhewasimmediatelysmitten.“IaskedJantogooutwithmeassoonasIgotdownfromEverest,”Hallreminiscedduringourfirstnight in thevillage.“Forour firstdate Iproposedgoing toAlaskaandclimbing Mount McKinley together. And she said yes.” They weremarried two years later. In 1993 Arnold climbed to the summit ofEverestwithHall;in1994and1995shetraveledtoBaseCamptoworkas theexpeditiondoctor.Arnoldwouldhave returned to themountainagain this year, except that shewas sevenmonthspregnantwith theirfirstchild.SothejobwenttoDr.Mackenzie.After dinner on Thursday, our first night in Pheriche, Laura Ziemerand Jim Litch invited Hall, Harris, and HelenWilton, our Base Campmanager,overtotheclinictoraiseaglassandcatchupongossip.Overthecourseoftheevening,theconversationdriftedtotheinherentrisksofclimbing—andguiding—Everest,andLitchremembersthediscussionwithchillingclarity:Hall,Harris,andLitchwereincompleteagreementthatsoonerorlateramajordisasterinvolvingalargenumberofclientswas“inevitable.”But, saidLitch—whohadclimbedEverest fromTibetthepreviousspring—“Rob’sfeelingwasthatitwouldn’tbehim;hewasjustworriedabout‘havingtosaveanotherteam’sass,’andthatwhentheunavoidable calamity struck, hewas ‘sure itwouldoccur on themoredangerousnorthside’”ofthepeak—theTibetanside.

OnSaturday,April6,a fewhoursabovePheriche,wearrivedat thelowerendoftheKhumbuGlacier,atwelve-miletongueoficethatflowsdownfromthesouthflankofEverestandwouldserveasourhighway—Ihopedmightily—tothesummit.At16,000feetnow,we’dleftbehindthelast trace of green. Twenty stone monuments stood in a somber rowalong thecrestof theglacier’s terminalmoraine,overlooking themist-filled valley:memorials to climberswho had died on Everest,most ofthem Sherpa. From this point forward our world would be a barren,monochromatic expanse of rock and windblown ice. And despite ourmeasuredpaceIhadbeguntofeeltheeffectsofthealtitude,whichleftmelight-headedandconstantlyfightingforbreath.Thetrailhereremainedburiedbeneathahead-highwintersnowpack

inmanyplaces.Asthesnowsoftenedintheafternoonsun,thehoofsofouryakspunchedthroughthefrozencrust,andthebeastswallowedtotheirbellies.Thegrumblingyakdriversthrashedtheiranimalstoforcethemonwardandthreatenedtoturnaround.Lateinthedaywereacheda village called Lobuje, and there sought refuge from the wind in acramped,spectacularlyfilthylodge.A collection of low tumbledown buildings huddled against the

elementsat theedgeof theKhumbuGlacier,Lobujewasagrimplace,crowdedwithSherpasandclimbersfromadozendifferentexpeditions,German trekkers, herds of emaciated yaks—all bound for Everest BaseCamp,stilladay’s travelupthevalley.Thebottleneck,Robexplained,was due to the unusually late and heavy snowpack, which until justyesterday had kept any yaks at all from reaching Base Camp. Thehamlet’shalfdozenlodgeswerecompletelyfull.Tentswerejammedsideby side on the few patches of muddy earth not covered with snow.ScoresofRaiandTamangportersfromthelowfoothills—dressedinthinrags and flip-flops, they were working as load bearers for variousexpeditions—were bivouacked in caves and under boulders on thesurroundingslopes.Thethreeorfourstonetoiletsinthevillagewereliterallyoverflowing

with excrement. The latrines were so abhorrent that most people,Nepalese andWesterners alike, evacuated their bowels outside on theopen ground,wherever the urge struck.Huge stinking piles of humanfeces lay everywhere; itwas impossiblenot towalk in it. The river of

snowmeltmeanderingthroughthecenterofthesettlementwasanopensewer.The main room of the lodge where we stayed was furnished with

woodenbunkplatforms for some thirtypeople. I foundanunoccupiedbunkontheupperlevel,shookasmanyfleasandliceaspossiblefromthe soiledmattress, and spread outmy sleeping bag. Against the nearwall was a small iron stove that supplied heat by burning dried yakdung. After sunset the temperature dropped well below freezing, andporters flocked in fromthecruelnight towarmthemselvesaroundthestove.Becausedungburnspoorlyunder thebestofcircumstances,andespeciallyso in theoxygen-depletedairof16,200 feet, the lodge filledwithdense,acridsmoke,asiftheexhaustfromadieselbuswerebeingpiped directly into the room. Twice during the night, coughinguncontrollably, Ihad to fleeoutside forair.Bymorningmyeyeswereburningandbloodshot,mynostrilswerecloggedwithblacksoot,andI’ddevelopedadry,persistenthackthatwouldstaywithmeuntiltheendoftheexpedition.RobhadintendedforustospendjustonedayacclimatizinginLobuje

before traveling the final six or sevenmiles to Base Camp,which ourSherpashadreachedsomedaysearlierinordertoreadythesiteforourarrival and begin establishing a route up the lower slopes of Everestitself.OntheeveningofApril7,however,abreathlessrunnerarrivedinLobuje with a disturbing message from Base Camp: Tenzing, a youngSherpaemployedbyRob,hadfallen150feetintoacrevasse—agapingcrackintheglacier.FourotherSherpashadhauledhimoutalive,buthewas seriously injured,possiblywithabroken femur.Rob, ashen-faced,announcedthatheandMikeGroomwouldhurrytoBaseCampatdawnto coordinate Tenzing’s rescue. “I regret to have to tell you this,” hecontinued, “but the rest of youwill need towait here in LobujewithHarolduntilwegetthesituationundercontrol.”Tenzing,we later learned, had been scouting the route aboveCamp

One, climbing a relatively gentle section of the Khumbu Glacier withfour other Sherpas. The fivemenwerewalking single file,whichwassmart, but they weren’t using a rope—a serious violation ofmountaineeringprotocol.Tenzingwasmovingcloselybehindtheotherfour,steppingexactlywheretheyhadstepped,whenhebrokethrougha

thinveneerofsnowspanningadeepcrevasse.Beforeheevenhadtimetoyell,hedroppedlikearockintotheCimmerianbowelsoftheglacier.At20,500feet,thealtitudewasdeemedtoohighforsafeevacuation

byhelicopter—the airwas too insubstantial to providemuch lift for ahelicopter’s rotors, making landing, taking off, or merely hoveringunreasonablyhazardous—sohewouldhavetobecarried3,000verticalfeettoBaseCampdowntheKhumbuIcefall,someofthesteepest,mosttreacherousgroundontheentiremountain.GettingTenzingdownalivewouldrequireamassiveeffort.RobwasalwaysespeciallyconcernedaboutthewelfareoftheSherpas

whoworkedforhim.BeforeourgroupdepartedKathmandu,hehadsatallofusdownandgivenusanuncommonlysternlectureabouttheneedto show our Sherpa staff gratitude and proper respect. “The Sherpaswe’ve hired are the best in the business,” he told us. “They workincrediblyhardfornotverymuchmoneybyWesternstandards.Iwantyouall torememberwewouldhaveabsolutelynochanceofgettingtothe summit of Everest without their help. I’m going to repeat that:Without the support of our Sherpas none of us has any chance ofclimbingthemountain.”In a subsequent conversation, Rob confessed that in past years he’d

been critical of some expedition leaders for being careless with theirSherpa staff. In 1995 a young Sherpa had died on Everest; HallspeculatedthattheaccidentmayhaveoccurredbecausetheSherpahadbeen“allowedtoclimbhighonthemountainwithoutpropertraining.Ibelieve that it’s theresponsibilityof thoseofuswhorunthese trips topreventthatsortofthingfromhappening.”ThepreviousyearaguidedAmericanexpeditionhadhiredaSherpa

namedKamiRita as a cook boy. Strong and ambitious, twenty-one ortwenty-two years old, he lobbied hard to be allowed to work on theupper mountain as a climbing Sherpa. In appreciation for Kami’senthusiasm and dedication, some weeks later his wish was granted—despitethefactthathehadnoclimbingexperienceandhadreceivednoformaltraininginpropertechniques.From22,000 feet to25,000 feet the standard routeascendsa sheer,

treacherous ice slope known as the Lhotse Face. As a safetymeasure,

expeditionsalwaysattachaseriesofropestothisslopefrombottomtotop,andclimbersaresupposedtoprotectthemselvesbyclippingashortsafety tether to the fixedropesas theyascend.Kami,beingyoungandcockyandinexperienced,didn’tthinkitwasreallynecessarytoclipintotherope.OneafternoonashewascarryingaloaduptheLhotseFacehelosthispurchaseon therock-hard iceand fellmore than2,000 feet tothebottomofthewall.My teammate Frank Fischbeck hadwitnessed the whole episode. In

1995 he was making his third attempt on Everest as a client of theAmericancompanythathadhiredKami.FrankwasascendingtheropesontheupperLhotseFace,hesaidinatroubledvoice,“whenIlookedupandsawapersontumblingdownfromabove,fallingheadoverheels.Hewasscreamingashewentpast,andleftatrailofblood.”SomeclimbersrushedtowhereKamicametorestatthebottomofthe

face, but he had died from the extensive injuries he’d suffered on theway down. His body was brought down to Base Camp, where, in theBuddhisttradition,hisfriendsbroughtmealstofeedthecorpseforthreedays.ThenhewascarriedtoavillagenearTengbocheandcremated.Asthebodywas consumedby flames,Kami’smotherwailed inconsolablyandstruckherheadwithasharprock.KamiwasverymuchinRob’smindatfirstlightonApril8,whenhe

andMikehurriedtowardBaseCamptotryandgetTenzingoffEverestalive.

*Achortenisareligiousmonument,usuallymadeofrockandoftencontainingsacredrelics;itisalsocalledastupa.

†Manistonesaresmall,flatrocksthathavebeenmeticulouslycarvedwithSanskritsymbolsdenotingtheTibetanBuddhistinvocationOmmanipadmehumandarepiledalongthemiddleoftrailstoformlong,lowmaniwalls.Buddhistprotocoldictatesthattravelersalwayspassmaniwallsontheleft.

‡Technicallyspeaking,thegreatmajorityofthe“yaks”oneseesintheHimalayaareactuallydzopkyo—malecrossbreedsofyaksandcattle—ordzom,femalecrossbreeds.Additionally,femaleyaks,whenpurebred,arecorrectlytermednaks.MostWesterners,however,haveahardtimetellinganyoftheseshaggybeastsapartandrefertoallofthemasyaks.

*UnlikeTibetan,towhichitiscloselyrelated,Sherpaisnotawrittenlanguage,soWesterners

areforcedtoresorttophoneticrenderings.AsaconsequencethereislittleuniformityinthespellingofSherpawordsornames;Tengboche,forinstance,iswrittenvariouslyasTengpocheorThyangboche,andsimilarincongruitiescropupinspellingmostotherSherpawords.

*AlthoughtheTibetannameforthepeakisJomolungmaandtheNepalinameisSagarmatha,mostSherpasseemtorefertothemountainas“Everest”indailyconversation—evenwhenspeakingwithotherSherpas.

O

FIVE

LOBUJE

APRIL8,1996•16,200FEET

Passing through the towering ice pinnacles of PhantomAlleywe entered the rock-strewn valleyflooratthebottomofahugeamphitheater.…Here[theIcefall]turnedsharplytoflowsouthwardas the KhumbuGlacier.We set up our Base Camp at 17,800 feet on the lateralmoraine thatformedtheouteredgeoftheturn.Hugeboulderslentanairofsoliditytotheplace,buttherollingrubbleunderfootcorrectedthemisimpression.Allthatonecouldseeandfeelandhear—ofIcefall,moraine,avalanche,cold—wasofaworldnot intendedforhumanhabitation.Nowaterflowed,nothing grew—only destruction and decay.…Thiswould be home for the next severalmonths,untilthemountainwasclimbed.

ThomasF.HornbeinEverest:TheWestRidge

nApril8,justafterdark,Andy’shand-heldradiocrackledtolifeoutsidethelodgeinLobuje.ItwasRob,callingfrom

Base Camp, and he had good news. It had taken a team of thirty-fiveSherpas from several different expeditions the entire day, but they’dgotten Tenzing down. Strapping him to an aluminum ladder, theymanagedtolower,drag,andcarryhimthroughtheIcefall,andhewasnow resting from the ordeal at Base Camp. If the weather held, ahelicopterwouldarriveatsunrisetoflyhimtoahospitalinKathmandu.With audible relief, Rob gave us the go-ahead to leave Lobuje in themorningandproceedtoBaseCampourselves.Weclientswerealso immensely relieved thatTenzingwas safe.And

wewerenolessrelievedtobegettingoutofLobuje.JohnandLouhadpicked up some kind of virulent intestinal ailment from the uncleansurroundings.Helen,ourBaseCampmanager,hadagrindingaltitude-inducedheadachethatwouldn’tgoaway.Andmycoughhadworsenedconsiderablyafterasecondnightinthesmoke-filledlodge.Forthis,ourthirdnightinthevillage,Idecidedtoescapethenoxious

smudgebymovingintoatent,pitchedjustoutside,thatRobandMikehad vacatedwhen theywent to Base Camp. Andy elected tomove inwithme. At 2:00 A.M. I was awakenedwhen he bolted into a sittingpositionbesidemeandbegantomoan.“Yo,Harold,”Iinquiredfrommysleepingbag,“areyouO.K.?”“I’mnotsure,actually.SomethingIatefordinnerdoesn’tseemtobesittingtoowelljustnow.”AmomentlaterAndydesperatelypawedthezippered door open and barely managed to thrust his head and torsooutside before vomiting. After the retching subsided, he hunkeredmotionlessonhishandsandknees for severalminutes,halfoutof thetent.Thenhesprangtohisfeet,sprintedafewmetersaway,yankedhistrousersdown,andsuccumbedtoaloudattackofdiarrhea.Hespenttherestofthenightoutinthecold,violentlydischargingthecontentsofhisgastrointestinaltract.In themorningAndywasweak,dehydrated,andshiveringviolently.Helen suggested he remain in Lobuje until he regained some strength,but Andy refused to consider it. “There’s no way in bloody hell I’mspendinganothernightinthisshithole,”heannounced,grimacing,withhisheadbetweenhisknees.“I’mgoingontoBaseCamptodaywiththerestofyou.EvenifIhavetobloodycrawl.”By9:00A.M.we’dpackedupandgottenunderway.Whiletherestofthegroupmovedbrisklyupthetrail,HelenandIstayedbehindtowalkwithAndy,whohadtoexertamonumentaleffortjusttoputonefootinfront of the other.Again and againhewould stop, hunchover his skipolestocollecthimselfforseveralminutes,thensummontheenergytostruggleonward.The route climbed up and down the unsettled rocks of the KhumbuGlacier’slateralmoraineforseveralmiles,thendroppeddownontotheglacieritself.Cinders,coarsegravel,andgraniteboulderscoveredmuchoftheice,buteverynowandthenthetrailwouldcrossapatchofbareglacier—atranslucent,frozenmediumthatglistenedlikepolishedonyx.Meltwatersluicedfuriouslydowninnumerablesurfaceandsubterraneanchannels,creatingaghostlyharmonicrumblethatresonatedthroughthebodyoftheglacier.Inmidafternoonwe reached a bizarre procession of freestanding ice

pinnacles, the largest nearly 100 feet high, known as Phantom Alley.Sculpted by the intense solar rays, glowing a radioactive shade ofturquoise, the towers reared like giant shark’s teeth out of thesurroundingrubbleasfarastheeyecouldsee.Helen—who’dbeenoverthisgroundnumerous times—announced thatweweregettingclose toourdestination.Acoupleofmilesfarther,theglaciermadeasharpturntotheeast,weploddedtothecrestofalongslope,andspreadbeforeuswasamotleycity of nylondomes.More than three hundred tents, housing asmanyclimbers and Sherpas from fourteen expeditions, speckled the boulder-strewnice.Ittookustwentyminutestolocateourcompoundamongthesprawlingsettlement.Asweclimbedthefinalrise,Robstrodedowntogreetus.“WelcometoEverestBaseCamp,”hegrinned.Thealtimeteronmywristwatchread17,600feet.

The ad hoc village that would serve as our home for the next sixweekssatattheheadofanaturalamphitheaterdelineatedbyforbiddingmountainwalls.Theescarpmentsabovecampweredrapedwithhangingglaciers, from which calved immense ice avalanches that thundereddown at all hours of the day and night. A quarter mile to the east,pinchedbetweentheNuptseWallandtheWestShoulderofEverest,theKhumbuIcefallspilledthroughanarrowgapinachaosoffrozenshards.The amphitheater opened to the southwest, so it was flooded withsunlight; on clear afternoons when there was no wind it was warmenoughtositcomfortablyoutsideinaT-shirt.Butthemomentthesundipped behind the conical summit of Pumori—a 23,507-foot peakimmediatelywest of BaseCamp—the temperature plummeted into theteens. Retiring tomy tent at night, I was serenaded by amadrigal ofcreaksandpercussivecracks,a reminder that Iwas lyingonamovingriverofice.In striking contrast to the harshness of our surroundings stood themyriadcreature comfortsof theAdventureConsultants camp,home tofourteen Westerners—the Sherpas referred to us collectively as“members” or “sahibs”—and fourteen Sherpas. Our mess tent, acavernouscanvasstructure,wasfurnishedwithanenormousstonetable,

astereosystem,alibrary,andsolar-poweredelectriclights;anadjacentcommunications tent housed a satellite phone and fax. A shower hadbeen improvised from a rubber hose and a bucket filled with waterheatedbythekitchenstaff.Freshbreadandvegetablesarrivedeveryfewdaysonthebacksofyaks.ContinuingaRaj-eratraditionestablishedbyexpeditionsofyore,everymorningChhongbaandhiscookboy,Tendi,cametoeachclient’stenttoserveussteamingmugsofSherpateainoursleepingbags.Ihadheardmany stories abouthowEveresthadbeen turned intoa

garbage dump by the ever-increasing hordes, and commercialexpeditions were reputed to be the primary culprits. Although in the1970s and ’80s Base Camp was indeed a big rubbish heap, in recentyears ithadbeenturnedintoafairlytidyplace—certainlythecleanesthuman settlement I’d seen since leaving Namche Bazaar. And thecommercial expeditions actually deserved much of the credit for thecleanup.BringingclientsbacktoEverestyearafteryear,theguideshadastake

inthisthatone-timevisitorsdidnot.Aspartoftheirexpeditionin1990,RobHallandGaryBallspearheadedaneffortthatremovedfivetonsofgarbagefromBaseCamp.HallandsomeofhisfellowguidesalsobeganworkingwithgovernmentministriesinKathmandutoformulatepoliciesthat encouraged climbers to keep the mountain clean. By 1996, inadditiontotheirpermitfee,expeditionswererequiredtoposta$4,000bond thatwouldbe refundedonly if a predeterminedamountof trashwere carried back to Namche and Kathmandu. Even the barrelscollectingtheexcrementfromourtoiletshadtoberemovedandhauledaway.BaseCampbustledlikeananthill.Inacertainsense,Hall’sAdventure

Consultants compound served as the seat of government for the entireBaseCamp,becausenobodyonthemountaincommandedmorerespectthan Hall. Whenever there was a problem—a labor dispute with theSherpas, a medical emergency, a critical decision about climbingstrategy—people trudged over to our mess tent to seek Hall’s advice.Andhegenerouslydispensedhisaccumulatedwisdomtotheveryrivalswhowerecompetingwithhimforclients,mostnotablyScottFischer.Previously, Fischer had successfully guided one 8,000-meter

mountain:*26,400-footBroadPeakintheKarakoramRangeofPakistan,in 1995. He’d also attempted Everest four times and reached the toponce,in1994,butnotintheroleofaguide.Thespringof1996markedhisfirstvisittothemountainastheleaderofacommercialexpedition;likeHall,Fischerhadeightclientsinhisgroup.Hiscamp,distinguishedbyahugeStarbucksCoffeepromotionalbannersuspendedfromahouse-size block of granite, was situated just five minutes’ walk down theglacierfromours.The sundry men and women who make careers out of scaling theworld’shighestpeaksconstituteasmall,ingrownclub.FischerandHallwere business rivals, but as prominent members of the high-altitudefraternity their paths frequently crossed, and on a certain level theyconsideredthemselvesfriends.FischerandHallmetinthe1980sintheRussian Pamir, and they subsequently spent considerable time in eachother’scompany in1989and1994onEverest.Theyhad firmplans tojoinforcesandattemptManaslu—adifficult26,781-footpeakincentralNepal—immediatelyafterguiding their respectiveclientsupEverest in1996.ThebondbetweenFischerandHallhadbeencementedbackin1992,when they had bumped into each other on K2, the world’s second-highestmountain.Hallwasattemptingthepeakwithhiscompañeroandbusinesspartner,GaryBall;FischerwasclimbingwithaneliteAmericanclimber namedEdViesturs.On theirway down from the summit in ahowling storm, Fischer, Viesturs, and a third American, CharlieMace,encounteredHall struggling to copewith a barely consciousBall,whohad been strickenwith a life-threatening case of altitude sickness andwasunable tomoveunderhisownpower.Fischer,Viesturs,andMacehelpeddragBalldowntheavalanche-sweptlowerslopesofthemountainthrough the blizzard, saving his life. (A year later Ballwould die of asimilarailmentontheslopesofDhaulagiri.)Fischer,forty,wasastrapping,gregariousmanwithablondponytailand a surfeit of manic energy. As a fourteen-year-old schoolboy inBaskingRidge,NewJersey,hehadchancedupona televisionprogramaboutmountaineeringandwasenthralled.ThenextsummerhetraveledtoWyomingandenrolledinanOutwardBound–stylewildernesscourserunby theNationalOutdoorLeadershipSchool (NOLS).As soonashe

graduatedfromhighschoolhemovedwestpermanently,foundseasonalemploymentasaNOLS instructor,placedclimbingat thecenterofhiscosmos,andneverlookedback.WhenFischerwaseighteenandworkingatNOLS,hefellinlovewith

astudentinhiscoursenamedJeanPrice.Theyweremarriedsevenyearslater,settledinSeattle,andhadtwochildren,AndyandKatieRose(whowerenineand five, respectively,whenScottwent toEverest in1996).Price earned her commercial pilot’s license and became a captain forAlaskaAirlines—aprestigious,well-payingcareerthatallowedFischertoclimb full-time.Her incomealsopermittedFischer to launchMountainMadnessin1984.If the name of Hall’s business, Adventure Consultants, mirrored his

methodical,fastidiousapproachtoclimbing,MountainMadnesswasaneven more accurate reflection of Scott’s personal style. By his earlytwenties, he had developed a reputation for a harrowing, damn-the-torpedoes approach to ascent. Throughout his climbing career, butespeciallyduringthoseearlyyears,hesurvivedanumberoffrighteningmishapsthatbyallrightsshouldhavekilledhim.On at least two occasions while rock climbing—once in Wyoming,

another time inYosemite—hecrashed into thegroundfrommore than80feetup.WhileworkingasajuniorinstructoronaNOLScourseintheWind River Range he plunged 70 feet, unroped, to the bottom of acrevasseon theDin-woodyGlacier.Perhapshismost infamous tumble,though, occurred when he was a novice ice climber: despite hisinexperience,FischerhaddecidedtoattemptthecovetedfirstascentofadifficultfrozencascadecalledBridalVeilFalls,inUtah’sProvoCanyon.Racingtwoexpertclimbersuptheice,Fischerlosthispurchase100feetoffthedeckandplummetedtotheground.To the amazement of those who witnessed the incident, he picked

himselfupandwalkedawaywith relativelyminor injuries.Duringhislongplunge toearth,however, the tubularpickofan ice tool impaledhis calf and came out the other side. When the hollow pick wasextracted, it removedacore sampleof tissue, leavingahole inhis legbig enough to stick a pencil through. After being discharged from theemergencyroomatalocalhospital,Fischersawnoreasontowastehislimited supply of cash on additionalmedical treatment, so he climbed

forthenextsixmonthswithanopen,suppuratingwound.Fifteenyearslaterheproudlyshowedmethepermanentscarinflictedbythatfall:apairofshiny,dime-sizemarksbracketinghisAchillestendon.“Scott would push himself beyond any physical limitation,” recalls

DonPeterson,arenownedAmericanclimberwhometFischersoonafterhisslipfromBridalVeilFalls.PetersonbecamesomethingofamentortoFischerandclimbedwithhimintermittentlyoverthenexttwodecades.“Hiswillwasastonishing.Itdidn’tmatterhowmuchpainhewasin—hewould ignore itandkeepgoing.Hewasn’t thekindofguywhowouldturnaroundbecausehehadasorefoot.“Scotthad thisburningambition tobeagreatclimber, tobeoneof

thebestintheworld.IrememberattheNOLSheadquarterstherewasacrudesortofgym.Scottwouldgointothatroomandregularlyworkoutsohardthathethrewup.Regularly.Onedoesn’tmeetmanypeoplewiththatkindofdrive.”PeopleweredrawntoFischer’senergyandgenerosity,hisabsenceof

guile, his almost childlike enthusiasm. Raw and emotional, disinclinedtoward introspection, he had the kind of gregarious, magneticpersonality that instantly won him friends for life; hundreds ofindividuals—including some he’d met just once or twice—consideredhim a bosom buddy. He was also strikingly handsome with abodybuilder’sphysiqueandthechiseledfeaturesofamoviestar.Amongthoseattractedtohimwerenotafewmembersoftheoppositesex,andhewasn’timmunetotheattention.A man of rampant appetites, Fischer smoked a lot of cannabis

(althoughnotwhileworking)anddrankmorethanwashealthy.Abackroom at the Mountain Madness office functioned as a sort of secretclubhouseforScott:afterputtinghiskidstobedhelikedtoretiretherewith his pals to pass around a pipe and look at slides of their bravedeedsontheheights.During the 1980s Fischermade a number of impressive ascents that

earned him a modicum of local renown, but celebrity in the worldclimbing community eludedhim.Despitehis concerted efforts, hewasunabletolandalucrativecommercialsponsorshipofthesortenjoyedbysome of his more famous peers. He worried that some of these top

climbersdidn’trespecthim.“RecognitionwasimportanttoScott,”saysJaneBromet,hispublicist,confidant, and occasional training partner, who accompanied theMountainMadnessexpedition toBaseCamp to file Internet reports forOutside Online. “He ached for it. He had a vulnerable side thatmostpeople didn’t see; it really bothered him that he wasn’t more widelyrespectedasabutt-kickingclimber.Hefeltslighted,andithurt.”BythetimeFischerleftforNepalinthespringof1996,he’dbeguntogarnermoreoftherecognitionthathethoughtwashisdue.Muchofitcame in thewakeofhis1994ascentofEverest,accomplishedwithoutsupplemental oxygen. Christened the Sagarmatha EnvironmentalExpedition, Fischer’s team removed 5,000 pounds of trash from themountain—whichwasverygoodforthelandscapeandturnedouttobeevenbetterpublicrelations.InJanuary1996,Fischerledahigh-profilefund-raisingascentofKilimanjaro, thehighestmountain inAfrica, thatnettedhalfamilliondollarsforthecharityCARE.Thankslargelytothe1994 Everest cleanup expedition and this latter charity climb, by thetimeFischer left forEverest in1996hehadbeenfeaturedprominentlyand often in the Seattle news media, and his climbing career wassoaring.JournalistsinevitablyaskedFischerabouttherisksassociatedwiththekindofclimbinghedidandwonderedhowhereconcileditwithbeingahusband and father. Fischer answered that he now took far fewerchances thanhehadduringhis reckless youth—thathehadbecomeamuchmore careful, more conservative climber. Shortly before leavingforEverestin1996,hetoldSeattlewriterBruceBarcott,“Ibelieve100percent I’m coming back.…Mywife believes 100 percent I’m comingback.Sheisn’tconcernedaboutmeatallwhenI’mguidingbecauseI’mgonnamake all the right choices.When accidents happen, I think it’salwayshumanerror.Sothat’swhatIwanttoeliminate.I’vehadlotsofclimbingaccidents inmyyouth.Youcomeupwithlotsofreasons,butultimatelyit’shumanerror.”Fischer’sassurancesnotwithstanding,hisperipateticalpinecareerwasroughonhis family.Hewascrazyabouthiskids,andwhenhewas inSeattlehewasanunusuallyattentivefather,butclimbingregularlytookhimawayfromhomeformonthsatatime.He’dbeenabsentforsevenof

hisson’sninebirthdays.Infact,saysomeofhisfriends,bythetimehedeparted for Everest in 1996, Fischer’s marriage had been badlystrained.ButJeanPricedoesn’tattribute theroughpatch in their relationshiptoScott’sclimbing.Shesays,rather,thatanystressintheFischer–Pricehouseholdowedmore toproblems shewashavingwithher employer:the victim of alleged sexual harassment, throughout 1995 Price wasembroiled in a disheartening legal claim against Alaska Airlines.Althoughthesuitwaseventuallyresolved,thelegalwranglinghadbeennasty,andhaddeprivedherofapaycheckforthebetterpartofayear.RevenuesfromFischer’sguidingbusinessweren’tnearlyenoughtomakeup for the loss of Price’s substantial flying income. “For the first timesincemovingtoSeattle,wehadmoneyproblems,”shelaments.Like most of its rivals, Mountain Madness was a fiscally marginalenterpriseandhadbeensinceits inception:in1995Fischertookhomeonly about $12,000. But things were finally starting to look morepromising,thankstoFischer’sgrowingcelebrityandtotheeffortsofhisbusiness partner–cum–office manager, Karen Dickinson, whoseorganizationalskillsandlevelheadednesscompensatedforFischer’sseat-of-the-pants,what-me-worrymodusoperandi.TakingnoteofRobHall’ssuccessinguidingEverest—andthelargefeeshewasabletocommandas a consequence—Fischer decided it was time for him to enter theEverest market. If he could emulate Hall, it would quickly catapultMountainMadnesstoprofitability.Themoney itselfdidn’t seem terribly important toFischer.Hecaredlittleformaterialthingsbuthehungeredforrespectandhewasacutelyaware that in theculture inwhichhe lived,moneywas theprevailinggaugeofsuccess.AfewweeksafterFischerreturnedvictoriousfromEverestin1994,Iencounteredhim in Seattle. I didn’t knowhimwell, butwehad somefriends in common and often ran into each other at the crags or atclimbers’parties.Onthisoccasionhebuttonholedmetotalkabouttheguided Everest expedition he was planning: I should come along, hecajoled,andwriteanarticleabouttheclimbforOutside.WhenIrepliedthat it would be crazy for someone with my limited high-altitudeexperiencetoattemptEverest,hesaid,“Hey,experienceisoverrated.It’s

not thealtitude that’s important, it’s yourattitude,bro.You’ll do fine.You’ve done some pretty sick climbs—stuff that’s way harder thanEverest.We’vegotthebigEfiguredout,we’vegotittotallywired.Thesedays,I’mtellingyou,we’vebuiltayellowbrickroadtothesummit.”Scotthadpiquedmyinterest—more,even,thanheprobablyrealized

—andhewasrelentless.HetalkedupEveresteverytimehesawmeandrepeatedlyharanguedBradWetzler,aneditoratOutside,abouttheidea.By January 1996, thanks in no small part to Fischer’s concertedlobbying,themagazinemadeafirmcommitmenttosendmetoEverest—probably,Wetzler indicated, as amember of Fischer’s expedition. InScott’sminditwasadonedeal.Amonthbeforemy scheduleddeparture, however, I got a call from

Wetzlersayingthere’dbeenachangeinplans:RobHallhadofferedthemagazineasignificantlybetterdeal,soWetzlerproposedthatIjointheAdventureConsultantsexpeditioninsteadofFischer’s.IknewandlikedFischer, and I didn’t know much about Hall at that point, so I wasinitially reluctant. But after a trusted climbing buddy confirmedHall’ssterling reputation, I enthusiastically agreed to go to Everest withAdventureConsultants.Oneafternoon inBaseCampIaskedHallwhyhe’dbeensoeager to

havemealong.Hecandidlyexplainedthatitwasn’tmehewasactuallyinterestedin,oreventhepublicityhehopedmyarticlewouldgenerate,particularly. What was so enticing was the bounty of valuableadvertisinghewouldreapfromthedealhestruckwithOutside.Hall told me that according to the terms of this arrangement, he’d

agreed to accept only $10,000 of his usual fee in cash; the balancewould be bartered for expensive ad space in the magazine, whichtargeted an upscale, adventurous, physically active audience—the coreof his client base. And most important, Hall said, “It’s an Americanaudience.Probablyeightyorninetypercentofthepotentialmarketforguided expeditions to Everest and the other Seven Summits is in theUnited States. After this season, when my mate Scott has establishedhimselfasanEverestguide,he’llhaveagreatadvantageoverAdventureConsultantssimplybecausehe’sbasedinAmerica.Tocompetewithhimwe’llhavetostepupouradvertisingtheresignificantly.”

InJanuary,whenFischerfoundoutthatHallhadwonmeawayfromhisteam,hewasapoplectic.HecalledmefromColorado,asupsetasI’deverheardhim,toinsistthathewasn’tabouttoconcedevictorytoHall.(LikeHall,Fischerdidn’tbothertryingtohidethefactthatitwasn’tmehewasinterestedin,butratherthecollateralpublicityandadvertising.)In the end, however, he was unwilling to match Hall’s offer to themagazine.When I arrived in Base Camp as a member of the Adventure

Consultants group, not Fischer’s Mountain Madness expedition, Scottdidn’tappeartoholdagrudge.WhenIwentdowntohiscamptovisithe pouredme amug of coffee, put an arm aroundmy shoulder, andseemedgenuinelyhappytoseeme.

DespitethemanytrappingsofcivilizationatBaseCamp,therewasnoforgettingthatweweremorethanthreemilesabovesealevel.Walkingtothemess tentatmealtime leftmewheezingforseveralminutes. If Isatuptooquickly,myheadreeledandvertigosetin.Thedeep,raspingcough I’d developed in Lobuje worsened day by day. Sleep becameelusive, a common symptom of minor altitude illness. Most nights I’dwake up three or four times gasping for breath, feeling like I wassuffocating.Cutsandscrapesrefusedtoheal.Myappetitevanishedandmy digestive system, which required abundant oxygen to metabolizefood,failedtomakeuseofmuchofwhatIforcedmyselftoeat;insteadmy body began consuming itself for sustenance. My arms and legsgraduallybegantowithertosticklikeproportions.SomeofmyteammatesfaredevenworsethanIinthemeagerairand

unhygenic environment. Andy, Mike, Caroline, Lou, Stuart, and Johnsufferedattacksofgastrointestinaldistressthatkeptthemracingtothelatrine. Helen and Doug were plagued by severe headaches. As Dougdescribed it tome, “It feels like somebody’sdrivenanail betweenmyeyes.”This was Doug’s second shot at Everest with Hall. The year before,

Robhad forcedhim and three other clients to turn back just 330 feetbelow the top because the hour was late and the summit ridge wasburied beneath amantle of deep, unstable snow. “The summit looked

sooooo close,” Doug recalled with a painful laugh. “Believe me, therehasn’tbeenadaysincethatIhaven’tthoughtaboutit.”He’dbeentalkedinto returning this year byHall,who felt sorry thatHansen had beendenied the summit and had significantly discounted Hansen’s fee toenticehimtogiveitanothertry.Among my fellow clients, Doug was the only one who’d climbed

extensivelywithoutrelyingonaprofessionalguide;althoughhewasn’tan elite mountaineer, his fifteen years of experience made him fullycapableof lookingafterhimselfontheheights. Ifanyonewasgoingtoreachthesummitfromourexpedition,IassumeditwouldbeDoug:hewas strong, he was driven, and he had already been very high onEverest.Less than twomonthsshyofhis forty-seventhbirthday,divorced for

seventeen years, Doug confided tome that he’d been involvedwith asuccessionofwomen, eachofwhomeventually left himafter growingtired of competingwith themountains for his attention. A fewweeksbeforeleavingforEverestin1996,DoughadmetanotherwomanwhilevisitingafriendinTucson,andthey’dfalleninlove.Forawhilethey’dsent a flurry of faxes to each other, then several days passedwithoutDoug hearing from her. “Guess she got smart and blew me off,” hesighed, looking despondent. “And she was really nice, too. I reallythoughtthisonemightbeakeeper.”Laterthatafternoonheapproachedmytentwavingafreshfaxinhis

hand. “KarenMarie says she’smoving to the Seattle area!” he blurtedecstatically.“Whoa!Thiscouldbeserious.IbettermakethesummitandgetEverestoutofmysystembeforeshechangeshermind.”In addition to correspondingwith the newwoman in his life, Doug

filled his hours at Base Camp by writing countless postcards to thestudents of Sunrise Elementary School, a public institution in Kent,Washington,thathadsoldT-shirtstohelpfundhisclimb.Heshowedmemany of the cards: “Some people have big dreams, some people havesmalldreams,”hepennedtoagirlnamedVanessa.“Whateveryouhave,theimportantthingisthatyouneverstopdreaming.”Doug spent even more time writing faxes to his two grown kids—

Angie,nineteen,andJaime,twenty-seven—whomhe’draisedasasingle

father.Hebunkedinthetentnexttomine,andeverytimeafaxwouldarrive from Angie he’d read it to me, beaming. “Jeez,” he wouldannounce, “how do you suppose a screwup likeme could have raisedsuchagreatkid?”For my part, I wrote few postcards or faxes to anybody. Instead, I

spentmost ofmy time inBaseCampbrooding about how I’d performhigher on themountain, especially in the so-called Death Zone above25,000feet.I’dloggedconsiderablymoretimeontechnicalrockandicethan most of the other clients and many of the guides. But technicalexpertisecountedfornexttonothingonEverest,andI’dspentlesstimeathighaltitudethanvirtuallyeveryotherclimberpresent.Indeed,hereatBaseCamp—themere toeofEverest—Iwas alreadyhigher than I’deverbeeninmylife.This didn’t seem to worry Hall. After seven Everest expeditions, he

explained, he’d fine-tuned a remarkably effective acclimatization planthat would enable us to adapt to the paucity of oxygen in theatmosphere. (At Base Camp there was approximately half as muchoxygen as at sea level; at the summit only a third as much.) Whenconfronted with an increase in altitude, the human body adjusts inmanifoldways, from increasing respiration, to changing the pH of theblood, to radically boosting the number of oxygen-carrying red bloodcells—aconversionthattakesweekstocomplete.Hall insisted, however, that after just three trips above Base Camp,

climbing2,000feethigheronthemountaineachtime,ourbodieswouldadaptsufficientlytopermitsafepassagetothe29,028-footsummit.“It’sworked thirty-nine times so far, pal,”Hall assuredmewith a crookedgrin when I confessed my doubts. “And a few of the blokes who’vesummittedwithmewerenearlyaspatheticasyou.”

*Therearefourteenso-called8,000-meterpeaks:mountainsthatstandmorethan8,000meters(26,246feet)abovesealevel.Althoughitisasomewhatarbitrarydesignation,mountaineershavealwaysattachedspecialprestigetoascentsof8,000-meterpeaks.ThefirstpersontoclimballfourteenofthemwasReinholdMessner,in1986.Todate,onlyfourotherclimbershaverepeatedthefeat.

A

SIX

EVERESTBASECAMP

APRIL12,1996•17,600FEET

Themoreimprobablethesituationandthegreaterthedemandsmadeon[theclimber],themoresweetlythebloodflowslaterinreleasefromallthattension.Thepossibilityofdangerservesmerelyto sharpenhis awareness and control.Andperhaps this is the rationale of all risky sports:Youdeliberatelyraisetheanteofeffortandconcentrationinorder,as itwere,toclearyourmindoftrivialities.It’sasmallscalemodelforliving,butwithadifference:Unlikeyourroutinelife,wheremistakes can usually be recouped and some kind of compromise patched up, your actions, forhoweverbriefaperiod,aredeadlyserious.

A.AlvarezTheSavageGod:AStudyofSuicide

scending Everest is a long, tedious process, more like amammoth construction project than climbing as I’d

previously known it. Counting our Sherpa staff, therewere twenty-sixpeopleonHall’steam,andkeepingeveryonefed,sheltered,andingoodhealth at 17,600 feet, a hundredmiles by foot from the nearest roadhead,wasnomeanfeat.Hall,however,wasaquartermasternonpareil,and he relished the challenge. At Base Camp he pored over reams ofcomputer printouts detailing logistical minutiae: menus, spare parts,tools,medicines,communicationshardware,load-haulingschedules,yakavailability. A natural-born engineer, Rob loved infrastructure,electronics, and gadgets of all kinds; he spent his spare time endlesslytinkering with the solar electrical system or reading back issues ofPopularScience.In the tradition of George LeighMallory andmost other Everesters,

Hall’s strategy was to lay siege to the mountain. Sherpas wouldprogressively establish a series of four camps above Base Camp—eachapproximately2,000feethigherthanthelast—byshuttlingcumbersome

loads of food, cooking fuel, and oxygen from encampment toencampment until the requisite material had been fully stocked at26,000feetontheSouthCol.IfallwentaccordingtoHall’sgrandplan,our summit assaultwould be launched from this highest camp—CampFour—amonthhence.Even though we clients wouldn’t be asked to share in the loadhauling,* we would need to make repeated forays above Base Campbeforethesummitpushinordertoacclimatize.RobannouncedthatthefirstoftheseacclimatizationsortieswouldoccuronApril13—aone-dayround-triptoCampOne,perchedontheuppermostbrowoftheKhumbuIcefall,averticalhalfmileabove.We spent the afternoon of April 12, my forty-second birthday,preparing our climbing equipment. The camp resembled an expensiveyard sale as we spread our gear among the boulders to sort clothing,adjust harnesses, rig safety tethers, and fit crampons to our boots (acramponisagridoftwo-inchsteelspikesthatisclampedtothesoleofeach boot for purchase on ice). I was surprised and concerned to seeBeck,Stuart,andLouunpackingbrand-newmountaineeringbootsthat,by their own admission, had scarcely been worn. I wondered if theyknew the chance theywere taking by coming to Everest with untriedfootwear:twodecadesearlierI’dgoneonanexpeditionwithnewbootsand had learned the hardway that heavy, rigidmountaineering bootscancausedebilitatingfootinjuriesbeforethey’vebeenbrokenin.Stuart,theyoungCanadiancardiologist,discoveredthathiscramponsdidn’t even fit his newboots. Fortunately, after applyinghis extensivetoolkitandconsiderableingenuitytotheproblem,Robmanagedtorivettogetheraspecialstrapthatmadethecramponswork.AsI loadedmybackpackforthemorrow,I learnedthatbetweenthedemands of their families and their high-powered careers, few of myfellowclientshadhadtheopportunitytogoclimbingmorethanonceortwiceinthepreviousyear.Althougheveryoneappearedtobeinsuperbphysical shape, circumstances had forced them to do the bulk of theirtrainingonStairMastersandtreadmillsratherthanonactualpeaks.Thisgave me pause. Physical conditioning is a crucial component ofmountaineering,but therearemanyother equally important elements,noneofwhichcanbepracticedinagym.

ButmaybeI’mjustbeingasnob,Iscoldedmyself.Inanycase,itwasobvious that all ofmy teammates were as excited as I was about theprospect of kicking their crampons into a genuinemountain come themorning.Our route to the summit would follow the Khumbu Glacier up thelower half of themountain. From the bergschrund* at 23,000 feet thatmarkeditsupperend,thisgreatriveroficeflowedtwoandahalfmilesdownarelativelygentlevalleycalledtheWesternCwm.AstheglacierinchedoverhumpsanddipsintheCwm’sunderlyingstrata,itfracturedintocountlessverticalfissures—crevasses.Someofthesecrevasseswerenarrow enough to step across; others were eighty feet wide, severalhundred feetdeep,and ranhalf amile fromend toend.Thebigoneswereapttobevexingobstaclestoourascent,andwhenhiddenbeneatha crust of snow theywould pose a serious hazard, but the challengespresentedbythecrevassesintheCwmhadprovenovertheyearstobepredictableandmanageable.The Icefallwasadifferentstory.Nopartof theSouthCol routewasfeared more by climbers. At around 20,000 feet, where the glacieremerged from the lower end of the Cwm, it pitched abruptly over aprecipitous drop. This was the infamous Khumbu Icefall, the mosttechnicallydemandingsectionontheentireroute.The movement of the glacier in the Icefall has been measured atbetweenthreeandfourfeetaday.Asitskidsdownthesteep,irregularterraininfitsandstarts,themassoficesplintersintoajumbleofhuge,totteringblockscalledseracs,someaslargeasofficebuildings.Becausetheclimbingroutewoveunder,around,andbetweenhundredsoftheseunstabletowers,eachtripthroughtheIcefallwasalittlelikeplayingaroundofRussianroulette:soonerorlateranygivenseracwasgoingtofalloverwithoutwarning,andyoucouldonlyhopeyouweren’tbeneathit when it toppled. Since 1963, when a teammate of Hornbein andUnsoeld’snamedJakeBreitenbachwascrushedbyanavalanchingseracto become the Icefall’s first victim, eighteen other climbers had diedhere.The previous winter, as he had done in winters past, Hall hadconsulted with the leaders of all the expeditions planning to climbEverest in the spring, and together they’d agreed on one team among

themwhowouldberesponsibleforestablishingandmaintainingaroutethroughtheIcefall.Foritstrouble,thedesignatedteamwastobepaid$2,200 from each of the other expeditions on themountain. In recentyears this cooperative approach had been met with wide, if notuniversal,acceptance,butitwasn’talwaysso.The first time one expedition thought to charge another to travel

through the ice was in 1988, when a lavishly funded American teamannouncedthatanyexpeditionthatintendedtofollowtheroutethey’dengineeredupthe Icefallwouldhaveto forkover$2,000.Someof theother teams on the mountain that year, failing to understand thatEverestwasnolongermerelyamountainbutacommodityaswell,wereincensed.And thegreatesthueand cry came fromRobHall,whowasleadingasmall,impecuniousNewZealandteam.HallcarpedthattheAmericanswere“violatingthespiritofthehills”

andpracticinga shameful formofalpineextortion,but JimFrush, theunsentimental attorney who was the leader of the American group,remained unmoved. Hall eventually agreed through clenched teeth tosendFrushacheckandwasgrantedpassagethroughtheIcefall.(FrushlaterreportedthatHallnevermadegoodonhisIOU.)Withintwoyears,however,Halldidanabout-faceandcametoseethe

logicoftreatingtheIcefallasatollroad.Indeed,from1993through’95he volunteered to put in the route and collect the toll himself. In thespringof1996heelectednottoassumeresponsibilityfortheIcefall,buthe was happy to pay the leader of a rival commercial* expedition—aScottish Everest veteran named Mal Duff—to take over the job. Longbeforewe’devenarrivedatBaseCamp,ateamofSherpasemployedbyDuff had blazed a zigzag path through the seracs, stringing out morethanamileofropeandinstallingsomesixtyaluminumladdersoverthebroken surface of the glacier. The ladders belonged to an enterprisingSherpa from the village of Gorak Shep who turned a nice profit byrentingthemouteachseason.So it came to pass that at 4:45A.M. on Saturday,April 13, I found

myselfatthefootofthefabledIcefall,strappingonmycramponsinthefrigidpredawngloom.Crustyoldalpinistswho’vesurvivedalifetimeofclosescrapesliketo

counselyoungprotégésthatstayingalivehingesonlisteningcarefullytoone’s“innervoice.”Talesaboundofoneoranotherclimberwhodecidedto remain in his or her sleeping bag after detecting some inauspiciousvibe in the ether and thereby survived a catastrophe that wiped outotherswhofailedtoheedtheportents.Ididn’tdoubtthepotentialvalueofpayingattentiontosubconsciouscues.As Iwaited forRob to lead theway, the iceunderfootemittedaseriesofloudcrackingnoises,likesmalltreesbeingsnappedintwo,andIfeltmyselfwincewitheachpopandrumblefromtheglacier’sshiftingdepths. Problemwas,my inner voice resembled Chicken Little: it wasscreaming that Iwas about to die, but it did that almost every time Ilacedupmyclimbingboots.Ithereforedidmydamnedesttoignoremyhistrionic imagination and grimly followed Rob into the eerie bluelabyrinth.AlthoughI’dneverbeeninanicefallasfrighteningastheKhumbu,I’dclimbed many other icefalls. They typically have vertical or evenoverhanging passages that demand considerable expertise with ice axandcrampons.Therewascertainlyno lackofsteep ice in theKhumbuIcefall, but all of it had been rigged with ladders or ropes or both,renderingtheconventionaltoolsandtechniquesof iceclimbinglargelysuperfluous.I soon learned that onEverestnot even the rope—thequintessentialclimber’saccoutrement—wastobeutilizedinthetime-honoredmanner.Ordinarily, one climber is tied to one or twopartnerswith a 150-footlengthofrope,makingeachpersondirectlyresponsibleforthelifeoftheothers;ropingupinthisfashionisaseriousandveryintimateact.IntheIcefall,though,expediencydictatedthateachofusclimbindependently,withoutbeingphysicallyconnectedtooneanotherinanyway.MalDuff’s Sherpas had anchored a static line of rope that extendedfrom the bottom of the Icefall to its top. Attached tomywaistwas athree-foot-longsafetytetherwithacarabiner,orsnap-link,atthedistalend. Security was achieved not by roping myself to a teammate butratherbyclippingmysafetytethertothefixedlineandslidingituptheropeasIascended.Climbinginthisfashion,wewouldbeabletomoveas quickly as possible through themost dangerous parts of the Icefall,andwewouldn’thavetoentrustourlivestoteammateswhoseskilland

experiencewereunknown.As it turnedout,notonceduringtheentireexpeditionwouldIeverhavereasontoropemyselftoanotherclimber.IftheIcefallrequiredfeworthodoxclimbingtechniques,itdemanded

awholenewrepertoireofskills intheirstead—forinstance,theabilityto tiptoe in mountaineering boots and crampons across three wobblyladders lashedendtoend,bridgingasphincter-clenchingchasm.Thereweremanysuchcrossings,andInevergotusedtothem.At one point Iwas balanced on an unsteady ladder in the predawn

gloaming,steppingtenuouslyfromonebentrungtothenext,whentheice supporting the ladder on either end began to quiver as if anearthquakehadstruck.Amomentlatercameanexplosiveroarasalargeseracsomewherecloseabovecamecrashingdown.Ifroze,myheartinmythroat,buttheavalanchingicepassedfiftyyardstothe left,outofsight,withoutdoinganydamage.Afterwaitingafewminutestoregainmycomposure I resumedmyherky-jerkypassageto the farsideof theladder.The glacier’s continual and often violent state of flux added an

element of uncertainty to every ladder crossing.As the glaciermoved,crevasseswould sometimes compress, buckling ladders like toothpicks;other times a crevassemight expand, leaving a ladder dangling in theair, only tenuously supported, with neither endmounted on solid ice.Anchors* securing the laddersand lines routinelymeltedoutwhen theafternoon sun warmed the surrounding ice and snow. Despite dailymaintenance, therewas a very real danger that any given ropemightpulllooseunderbodyweight.But if the Icefall was strenuous and terrifying, it had a surprising

allureaswell.Asdawnwashedthedarknessfromthesky,theshatteredglacierwasrevealedtobeathree-dimensionallandscapeofphantasmalbeauty. The temperature was six degrees Fahrenheit. My cramponscrunchedreassuringlyintotheglacier’srind.Followingthefixedline,Imeanderedthroughaverticalmazeofcrystallinebluestalagmites.Sheerrock buttresses seamed with ice pressed in from both edges of theglacier, rising like the shouldersof amalevolentgod.Absorbedbymysurroundingsandthegravityofthelabor,Ilostmyselfintheunfetteredpleasuresofascent,andforanhourortwoactuallyforgottobeafraid.

Three-quartersofthewaytoCampOne,HallremarkedatareststopthattheIcefallwasinbettershapethanhe’deverseenit:“Theroute’sabloodyfreewaythisseason.”Butonlyslightlyhigher,at19,000feet,theropesbroughtustothebaseofagargantuan,perilouslybalancedserac.Asmassiveasatwelve-storybuilding,itloomedoverourheads,leaning30 degrees past vertical. The route followed a natural catwalk thatangledsharplyuptheoverhangingface:wewouldhavetoclimbupandovertheentireoff-kiltertowertoescapeitsthreateningtonnage.Safety, I understood, hinged on speed. I huffed toward the relative

securityoftheserac’screstwithallthehasteIcouldmuster,butsinceIwasn’t acclimatizedmy fastest pacewasnobetter thana crawl.Everyfour or five steps I’d have to stop, lean against the rope, and suckdesperatelyatthethin,bitterair,searingmylungsintheprocess.I reached the top of the serac without it collapsing and flopped

breathlessontoitsflatsummit,myheartpoundinglikeajackhammer.Alittlelater,around8:30A.M.,IarrivedatthetopoftheIcefallitself,justbeyond the last of the seracs. The safety of Camp One didn’t supplymuch peace of mind, however: I couldn’t stop thinking about theominously tiltedslaba shortdistancebelow,and the fact that IwouldhavetopassbeneathitsfalteringbulkatleastsevenmoretimesifIwasgoing to make it to the summit of Everest. Climbers who snidelydenigrate this as the Yak Route, I decided, had obviously never beenthroughtheKhumbuIcefall.BeforeleavingthetentsRobhadexplainedthatwewouldturnaround

at 10:00A.M. sharp, even if someof us hadn’t reachedCampOne, inorder to return to Base Camp before themidday sunmade the Icefallevenmoreunstable.At theappointedhouronlyRob,FrankFischbeck,John Taske, Doug Hansen, and I had arrived at Camp One; YasukoNamba, StuartHutchison, BeckWeathers, and LouKasischke, escortedbyguidesMikeGroomandAndyHarris,werewithin200verticalfeetofthecampwhenRobgotontheradioandturnedeverybodyaround.Forthefirsttimewehadseenoneanotheractuallyclimbingandcould

better assess the strengths andweaknesses of the people onwhomwewouldeachdependoverthecomingweeks.DougandJohn—atfifty-six,the oldest person on the team—had both looked solid. But Frank, thegentlemanly, soft-spoken publisher from Hong Kong, was the most

impressive: demonstrating the savvyhe’d acquired over three previousEverestexpeditions,he’dstartedoutslowlybutkeptmovingatthesamesteady pace; by the top of the Icefall he’d quietly passed almosteveryone,andheneverevenseemedtobebreathinghard.In marked contrast, Stuart—the youngest and seemingly strongestclienton thewhole team—haddashedoutof campat the frontof thegroup, soon exhausted himself, and by the top of the Icefall was invisibleagonyatthebackoftheline.Lou,hamperedbyalegmusclehe’dinjured on the first morning of the trek to Base Camp, was slow butcompetent.Beck,andespeciallyYasuko,ontheotherhand,hadlookedsketchy.SeveraltimesbothBeckandYasukohadappearedtobeindangeroffallingoffaladderandplummetingintoacrevasse,andYasukoseemedto know next to nothing about how to use crampons.* Andy, whorevealedhimselftobeagifted,extremelypatientteacher—andwho,asthejuniorguide,hadbeenassignedtoclimbwiththeslowestclients,attherear—spent thewholemorning coaching her on basic ice-climbingtechniques.Whateverourgroup’svarious shortcomings,at the topof the Icefall,Robannouncedthathewasquitepleasedwitheveryone’sperformance.“ForyourfirsttimeaboveBaseCampyou’vealldoneremarkablywell,”he proclaimed like a proud father. “I think we’ve got a good strongbunchthisyear.”IttooklittlemorethananhourtodescendbacktoBaseCamp.BythetimeIremovedmycramponstowalkthelasthundredyardstothetents,thesunfeltlikeitwasboringaholethroughthecrownofmyskull.Thefull forceof theheadachestruckafewminutes later,as Iwaschattingwith Helen and Chhongba in the mess tent. I’d never experiencedanythinglikeit:crushingpainbetweenmytemples—painsoseverethatit was accompanied by shuddering waves of nausea and made itimpossible for me to speak in coherent sentences. Fearing that I’dsuffered some sort of stroke, I staggered away in mid-conversation,retreatedtomysleepingbag,andpulledmyhatovermyeyes.Theheadachehadtheblindingintensityofamigraine,andIhadnoidea what had caused it. I doubted that it was due to the altitude,

because it didn’t strikeuntil I’d returned toBaseCamp.More likely itwas a reaction to the fierce ultraviolet radiation that had burned myretinasandbakedmybrain.Whateverhadbroughtiton,theagonywasintenseandunrelenting.ForthenextfivehoursIlayinmytenttryingtoavoid sensory stimuli of any kind. If I opened my eyes, or even justmoved them from side to side behind closed eyelids, I received awitheringjoltofpain.Atsunset,unabletobearitanylonger,Istumbledover to themedical tent to seek advice from Caroline, the expeditiondoctor.Shegavemeastronganalgesicandtoldmetodrinksomewater,butafterafewswallowsIregurgitatedthepills,theliquid,andtheremnantsoflunch.“Hmmm,”musedCaro,observingthevomitussplashedacrossmyboots.“Iguesswe’llhavetotrysomethingelse.”Iwasinstructedtodissolve a tiny pill under my tongue, which would keep me fromvomiting, and then swallow two codeine pills. An hour later the painbegan to fade; nearly weeping with gratitude I drifted intounconsciousness.

I was dozing in my sleeping bag, watching the morning sun castshadows across the walls of my tent, when Helen yelled, “Jon!Telephone! It’sLinda!” Iyankedonapairofsandals, sprintedthe fiftyyardstothecommunicationstent,andgrabbedthehandsetasI foughttocatchmybreath.Theentiresatellitephone-and-faxapparatuswasn’tmuchlargerthanalaptop computer. Calls were expensive—about five dollars aminute—andtheydidn’talwaysgothrough,butthefactthatmywifecoulddialathirteen-digit number in Seattle and speak to me on Mount Everestastoundedme.Althoughthecallwasagreatcomfort,theresignationinLinda’svoicewasunmistakableevenfromthefarsideoftheglobe.“I’mdoingfine,”sheassuredme,“butIwishyouwerehere.”Eighteendaysearliershe’dbrokenintotearswhenshe’dtakenmetotheplane toNepal. “Drivinghome from theairport,” sheconfessed, “Icouldn’t stop crying. Saying good-bye to you was one of the saddestthingsI’veeverdone.IguessIknewonsomelevelthatyoumightnotbecoming back, and it seemed like such a waste. It seemed so fucking

stupidandpointless.”We’dbeenmarriedforfifteenandahalfyears.Withinaweekoffirst

talkingabouttakingtheplunge,we’dvisitedajusticeofthepeaceanddonethedeed.Iwastwenty-sixatthetimeandhadrecentlydecidedtoquitclimbingandgetseriousaboutlife.When I first met Linda she had been a climber herself—and an

exceptionally gifted one—but she’d given it up after breaking an arm,injuring her back, and subsequently making a cold appraisal of theinherentrisks.Lindawouldneverhaveconsideredaskingmetoabandonthesport,but theannouncementthat I intendedtoquithadreinforcedherdecisiontomarryme.I’dfailedtoappreciatethegripclimbinghadonmysoul,however,orthepurposeitlenttomyotherwiserudderlesslife.Ididn’tanticipatethevoidthatwouldloominitsabsence.Withinayear I sneakedmy rope out of storage andwas back on the rock. By1984, when I went to Switzerland to climb a notoriously dangerousalpine wall called the Eiger Nordwand, Linda and I had advanced towithinmillimetersofsplittingup,andmyclimbinglayatthecoreofourtroubles.Ourrelationshipremainedrockyfortwoorthreeyearsaftermyfailed

attempt on the Eiger, but the marriage somehow survived that roughpatch.Lindacametoacceptmyclimbing:shesawthatitwasacrucial(ifperplexing)partofwhoIwas.Mountaineering,sheunderstood,wasanessentialexpressionofsomeodd,immutableaspectofmypersonalitythatIcouldnosooneralterthanchangethecolorofmyeyes.Then,inthemidstofthisdelicaterapprochement,OutsidemagazineconfirmeditwassendingmetoEverest.At first I pretended that I’d be going as a journalist more than a

climber—that I’d accepted the assignment because thecommercializationofEverestwasan interestingsubjectandthemoneywas pretty good. I explained to Linda and anyone elsewho expressedskepticism about my Himalayan qualifications that I didn’t expect toascendveryhighonthemountain.“I’llprobablyclimbonlyalittlewayaboveBaseCamp,”Iinsisted.“Justtogetatasteofwhathighaltitudeisabout.”Thiswasbullshit,ofcourse.Giventhelengthofthetripandthetime

I’d have to spend training for it, I stood to make a lot more moneystayinghomeand takingotherwriting jobs. I accepted the assignmentbecauseIwasinthegripoftheEverestmystique.Intruth,Iwantedtoclimb the mountain as badly as I’d ever wanted anything in my life.From themoment I agreed togo toNepalmy intentionwas toascendeverybitashighasmyunexceptionallegsandlungswouldcarryme.By the time Linda droveme to the airport she had long since seen

throughmyprevarications.Shesensedthetruedimensionsofmydesire,anditscaredher.“Ifyougetkilled,”shearguedwithamixofdespairandanger,“it’snot justyouwho’llpay theprice. I’llhave topay, too,youknow,fortherestofmylife.Doesn’tthatmattertoyou?”“I’mnotgoingtogetkilled,”Ianswered.“Don’tbemelodramatic.”

*EversincethefirstEverestattempts,mostexpeditions—commercialandnoncommercialalike—havereliedonSherpastocarrythemajorityoftheloadsonthemountain.Butasclientsonaguidedtrip,wecarriednoloadsatallbeyondasmallamountofpersonalgear,andinthisregardwedifferedsignificantlyfromnoncommercialexpeditionsofyore.

*Abergschrundisadeepslitthatdelineatesaglacier’supperterminus;itformsasthebodyoficeslidesawayfromthesteeperwallimmediatelyabove,leavingagapbetweenglacierandrock.

*AlthoughIuse“commercial”todenoteanyexpeditionorganizedasamoney-makingventure,notallcommercialexpeditionsareguided.Forinstance,MalDuff—whochargedhisclientsconsiderablylessthanthe$65,000feerequestedbyHallandFischer—providedleadershipandtheessentialinfrastructurenecessarytoclimbEverest(food,tents,bottledoxygen,fixedropes,Sherpasupportstaff,andsoon)butdidnotpurporttoactasaguide;theclimbersonhisteamwereassumedtobesufficientlyskilledtogetthemselvessafelyupEverestandbackdownagain.

*Three-foot-longaluminumstakescalledpicketswereusedtoanchorropesandladderstosnowslopes;whentheterrainwashardglacialice,“icescrews”wereemployed:hollow,threadedtubesabouttenincheslongthatweretwistedintothefrozenglacier.

*AlthoughYasukohadusedcramponspreviouslyduringherclimbsofAconcagua,McKinley,Elbrus,andVinson,noneoftheseascentsinvolvedmuch,ifany,trueiceclimbing:theterrainineachcaseconsistedprimarilyofrelativelygentleslopesofsnowand/orgravel-likescree.

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Buttherearemenforwhomtheunattainablehasaspecialattraction.Usuallytheyarenotexperts:theirambitionsandfantasiesarestrongenoughtobrushasidethedoubtswhichmorecautiousmenmighthave.Determinationandfaitharetheirstrongestweapons.Atbestsuchmenareregardedaseccentric;atworst,mad.…Everesthasattracted its shareofmen like these.Theirmountaineeringexperiencevaried fromnoneatalltoveryslight—certainlynoneofthemhadthekindofexperiencewhichwouldmakeanascentofEverestareasonablegoal.Threethingstheyallhadincommon:faithinthemselves,greatdetermination,andendurance.

WaltUnsworthEverest

I grew up with an ambition and determination without which I would have been a good dealhappier. I thought a lot and developed the far-away look of a dreamer, for it was always thedistantheightswhichfascinatedmeanddrewmetotheminspirit.Iwasnotsurewhatcouldbeaccomplishedbymeansoftenacityandlittleelse,butthetargetwassethighandeachrebuffonlysawmemoredeterminedtoseeatleastonemajordreamthroughtoitsfulfillment.

EarlDenmanAlonetoEverest

heslopesofEverestdidnotlackfordreamersinthespringof1996; thecredentialsofmanywho’dcometoclimbthe

mountainwereasthinasmine,orthinner.Whenitcametimeforeachofustoassessourownabilitiesandweighthemagainsttheformidablechallenges of the world’s highest mountain, it sometimes seemed asthoughhalf thepopulationatBaseCampwasclinicallydelusional.Butperhapsthisshouldn’thavecomeasasurprise.Everesthasalwaysbeena magnet for kooks, publicity seekers, hopeless romantics, and otherswithashakyholdonreality.In March 1947, a poverty-stricken Canadian engineer named Earl

Denman arrived in Darjeeling and announced his intention to climbEverest, despite the fact that he had little mountaineering experienceand lackedofficialpermission toenterTibet.Somehowhemanaged toconvince two Sherpas to accompany him, Ang Dawa and TenzingNorgay.Tenzing—the same man who would later make the first ascent ofEverestwithHillary—hadimmigratedtoDarjeelingfromNepalin1933asanineteen-year-old,hopingtobehiredbyanexpeditiondepartingforthe peak that spring under the leadership of an eminent BritishmountaineernamedEricShipton.TheeageryoungSherpawasn’tchosenthat year, but he remained in India andwas hired by Shipton for the1935 British Everest expedition. By the time he agreed to go withDenmanin1947,Tenzinghadalreadybeenonthegreatmountainthreetimes.He later conceded that he knew all alongDenman’s planswerefoolhardy,butTenzing,too,waspowerlesstoresistthepullofEverest:

[N]othingmadesenseaboutit.First,wewouldprobablynotevengetintoTibet.Second,ifwe did get inwewould probably be caught, and, as his guides,we, aswell as Denman,wouldbeinserioustrouble.Third,Ididnotforamomentbelievethat,evenifwereachedthemountain,apartysuchasthiswouldbeabletoclimbit.Fourth,theattemptwouldbehighlydangerous.Fifth,Denmanhadthemoneyneithertopayuswellnortoguaranteeadecentsumtoourdependentsincasesomethinghappenedtous.Andsoonandsoon.Anymaninhisrightmindwouldhavesaidno.ButIcouldn’tsayno.ForinmyheartIneededtogo,and thepullofEverestwas stronger forme thanany forceonearth.AngDawaand Italkedforafewminutes,andthenwemadeourdecision.“Well,”ItoldDenman,“wewilltry.”

As the small expeditionmarched across Tibet toward Everest, the twoSherpasincreasinglycametolikeandrespecttheCanadian.Despitehisinexperience, they admired his courage and physical strength. AndDenman, to his credit, was ultimately willing to acknowledge hisshortcomings when they arrived on the slopes of the mountain andrealitystaredhimintheface.Poundedhardbyastormat22,000feet,Denman admitted defeat, and the threemen turned around, returningsafelytoDarjeelingjustfiveweeksafterthey’ddeparted.Anidealistic,melancholicEnglishmannamedMauriceWilsonhadnotbeen so fortunate when he’d attempted a similarly reckless ascent

thirteenyearsbeforeDenman.Motivatedbyamisguideddesiretohelphis fellowman,Wilson had concluded that climbing Everestwould betheperfectwaytopublicizehisbeliefthatthemyriadillsofhumankindcouldbecuredthroughacombinationoffastingandfaithinthepowersofGod.HehatchedaschemetoflyasmallairplanetoTibet,crash-landiton the flanksofEverest,andproceedto thesummit fromthere.Thefact that he knew absolutely nothing about either mountaineering orflyingdidn’tstrikehimasamajorimpediment.Wilsonboughta fabric-wingedGypsyMoth,christened itEverWrest,andlearnedtherudimentsofflying.Henextspentfiveweekstrampingabout the modest hills of Snowdonia and the English Lake District tolearnwhathethoughtheneededtoknowaboutclimbing.Andthen,inMay1933,hetookoffinhistinyairplaneandsetacourseforEverestbywayofCairo,Tehran,andIndia.BythistimeWilsonhadalreadyreceivedconsiderablecoverageinthepress.HeflewtoPurtabpore,India,buthavingnotreceivedpermissionfromtheNepalesegovernmenttoflyoverNepal,hesoldtheairplaneforfive hundred pounds and traveled overland to Darjeeling, where helearned thathehadbeendeniedpermission toenterTibet.Thisdidn’tfaze him, either: in March 1934 he hired three Sherpas, disguisedhimself as a Buddhist monk, and, defying the authorities of the Raj,surreptitiouslytrekked300milesthroughtheforestsofSikkimandthesereTibetanplateau.ByApril14hewasatthefootofEverest.Hikinguptherock-strewniceoftheEastRongbukGlacier,heinitiallymade fair progress, but ashis ignoranceof glacier travel caughtup tohim, he repeatedly lost hisway andbecame frustrated and exhausted.Yetherefusedtogiveup.Bymid-MayhehadreachedtheheadoftheEastRongbukGlacierat21,000feet,whereheplunderedasupplyoffoodandequipmentcachedby Eric Shipton’s unsuccessful 1933 expedition. From there WilsonstartedascendingtheslopesleadinguptotheNorthCol,gettingashighas22,700feetbeforeaverticalicecliffprovedtoomuchforhimandhewas forced to retreat back to the site of Shipton’s cache. And still hewouldn’t quit. OnMay 28 he wrote in his diary, “This will be a lasteffort,andIfeelsuccessful,”andthenheadedupthemountainonemoretime.

Oneyearlater,whenShiptonreturnedtoEverest,hisexpeditioncameacrossWilson’s frozenbody lying in the snowat the footof theNorthCol.“Aftersomediscussionwedecidedtoburyhiminacrevasse,”wroteCharlesWarren, one of the climbers who’d found the corpse. “We allraisedourhatsatthetimeandIthinkthateveryonewasratherupsetatthebusiness.IthoughtIhadgrownimmunetothesightofthedead;butsomehoworother,inthecircumstances,andbecauseofthefactthathewas,afterall,doingmuchthesameasourselves,histragedyseemedtohavebeenbroughtalittletoonearhomeforus.”

TherecentproliferationontheslopesofEverestoflatter-dayWilsonsandDenmans—marginallyqualifieddreamerslikesomeofmycohorts—isaphenomenonthathasprovokedstrongcriticism.Butthequestionofwho belongs on Everest andwho doesn’t is more complicated than itmightfirstappear.Thefactthataclimberhaspaidalargesumofmoneyto join a guided expeditiondoes not, by itself,mean that he or she isunfit to be on the mountain. Indeed, at least two of the commercialexpeditions on Everest in the spring of 1996 included Himalayanveterans who would be considered qualified by the most rigorousstandards.As Iwaited atCampOneonApril 13 formy teammates to joinme

atop the Icefall, a pair of climbers from Scott Fischer’s MountainMadness team strode past at an impressive clip. One was KlevSchoening, a thirty-eight-year-oldSeattle constructioncontractorandaformermemberoftheU.S.SkiTeamwho,althoughexceptionallystrong,hadlittleprevioushigh-altitudeexperience.However,withhimwashisuncle,PeteSchoening,alivingHimalayanlegend.Dressed in faded, threadbareGoreTex,acoupleofmonthsshyofhis

sixty-ninthbirthday,Petewasagangly, slightly stoopedmanwhohadreturned to the high reaches of theHimalaya after a long absence. In1966 he’d made the first ascent of the Vinson Massif, Antarctica’shighestpoint.In1958he’dmadehistoryasthedrivingforcebehindthefirst ascent ofHiddenPeak, a 26,470-footmountain in theKarakoramRangeofPakistan—thehighest first ascent ever achievedbyAmericanclimbers.Petewasevenmorefamous,however,forplayingaheroicrole

inanunsuccessfulexpeditiontoK2in1953,thesameyearHillaryandTenzingreachedthepeakofEverest.The eight-man expedition was pinned down in a ferocious blizzardhigh on K2,waiting tomake an assault on the summit, when a teammember named Art Gilkey developed thrombophlebitis, a life-threateningaltitude-inducedbloodclot.Realizingthattheywouldhaveto get Gilkey down immediately to have any hope of saving him,Schoening and the others started lowering him down the mountain’ssteepAbruzziRidgeasthestormraged.At25,000feet,aclimbernamedGeorge Bell slipped and pulled four others off with him. Reflexivelywrappingtheropearoundhisshouldersandiceax,Schoeningsomehowmanagedtosingle-handedlyholdontoGilkeyandsimultaneouslyarrestthe slide of the five falling climbers without being pulled off themountain himself. One of the more incredible feats in the annals ofmountaineering,itwasknownforeveraftersimplyasTheBelay.*

AndnowPeteSchoeningwasbeingledupEverestbyFischerandhistwo guides, Neal Beidleman and Anatoli Boukreev. When I askedBeidleman,apowerfulclimberfromColorado,howitfelttobeguidingaclient of Schoening’s stature, he quickly corrected me with a self-deprecating laugh: “Somebody like me doesn’t ‘guide’ Pete Schoeninganywhere. I just consider it a great honor to be on the same team ashim.”SchoeninghadsignedonwithFischer’sMountainMadnessgroupnotbecauseheneededaguidetoleadhimupthepeakbuttoavoidthemammothhassleofarrangingforapermit,oxygen,tentage,provisions,Sherpasupport,andotherlogisticaldetails.AfewminutesafterPeteandKlevSchoeningclimbedpastenroutetotheirownCampOne,theirteammateCharlotteFoxappeared.Dynamicand statuesque, thirty-eight years old, Fox was a ski patroller fromAspen, Colorado, who’d previously summitted two 8,000-meter peaks:Gasherbrum II in Pakistan, at 26,361 feet, and Everest’s 26,748-footneighbor, Cho Oyu. Later still, I encountered amember ofMal Duff’scommercial expedition, a twenty-eight-year-old Finn named VeikkaGustafsson, whose record of previous Himalayan ascents includedEverest,Dhaulagiri,Makalu,andLhotse.NoclientonHall’steam,bycomparison,hadeverreachedthesummitof any 8,000-meter peak. If someone like Pete Schoening was the

equivalentofamajor-leaguebaseballstar,myfellowclientsandIwerelike a ragtag collection of pretty decent small-town softball playerswho’d bribed their way into the World Series. Yes, at the top of theIcefallHallhadcalledus“agoodstrongbunch.”Andweactuallywerestrong, perhaps, relative to groups of clients Hall had ushered up themountaininpastyears.Itwascleartome,nevertheless,thatnoneofusinHall’s group had a prayer of climbing Everestwithout considerableassistancefromHall,hisguides,andhisSherpas.Ontheotherhand,ourgroupwasfarmorecompetentthananumber

oftheotherteamsonthemountain.Thereweresomeclimbersofverydubiousabilityonacommercialexpedition ledbyanEnglishmanwithundistinguishedHimalayancredentials.ButtheleastqualifiedpeopleonEverestwerenotinfactguidedclientsatall;rather,theyweremembersoftraditionallystructured,noncommercialexpeditions.As I was heading back to Base Camp through the lower Icefall, I

overtook a pair of slower climbers outfittedwith very strange lookingclothingandequipment. Itwasapparentalmost immediately that theyweren’tvery familiarwith the standard toolsand techniquesofglaciertravel. The climber in back repeatedly snagged his crampons andstumbled.Waitingforthemtocrossayawningcrevassebridgedbytworicketyladderssplicedendtoend,Iwasshockedtoseethemgoacrosstogether, almost in lockstep—a needlessly dangerous act. An awkwardattemptatconversationonthefarsideofthecrevasserevealedthattheyweremembersofaTaiwaneseexpedition.The reputations of the Taiwanese preceded them to Everest. In the

spring of 1995, the same teamhad traveled toAlaska to climbMountMcKinley as a shakedown for the attempt on Everest in 1996. Nineclimbersreachedthesummit,butsevenofthemwerecaughtbyastormon the descent, became disoriented, and spent a night in the open at19,400 feet, initiating a costly, hazardous rescue by theNational ParkService.Responding to a request by park rangers, Alex Lowe and Conrad

Anker,twoofthemostskilledalpinistsintheUnitedStates,interruptedtheirownascentandrushedupfrom14,400feet toaid theTaiwaneseclimbers, who were by then barely alive. With great difficulty andconsiderable risk to their own lives, Lowe and Anker each dragged a

helplessTaiwanesefrom19,400feetdownto17,200feet,atwhichpointahelicopterwasabletoevacuatethemfromthemountain.Alltold,fivemembers of the Taiwanese team—two with severe frostbite and onealreadydead—werepluckedfromMcKinleybychopper.“Onlyoneguydied,”saysAnker.“ButifAlexandIhadn’tarrivedrightwhenwedid,two others would have died, too. Earlier, we’d noticed the Taiwanesegroup because they looked so incompetent. It wasn’t any big surprisewhentheygotintotrouble.”The leader of the expedition, Gau Ming-Ho—a jovial freelance

photographerwhocallshimself“Makalu,”after thestrikingHimalayanpeakofthatname—wasexhaustedandfrostbittenandhadtobeassisteddowntheuppermountainbyapairofAlaskanguides.“AstheAlaskansbrought him down,” Anker reports, “Makalu was yelling ‘Victory!Victory!Wemade summit!’ to everyone they passed, as if the disasterhadn’t even happened. Yeah, that Makalu dude struck me as prettyweird.”Whenthesurvivorsof theMcKinleydebacleshoweduponthesouthsideofEverestin1996,MakaluGauwasagaintheirleader.The presence of the Taiwanese on Everest was a matter of grave

concerntomostoftheotherexpeditionsonthemountain.Therewasavery real fear that the Taiwanese would suffer a calamity that wouldcompelother expeditions to come to their aid, risking further lives, tosaynothingof jeopardizingtheopportunityforotherclimberstoreachthe summit.But theTaiwanesewerebynomeans theonlygroup thatseemedegregiouslyunqualified.CampedbesideusatBaseCampwasatwenty-five-year-old Norwegian climber named Petter Neby, whoannouncedhis intention tomakea soloascentof theSouthwestFace,*one of the peak’smost dangerous and technically demanding routes—despite the fact that his Himalayan experience was limited to twoascentsofneighboringIslandPeak,a20,274-footbumponasubsidiaryridgeofLhotseinvolvingnothingmoretechnicalthanvigorouswalking.And then there were the South Africans. Sponsored by a major

newspaper, the Johannesburg Sunday Times, their team had inspiredeffusive national pride and had received a personal blessing fromPresidentNelsonMandelaprior to theirdeparture.Theywere the firstSouthAfricanexpeditionevertobegrantedapermittoclimbEverest,amixed-race group that aspired to put the first black person on the

summit. Their leader was Ian Woodall, thirty-nine, a loquacious,mouselikemanwho relished tellinganecdotesabouthisbraveexploitsasamilitarycommandobehindenemylinesduringSouthAfrica’slong,brutalconflictwithAngolainthe1980s.WoodallhadrecruitedthreeofSouthAfrica’sstrongestclimberstoformthenucleusofhisteam:AndydeKlerk,AndyHackland,andEdmundFebruary.Thebiracialmakeupofthe team was of special significance to February, forty, a soft-spokenblackpaleoecologistandaclimberofinternationalrenown.“MyparentsnamedmeafterSirEdmundHillary,”heexplains.“ClimbingEveresthadbeenapersonaldreamofmine ever since Iwasveryyoung.But evenmoresignificantly,Isawtheexpeditionasapowerfulsymbolofayoungnation trying to unify itself and move toward democracy, trying torecoverfromitspast. Igrewupwiththeyokeofapartheidaroundmyneckinmanyways,andIamextremelybitteraboutthat.Butweareanewnationnow.Ifirmlybelieveinthedirectionmycountry’staking.Toshow thatwe in SouthAfrica could climb Everest together, black andwhiteonthetop—thatwouldbeagreatthing.”The entire nation rallied behind the expedition. “Woodall proposedtheprojectatareallyfortuitoustime,”saysdeKlerk.“Withtheendofapartheid,SouthAfricanswere finallyallowed to travelwherever theywanted, and our sports teams could compete around theworld. SouthAfrica had just won the Rugby World Cup. There was this nationaleuphoria, a great upwelling of pride, yeah? So when Woodall camealongandproposedaSouthAfricanEverestexpedition,everybodywasinfavorofit,andhewasabletoraisealotofmoney—theequivalentofseveral hundred thousand dollars in U.S. currency—without anybodyaskingalotofquestions.”Inadditiontohimself,thethreemaleclimbers,andaBritishclimberand photographer named Bruce Herrod,Woodall wanted to include awomanontheexpedition,sopriortoleavingSouthAfricaheinvitedsixfemalecandidatesonaphysicallygruelingbuttechnicallyundemandingascent of 19,340-foot Kilimanjaro. At the conclusion of the two-weektrial, Woodall announced that he’d narrowed the field down to twofinalists:CathyO’Dowd, twenty-six, awhite journalism instructorwithsomemountaineeringexperienceintheFrenchAlps,whosefatheristhedirector of Anglo American, the largest company in South Africa; and

DeshunDeysel, twenty-five,ablackphysical-educationteacherwithnoprevious climbing experience whatsoever who’d grown up in asegregatedtownship.Bothwomen,saidWoodall,wouldaccompanytheteam toBaseCamp,andhewould chooseoneof them to continueupEverestafterevaluatingtheirperformanceduringthetrek.OnApril1,duringtheseconddayofmyjourneytoBaseCamp,Iwassurprised to run into February, Hackland, and de Klerk on the trailbelow Namche Bazaar, walking out of the mountains, bound forKathmandu. De Klerk, a friend of mine, informed me that the threeSouth African climbers and Charlotte Noble, their team’s doctor, hadresigned from the expedition before even getting to the base of themountain. “Woodall, the leader, turnedout to be a complete asshole,”explaineddeKlerk.“Atotalcontrolfreak.Andyoucouldn’ttrusthim—weneverknewifhewastalkingbullshitortellingthetruth.Wedidn’twanttoputourlivesinthehandsofaguylikethat.Soweleft.”Woodall hadmade claims to de Klerk and others that he’d climbedextensivelyintheHimalaya,includingascentsabove26,000feet.Infact,thewholeofWoodall’sHimalayanmountaineeringexperienceconsistedof his participation as a paying client on two unsuccessful expeditionsledbyMalDuff:In1989WoodallfailedtoreachthesummitofmodestIslandPeak,andin1990hewasrebuffedat21,300feetonAnnapurna,stillaverticalmilebeneaththetop.Additionally, before leaving for EverestWoodall had boasted on theexpedition’sInternetwebsiteofadistinguishedmilitarycareerinwhichhe’drisenthroughtheranksoftheBritisharmy“tocommandtheeliteLongRangeMountainReconnaissanceUnitthatdidmuchofitstrainingin the Himalayas.” He’d told the Sunday Times that he had been aninstructorattheRoyalMilitaryAcademyatSandhurst,England,aswell.As it happens, there is no such thing as a Long Range MountainReconnaissanceUnitintheBritisharmy,andWoodallneverservedasaninstructor at Sandhurst. Nor did he ever fight behind enemy lines inAngola.AccordingtoaspokesmanfortheBritisharmy,Woodallservedasapayclerk.Woodall also lied about whom he’d listed on the Everest climbingpermit*issuedbytheNepaleseMinistryofTourism.Fromthebeginninghe’d said that both Cathy O’Dowd and Deshun Deysel were on the

permitandthatthefinaldecisionaboutwhichwomanwouldbeinvitedto join the climbing teamwouldbemadeatBaseCamp.After leavingthe expedition de Klerk discovered that O’Dowd was listed on thepermit,aswellasWoodall’ssixty-nine-year-oldfatherandaFrenchmannamed Tierry Renard (who’d paidWoodall $35,000 to join the SouthAfrican team), but Deshun Deysel—the only black member after theresignation of Ed February—was not. This suggested to de Klerk thatWoodall had never had any intention of letting Deysel climb themountain.Adding insult to injury, before leaving South Africa Woodall had

cautioned de Klerk—who is married to an American woman and hasdualcitizenship—thathewouldnotbeallowedontheexpeditionunlessheagreedtousehisSouthAfricanpassporttoenterNepal.“Hemadeabig fuss about it,” recalls de Klerk, “because we were the first SouthAfrican Everest expedition and all that. But it turns out thatWoodalldoesn’t hold a South African passport himself. He’s not even a SouthAfrican citizen—the guy’s a Brit, and he entered Nepal on his Britishpassport.”Woodall’snumerousdeceitsbecameaninternationalscandal,reported

onthefrontpagesofnewspapersthroughouttheBritishCommonwealth.As the negative press filtered back to him, themegalomaniacal leaderturnedacoldshouldertothecriticismandinsulatedhisteamasmuchaspossible from the other expeditions. He also banished Sunday Timesreporter Ken Vernon and photographer Richard Shorey from theexpedition,eventhoughWoodallhadsignedacontractstipulatingthatin return for receiving financial backing from the newspaper, the twojournalistswouldbe“allowedtoaccompanytheexpeditionatalltimes,”andthatfailuretohonorthisstipulation“wouldbecauseforbreachofcontract.”TheeditoroftheSundayTimes,KenOwen,wasenroutetoBaseCamp

withhiswifeatthetime,midwaythroughatrekkingvacationthathadbeen arranged to coincide with the South African Everest expedition,andwasbeingledbyWoodall’sgirlfriend,ayoungFrenchwomannamedAlexandrineGaudin.InPheriche,OwenlearnedthatWoodallhadgiventheboottohisreporterandphotographer.Flabbergasted,hesentanotetotheexpeditionleaderexplainingthatthenewspaperhadnointention

ofpullingVernonandShoreyfromthestoryandthatthejournalistshadbeen ordered to rejoin the expedition. When Woodall received thismessage, he flew into a rage and rushed down to Pheriche from BaseCamptohaveitoutwithOwen.According to Owen, during the ensuing confrontation he asked

Woodall point-blank if Deysel’s name was on the permit. Woodallreplied,“That’snoneofyourbusiness.”WhenOwensuggestedthatDeyselhadbeenreducedto“servingasa

token black woman to give the team a spurious South Africanism,”Woodall threatened to kill both Owen and his wife. At one point theoverwroughtexpeditionleaderdeclared,“I’mgoingtoripyourfuckingheadoffandramitupyourarse.”Shortlythereafter,journalistKenVernonarrivedattheSouthAfrican

Base Camp—an incident he first reported fromRobHall’s satellite faxmachine—only tobe informed“byagrimfacedMs.O’Dowdthat Iwas‘notwelcome’atthecamp.”AsVernonlaterwroteintheSundayTimes:

Itoldhershehadnorighttobarmefromacampmynewspaperhadpaidfor.Whenpressedfurther she said shewas acting on “instructions” fromMr.Woodall. She said Shorey hadalreadybeenthrownoutofthecampandIshouldfollowasIwouldnotbegivenfoodorshelterthere.Mylegswerestillshakyfromthewalkand,beforedecidingwhethertofighttheedictorleave,Iaskedforacupoftea.“Noway,”camethereply.Ms.O’Dowdwalkedtotheteam’sSherpaleader,AngDorje,andsaidaudibly:“ThisisKenVernon,oneoftheoneswe told you about. He is to be given no assistance whatsoever.” Ang Dorje is a tough,nuggetyrockofamanandwehadalreadysharedseveralglassesofChang,thefierylocalbrew. I looked at him and said, “Not even a cup of tea?” To his credit, and in the besttraditionofSherpahospitality,helookedatMs.O’Dowdandsaid:“Bullshit.”Hegrabbedmebythearm,draggedmeintothemesstentandservedupamugofsteamingteaandaplateofbiscuits.

Followingwhat Owen described as his “blood-chilling exchange”withWoodallinPheriche,theeditorwas“persuaded…thattheatmosphereoftheexpeditionwasderangedandthattheSundayTimesstaffers,KenVernon and Richard Shorey,might be in danger of their lives.” Owentherefore instructedVernon and Shorey to return to SouthAfrica, andthenewspaperpublishedastatementdeclaringthatithadrescindeditssponsorshipoftheexpedition.

Because Woodall had already received the newspaper’s money,however,thisactwaspurelysymbolicandhadalmostnoimpactonhisactions on the mountain. Indeed, Woodall refused to relinquishleadershipoftheexpeditionormakeanykindofcompromise,evenafterhe received a message from President Mandela appealing forreconciliation as a matter of national interest. Woodall stubbornlyinsisted that the Everest climb would proceed as planned, with himfirmlyatthehelm.BackinCapeTownaftertheexpeditionfellapart,Februarydescribed

his disappointment. “Maybe I was naive,” he said in a halting voicefreighted with emotion. “But I hated growing up under apartheid.ClimbingEverestwithAndrewandtheotherswouldhavebeenagreatsymboltoshowtheoldwayshadbrokendown.Woodallhadnointerestin the birth of a new South Africa. He took the dreams of the entirenationandutilizedthemforhisownselfishpurposes.Decidingtoleavetheexpeditionwasthehardestdecisionofmylife.”WiththedepartureofFebruary,Hackland,anddeKlerk,noneofthe

climbersremainingontheteam(asidefromtheFrenchmanRenard,whohad joined the expeditionmerely to be listed on the permit and whoclimbedindependentlyfromtheothers,withhisownSherpas)hadlittlemore than minimal alpine experience; at least two of them, says deKlerk,“didn’tevenknowhowtoputtheircramponson.”ThesoloNorwegian,theTaiwanese,andespeciallytheSouthAfricans

were frequent topics of discussion in Hall’smess tent. “With somanyincompetent people on the mountain,” Rob said with a frown oneeveninginlateApril,“Ithinkit’sprettyunlikelythatwe’llgetthroughthisseasonwithoutsomethingbadhappeninguphigh.”

*Belayisaclimbingtermthatdenotestheactofsecuringaropetosafeguardone’scompanionsastheyclimb.

*AlthoughNeby’sexpeditionwasbilledasa“solo”endeavor,hehademployedeighteenSherpastocarryhisloads,fixropesforhim,establishhiscamps,andguidehimupthemountain.

*Onlyclimberslistedontheofficialpermit—atacostof$10,000ahead—areallowedtoascendaboveBaseCamp.Thisruleisstrictlyenforced,andviolatorsfaceprohibitivefinesandexpulsionfromNepal.

J

EIGHT

CAMPONE

APRIL16,1996•19,500FEET

Idoubtifanyonewouldclaimtoenjoylifeathighaltitudes—enjoy,thatis,intheordinarysenseof theword.There isacertaingrimsatisfaction tobederived fromstrugglingupwards,howeverslowly;butthebulkofone’stimeisnecessarilyspentintheextremesqualorofahighcamp,wheneventhissolaceislacking.Smokingisimpossible;eatingtendstomakeonevomit;thenecessityofreducingweight toabareminimumforbids the importationof literaturebeyondthatsuppliedbythelabelsontinsoffood;sardineoil,condensedmilkandtreaclespillthemselvesallovertheplace;exceptforthebriefestmoments,duringwhichoneisnotusuallyinamoodforaestheticenjoyment,there is nothing to look at but the bleak confusion inside the tent and the scaly, beardedcountenanceofone’scompanion—fortunatelythenoiseofthewindusuallydrownsouthisstuffybreathing; worst of all is the feeling of complete helplessness and inability to deal with anyemergencythatmightarise.IusedtotrytoconsolemyselfwiththethoughtthatayearagoIwouldhavebeenthrilledbytheveryideaoftakingpartinourpresentadventure,aprospectthathadthenseemedlikeanimpossibledream;butaltitudehasthesameeffectonthemindasuponthebody,one’s intellectbecomesdullandunresponsive,andmyonlydesirewastofinishthewretchedjobandtogetdowntoamorereasonableclime.

EricShiptonUponThatMountain

ustbeforedawnonTuesday,April16,afterrestingfortwodaysatBaseCamp,weheadedup into the Icefall tobegin

our secondacclimatization excursion.As Inervously threadedmywaythrough the frozen, groaning disorder, I noticed that my breathingwasn’tquiteaslaboredasithadbeenduringourfirsttripuptheglacier;already my body was starting to adapt to the altitude. My dread ofgetting crushed by a falling serac, however, was at least as great asbefore.I’dhopedthatthegiantoverhangingtowerat19,000feet—christened

theMousetrapbysomewagonFischer’steam—hadtoppledbynow,but

it was still precariously upright, leaning even farther over. Again Iredlinedmycardiovascularoutputrushingtoascendfromitsthreateningshadow,andagaindropped tomykneeswhen Iarrivedon the serac’ssummit, gasping for air and trembling from the excess of adrenalinefizzingthroughmyveins.Unlikeourfirstacclimatizationsally,duringwhichwestayedatCampOneforlessthananhourbeforereturningtoBaseCamp,Robintendedforus to spendTuesdayandWednesdaynightsatCampOneand thencontinue up to Camp Two for three additional nights before headingdown.At 9:00 A.M., when I reached the Camp One site, Ang Dorje,* ourclimbing sirdar,† was excavating platforms for our tents in the hard-frozen snow slope. Twenty-nine years old, he is a slender man withdelicate features, a shy,moody temperament, and astounding physicalstrength.Whilewaitingformyteammatestoarrive,Ipickedupaspareshovel and started helping him dig. Within minutes I was exhaustedfromtheeffortandhadtositdowntorest,promptingabellylaughfromtheSherpa.“Areyounot feelinggood,Jon?”hemocked.“This isonlyCampOne,sixthousandmeters.Theairhereisstillverythick.”Ang Dorje hailed from Pangboche, an aggregation of stonewalledhousesandterracedpotatofieldsclingingtoaruggedhillsideat13,000feet.HisfatherisarespectedclimbingSherpawhotaughthimthebasicsof mountaineering at an early age so that the boy would havemarketableskills.BythetimeAngDorjewasinhisteens,hisfatherhadlostmostofhissighttocataracts,andAngDorjewaspulledfromschooltoearnmoneyforthefamily.In1984hewasworkingasacookboyforagroupofWesterntrekkerswhenhe caught the attention of aCanadian couple,MarionBoyd andGraemNelson.AccordingtoBoyd,“Iwasmissingmykids,andasIgrewto knowAngDorje he remindedme ofmy eldest son. AngDorjewasbright,interested,keentolearn,andconscientiousalmosttoafault.Hewas carrying a huge load and he had nosebleeds every day at highaltitude.Iwasintrigued.”After seeking the approval of AngDorje’smother, Boyd andNelsonstartedsupportingtheyoungSherpafinanciallysothathecouldreturn

toschool.“Iwillneverforgethisentryexam[togainadmissiontotheregionalprimaryschoolinKhumjung,builtbySirEdmundHillary].Hewas very small in stature and prepubescent.Wewere crammed into asmall roomwiththeheadmasterandfour teachers.AngDorjestood inthe middle with his knees quaking as he tried to resurrect the bit offormallearninghehadforthisoralexam.Weallsweatedblood…buthewasacceptedwiththeprovisothathewouldhavetositwiththelittlekidsinthefirstgrades.”AngDorjebecameanablestudentandachievedtheequivalentofaneighth-grade education before quitting to go back to work in themountaineeringand trekking industry.BoydandNelson,who returnedtotheKhumbuseveraltimes,witnessedhismaturation.“Withaccessforthefirst timetoagooddiet,hebegantogrowtallandstrong,”recallsBoyd.“HetolduswithgreatexcitementwhenhelearnedtoswiminapoolinKathmandu.Atagetwenty-fiveorsohelearnedtorideabicycleandtookabrieffancytothemusicofMadonna.Weknewhewasreallygrownupwhenhepresenteduswithhis first gift, a carefully selectedTibetancarpet.Hewantedtobeagiver,notataker.”AsAngDorje’s reputation forbeingastrongandresourcefulclimberspreadamongWesternclimbers,hewaspromotedtotheroleofsirdar,andin1992hewenttoworkforRobHallonEverest;bythelaunchofHall’s 1996 expedition, Ang Dorje had climbed the peak three times.With respect and obvious affection, Hall referred to him as “mymainman”andmentionedseveral times thatheconsideredAngDorje’s rolecrucialtothesuccessofourexpedition.ThesunwasbrightwhenthelastofmyteammatespulledintoCampOne,butbynoonascumofhighcirrushadblowninfromthesouth;bythreeo’clockdensecloudsswirledabovetheglacierandsnowpeltedthetentswithafuriousclamor.Itstormedthroughthenight;inthemorningwhenIcrawledoutoftheshelterIsharedwithDoug,morethanafootoffreshsnowblanketedtheglacier.Dozensofavalanchesrumbleddownthesteepwallsabove,butourcampwassafelybeyondtheirreach.At first light on Thursday, April 18, by which time the sky hadcleared,wegatheredourbelongingsandembarkedforCampTwo,fourmiles and 1,700 vertical feet above. The route took us up the gentlysloping floor of theWesternCwm, thehighest box canyonon earth, a

horseshoe-shapeddefilegougedfromtheheartoftheEverestmassifbythe Khumbu Glacier. The 25,790-foot ramparts of Nuptse defined therightwalloftheCwm,Everest’smassiveSouthwestFaceformedtheleftwall, and the broad frozen thrust of the Lhotse Face loomed above itshead.ThetemperaturehadbeenbrutallycoldwhenwesetoutfromCamp

One, turningmy hands into stiff, aching claws, but as the first of thesun’sraysstrucktheglacier,theice-spackledwallsoftheCwmcollectedandamplified the radiantheat like ahuge solar oven. Suddenly Iwassweltering, and I feared the onset of another migraine-intensityheadache like the one that had hammered me at Base Camp, so Istripped down to my long underwear and stuffed a fistful of snowbeneathmybaseballcap.ForthenextthreehoursIsloggedsteadilyuptheglacier,pausingonlytodrinkfrommywaterbottleandreplenishthesnowsupplyinmyhatasitmeltedintomymattedhair.At 21,000 feet, dizzy from the heat, I came upon a large object

wrapped in blue plastic sheeting beside the trail. It tookmy altitude-impairedgraymatteraminuteortwotocomprehendthattheobjectwasahumanbody.Shockedanddisturbed,Istaredatitforseveralminutes.ThatnightwhenIaskedRobaboutithesaidhewasn’tcertain,buthethoughtthevictimwasaSherpawho’ddiedthreeyearsearlier.At21,300feet,CampTwoconsistedofsome120tentsscatteredacross

the bare rocks of the lateral moraine along the glacier’s edge. Thealtitude heremanifested itself as amalicious force,makingme feel asthoughIwereafflictedwitharagingred-winehangover.Toomiserabletoeatorevenread,forthenexttwodaysImostlylayinmytentwithmyheadinmyhands,tryingtoexertmyselfaslittleaspossible.FeelingslightlybetteronSaturday,Iclimbedathousandfeetabovecamptogetsomeexerciseandacceleratemyacclimatization,andthere,attheheadoftheCwm,fiftyyardsoffthemaintrack,Icameuponanotherbodyinthesnow,ormoreaccuratelythelowerhalfofabody.Thestyleoftheclothing and the vintage leather boots suggested that the victim wasEuropeanand that thecorpsehad lainon themountainat least tenorfifteenyears.Thefirstbodyhadleftmebadlyshakenforseveralhours;theshockof

encountering the second wore off almost immediately. Few of the

climberstrudgingbyhadgiveneithercorpsemorethanapassingglance.It was as if there were an unspoken agreement on the mountain topretend that these desiccated remains weren’t real—as if none of usdaredtoacknowledgewhatwasatstakehere.

OnMonday,April22,adayafter returning fromCampTwotoBaseCamp,AndyHarrisandIhikedovertotheSouthAfricancompoundtomeettheirteamandtrytogainsomeinsightintowhytheyhadbecomesuch pariahs. Fifteen minutes down the glacier from our tents, theircampwasclusteredatopahumpofglacialdebris.ThenationalflagsofNepal and South Africa, along with banners from Kodak, AppleComputer, and other sponsors, flew from a pair of tall aluminumflagpoles.Andystuckhisheadinsidethedooroftheirmesstent,flashedhismostwinningsmile,andinquired,“Hithere.Isanybodyhome?”ItturnedoutthatIanWoodall,CathyO’Dowd,andBruceHerrodwerein the Icefall,making theirway down fromCampTwo, butWoodall’sgirlfriend,AlexandrineGaudin,waspresent,aswashisbrother,Philip.Alsointhemesstentwasaneffervescentyoungwomanwhointroducedherself asDeshunDeysel and immediately invitedAndyandme in fortea. The three teammates seemed unconcerned by the reports of Ian’sreprehensible behavior and rumors predicting their expedition’simminentdisintegration.“Iwent iceclimbing for the first timetheotherday,”Deyselofferedenthusiastically, gesturing toward a nearby seracwhere climbers fromseveralexpeditionshadbeenpracticingtheiricecraft.“Ithoughtitwasquiteexciting.IhopetogouptheIcefallinafewdays.”I’dintendedtoaskheraboutIan’sdishonestyandhowshefeltwhenshelearnedshe’dbeenleftofftheEverestpermit,butshewassocheerfulandingenuousthat Ididn’thavethestomachfor it.AfterchattingfortwentyminutesAndy extended an invitation to their whole team, including Ian, “tocome’roundourcampforaweesnort”laterthatevening.IarrivedbackatourowncamptofindRob,Dr.CarolineMackenzie,and Scott Fischer’s doctor, Ingrid Hunt, engaged in a tense radioconversationwithsomeonehigheronthemountain.Earlier intheday,Fischer was descending from Camp Two to Base Camp when he

encounteredoneofhisSherpas,NgawangTopche,sittingontheglacierat 21,000 feet. A veteran thirty-eight-year-old climber from theRolwaling Valley, gap-toothed and sweet-natured, Ngawang had beenhauling loads and performing other duties above Base Camp for threedays,buthisSherpacohortscomplainedthathehadbeensittingaroundalotandnotdoinghisshareofthework.WhenFischerquestionedNgawang,headmittedthathe’dbeenfeeling

weak, groggy, and short of breath formore than two days, so Fischerdirected him to descend to Base Camp immediately. But there is anelement of machismo in the Sherpa culture that makes many menextremely reluctant to acknowledgephysical infirmities. Sherpas aren’tsupposed to get altitude illness, especially those from Rolwaling, aregionfamousforitspowerfulclimbers.Thosewhodobecomesickandopenlyacknowledge it,moreover,willoftenbeblacklisted from futureemploymentonexpeditions.ThusitcametopassthatNgawangignoredScott’sinstructionsand,insteadofgoingdown,wentuptoCampTwotospendthenight.Bythetimehearrivedat thetents late thatafternoonNgawangwas

delirious, stumbling like a drunk, and coughing up pink, blood-lacedfroth: symptoms indicating an advanced case of High AltitudePulmonary Edema, or HAPE—a mysterious, potentially lethal illnesstypicallybroughtonbyclimbingtoohigh,toofastinwhichthelungsfillwithfluid.*Theonly realcure forHAPE is rapiddescent; if thevictimremainsathighaltitudeverylong,deathisthemostlikelyoutcome.UnlikeHall,whoinsistedthatourgroupstaytogetherwhileclimbing

aboveBaseCamp,undertheclosewatchoftheguides,Fischerbelievedin giving his clients free rein to go up and down the mountainindependently during the acclimatization period. As a consequence,when itwas recognized thatNgawangwas seriously ill at CampTwo,fourofFischer’sclientswerepresent—DaleKruse,PeteSchoening,KlevSchoening,andTimMadsen—butnoguides.ResponsibilityforinitiatingNgawang’s rescue thus fell toKevSchoeningandMadsen—the latterathirty-three-year-old ski patrolman fromAspen, Colorado,who’d neverbeenhigherthan14,000feetbeforethisexpedition,whichhehadbeenpersuadedtojoinbyhisgirlfriend,HimalayanveteranCharlotteFox.WhenIwalkedintoHall’smesstent,Dr.Mackenziewasontheradio

telling somebody at Camp Two, “give Ngawang acetazolamide,dexamethasone, and ten milligrams of sublingual nifedipine.… Yes, Iknowtherisk.Giveittohimanyway.…I’mtellingyou,thedangerthathe will die from HAPE before we can get him down is much, muchgreater than the danger that the nifedipine will reduce his bloodpressuretoadangerouslevel.Please,trustmeonthis!Justgivehimthemedication!Quickly!”Noneofthedrugsseemedtohelp,however,nordidgivingNgawang

supplementaloxygenorplacinghiminsideaGamowBag—aninflatableplastic chamber about the size of a coffin in which the atmosphericpressureisincreasedtosimulatealoweraltitude.Withdaylightwaning,Schoening andMadsen therefore began dragging Ngawang laboriouslydown the mountain, using the deflated Gamow Bag as a makeshifttoboggan,whileguideNealBeidlemanandateamofSherpasclimbedasquicklyastheycouldfromBaseCamptomeetthem.BeidlemanreachedNgawangatsunsetnearthetopoftheIcefalland

tookovertherescue,allowingSchoeningandMadsentoreturntoCampTwo to continue their acclimatization. The sick Sherpa had so muchfluidinhislungs,Beidlemanrecalled,“thatwhenhebreatheditsoundedlike a straw slurping amilkshake from thebottomof a glass.HalfwaydowntheIcefall,Ngawangtookoffhisoxygenmaskandreachedinsidetoclearsomesnotfromtheintakevalve.WhenhepulledhishandoutIshinedmy headlamp on his glove and it was totally red, soakedwithbloodhe’dbeencoughingupintothemask.ThenIshinedthelightonhisfaceanditwascoveredwithblood,too.“Ngawang’s eyesmetmine and I could seehow frightenedhewas,”

Beidlemancontinued.“Thinking fast, I liedand toldhimnot toworry,thatthebloodwasfromacutonhis lip.Thatcalmedhimalittle,andwe continued down.” To keepNgawang from having to exert himself,whichwouldhaveexacerbatedhisedema,at severalpointsduring thedescent,BeidlemanpickeduptheailingSherpaandcarriedhimonhisback.ItwasaftermidnightbythetimetheyarrivedinBaseCamp.Kept on oxygen and watched closely throughout the night by Dr.

Hunt,bymorningNgawangwasdoingslightlybetter.Fischer,Hunt,andmost of the other doctors involved were confident that the Sherpa’sconditionwouldcontinuetoimprovenowthathewas3,700feetlower

thanCampTwo;descendingaslittleas2,000feetistypicallyenoughtobring about complete recovery from HAPE. For this reason, Huntexplains,“therewasnodiscussionofahelicopter”toevacuateNgawangfromBaseCamptoKathmandu,whichwouldhavecost$5,000.“Unfortunately,” saysHunt, Ngawang “did not continue to improve.By late morning he started to deteriorate again.” At this point Huntconcluded that he needed to be evacuated, but by now the sky hadturned cloudy, ruling out the possibility of a helicopter flight. Sheproposed toNgimaKale Sherpa, Fischer’s Base Camp sirdar, that theyassemblea teamofSherpas to takeNgawangdownthevalleyon foot.Ngimabalkedat this idea,however.AccordingtoHunt, thesirdarwasadamantthatNgawangdidn’thaveHAPEoranyotherformofaltitudeillness, “but rather was suffering from ‘gastric,’ the Nepali term forstomachache,”andthatanevacuationwasunnecessary.Hunt persuaded Ngima to allow two Sherpas to help her escortNgawangtoa lowerelevation.Thestrickenmanwalkedsoslowlyandwithsuchdifficulty,though,thataftercoveringlessthanaquarter-mileitbecameobvioustoHuntthathecouldn’ttravelunderhisownpower,and that she would need a lot more help. So she turned around andbroughtNgawangbacktotheMountainMadnessencampment,shesays,“toreconsidermyoptions.”Ngawang’s condition continued to worsen as the day dragged on.When Hunt attempted to put him back in the Gamow Bag, Ngawangrefused, arguing, as Ngima had, that he didn’t have HAPE. Huntconsultedwith theotherdoctorsatBaseCamp(as shehad throughoutthe expedition), but she didn’t have an opportunity to discuss thesituationwithFischer:BythistimeScotthadembarkedforCampTwotobring down TimMadsen, who had overexerted himself while haulingNgawang down the Western Cwm and had subsequently come downwithHAPEhimself.WithFischerabsent,theSherpasweredisinclinedtodowhatHuntaskedofthem.Thesituationwasgrowingmorecriticalbythehour.Asoneofherfellowphysiciansobserved,“Ingridwasinwayoverherhead.”Thirty-two years old, Hunt had completed her residency only thepreviousJuly.Although shehadnopriorexperience in the specializedfield of high-altitude medicine, she had spent four months doing

volunteermedical-reliefworkinthefoothillsofeasternNepal.She’dmetFischer by chance some months earlier in Kathmandu when he wasfinalizing his Everest permit, and he subsequently invited her toaccompany his upcoming Everest expedition in the dual roles of teamphysicianandBaseCampmanager.Although she expressed some ambivalence about the invitation in aletterFischerreceivedinJanuary,ultimatelyHuntacceptedtheunpaidjobandmettheteaminNepalattheendofMarch,eagertocontributetotheexpedition’ssuccess.ButthedemandsofsimultaneouslyrunningBaseCampandmeetingthemedicalneedsofsometwenty-fivepeopleina remote, high-altitude environment proved to be more than she’dbargained for. (By comparison, Rob Hall paid two highly experiencedstaff members—team physician Caroline Mackenzie and Base Campmanager Helen Wilton—to do what Hunt did alone, without pay.)Compoundingherdifficulties,moreover,Hunthadtroubleacclimatizingand suffered severe headaches and shortness of breath duringmost ofherstayatBaseCamp.Tuesday evening, after the evacuation was aborted and NgawangreturnedtoBaseCamp,theSherpagrewincreasinglysick,partlybecausebothhe andNgima stubbornly confoundedHunt’s efforts to treathim,continuing to insist that he didn’t have HAPE. Earlier in the day, Dr.MackenziehadsentanurgentradiomessagetotheAmericandoctorJimLitch, requesting that he hurry to Base Camp to assist in Ngawang’streatment.Dr.Litch—arespectedexpert inhigh-altitudemedicinewhohadsummittedEverest in1995—arrivedat7:00P.M.after runningupfromPheriche,where hewas serving as a volunteer at theHimalayanRescueAssociation clinic.He foundNgawang lying in a tent, attendedby a Sherpa who had allowed Ngawang to remove his oxygen mask.ProfoundlyalarmedbyNgawang’scondition,Litchwasshockedthathewasn’tonoxygenanddidn’tunderstandwhyhehadn’tbeenevacuatedfromBaseCamp.LitchlocatedHunt,illinherowntent,andexpressedhisconcerns.BythistimeNgawangwasbreathingwithextremedifficulty.Hewasimmediately put back on oxygen, and a helicopter evacuation wasrequested for first light the following morning, Wednesday, April 24.Whencloudsandsnowsquallsmadea flight impossible,Ngawangwas

loadedintoabasketand,underHunt’scare,carrieddowntheglaciertoPhericheonthebacksofSherpas.ThatafternoonHall’sfurrowedbrowbetrayedhisconcern.“Ngawang

isinabadway,”hesaid.“Hehasoneoftheworstcasesofpulmonaryedema I’ve ever seen. They should have flown him out yesterdaymorningwhen theyhad a chance. If it hadbeenone of Scott’s clientswhowasthissick,insteadofaSherpa,Idon’tthinkhewouldhavebeentreatedsohaphazardly.BythetimetheygetNgawangdowntoPheriche,itmaybetoolatetosavehim.”WhenthesickSherpaarrivedinPhericheWednesdayeveningaftera

nine-hour journey from Base Camp, his condition continued itsdownward spiral, despite the fact that he had been kept on bottledoxygen and was now at 14,000 feet, an elevation not substantiallyhigher than the village where he’d spent most of his life. Perplexed,HuntdecidedtoputhiminsidethepressurizedGamowBag,whichwasset up in a lodge adjacent to the HRA clinic. Unable to grasp thepotentialbenefitsoftheinflatablechamberandterrifiedofit,Ngawangasked that a Buddhist lama be summoned. Before consenting to beingzippedintoitsclaustrophobicinterior,herequestedthatprayerbooksbeplacedinthebagwithhim.For the Gamow Bag to function properly, an attendant must

continuously inject fresh air into the chamberwith a foot pump. TwoSherpas took turns at the pump while an exhausted Hunt monitoredNgawang’scondition throughaplasticwindowat theheadof thebag.Around8:00P.M.,oneof theSherpas,Jeta,noticedthatNgawangwasfrothing at the mouth and had apparently stopped breathing; Huntimmediately tore open the bag and determined that he had gone intocardiac arrest, apparently after aspirating on some vomit. As shecommenced cardiopulmonary resuscitation, she yelled for Dr. LarrySilver,oneofthevolunteersstaffingtheHRAclinic,whowasinthenextroom.“Igotthereinafewseconds,”Silverrecalls.“Ngawang’sskinlooked

blue. He had vomited all over the place, and his face and chestwerecoveredwithfrothypinksputum.Itwasanuglymess.Ingridwasgivinghim mouth-to-mouth through all the vomit. I took one look at thesituation and thought, ‘This guy is going to die unless he gets

intubated.’” Silver sprinted to the nearby clinic for emergencyequipment, insertedanendotracheal tubedownNgawang’s throat, andbegan forcing oxygen into his lungs, first by mouth and then with amanual pump known as an “ambu bag,” at which point the Sherpaspontaneously regained a pulse and blood pressure. By the timeNgawang’s heart started beating again, however, a period ofapproximately ten minutes had passed in which little oxygen hadreachedhisbrain.AsSilverobserves, “Tenminuteswithoutapulseorsufficient blood oxygen levels is more than enough time to do severeneurologicaldamage.”For thenext fortyhours,Silver,Hunt,andLitch took turnspumping

oxygenintoNgawang’s lungswiththeambubag,squeezingitbyhandtwenty times each minute. When secretions built up and clogged thetubedowntheSherpa’sthroat,Huntwouldsuckthetubeclearwithhermouth. Finally, on Friday, April 26, the weather improved enough toallowahelicopterevacuation,andNgawangwasflowntoahospitalinKathmandu, but he did not recover. Over the weeks that followed helanguishedinthehospital,armscurledgrotesquelyathissides,musclesatrophying, his weight dropping below 80 pounds. By mid-JuneNgawangwouldbedead, leavingbehind awife and four daughters inRolwaling.

Oddly, most climbers on Everest knew less about Ngawang’s plightthantensofthousandsofpeoplewhowerenowherenearthemountain.TheinformationwarpwasduetotheInternet,andtothoseofusatBaseCampitwasnothinglessthansurreal.Ateammatemightcallhomeonasatellite phone, for instance, and learn what the South Africans weredoingatCampTwo froma spouse inNewZealandorMichiganwho’dbeensurfingtheWorldWideWeb.At least five Internet sites were posting dispatches* from

correspondents at Everest Base Camp. The South African teammaintained a website, as did Mal Duff’s International CommercialExpedition.Nova, the PBS television show, produced an elaborate andvery informative website featuring daily updates from Liesl Clark andtheeminentEveresthistorianAudreySalkeld,whoweremembersofthe

MacGillivrayFreemanIMAXexpedition.(Headedbytheaward-winningfilmmakerandexpertclimberDavidBreashears,who’dguidedDickBassupEverest in1985, the IMAX teamwas shootinga$5.5milliongiant-screenmovie about climbing themountain.) Scott Fischer’s expeditionhadnolessthantwocorrespondentsfilingonlinedispatchesforapairofcompetingwebsites.Jane Bromet, who phoned in daily reports for OutsideOnline,*was

oneofthecorrespondentsonFischer’steam,butshewasn’taclientanddidn’t have permission to climb higher than Base Camp. The otherInternet correspondent on Fischer’s expedition, however, was a clientwhointendedtogoallthewaytothesummitandfiledailydispatchesforNBCInteractiveMediaenroute.HernamewasSandyHillPittman,andnobodyonthemountaincutahigherprofileorgeneratedasmuchgossip.Pittman, a millionaire socialite-cum-climber, was back for her third

attempt on Everest. This year she was more determined than ever toreach the top and thereby complete her much publicized crusade toclimbtheSevenSummits.In1993PittmanjoinedaguidedexpeditionattemptingtheSouthCol

andSoutheastRidgeroute,andshecausedaminorstirbyshowingupatBaseCampwithhernine-year-oldson,Bo,alongwithanannyto lookafter him. Pittman experienced a number of problems, however, andreachedonly24,000feetbeforeturningaround.ShewasbackonEverestin1994afterraisingmorethanaquarterofa

milliondollars fromcorporate sponsors to secure the talentsof fourofthe finest alpinists in North America: Breashears (who was undercontracttofilmtheexpeditionforNBCtelevision),SteveSwenson,BarryBlanchard,andAlexLowe.Lowe—arguablytheworld’spre-eminentall-aroundclimber—washiredtobeSandy’spersonalguide,ajobforwhichhe was paid a substantial sum. In advance of Pittman, the four menstrungropespartwayuptheKangshungFace,anextremelydifficultandhazardouswallontheTibetansideofthemountain.WithagreatdealofassistancefromLowe,Pittmanascendedthefixedropesto22,000feet,but once again she was forced to surrender her attempt before thesummit; this time the problem was dangerously unstable snowconditionsthatforcedthewholeteamtoabandonthemountain.

UntilIbumpedintoheratGorakShepduringthetrektoBaseCamp,I’dnevermetPittmanface-to-face,althoughI’dbeenhearingaboutherforyears. In1992,Men’sJournal assignedme towriteanarticleaboutridingaHarley-DavidsonmotorcyclefromNewYorktoSanFranciscointhecompanyofJannWenner—thelegendary,exceedinglyrichpublisherof Rolling Stone, Men’s Journal, and Us—and several of his wealthyfriends, includingRockyHill,Pittman’sbrother, andherhusband,BobPittman,theco-founderofMTV.The ear-splitting, chrome-encrustedHog that Jann loanedmewas a

thrillingride,andmyhigh-rollingcompanionswerefriendlyenough.ButI had precious little in common with any of them, and there was noforgetting that I had been brought along as Jann’s hired help. Overdinner Bob and Jann and Rocky compared the various aircraft theyowned(JannrecommendedaGulfstreamIVthenext timeIwas in themarket for a personal jet), discussed their country estates, and talkedabout Sandy—who happened to be climbing Mount McKinley at thetime.“Hey,”BobsuggestedwhenhelearnedthatI,too,wasaclimber,“youandSandyoughttogettogetherandgoclimbamountain.”Now,fouryearslater,wewere.At five foot eleven, Sandy Pittman stood two inches taller thanme.

Hertomboyishlyshorthairlookedexpertlycoiffed,evenhereat17,000feet.Ebullientanddirect,she’dgrownupinnorthernCalifornia,whereherfatherhadintroducedhertocamping,hiking,andskiingasayounggirl.Delightinginthefreedomsandpleasuresofthehills,shecontinuedto dabble in outdoor pursuits through her college years and beyond,althoughthefrequencyofhervisitstothemountainsdiminishedsharplyafter shemoved to New York in themid-1970s in the aftermath of afailedfirstmarriage.InManhattanPittmanworkedvariouslyasabuyeratBonwitTeller,a

merchandisingeditoratMademoiselle,andabeautyeditoratamagazinecalledBride’s,andin1979marriedBobPittman.Anindefatigableseekerof public attention, Sandymade her name and picture regular fare inNewYorksocietycolumns.ShehobnobbedwithBlaineTrump,TomandMeredithBrokaw, IsaacMizrahi,MarthaStewart. Inorder to commutemore efficiently between their opulent Connecticutmanor and an art-filledapartmentonCentralParkWest staffedwithuniformedservants,

sheandherhusbandboughtahelicopterandlearnedtoflyit. In1990Sandy and Bob Pittman were featured on the cover of New Yorkmagazineas“TheCoupleoftheMinute.”Soon thereafter Sandy began her expensive, widely trumpeted

campaign to become the first American woman to climb the SevenSummits. The last—Everest—proved elusive, however, and in March1994 Pittman lost the race to a forty-seven-year-old Alaskanmountaineer and midwife named Dolly Lefever. She continued herdoggedpursuitofEverestjustthesame.As Beck Weathers observed one night at Base Camp, “when Sandy

goestoclimbamountain,shedoesn’tdoitexactlylikeyouandme.”In1993 Beck had been in Antarctica making a guided ascent of VinsonMassif at the same time Pittman was climbing the mountain with adifferentguidedgroup,andherecalledwithachucklethat“shebroughtthis humongous duffel bag full of gourmet food that took about fourpeople to even lift. She also brought a portable television and videoplayersoshecouldwatchmoviesinhertent.Imean,hey,you’vegottohandittoSandy:therearen’ttoomanypeoplewhoclimbmountainsinthat kind of high style.” Beck reported that Pittman had generouslysharedtheswagshe’dbroughtwiththeotherclimbersandthat“shewaspleasantandinterestingtobearound.”ForherassaultonEverestin1996,Pittmanonceagainassembledthe

sortofkitnotcommonlyseeninclimbers’encampments.ThedaybeforedepartingforNepal,inoneofherfirstWebpostingsforNBCInteractiveMedia,shegushed,

Allmypersonal stuff is packed.… It looks like I’ll haveasmuchcomputer andelectronicequipmentas Iwillhaveclimbinggear.…Two IBM laptops,avideocamera, three35mmcameras, oneKodak digital camera, two tape recorders, a CD-ROMplayer, a printer, andenough(Ihope)solarpanelsandbatteriestopowerthewholeproject.…Iwouldn’tdreamofleavingtownwithoutanamplesupplyofDean&DeLuca’sNearEastblendandmyespressomaker.Sincewe’llbeonEverestonEaster,Ibroughtfourwrappedchocolateeggs.AnEasteregghuntat18,000feet?We’llsee!

Thatnight, thesocietycolumnistBillyNorwichhostedafarewellpartyfor Pittman at Nell’s in downtownManhattan. The guest list includedBianca Jagger and Calvin Klein. Fond of costumes, Sandy appeared

wearing a high-altitude climbing suit over her evening dress,complemented by mountaineering boots, crampons, ice ax, and abandolierofcarabiners.Uponarrival intheHimalaya,Pittmanappearedtoadhereascloselyas possible to the proprieties of high society. During the trek to BaseCamp,ayoungSherpanamedPemba rolledupher sleepingbageverymorningandpackedherrucksackforher.WhenshereachedthefootofEverestwiththerestofFischer’sgroupinearlyApril,herpileofluggageincludedstacksofpressclippingsaboutherselftohandouttotheotherdenizens of Base Camp. Within a few days Sherpa runners began toarrive on a regular basis with packages for Pittman, shipped to BaseCamp via DHL Worldwide Express; they included the latest issues ofVogue, Vanity Fair, People,Allure. The Sherpas were fascinated by thelingerieadsandthoughttheperfumescent-stripswereahoot.Scott Fischer’s team was a congenial and cohesive group; most ofPittman’s teammates took her idiosyncrasies in stride and seemed tohave little trouble accepting her into their midst. “Sandy could beexhausting to be around, because she needed to be the center ofattentionandwasalwaysyappingawayaboutherself,”remembersJaneBromet. “But shewasn’t a negative person. She didn’t bring down themoodofthegroup.Shewasenergeticandupbeatalmosteveryday.”Nevertheless,severalaccomplishedalpinistsnotonherteamregardedPittmanasagrandstandingdilettante.Followingherunsuccessful1994attempt on Everest’s Kangshung Face, a television commercial forVaseline Intensive Care (the expedition’s primary sponsor) was loudlyderided by knowledgeablemountaineers because it advertised Pittmanasa“world-classclimber.”ButPittmanneverovertlymadesuchaclaimherself; indeed, sheemphasized inanarticle forMen’sJournal that shewantedBreashears,Lowe,Swenson,andBlanchard“tounderstandthatIdidn’tconfusemyavid-hobbyistabilitieswiththeirworld-classskill.”Her eminent companions on the 1994 attempt said nothingdisparagingaboutPittman,atleastnotinpublic.Afterthatexpedition,in fact, Breashears became a close friend of hers, and Swensonrepeatedly defended Pittman against her critics. “Look,” Swenson hadexplainedtomeatasocialgatheringinSeattleshortlyafterthey’dbothreturned fromEverest, “maybeSandy’snotagreatclimber,buton the

KangshungFace she recognizedher limitations.Yes, it’s true thatAlexandBarryandDavidandIdidalltheleadingandfixedalltheropes,butshe contributed to the effort in her own way by having a positiveattitude,byraisingmoney,andbydealingwiththemedia.”Pittman did not lack for detractors, however. A great many peoplewere offended by her ostentatious displays of wealth, and by theshamelesswayshechasedthelimelight.AsJoanneKaufmanreportedintheWallStreetJournal,

Ms.Pittmanwasknownincertainelevatedcirclesmoreasasocialclimberthanmountainclimber. She and Mr. Pittman were habitués of all the correct soirees and benefits andstaples of all the right gossip columns. “Many coat-tailswerewrinkled by Sandy Pittmanlatching on to them,” says a former business associate of Mr. Pittman who insisted onanonymity.“She’sinterestedinpublicity.IfshehadtodoitanonymouslyIdon’tthinkshe’dbeclimbingmountains.”

Fairly or unfairly, to her derogators Pittman epitomized all that wasreprehensibleaboutDickBass’spopularizationoftheSevenSummitsandtheensuingdebasementof theworld’shighestmountain.But insulatedby her money, a staff of paid attendants, and unwavering self-absorption, Pittman was heedless of the resentment and scorn sheinspiredinothers;sheremainedasobliviousasJaneAusten’sEmma.

*HeshouldnotbeconfusedwiththeSherpaontheSouthAfricanteamwhohasthesamename.AngDorje—likePemba,Lhakpa,AngTshering,Ngawang,Dawa,Nima,andPasang—isaverycommonSherpaappellation;thefactthateachofthesenameswassharedbytwoormoreSherpasonEverestin1996wasasourceofoccasionalconfusion.

†ThesirdaristheheadSherpa.Hall’steamhadaBaseCampsirdar,namedAngTshering,whowasinchargeofalltheSherpasemployedbytheexpedition;AngDorje,theclimbingsirdar,answeredtoAngTsheringbutsupervisedtheclimbingSherpaswhiletheywereonthemountainaboveBaseCamp.

*Therootoftheproblemisbelievedtobeapaucityofoxygen,compoundedbyhighpressureinthepulmonaryarteries,causingthearteriestoleakfluidintothelungs.

*Despiteconsiderablehooplaabout“direct,interactivelinksbetweentheslopesofMountEverestandtheWorldWideWeb,”technologicallimitationspreventeddirecthookupsfromBaseCamptotheInternet.Instead,correspondentsfiledtheirreportsbyvoiceorfaxvia

satellitephone,andthosereportsweretypedintocomputersfordisseminationontheWebbyeditorsinNewYork,Boston,andSeattle.E-mailwasreceivedinKathmandu,printedout,andthehardcopywastransportedbyyaktoBaseCamp.Likewise,allphotosthatranontheWebhadfirstbeensentbyyakandthenaircouriertoNewYorkfortransmission.InternetchatsessionsweredoneviasatellitephoneandatypistinNewYork.

*SeveralmagazinesandnewspapershaveerroneouslyreportedthatIwasacorrespondentforOutsideOnline.TheconfusionstemmedfromthefactthatJaneBrometinterviewedmeatBaseCampandpostedatranscriptoftheinterviewontheOutsideOnlinewebsite.Iwasnot,however,affiliatedwithOutsideOnlineinanycapacity.IhadgonetoEverestonassignmentforOutsidemagazine,anindependententity(basedinSantaFe,NewMexico)thatworksinloosepartnershipwithOutsideOnline(basedintheSeattlearea)topublishaversionofthemagazineontheInternet.ButOutsidemagazineandOutsideOnlineareautonomoustosuchadegreethatIdidn’tevenknowOutsideOnlinehadsentacorrespondenttoEverestuntilIarrivedatBaseCamp.

I

NINE

CAMPTWO

APRIL28,1996•21,300FEET

Wetellourselvesstoriesinordertolive.…Welookforthesermoninthesuicide,forthesocialormoral lesson in themurder of five.We interpret what we see, select themost workable of themultiplechoices.Weliveentirely,especiallyifwearewriters,bytheimpositionofanarrativelineupon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shiftingphantasmagoriawhichisouractualexperience.

JoanDidionTheWhiteAlbum

wasalreadyawakeat4:00A.M.whenthealarmonmywristwatch began to beep; I’d been awake most of the night,

struggling for breath in the meager air. And now it was time tocommencethedreadedritualofemergingfromthewarmthofmygoose-downcocoonintothewitheringcoldof21,300feet.Twodaysearlier—onFriday,April26—we’dhumpedallthewayfromBaseCamptoCampTwoinonelongdaytobeginourthirdandfinalacclimatizationsortieinpreparationforthesummitpush.Thismorning,accordingtoRob’sgrandplan,wewouldclimbfromCampTwotoCampThreeandspendanightat24,000feet.Robhadtoldustobereadytoleaveat4:45sharp—forty-fiveminutes

hence—whichallowedbarelyenoughtimetodress,forcedownacandybarandsometea,andstraponmycrampons.Shiningmyheadlamponadime-storethermometerclippedtotheparkaI’dbeenusingasapillow,Isawthatthetemperatureinsidethecrampedtwo-persontentwassevendegreesbelowzeroFahrenheit.“Doug!”Iyelledatthelumpburrowedinthesleepingbagbesideme.“Timetogetrolling,Slick.Youawakeoverthere?”“Awake?”heraspedinawearyvoice.“WhatmakesyouthinkIever

wenttosleep?Ifeellikeshit.Ithinksomething’swrongwithmythroat.

Man,I’mgettin’toooldforthisstuff.”During the night, our fetid exhalations had condensed on the tentfabric to form a fragile, interior sheath of hoarfrost; as I sat up andbeganrootingaroundinthedarkformyclothing,itwasimpossiblenottobrushagainstthelownylonwalls,andeverytimeIdidsoitinstigateda blizzard inside the tent, covering everything with ice crystals.Shivering hard, I zipped my body into three layers of fuzzypolypropylene pile underwear and an outer shell of windproof nylon,thenpulledmyclunkyplasticbootson.Yankingthelacestightmademewince in pain; for the past two weeks the condition of my cracked,bleedingfingertipshadbeensteadilydeterioratinginthecoldair.ItrampedoutofcampbyheadlampbehindRobandFrank,wendingbetweenice towersandpilesofrockrubble toreachthemainbodyofthe glacier. For the next two hourswe ascended an incline pitched asgentlyasabeginner’s ski slope,eventuallyarrivingat thebergschrundthatdelineatedtheKhumbuGlacier’supperend.ImmediatelyaboverosetheLhotseFace,avast,tiltedseaoficethatgleamedlikedirtychromein the dawn’s slanting light. Snaking down the frozen expanse as ifsuspended from heaven, a single strand of nine-millimeter ropebeckoned like Jack’s beanstalk. I picked up the bottom end of it,attachedmyjumar*totheslightlyfrayedline,andbegantoclimb.I’dbeenuncomfortablycoldsinceleavingcamp,havingunderdressedin anticipation of the solar-oven effect that had occurred every othermorningwhen the sunhit theWesternCwm.But on thismorning thetemperaturewasheldincheckbyabitingwindthatgusteddownfromthe uppermountain, creating awindchill that dipped to perhaps fortybelowzero.Ihadanextrapilesweaterinmybackpack,buttoputitonIwould first have to remove my gloves, pack, and wind jacket whiledangling from the fixed rope. Worrying that I was likely to dropsomething,IdecidedtowaituntilIreachedapartofthefacethatwasless steep, where I could stand in balance without hanging from therope.SoIcontinuedclimbing,andasIdidsoIgrewcolderandcolder.Thewindkickeduphugeswirlingwavesofpowdersnowthatwasheddownthemountainlikebreakingsurf,plasteringmyclothingwithfrost.Acarapaceof ice formedovermygoggles,making itdifficult to see. Ibeganto losefeelinginmyfeet.Myfingersturnedtowood. Itseemed

increasingly unsafe to keep going up in these conditions. Iwas at theheadof the line,at23,000 feet, fifteenminutes in frontofguideMikeGroom;Idecidedtowaitforhimandtalkthingsover.Butjustbeforehereachedme,Rob’s voicebarkedover the radioMike carried insidehisjacket, and he stopped climbing to answer the call. “Rob wantseverybody to go down!” he declared, shouting tomake himself heardabovethewind.“We’regettingoutofhere!”ItwasnoonbythetimewearrivedbackatCampTwoandtookstockofthedamage.Iwastiredbutotherwisefine.JohnTaske,theAustraliandoctor,hadsomeminorfrostniponthetipsofhisfingers.Doug,ontheotherhand,hadsufferedsomeseriousharm.Whenheremovedhisbootshediscoveredincipientfrostbiteonseveraltoes.OnEverestin1995he’dfrostbittenhisfeetbadlyenoughtolosesometissuefromabigtoeandpermanentlyimpairhiscirculation,makinghimparticularlysusceptibleto cold; now this additional frostbite would make him yet morevulnerabletothecruelconditionsoftheuppermountain.Evenworse,however,wastheinjurytoDoug’srespiratorytract.Lessthan two weeks before departing for Nepal he had undergone minorthroat surgery, leavinghis trachea in anextremely sensitive condition.This morning, gasping lungfuls of caustic, snow-filled air, he hadapparently frozen his larynx. “I’m fucked,” Doug croaked in a barelyaudiblewhisper, lookingcrushed. “I can’t even talk.Theclimb isoverforme.”“Don’twriteyourselfoffjustyet,Douglas,”Roboffered.“Waitandseehowyoufeelinacoupleofdays.You’reatoughbastard.Ithinkyou’vestill gotagood shotat the toponceyou recover.”Unconvinced,Dougretreated toour tentandpulledhis sleepingbagoverhishead. Itwasrough seeing him so discouraged. He’d become a good friend,unstintinglysharingthewisdomhe’dgainedduringhisfailedattemptonthepeakin1995.AroundmyneckIworeaXi-stone—asacredBuddhistamuletblessedbythelamafromthePangbochemonastery—thatDoughad given me early on in the expedition. I wanted him to reach thesummitalmostasbadlyasIwantedtoreachitmyself.An air of shock andmild depression hovered over the camp for theremainderof theday.Evenwithoutunleashing theworst it coulddishout,themountainhadsentusscurryingforsafety.Anditwasn’tjustour

teamthatwaschastenedanddoubtful.MoraleseemedtobeatalowebbforseveraloftheexpeditionsatCampTwo.The bad humor was most apparent in the bickering that broke out

betweenHallandtheleadersoftheTaiwaneseandSouthAfricanteamsover sharing responsibility for stringingmore than amile of rope thatwasneededtosafeguard therouteup theLhotseFace.By lateApril,alineofropeshadalreadybeenfixedbetweentheheadoftheCwmandCampThree,halfwayuptheface.Tocompletethejob,Hall,Fischer,IanWoodall,MakaluGau, andToddBurleson (theAmerican leader of theAlpineAscents guided expedition) had agreed that onApril 26 one ortwomembers from each teamwould join forces and put ropes up theremainderoftheface,thepassagebetweenCampThreeand26,000-footCampFour.Butithadn’thappenedasplanned.WhenAngDorje and LhakpaChhiri fromHall’s team, guideAnatoli

Boukreev from Fischer’s team, and one Sherpa from Burleson’s teamdepartedCampTwoonthemorningofApril26,theSherpaswhoweresupposed to join them from the South African and Taiwanese teamsstayed in their sleepingbagsandrefused tocooperate.Thatafternoon,when Hall arrived at Camp Two and learned of this, he immediatelymadesomeradiocallstofindoutwhytheplanhadbrokendown.KamiDorje Sherpa, the climbing sirdar for the Taiwanese team, apologizedprofuselyandpromisedtomakeamends.ButwhenHallraisedWoodallontheradio,theimpenitentSouthAfrican–expeditionleaderrespondedwithabarrageofobscenitiesandinsults.“Let’s keep it civil, mate,” Hall implored. “I thought we had an

agreement.”WoodallrepliedthathisSherpasstayedintheir tentsonlybecause nobody came around to wake them up and tell them theirassistancewasneeded.Hall shotback thatAngDorjehad in fact triedrepeatedlytorousethembuttheyhadignoredhisentreaties.At thatpointWoodall declared, “Either you’re abloody liar or your

Sherpais.”ThenhethreatenedtosendoveracoupleofSherpasfromhisteamto“sortout”AngDorjewiththeirfists.Twodaysafterthisunpleasantexchange,theillwillbetweenourteam

and the South Africans remained high. And contributing to the sourmoodatCampTwoweredisturbingsnippetsofnewswereceivedabout

NgawangTopche’sworseningcondition.Ashecontinuedtogrowsickerand sicker even at low altitude, the doctors postulated that his illnesswas perhaps not simple HAPE but rather HAPE complicated bytuberculosis or some other preexisting pulmonary condition. TheSherpas, however, had a different diagnosis: they believed that one ofthe climbers on Fischer’s team had angered Everest—Sagarmatha,goddessofthesky—andthedeityhadtakenherrevengeonNgawang.TheclimberinquestionhadstruckuparelationshipwithamemberofanexpeditionattemptingLhotse.Becauseprivacy isnonexistent in thetenementlikeconfinesofBaseCamp,theamorousassignationsthattookplace in this woman’s tent were duly noted by othermembers of herteam, especially the Sherpas, who sat outside pointing and snickeringduring the encounters. “[X] and [Y] are sauce-making, sauce-making,”theywouldgiggle,mimingthesexactbypumpingafingerintotheopenfistoftheotherhand.But despite the Sherpas’ laughter (to say nothing of their ownnotoriously libertine habits), they fundamentally disapproved of sexbetween unmarried couples on the divine flanks of Sagarmatha.Whenevertheweatherwouldturnnasty,oneoranotherSherpawasaptto point up at the clouds boiling heavenward and earnestly declare,“Somebody has been sauce-making. Make bad luck. Now storm iscoming.”SandyPittmanhadnoted this superstition in a diary entry fromher1994expeditionpostedontheInternetin1996:

April29,1994EverestBaseCamp(17,800feet),TheKangshungFace,Tibet…amailrunnerhadarrivedthatafternoonwithlettersfromhomeforeveryoneandagirliemagazinewhichhadbeensentbyacaringclimberbuddybackhomeasajoke.…HalfoftheSherpahadtakenittoatentforcloserinspection,whiletheothersfrettedoverthedisastertheywerecertainthatanyexaminationofitwouldbring.ThegoddessChomolungma,theyclaimed,doesn’ttolerate“jiggyjiggy”–anythingunclean–onhersacredmountain.

Buddhism as it is practiced in the high reaches of the Khumbu has adistinctly animistic flavor: the Sherpas venerate a tangled mélange ofdeitiesandspiritswhoaresaidtoinhabitthecanyons,rivers,andpeaks

of theregion.Andpayingproperhomageto thisensembleofdeities isconsidered crucially important to ensure safe passage through thetreacherouslandscape.To appease Sagarmatha, this year—as every year—the Sherpas had

built more than a dozen beautiful, meticulously constructed stonechortensatBaseCamp,oneforeachexpedition.Aperfectcubefivefeethigh, thealtar inourcampwascappedwitha triumvirateofcarefullyselected pointed stones, above which rose a ten-foot wooden polecrowned with an elegant juniper bough. Five long chains of brightlycoloredprayerflags*werethenstrungradiallyfromthepoleaboveourtents to protect the camp fromharm. Everymorning before dawnourBase Camp sirdar—an avuncular, highly respected, forty-somethingSherpanamedAngTshering—wouldlightsprigsof juniperincenseandchantprayersatthechorten;beforeheadingintotheIcefall,WesternersandSherpasalikewouldwalkpast thealtar—keeping italwayson theright—andthroughthesweetcloudsofsmoketoreceiveablessingfromAngTshering.Butforalltheattentionpaidtosuchrituals,Buddhismaspracticedby

theSherpaswasarefreshinglysuppleandnon-dogmaticreligion.Tostayin Sagarmatha’s good graces, for instance, no team was permitted toentertheIcefallforthefirsttimewithoutfirstundertakinganelaboratepuja,orreligiousceremony.Butwhenthefrail,wizenedlamaslatedtopresideoverthepujahadbeenunabletomakethetripfromhisdistantvillage on the appointed day, Ang Tshering declared that it would beO.K. for us to climb through the Icefall after all, because Sagarmathaunderstoodthatweintendedtoperformthepujaverysoonthereafter.Thereseemedtobeasimilarlylaxattitudeconcerningfornicationon

the slopes of Everest: even though they paid lip service to theprohibition, more than a few Sherpas made exceptions for their ownbehavior—in1996,aromanceevenblossomedbetweenaSherpaandanAmerican woman associated with the IMAX expedition. It thereforeseemedstrangethattheSherpaswouldblameNgawang’sillnessontheextramarital encounters taking place in one of theMountainMadnesstents. But when I pointed out the inconsistency to Lopsang JangbuSherpa—Fischer’s twenty-three-year-old climbing sirdar—he insistedthat the real problemwas not that one of Fischer’s climbers had been

“sauce-making”atBaseCampbutratherthatshecontinuedtosleepwithherparamourhighonthemountain.“Mount Everest is God—for me, for everybody,” Lopsang solemnly

mused ten weeks after the expedition. “Just husband and wife sleeptogether, isgood.Butwhen[X]and[Y]sleeptogether, isbadluckformyteam.…SoItelltoScott:Please,Scott,youareleader.Pleasetellto[X] not to sleep with boyfriend at Camp Two. Please. But Scott justlaughs.Thefirstday[X]and[Y]intent,justafter,NgawangTopcheissickatCampTwo.Soheisdeadnow.”NgawangwasLopsang’suncle;thetwomenhadbeenveryclose,and

Lopsanghadbeen in therescueparty thatbroughtNgawangdowntheIcefallonthenightofApril22.Then,whenNgawangstoppedbreathingin Pheriche and had to be evacuated to Kathmandu, Lopsang rusheddown from Base Camp (with Fischer’s encouragement) in time toaccompany his uncle on the helicopter flight. His brief trip toKathmanduandspeedytrekbacktoBaseCamplefthimquite fatiguedandrelativelypoorlyacclimatized—whichdidn’tbodewellforFischer’steam: Fischer relied on him at least as much as Hall relied on hisclimbingsirdar,AngDorje.A number of very accomplished Himalayan mountaineers were in

attendance on theNepalese side of Everest in 1996—veterans such asHall,Fischer,Breashears,PeteSchoening,AngDorje,MikeGroom,andRobert Schauer, an Austrian on the IMAX team. But four luminariesstood out even in this distinguished company—climbers whodemonstratedsuchastonishingprowessabove26,000feetthattheywereinaleagueoftheirown:EdViesturs,theAmericanwhowasstarringintheIMAXfilm;AnatoliBoukreev,aguidefromKazakhstanworkingforFischer; Ang Babu Sherpa, who was employed by the South Africanexpedition;andLopsang.Gregariousandgood-looking,kindtoafault,Lopsangwasextremely

cockyyethugelyappealing.HewasraisedintheRolwalingregion,hisparents’ only child, and he neither smoked nor drank, which wasunusual among Sherpas. He sported a gold incisor and had an easylaugh. Though he was small-boned and slight in stature, his flashymanner,appetiteforhardwork,andextraordinaryathleticgiftsearnedhimrenownastheDeionSandersof theKhumbu.Fischertoldmethat

he thought Lopsang had the potential to be “the second coming ofReinholdMessner”—the famousTyroleanalpinistwho is far andawaythegreatestHimalayanclimberofalltime.Lopsang firstmade a splash in1993, at the ageof twenty,whenhewashiredtocarryloadsforajointIndian-NepaleseEverestteamledbyan Indian woman, Bachendri Pal, and largely composed of femaleclimbers. Being the youngest member of the expedition, Lopsang wasinitially relegated to a supporting role, but his strength was soimpressive that at the lastminute hewas assigned to a summit party,andonMay16hereachedthetopwithoutsupplementaloxygen.FivemonthsafterhisEverestclimbLopsangsummittedChoOyuwitha Japanese team. In the spring of 1994 heworked for Fischer on theSagarmathaEnvironmentalExpeditionandreachedthetopofEverestasecondtime,againwithoutbottledoxygen.ThefollowingSeptemberhewasattemptingtheWestRidgeofEverestwithaNorwegianteamwhenhewashitbyanavalanche;aftertumbling200feetdownthemountainhesomehowmanagedtoarresthisfallwithaniceax,therebysavingthelivesofhimselfandtworopemates,butanunclewhowasn’ttiedtotheothers,MingmaNorbuSherpa,wasswepttohisdeath.AlthoughthelossrockedLopsanghard,itdidn’tdiminishhisardorforclimbing.InMay1995,hesummittedEverestathirdtimewithoutusinggas,onthisoccasionasanemployeeofHall’sexpedition,andthreemonthslaterhe climbed 26,400-foot Broad Peak, in Pakistan, while working forFischer.BythetimeLopsangwenttoEverestwithFischerin1996,he’donlybeenclimbingforthreeyears,butinthatspanhe’dparticipatedinno fewer than ten Himalayan expeditions and had established areputationasahigh-altitudemountaineerofthehighestcaliber.Climbing together on Everest in 1994, Fischer and Lopsang grew toadmire each other immensely. Both men had boundless energy,irresistible charm, and a knack for making women swoon. RegardingFischerasamentorandarolemodel,Lopsangevenstartedwearinghishair in aponytail, as Fischerdid. “Scott is very strongguy, I amverystrong guy,” Lopsang explained to me with characteristic immodesty.“Wemakegoodteam.ScottdoesnotpaymeaswellasRoborJapanese,butInoneedmoney;Iamlookingtofuture,andScottismyfuture.Hetelltome,‘Lopsang,mystrongSherpa!Imakingyoufamous!’…Ithink

ScotthasmanybigplansformewithMountainMadness.”

*Ajumar(alsoknownasamechanicalascender)isawallet-sizeddevicethatgripstheropebymeansofametalcam.Thecamallowsthejumartoslideupwardwithouthindrance,butitpinchestheropesecurelywhenthedeviceisweighted.Essentiallyratchetinghimselfupward,aclimbertherebyascendstherope.

*PrayerflagsareprintedwithholyBuddhistinvocations—mostcommonlyOmmanipadmehum—whicharedispatchedtoGodwitheachflapofthepennant.Oftenprayerflagsbeartheimageofawingedhorseinadditiontowrittenprayers;horsesaresacredcreaturesintheSherpacosmologyandarebelievedtocarrytheprayersheavenwardwithspecialspeed.TheSherpatermforprayerflagislungta,whichtranslatesliterallyas“windhorse.”

A

TEN

LHOTSEFACE

APRIL29,1996•23,400FEET

[T]he American public had no inherent national sympathy for mountain climbing, unlike theAlpinecountriesofEurope,ortheBritish,whohadinventedthesport.Inthosecountriestherewassomethingakintounderstanding,andthoughthemaninthestreetmightonthewholeconsideritarecklessrisktolife,heacknowledgedthatitwassomethingthathadtobedone.TherewasnosuchacceptanceinAmerica.

WaltUnsworthEverest

day after our first attempt to reach Camp Three wasthwartedbywindandbarbarouscold,everybodyonHall’s

team exceptDoug (who stayed at CampTwo to let his injured larynxheal)made another try. A thousand feet up the immense slant of theLhotseFace,Iascendedafadednylonropethatseemedtogoonforever,andthehigherIgot,themorelaggardlyImoved.Islidmyjumarupthefixedlinewithaglovedhand,restedmyweightonthedevicetodrawtwoburning,laboredbreaths;thenImovedmyleftfootupandstampedthecramponintotheice,desperatelysuckedinanothertwolungfulsofair;plantedmyrightfootnexttomyleft,inhaledandexhaledfromthebottomofmychest, inhaledandexhaledagain; and slid the jumaruptheropeonemoretime.I’dbeenexertingmyselfatfullboreforthepastthreehours,andIexpectedtobeatitforatleastanhourmorebeforetakingarest.InthisagonizingfashionIclimbedtowardaclusteroftentsreputedtobeperchedsomewhereonthesheer faceabove,progressinginincrementscalibratedininches.Peoplewhodon’tclimbmountains—thegreatmajorityofhumankind,

that is to say—tend to assume that the sport is a reckless, Dionysianpursuitofeverescalatingthrills.Butthenotionthatclimbersaremerelyadrenalinejunkieschasingarighteousfixisafallacy,atleastinthecase

ofEverest.What Iwasdoingup therehadalmostnothing in commonwithbungee jumpingor skydivingor ridingamotorcycleat120milesperhour.Above the comforts ofBaseCamp, the expedition in fact becameanalmost Calvinistic undertaking. The ratio of misery to pleasure wasgreaterbyanorderofmagnitudethananyothermountainI’dbeenon;Iquickly came tounderstand that climbingEverestwasprimarily aboutenduring pain.And in subjecting ourselves toweek afterweek of toil,tedium, and suffering, it struck me that most of us were probablyseeking,aboveallelse,somethinglikeastateofgrace.Of course for some Everesters myriad other, less virtuous motivescame into play as well: minor celebrity, career advancement, egomassage, ordinary bragging rights, filthy lucre. But such ignobleenticementswerelessafactorthanmanycriticsmightpresume.Indeed,whatIobservedastheweekswentbyforcedmetosubstantiallyrevisemypresuppositionsaboutsomeofmyteammates.TakeBeckWeathers,forinstance,whoatthatmomentappearedasatinyredspeckontheice500feetbelow,neartheendofalongqueueofclimbers. My first impression of Beck had not been favorable: abackslappingDallaspathologistwithless-than-mediocremountaineeringskills, at first blush he came across as a rich Republican blowhardlookingtobuythesummitofEverestforhistrophycase.YetthebetterIgot to know him, the more he earned my respect. Even though hisinflexible new boots had chewed his feet into hamburger, Beck kepthobbling upward, day in and day out, scarcelymentioningwhatmusthavebeenhorrificpain.Hewastough,driven,stoic.AndwhatIinitiallytooktobearrogancewas lookingmoreandmore likeexuberance.Theman seemed to bear no ill will toward anybody in theworld (HillaryClinton notwithstanding). Beck’s cheer and limitless optimismwere sowinningthat,inspiteofmyself,Igrewtolikehimalot.The son of a career Air Force officer, Beck had spent his childhoodshuttling from onemilitary base to another before landing inWichitaFallstoattendcollege.Hegraduated frommedical school,gotmarriedand had two children, settled comfortably into a lucrative Dallaspractice.Then, in1986,pushing forty,he tookavacation inColorado,felt the siren song of the heights, and enrolled in a rudimentary

mountaineeringcourseinRockyMountainNationalPark.It is not uncommon for doctors to be chronic overachievers; Beckwasn’t the first physician to go overboard with a new hobby. Butclimbing was unlike golf or tennis or the various other pastimes thatconsumed his cronies. The demands of mountaineering—the physicalandemotionalstruggles,theveryrealhazards—madeitmorethanjustagame. Climbing was like life itself, only it was cast in much sharperrelief, and nothing had ever hooked Beck to such a degree. His wife,Peach,becameincreasinglyconcernedabouthisimmersionandthewayclimbingrobbedtheirfamilyofhispresence.Shewaslessthanpleasedwhen, not long after taking up the sport, Beck announced that he’ddecidedtohaveagoattheSevenSummits.Selfish and grandiose though Beck’s obsession may have been, itwasn’tfrivolous.IbegantorecognizeasimilarseriousnessofpurposeinLouKasischke,thelawyerfromBloomfieldHills;inYasukoNamba,thequietJapanesewomanwhoatenoodleseverymorningforbreakfast;andinJohnTaske,thefifty-six-year-oldanesthesiologistfromBrisbanewhotookupclimbingafterretiringfromthearmy.“WhenIleftthemilitary,Isortoflostmyway,”TaskebemoanedinathickAussieaccent.He’dbeenabigdeal in thearmy—amajor in theSpecial Air Service, Australia’s equivalent of the Green Berets. HavingservedtwotoursinVietnamattheheightofthewar,hefoundhimselfwoefully unprepared for the flat pitch of life out of uniform. “Idiscovered that I couldn’t really speak tocivilians,”hecontinued. “Mymarriagefellapart.AllIcouldseewasthislongdarktunnelclosingin,endingininfirmity,oldage,anddeath.ThenIstartedtoclimb,andthesportprovidedmostofwhathadbeenmissingformeincivvystreet—thechallenge,thecamaraderie,thesenseofmission.”As my sympathy for Taske, Weathers, and some of my otherteammatesmounted, I felt increasingly uncomfortable inmy role as ajournalist.IhadnoqualmswhenitcametowritingfranklyaboutHall,Fischer,orSandyPittman,eachofwhomhadbeenaggressivelyseekingmediaattentionforyears.Butmyfellowclientswereadifferentmatter.When they signedupwithHall’s expedition,noneof themhadknownthat a reporterwould be in theirmidst—scribbling constantly, quietlyrecording theirwords and deeds in order to share their foibleswith a

potentiallyunsympatheticpublic.After the expedition was over, Weathers was interviewed for the

television program Turning Point. In a segment of the interview thatwasn’t included in the version edited for broadcast, ABCNews anchorForrest Sawyer asked Beck, “How’d you feel about a reporter beingalong?”Beckreplied,

Itaddedalotofstress.Iwasalwaysalittleconcernedwiththeidea—youknow,thisguy’sgoingtocomebackandwriteastorythat’sgoingtobereadbyacoupleofmillionpeople.And,Imean,it’sbadenoughtogoupthereandmakeafoolofyourselfifit’sjustyouandthe climbing group. That somebody may have you written across the pages of somemagazineasabuffoonandaclownhasgottoplayuponyourpsycheastohowyouperform,how hard you’ll push. And I was concerned that itmight drive people further than theywantedtogo.Anditmightevenfortheguides.Imean,theywanttogetpeopleontopofthemountainbecause,onceagain,they’regoingtobewrittenabout,andthey’regoingtobejudged.

Amoment later Sawyer asked, “Did you sense that having a reporteralongputextrapressureonRobHall?”Beckanswered,

Ican’t imagine itdidn’t.This iswhat[Rob]does fora living,andifoneofhisclientsgotinjured,that’stheworstthingthatcanhappentoaguide.…Hecertainlyhadagreatseasontwo years before this in which they got everybody on top of the summit, which isextraordinary.AndIactuallythinkthathethoughtthatourgroupwasstrongenoughthatwecouldrepeat that.…So I think there isapushso thatwhenyouwindupagain in thenews,inthemagazine,it’sallreportedfavorably.

ItwaslatemorningbythetimeIfinallyhumpedintoCampThree:atrio of small yellow tents, halfway up the vertiginous sprawl of theLhotseFace, jammedsidebysideontoaplatformthathadbeenhewnfrom the icy slopebyourSherpas.When I arrived, LhakpaChhiri andAritawerestillhardatworkonaplatformforafourthtent,soItookoffmy pack and helped them chop. At 24,000 feet, I couldmanage onlysevenoreightblowsofmyiceaxbeforehavingtopauseformorethanaminutetocatchmybreath.Mycontributiontotheeffortwasnegligible,needlesstosay,andittooknearlyanhourtocompletethejob.Our tiny camp, a hundred feet above the tents of the other

expeditions, was a spectacularly exposed perch. For weeks we’d beentoiling in what amounted to a canyon; now, for the first time on theexpeditionthevistawasprimarilyskyratherthanearth.Herdsofpuffycumulusracedbeneaththesun,imprintingthelandscapewithashiftingmatrix of shadow and blinding light. Waiting for my teammates toarrive, I sat with my feet hanging over the abyss, staring across theclouds, looking down on the tops of 22,000-foot peaks that a monthearlier had towered overhead.At long last, it seemed as though Iwasreallynearingtheroofoftheworld.The summit,however,was still averticalmileabove,wreathed inanimbusofgale-bornecondensation.Butevenastheuppermountainwasrakedbywindsinexcessofahundredmilesperhour,theairatCampThree barely stirred, and as the afternoon wore on I began to feelincreasinglywoozy from the fierce solar radiation—at least I hoped itwastheheatthatwasmakingmestupid,andnottheonsetofcerebraledema.High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE) is less common than HighAltitudePulmonaryEdema(HAPE),butittendstobeevenmoredeadly.Abafflingailment,HACEoccurswhen fluid leaks fromoxygen-starvedcerebralbloodvessels, causing severe swellingof thebrain, and it canstrike with little or no warning. As pressure builds inside the skull,motor and mental skills deteriorate with alarming speed—typicallywithinafewhoursorless—andoftenwithoutthevictimevennoticingthechange.Thenextstepiscoma,andthen,unlesstheafflictedpartyisquicklyevacuatedtoloweraltitude,death.HACE happened to be onmymind that afternoon because just twodaysearlieraclientofFischer’snamedDaleKruse,aforty-four-year-olddentist from Colorado, had come downwith a serious case of it righthereatCampThree.AlongtimefriendofFischer’s,Krusewasastrong,veryexperiencedclimber.OnApril26he’dclimbedfromCampTwotoCampThree,brewedsometeaforhimselfandhisteammates,andthenlay down in his tent to take a nap. “I fell right asleep,” Kruse recalls,“andendedupsleepingalmosttwenty-fourhours,untilabouttwoP.M.the followingday.When somebody finallywokemeup it immediatelybecameapparenttotheothersthatmymindwasn’tworking,althoughitwasn’t apparent to me. Scott told me, ‘We gotta get you down right

away.’”Krusewas having an incredibly difficult time simply trying to dress

himself.Heputhisclimbingharnessoninsideout,threadeditthroughthe fly of his wind suit, and failed to fasten the buckle; fortunately,FischerandNealBeidlemannoticedthescrewupbeforeKrusestartedtodescend. “If he’d tried to rappel down the ropes like that,” saysBeidleman,“hewouldhaveimmediatelypoppedoutofhisharnessandfallentothebottomoftheLhotseFace.”“It was like I was very drunk,” Kruse recollects. “I couldn’t walk

withoutstumbling,andcompletely lost theability to thinkorspeak. Itwas a really strange feeling. I’d have some word in my mind, but Icouldn’tfigureouthowtobringittomylips.SoScottandNealhadtogetmedressedandmakesuremyharnesswasoncorrectly, thenScottloweredme down the fixed ropes.” By the timeKruse arrived in BaseCamp, he says, “It was still another three or four days before I couldwalk from my tent to the mess tent without stumbling all over theplace.”

When theevening sun slidbehindPumori, the temperatureatCampThreeplummetedmorethanfiftydegrees,andastheairchilledmyheadcleared: my anxiety about coming down with HACE proved to beunfounded, at least for the time being. The next morning, after amiserable, sleepless night at 24,000 feet,we descended toCampTwo,andadaylater,onMay1,continueddowntoBaseCamptorecoupourstrengthforthesummitpush.Ouracclimatizationwasnowofficiallycomplete—andtomypleasant

surpriseHall’sstrategyappearedtobeworking:Afterthreeweeksonthemountain,IfoundthattheairatBaseCampseemedthickandrichandvoluptuously saturated with oxygen compared to the brutally thinatmosphereofthecampsabove.Allwasnotwellwithmybody,however.I’dlostnearlytwentypounds

of muscle mass, largely from my shoulders, back, and legs. I’d alsoburned up virtually all my subcutaneous fat, making me vastly moresensitivetothecold.Myworstproblem,though,wasmychest:thedryhack I’d picked upweeks earlier in Lobuje had gotten so bad that I’d

torn some thoracic cartilage during an especially robust bout ofcoughing at Camp Three. The coughing had continued unabated, andeachhackfeltlikeastiffkickbetweentheribs.Most of the other climbers in Base Campwere in similarly battered

shape—itwassimplyafactoflifeonEverest.InfivedaysthoseofusonHall’s and Fischer’s teams would be leaving Base Camp for the top.Hoping to stanchmydecline, I resolved to rest, gobble ibuprofen, andforcedownasmanycaloriesaspossibleinthattime.From the beginning, Hall had planned that May 10 would be our

summitday.“OfthefourtimesI’vesummitted,”heexplained,“twiceitwason the tenthofMay.As theSherpaswouldput it, the tenth is an‘auspicious’ date for me.” But there was also a more down-to-earthreasonforselectingthisdate: theannualebbandflowof themonsoonmadeitlikelythatthemostfavorableweatheroftheyearwouldfallonornearMay10.ForallofApril,thejetstreamhadbeentrainedonEverestlikeafire

hose,blastingthesummitpyramidwithhurricane-forcewinds.EvenondayswhenBaseCampwasperfectlycalmandfloodedwithsunshine,animmensebannerofwind-drivensnowflewfromthesummit.ButinearlyMay,wehoped, the approachof themonsoon from theBayofBengalwould force the jet stream north into Tibet. If this yearwas like pastyears,betweenthedepartureofthewindandthearrivalofthemonsoonstorms we would be presented with a brief window of clear, calmweather,duringwhichasummitassaultwouldbepossible.Unfortunately, the annualweather patternwas no secret, and every

expedition had set their sights on the same window of fair weather.Hopingtoavoiddangerousgridlockonthesummitridge,Hallheldabigpowwow with leaders of the other expeditions in Base Camp. It wasdeterminedthatGöranKropp,ayoungSwedewhohadriddenabicyclefromStockholmtoNepal,wouldmakethefirstattempt,alone,onMay3. Next would be a team fromMontenegro. Then, on May 8 or 9, itwouldbetheturnoftheIMAXexpedition.Hall’s team, it was decided, would share a summit date of May 10

with Fischer’s expedition. After nearly getting killed by a falling rocklow on the Southwest Face, Petter Neby, the solo Norwegian climber,

wasalreadygone:he’dquietlyleftBaseCamponemorningandreturnedto Scandinavia. A guided group led by Americans Todd Burleson andPeteAthans,aswellasMalDuff’scommercialteamandanotherBritishcommercial team, all promised to steer clear of May 10, as did theTaiwanese.* Ian Woodall, however, declared that the South Africanswouldgotothetopwhenevertheydamnwellpleased,probablyonMay10,andanyonewhodidn’tlikeitcouldbuggeroff.Hall, ordinarily extremely slow to rile, flew into a rage when helearnedofWoodall’srefusaltocooperate.“Idon’twanttobeanywhereneartheuppermountainwhenthosepuntersareupthere,”heseethed.

*AlthoughHallandotherexpeditionleadersclearlybelievedthattheTaiwanesehadpromisednottoattemptthesummitonthisdate,MakaluGauinsistedafterthetragedythathewasnotawareofanysuchpromise.ItispossiblethattheTaiwanesesirdar,ChhiringSherpa,madethepromiseonGau’sbehalfwithoutinformingGauthathehaddoneso.

W

ELEVEN

BASECAMP

MAY6,1996•17,600FEET

Howmuchoftheappealofmountaineeringliesinitssimplificationofinterpersonalrelationships,its reduction of friendship to smooth interaction (like war), its substitution of an Other (themountain, the challenge) for the relationship itself? Behind amystique of adventure, toughness,footloose vagabondage—all much needed antidotes to our culture’s built-in comfort andconvenience—may lie a kind of adolescent refusal to take seriously aging, the frailty of others,interpersonalresponsibility,weaknessofallkinds,theslowandunspectacularcourseoflifeitself.…[T]op climbers… can be deeply moved, in fact maudlin; but only for worthy martyred ex-comrades.Acertaincoldness, strikinglysimilar in tone,emerges fromthewritingsofBuhl,JohnHarlin,Bonatti,Bonington,andHaston:thecoldnessofcompetence.Perhapsthisiswhatextremeclimbingisabout:togettoapointwhere,inHaston’swords,“Ifanythinggoeswrongitwillbeafighttotheend.Ifyourtrainingisgoodenough,survivalisthere;ifnotnatureclaimsitsforfeit.”

DavidRoberts“PateyAgonistes”MomentsofDoubt

e left Base Camp at 4:30A.M. onMay 6 to commenceour summit bid. The top of Everest, two vertical miles

above,seemedsoimpossiblydistantthatItriedtolimitmythoughtstoCamp Two, our destination for the day. By the time the first sunlightstrucktheglacierIwasat20,000feet,inthemawoftheWesternCwm,grateful that the Icefall was below me and that I would have to gothroughitonlyonemoretime,onthefinaltripdown.I had been plagued by heat in the Cwm every time I’d traveled

throughit,andthistripwasnoexception.ClimbingwithAndyHarrisatthe front of the group, I continually stuffed snow under my hat andmovedas fast asmy legsand lungswouldpropelme,hoping to reachtheshadeof the tentsbeforesuccumbing to thesolar radiation.As the

morningdraggedonandthesunbeatdown,myheadbegantopound.Mytongueswelledsomuchthatitwasdifficulttobreathethroughmymouth,and Inoticed that itwasbecomingharderandharder to thinkclearly.AndyandIdraggedintoCampTwoat10:30A.M.AfterIguzzledtwolitersofGatorademyequilibriumreturned.“Itfeelsgoodtoatlastbeonourwaytothesummit,yeah?”Andyinquired.He’dbeenlaidlowwithvarious intestinal ailments for most of the expedition and was finallygetting his strength back. A gifted tutor blessed with astonishingpatience,he’dusuallybeenassignedtowatchovertheslowerclientsatthebackof theherdandwas thrilledwhenRobhad turnedhim loosethismorningtogooutonpoint.AsthejuniorguideonHall’steam,andthe only one who’d never been on Everest, Andy was eager to provehimselftohisseasonedcolleagues.“Ithinkwe’reactuallygonnaknockthisbigbastardoff,”heconfidedinmewithahugesmile,staringupatthesummit.Laterthatday,GöranKropp,thetwenty-nine-year-oldSwedishsoloist,passed Camp Two on his way down to Base Camp, looking utterlyworked.OnOctober16,1995,hehadleftStockholmonacustom-builtbicycle loadedwith240poundsofgear, intending to travel round-tripfrom sea level in Sweden to the topofEverest entirelyunderhis ownpower,withoutSherpasupportorbottledoxygen.Itwasanexceedinglyambitiousgoal,butKropphadthecredentialstopullitoff:he’dbeenonsixpreviousHimalayanexpeditionsandhadmadesoloascentsofBroadPeak,ChoOyu,andK2.During the 8,000-mile bike ride to Kathmandu, he was robbed byRomanianschoolchildrenandassaultedbyacrowdinPakistan.InIran,an irate motorcyclist broke a baseball bat over Kropp’s (fortunately)helmetedhead.He’dneverthelessarrivedintactatthefootofEverestinearly April with a film crew in tow, and immediately began makingacclimatizationtripsupthelowermountain.Then,onWednesday,May1,he’ddepartedBaseCampforthetop.Kropp reached his high camp at 26,000 feet on the South Col onThursdayafternoonandleftforthetopthefollowingmorningjustaftermidnight. Everybody at Base Camp stayed close by their radiosthroughout the day, anxiously awaiting word of his progress. Helen

Wiltonhungasigninourmesstentthatread,“Go,Göran,Go!”For the first time inmonthsalmostnowindblasted thesummit,butthe snow on the upper mountain was thigh deep, making for slow,exhaustingprogress.Kroppbulledhiswayrelentlesslyupward throughthedrifts,however,andbytwoo’clockThursdayafternoonhe’dreached28,700feet,justbelowtheSouthSummit.Buteventhoughthetopwasnomorethansixtyminutesabove,hedecidedtoturnaround,believingthathewouldbetootiredtodescendsafelyifheclimbedanyhigher.“Toturnaroundthatclosetothesummit….”HallmusedwithashakeofhisheadonMay6asKroppploddedpastCampTwoonhiswaydownthemountain.“ThatshowedincrediblygoodjudgmentonyoungGöran’spart.I’mimpressed—considerablymoreimpressed,actually,thanifhe’dcontinued climbing andmade the top.”Over thepreviousmonth,Robhad lectured us repeatedly about the importance of having apredetermined turn-around time on our summit day—in our case itwouldprobablybe1:00P.M.,or2:00attheverylatest—andabidingbyitnomatterhowcloseweweretothetop.“Withenoughdetermination,anybloodyidiotcangetupthishill,”Hallobserved.“Thetrickistogetbackdownalive.”Hall’s easygoing facademasked an intense desire to succeed—whichhe defined in the fairly simple terms of getting as many clients aspossibletothesummit.Toensuresuccess,hepaidmeticulousattentiontodetail: thehealthof theSherpas, theefficiencyof thesolar-poweredelectricalsystem,thesharpnessofhisclients’crampons.Halllovedbeingaguide,anditpainedhimthatsomecelebratedclimbers—includingbutnot limited to Sir Edmund Hillary—didn’t appreciate how difficultguidingwas,orgivetheprofessiontherespecthefeltitdeserved.

RobdecreedthatTuesday,May7,wouldbearestday,sowegotuplateandsataroundCampTwo,buzzingwithnervousanticipationoverthe imminent summit assault. I fiddled with my crampons and someother gear, then tried to read a Carl Hiaasen paperback but was sofocusedontheclimbthat Ikeptscanningthesamesentencesoverandoverwithoutthewordsregistering.EventuallyIputthebookdown,snappedafewphotosofDougposing

withaflagtheKentschoolkidshadaskedhimtocarryupthepeak,andpumpedhimfordetailedinformationaboutthedifficultiesofthesummitpyramid,whichherememberedwellfromtheyearbefore.“Bythetimeweget to the top,”he frowned,“Iguarantee thatyou’regonnabeonehurtin’hombre.”Dougwashell-benton joiningthesummitpush,eventhoughhisthroatwasstillbotheringhimandhisstrengthseemedtobeat a low ebb. As he put it, “I’ve put too much of myself into thismountaintoquitnow,withoutgivingiteverythingI’vegot.”LatethatafternoonFischerwalkedthroughourcampwithaclenched

jaw,movinguncharacteristicallyslowlytowardhisowntents.Heusuallymanaged tomaintaina relentlesslyupbeatattitude;oneofhis favoriteutteranceswas,“Ifyou’rebummingout,you’renotgonnagettothetop,soaslongaswe’reupherewemightaswellmakeapointofgrooving.”At the moment, however, Scott did not appear to be grooving in theslightest;insteadhelookedanxiousandextremelytired.Because he’d encouraged his clients to move up and down the

mountainindependentlyduringtheacclimatizationperiod,heendeduphaving to make a number of hurried, unplanned excursions betweenBase Camp and the upper camps when several clients experiencedproblems and needed to be escorted down.He’d alreadymade specialtripstoassistTimMadsen,PeteSchoening,andDaleKruse.Andnow,onwhat shouldhavebeen abadlyneededday and ahalf of rest, Fischerhadjustbeenforcedtomakeahastyround-tripfromCampTwotoBaseCampandbacktohelphisgoodfriendKruseafterhecamedownwithwhatappearedtobearelapseofHACE.FischerhadarrivedatCampTwoaroundnoonthepreviousday, just

afterAndyandme,havingclimbed fromBaseCampwellaheadofhisclients;he’ddirectedguideAnatoliBoukreevtobringuptherear, stayclosetothegroup,andkeepaneyeoneverybody.ButBoukreevignoredFischer’s instructions: instead of climbingwith the team, he slept late,tookashower,anddepartedBaseCampsomefivehoursbehindthelastoftheclients.Thus,whenKrusecollapsedat20,000feetwithasplittingheadache,Boukreevwasnowhereinthevicinity,compellingFischerandBeidleman to rush down fromCampTwo to handle the emergency assoon asword of Kruse’s condition arrived via climbers coming up theWesternCwm.

Not long after Fischer reached Kruse and began the troublesomedescent to Base Camp, they encountered Boukreev at the top of theIcefall,ascendingalone,andFischerharshlyreprimandedtheguideforshirking his responsibilities. “Yeah,”Kruse remembers, “Scott laid intoToli pretty good. He wanted to know why he was so far behindeverybody—whyhewasn’tclimbingwiththeteam.”According to Kruse and other clients of Fischer’s, tension betweenFischer and Boukreev had been building throughout the expedition.FischerpaidBoukreev$25,000—anunusuallygenerous fee forguidingEverest (most other guides on the mountain were paid $10,000 to$15,000;skilledclimbingSherpasreceivedonly$1,400to$2,500),andBoukreev’sperformancehadn’tbeenmeetinghisexpectations.“Toliwasverystrongandaverygoodtechnicalclimber,”Kruseexplains,“buthehad poor social skills. He didn’t watch out for other people. He justwasn’tateamplayer.Earlier,I’dtoldScottthatIdidn’twanttohavetoclimbwithTolihighonthemountain,becauseIdoubtedthatI’dbeabletocountonhimwhenitreallymattered.”The underlying problem was that Boukreev’s notion of hisresponsibilities differed substantially from Fischer’s. As a Russian,Boukreevcamefromatough,proud,hardscrabbleclimbingculturethatdid not believe in coddling the weak. In Eastern Europe guides weretrained to act more like Sherpas—hauling loads, fixing ropes,establishing the route—and less like caretakers. Tall and blond, withhandsomeSlavic features,Boukreevwasoneof themostaccomplishedhigh-altitudeclimbers in theworld,with twentyyearsofexperience inthe Himalaya, including two ascents of Everest without supplementaloxygen.Andinthecourseofhisdistinguishedcareerhe’dformulatedanumber of unorthodox, very strongly held opinions about how themountainshouldbeascended.Hewasquiteoutspokeninhisbeliefthatit was a mistake for guides to pamper their clients. “If client cannotclimb Everest without big help from guide,” Boukreev told me, “thisclientshouldnotbeonEverest.Otherwisetherecanbebigproblemsuphigh.”ButBoukreev’s refusalor inability toplay the roleofaconventionalguide in theWestern tradition exasperated Fischer. It also forced himand Beidleman to shoulder a disproportionate share of the caretaker

dutiesfortheirgroup,andbythefirstweekinMaytheefforthadtakenan unmistakable toll on Fischer’s health. After arriving in Base Campwith the ailing Kruse on the evening of May 6, Fischer made twosatellite phone calls to Seattle in which he complained bitterly to hisbusiness partner, Karen Dickinson, and to his publicist, Jane Bromet,*about Boukreev’s intransigence. Neither woman imagined that thesewouldbethelastconversationstheywouldeverhavewithFischer.

OnMay 8 bothHall’s team and Fischer’s team departed Camp Twoand commenced the grinding ascent of the ropes up the Lhotse Face.Two thousand feet above the floor of the Western Cwm, just belowCamp Three, a boulder the size of a small television came rocketingdown from the cliffs above and smashed into Andy Harris’s chest. Itknocked him off his feet, slammed thewind out of him, and left himdanglingfromthefixedlineinastateofshockforseveralminutes.Hadhenotbeenclippedinwithajumarhewouldhavecertainlyfallentohisdeath.Whenhearrivedat thetents,Andylookedbadlyrattledbutclaimed

thathewasn’tinjured.“Imightbeabitstiffinthemorning,”heinsisted,“butIthinkthebloodythingdidn’tdomuchmorethanbruiseme.”Justbefore the rock nailed him he’d been hunched forwardwith his headdown; he happened to look up a moment before it struck, so that itmerely grazed his chin before hitting him in the sternum, but it hadcomesickeninglyclose to smashing intohiscranium.“If that rockhadhitmeinthehead….”Andyspeculatedwithagrimaceasheshedhispack,leavingtherestofthesentenceunsaid.BecauseCampThreewastheonlycampontheentiremountainthat

we didn’t share with the Sherpas (the ledge was too small toaccommodate tents forallofus), itmeant thatherewehad todoourowncooking—whichmostlyamountedtomeltingprodigiousquantitiesof ice fordrinkingwater.Dueto thepronounceddehydrationthatwasaninevitablebyproductofheavybreathinginsuchdesiccatedair,eachof us consumedmore than a gallon of liquid every day.We thereforeneededtoproduceapproximatelyadozengallonsofwatertomeettheneedsofeightclientsandthreeguides.

AsthefirstpersontoreachthetentsonMay8,Iinheritedthejoboficechopper.Forthreehours,asmycompanionstrickledintocampandsettledintotheirsleepingbags,Iremainedoutsidehackingattheslopewith the adze of my ice ax, filling plastic garbage bags with frozenshardsanddistributingtheicetothetentsformelting.At24,000feetitwasfatiguingwork.Everytimeoneofmyteammatesyelled,“Hey,Jon!Youstilloutthere?Wecouldusesomemoreiceoverhere!”itgavemeafresh perspective on howmuch the Sherpas ordinarily did for us, andhowlittlewetrulyappreciatedit.Bylateafternoon,asthesuneasedtowardthecorrugatedhorizonand

thetemperaturebegantoplunge,everyonehadpulledintocampexceptLouKasischke,FrankFischbeck,andRob,whohadvolunteeredtodothe“sweep” and come up last. Around 4:30 P.M., guide Mike GroomreceivedacallfromRobonhiswalkie-talkie:LouandFrankwerestillacouple of hundred feet below the tents andmoving extremely slowly;wouldMike please come down to assist them?Mike hurriedly put hiscrampons back on and disappeared down the fixed ropes withoutcomplaint.Nearlyanhourpassedbeforehereappeared,justaheadoftheothers.

Lou,whowassotiredhe’dletRobcarryhispack,staggeredintocamplooking pale and distraught, muttering, “I’m finished. I’m finished.Completelyoutofgas.”Frankshowedupafewminuteslaterappearingevenmoreexhausted,althoughhe’drefusedtogivehispacktoMike.Itwasa shock to see theseguys—bothofwhomhadbeenclimbingwelllately—in such a state. Frank’s apparent deterioration came as aparticularblow:I’dassumedfromthebeginningthatifanymembersofour team reached the top, Frank—who’d been high on the mountainthree times previously and seemed so savvy and strong—would beamongthem.

As darkness enveloped the camp, our guides handed out oxygencanisters, regulators, andmasks to everyone: for the remainder of theclimbwewouldbebreathingcompressedgas.Relying on bottled oxygen as an aid to ascent is a practice that’s

sparkedacrimoniousdebateeversincetheBritishfirsttookexperimental

oxygenrigstoEverestin1921.(SkepticalSherpaspromptlydubbedtheunwieldycanisters“EnglishAir.”)Initially,theforemostcriticofbottledgas was George Leigh Mallory, who protested that using it was“unsporting,andthereforeun-British.”Butitsoonbecameapparentthatin the so-called Death Zone above 25,000 feet, without supplementaloxygen the body is vastly more vulnerable to HAPE and HACE,hypothermia,frostbite,andahostofothermortalperils.By1924,whenhe returned for his third expedition to the mountain, Mallory hadbecomeconvincedthatthesummitwouldneverbereachedwithoutgas,andheresignedhimselftousingit.Experiments conducted in decompression chambers had by thendemonstratedthatahumanpluckedfromsealevelanddroppedonthesummit of Everest, where the air holds only a third asmuch oxygen,wouldloseconsciousnesswithinminutesanddiesoonthereafter.Butanumber of idealistic mountaineers continued to insist that a giftedathleteblessedwith rarephysiological attributes could, aftera lengthyperiodofacclimatization,climbthepeakwithoutbottledoxygen.Takingthislineofreasoningtoitslogicalextreme,thepuristsarguedthatusinggaswasthereforecheating.Inthe1970s,thefamedTyroleanalpinistReinholdMessneremergedas the leading proponent of gasless climbing, declaring that hewouldascendEverest“byfairmeans”ornotatall.Shortlythereafterheandhislongtime partner, the Austrian Peter Habeler, astounded the worldclimbingcommunitybymakinggoodontheboast:at1:00P.M.onMay8,1978, theyascendedto thesummitvia theSouthColandSoutheastRidge route without using supplemental oxygen. It was hailed byclimbersinsomecirclesasthefirsttrueascentofEverest.MessnerandHabeler’shistoricdeedwasnotgreetedwithhosannasinall quarters, however, especially among the Sherpas. Most of themsimply refused to believe that Westerners were capable of such anachievement,whichhadeludedeventhestrongestSherpas.Speculationwas rampant that Messner and Habeler had sucked oxygen fromminiaturecylindershiddenintheirclothing.TenzingNorgayandothereminent Sherpas signed a petition demanding that the government ofNepalconductanofficialinquiryofthepurportedascent.Buttheevidenceverifyingtheoxygenlessclimbwasirrefutable.Two

yearslaterMessnersilencedalldoubters,moreover,bytravelingtotheTibetan sideofEverest andmakinganother ascent sans gas—this timeentirelyalone,withoutthesupportofSherpasoranybodyelse.Whenhereachedthesummitat3:00P.M.onAugust20,1980,climbingthroughthickcloudsandfallingsnow,Messnersaid,“Iwasincontinualagony;Ihavenever inmywhole lifebeenso tired.” InTheCrystalHorizon, hisbookabouttheascent,hedescribesstrugglingupthefinalmeterstothetop:

WhenIrest I feelutterly lifelessexcept thatmythroatburnswhenIdrawbreath.…Icanscarcely go on. No despair, no happiness, no anxiety. I have not lost themastery ofmyfeelings,thereareactuallynomorefeelings.Iconsistonlyofwill.Aftereachfewmetresthistoofizzlesoutinunendingtiredness.ThenIthinknothing.Iletmyselffall,justliethere.ForanindefinitetimeIremaincompletelyirresolute.ThenImakeafewstepsagain.

UponMessner’s return to civilization, his ascentwaswidely lauded asthegreatestmountaineeringfeatofalltime.After Messner and Habeler proved that Everest could be climbedwithoutgas,acadreofambitiousmountaineersagreedthatitshouldbeclimbed without gas. Henceforth, if one aspired to be considered amember of the Himalayan elite, eschewing bottled oxygen wasmandatory. By 1996 some sixty men and women had reached thesummitwithoutit—fiveofwhomdidn’tmakeitbackdownalive.Howevergrandiosesomeofourindividualambitionsmayhavebeen,nobody on Hall’s team ever really considered going for the summitwithoutbottledoxygen.EvenMikeGroom,who’dclimbedEverestthreeyearsearlierwithoutgas,explainedtomethatheintendedtouseitthistime around because he was working as a guide, and he knew fromexperience that without bottled oxygen he would be so severelyimpaired—both mentally and physically—that he would be unable tofulfill hisprofessionalduties. Likemost veteranEverest guides,Groombelieved that although it was acceptable—and, indeed, aestheticallypreferable—todowithoutbottledoxygenwhenclimbingonone’sown,itwouldbeextremelyirresponsibletoguidethepeakwithoutusingit.The state-of-the-art Russian-built oxygen system used by HallconsistedofastiffplasticoxygenmaskofthesortwornbyMiGfighterpilotsduringtheVietnamWar,connectedviaarubberhoseandacrude

regulatortoanorangesteelandKevlargascanister.(Smallerandmuchlighter than a scuba tank, each one weighed 6.6 pounds when full.)Althoughwehadn’tsleptwithoxygenduringourpreviousstayatCampThree, now that we had begun the push to the summit Rob stronglyurgedustobreathegasthroughthenight.“Everyminuteyouremainatthis altitude and above,” he cautioned, “your minds and bodies aredeteriorating.” Brain cells were dying. Our blood was growingdangerously thick and sludgelike. Capillaries in our retinas werespontaneouslyhemorrhaging.Evenat rest,ourheartsbeatata furiousrate.Robpromisedthat“bottledoxygenwillslowthedeclineandhelpyousleep.”I tried toheedRob’sadvice,butmy latent claustrophobiaprevailed.

WhenIclampedthemaskovermynoseandmouthIkeptimaginingthatitwassuffocatingme,soafteramiserablehour I took itoffandspentthe rest of the night without gas, breathlessly flopping and fidgeting,checkingmywatcheverytwentyminutestoseeifitwastimetogetupyet.Dug into the slope a hundred feet below our camp, in an equally

precarioussetting,werethetentsofmostoftheotherteams—includingScottFischer’sgroup, theSouthAfricans,andtheTaiwanese.Early thenextmorning—Thursday,May9—asIwaspullingonmyboots fortheascent to Camp Four, Chen Yu-Nan, a thirty-six-year-old steelworkerfromTaipei,crawledoutofhistenttoevacuatehisbowelsshodonlyinthesmooth-soledlinersofhismountaineeringboots—aseriouslapseofjudgment.Ashesquatted,helosthisfootingontheiceandwenthurtlingdown

the Lhotse Face. Incredibly, after falling only 70 feet he plungedheadfirst in a crevasse, which arrested his tumble. Chen’s fall waswitnessed by a lone Sherpa named Jangbu from the IMAX team,whohappened to be passing through Camp Threewhile carrying a load toSouth Col. He immediately roused Makalu Gau, the leader of theTaiwanese team, and the two of them lowered a rope toChen, pulledhimoutoftheslot,andassistedhimbacktohistent.Althoughhewasbatteredandbadly frightened,hedidn’t seemseriously injured.At thetime, nobody on Hall’s team, including me, was even aware that themishaphadoccurred.

Shortly thereafter,Gau and the rest of theTaiwanese leftChen in atenttorecover,withtwoSherpas,anddepartedfortheSouthCol.EventhoughHallhadbeenledtounderstandthatGauwouldn’tattemptthesummitonMay10,theTaiwaneseleaderapparentlychangedhismindandnowintendedtogoforthetopthesamedaywedid.As thedayworeon,Chen’s condition tooka significant turn for the

worse. He became disoriented and reported being in great pain.Concerned, a Sherpa from the Taiwanese team began escorting ChenslowlydowntheLhotseFacetowardCampTwo.Jangbu,uponlearningovertheradiothatChenwasinabadway,hurrieddownfromtheSouthCol to assistwithhis evacuationdown the fixed ropes.Threehundredfeetfromthebottomoftheiceslope,Chenabruptlykeeledoverandlostconsciousness.Amomentlater,downatCampTwo,DavidBreashears’sradiocrackledtolife:itwasJangbu,reportinginapanickedvoicethatChenhadstoppedbreathing.Breashears and his IMAX teammate Ed Viesturs rushed up to see if

theycouldrevivehim,butwhentheyreachedChensomefortyminuteslater they found no vital signs. That evening, afterGau arrived at theSouthCol,Breashearscalledhimontheradio.“Makalu,”BreashearstoldtheTaiwaneseleader,“Chenhasdied.”“O.K.,”Gaureplied.“Thankyoufortheinformation.”Thenheassured

his teamthatChen’sdeathwould innowayaffect theirplans to leavefor the summit atmidnight. Breashears was flabbergasted. “I had justclosed his friend’s eyes for him,” he says with more than a touch ofanger.“IhadjustdraggedChen’sbodydown.AndallMakalucouldsaywas,‘O.K.’Idon’tknow,Iguessmaybeitwasaculturalthing.Maybehethought the best way to honor Chen’s death was to continue to thesummit.”Overtheprecedingsixweekstherehadbeenseveralseriousaccidents:

Tenzing’s fall into the crevasse beforewe even arrived at Base Camp;NgawangTopche’scaseofHAPEandsubsequentdeterioration;ayoung,apparently fit English climber onMalDuff’s teamnamedGingeFullenwho’dhadaseriousheartattacknearthetopof theIcefall;aDaneonDuff’steamnamedKimSejbergwhowasstruckbyafallingseracintheIcefallandbrokeseveralribs.Untilthatmoment,however,nobodyhaddied.

Chen’sdeathcastapalloverthemountainasrumorsoftheaccidentspreadfromtenttotent,butthirty-threeclimberswouldbedepartingforthesummitinafewshorthours,andthegloomwasquicklybanishedbynervousanticipationofwhatlayahead.Mostofusweresimplywrappedtootightlyinthegripofsummitfevertoengageinthoughtfulreflectionaboutthedeathofsomeoneinourmidst.Therewouldbeplentyoftimefor reflection later, we assumed, after we all had summitted and gotbackdown.

*BromethadleftBaseCampinmid-AprilandreturnedtoSeattle,whenceshecontinuedtofileInternetdispatchesaboutFischer’sexpeditionforOutsideOnline;shereliedonregularphoneupdatesfromFischerastheprimarysourceforherreports.

A

TWELVE

CAMPTHREE

MAY9,1996•24,000FEET

Ilookeddown.Descentwastotallyunappetizing.…Toomuchlabor,toomanysleeplessnights,andtoomanydreamshadbeen invested tobringus this far.Wecouldn’tcomebackforanother trynextweekend.Togodownnow,evenifwecouldhave,wouldbedescendingtoafuturemarkedbyonehugequestion:whatmighthavebeen?

ThomasF.HornbeinEverest:TheWestRidge

rising lethargic and groggy after my sleepless night atCampThree,Iwasslowtodress,meltwater,andgetoutof

thetentonThursdaymorning,May9.BythetimeIloadedmybackpackand strapped on my crampons, most of the rest of Hall’s group wasalready ascending the ropes toward Camp Four. Surprisingly, LouKasischke and Frank Fischbeck were among them. Because of theirravaged state when they arrived in camp the previous evening, I’dassumed thatbothmenwoulddecide to throw in the towel. “Goodonya, mates,” I exclaimed, borrowing a phrase from the antipodalcontingent,impressedthatmycohortshadsuckeditupandresolvedtopushon.As I rushed to joinmy teammates, I lookeddown to see aqueueof

approximately fifty climbers from other expeditions moving up theropes, too; the first of them were now immediately below me. Notwanting tobecomeentangled inwhatwas sure tobeamassive trafficjam(whichwouldprolongmyexposure to the intermittent fusilladeofstones whizzing down the face from above, among other hazards), Ipickedupmypaceand resolved tomove toward theheadof the line.BecauseonlyasingleropesnakeduptheLhotseFace,however,itwasn’teasytopassslowerclimbers.Andy’s encounterwith the falling rockwas verymuch onmymind

everytimeIunclippedfromthelinetomovearoundsomebody—evenasmallprojectilewouldbeenoughtosendmetothebottomofthefaceifitstruckwhileIwasdisengagedfromtherope.Leapfroggingpastothers,moreover, was not only nerve-racking but exhausting. Like anunderpoweredYugotryingtopassalineofothervehiclesonasteephill,Ihadtokeeptheacceleratorjammedtothefloorforadistressinglylongtimetogetaroundanybody,leavingmegaspingsohardthatIworriedIwasgoingtopukeintomyoxygenmask.Climbingwithoxygenforthefirsttimeinmylife,Itookawhiletogetused to it. Although the benefits of using gas at this altitude—24,000feet—weregenuine,theywerehardtodiscernimmediately.AsIfoughttocatchmybreathaftermovingpastthreeclimbers, themaskactuallygavetheillusionofasphyxiatingme,soItoreitfrommyface—onlytodiscoverbreathingwasevenharderwithoutit.By the time I surmounted the cliff of brittle, ocher-hued limestoneknown as the Yellow Band, I hadworkedmyway to the front of thequeue and was able to settle into a more comfortable pace. Movingslowlybut steadily, Imadea rising leftward traverseacross the topoftheLhotseFace, thenascendedaprowof shatteredblack schist calledthe Geneva Spur. I’d finally gotten the hang of breathing throughmyoxygen rig and had moved more than an hour ahead of my nearestcompanion. Solitude was a rare commodity on Everest, and I wasgrateful to be granted a bit of it on this day, in such a remarkablesetting.At25,900feet,IpausedonthecrestoftheSpurtodrinksomewaterandtakeintheview.Thethinairhadashimmering,crystallinequalitythatmadeevendistantpeaksseemcloseenoughtotouch.Extravagantlyilluminated by the midday sun, Everest’s summit pyramid loomedthroughanintermittentgauzeofclouds.Squintingthroughmycamera’stelephotolensattheupperSoutheastRidge,IwassurprisedtoseefourantlikefiguresmovingalmostimperceptiblytowardtheSouthSummit.IdeducedthattheymustbeclimbersfromtheMontenegrinexpedition;iftheysucceededtheywouldbethefirstteamtoreachthetopthisyear.Itwouldalsomeanthattherumorswe’dbeenhearingofimpossiblydeepsnow were unfounded—if they made the summit, maybe we had achanceofmakingit,too.Buttheplumeofsnownowblowingfromthe

summitridgewasabadsign:theMontenegrinswerestrugglingupwardthroughferociouswind.IarrivedontheSouthCol,ourlaunchingpadforthesummitassault,at1:00P.M.Aforlornplateauofbulletprooficeandwindsweptboulders26,000feetabovesealevel,itoccupiesabroadnotchbetweentheupperramparts of Lhotse and Everest. Roughly rectangular in shape, aboutfour football fields long by two across, the Col’s easternmargin drops7,000feetdowntheKangshungFace intoTibet; theothersideplunges4,000feettotheWesternCwm.Justbackfromthelipofthischasm,attheCol’swesternmostedge,thetentsofCampFoursquattedonapatchofbarrengroundsurroundedbymorethanathousanddiscardedoxygencanisters.*Ifthereisamoredesolate,inhospitablehabitationanywhereontheplanet,Ihopenevertoseeit.As the jet stream encounters the Everest massif and is squeezedthroughtheV-shapedcontoursoftheSouthCol,thewindacceleratestounimaginablevelocities;it’snotunusualforthewindsattheColactuallytobestrongerthanthewindsthatripthesummit.Thenearlyconstanthurricane blowing through the Col in early spring explains why itremainsasnakedrockandiceevenwhendeepsnowblanketsadjacentslopes:everythingnotfrozeninplaceherehasbeenblastedintoTibet.WhenIwalked intoCampFour, sixSherpaswerestruggling toerectHall’s tents in a 50-knot tempest. Helping them put up my shelter, Ianchored it to some discarded oxygen canisters wedged beneath thelargestrocksIcouldlift,thendoveinsidetowaitformyteammatesandwarmmyicyhands.Theweatherdeterioratedastheafternoonworeon.LopsangJangbu,Fischer’ssirdar,showedupbearingaback-wrenchingeighty-poundload,some thirty pounds ofwhich consisted of a satellite telephone and itsperipheral hardware: Sandy Pittman was intending to file Internetdispatchesfrom26,000feet.Thelastofmyteammatesdidn’tarriveuntil4:30P.M.,andthefinalstragglersinFischer’sgroupcameinevenlater,by which time a serious storm was in full flower. At dark, theMontenegrins returned to the Col to report that the summit hadremainedoutofreach:they’dturnedaroundbelowtheHillaryStep.Between the weather and the Montenegrins’ defeat, it didn’t augur

wellforourownsummitassault,scheduledtogetunderwayinlessthansix hours. Everyone retreated to their nylon shelters themoment theyreachedtheColanddidtheirbesttonap,butthemachine-gunrattleoftheflappingtentsandanxietyoverwhatwastocomemadesleepoutofthequestionformostofus.Stuart Hutchison—the young Canadian cardiologist—and I were

assignedtoonetent;Rob,Frank,MikeGroom,JohnTaske,andYasukoNamba were in another; Lou, BeckWeathers, Andy Harris, and DougHansen occupied a third. Lou and his tent-mateswere dozing in theirshelterwhenanunfamiliarvoicecalledfromoutofthegale,“Lethiminquickly or he’s going to die out here!” Lou unzipped the door, and amoment later a bearded man fell supine into his lap. It was BruceHerrod, the amiable thirty-seven-year-old deputy leader of the SouthAfrican team, and the sole remainingmember of that expeditionwithrealmountaineeringcredentials.“Bruce was in real trouble,” Lou remembers, “shivering

uncontrollably,actingveryspaceyandirrational,basicallyunabletodoanythingforhimself.Hewassohypothermichecouldbarely talk.TherestofhisgroupwasapparentlysomewhereontheCol,orontheirwaytotheCol.Buthedidn’tknowwhere,andhehadnoideahowtofindhisown tent, sowe gave him something to drink and tried towarm himup.”Dougwasalsonotdoingwell.“Dougdidn’tlookgood,”Beckrecalls.

“Hewas complaining that he hadn’t slept in a couple of days, hadn’teaten.Buthewasdeterminedtostraphisgearonandclimbwhenthetime came. I was concerned, because I’d gotten to know Doug wellenoughat thatpointtorealizethathe’dspenttheentirepreviousyearagonizingoverthefactthathe’dgottentowithinthreehundredfeetofthesummitandhadtoturnaround.AndImeanithadgnawedathimeverysingleday.Itwasprettyclearthathewasnotgoingtobedeniedasecondtime.Dougwasgoingtokeepclimbingtowardthetopaslongashewasstillabletobreathe.”There were more than fifty people camped on the Col that night,

huddledinshelterspitchedsidebyside,yetanoddfeelingofisolationhungintheair.Theroarofthewindmadeitimpossibletocommunicatefromonetenttothenext.Inthisgodforsakenplace,Ifeltdisconnected

fromtheclimbersaroundme—emotionally,spiritually,physically—toadegreeIhadn’texperiencedonanypreviousexpedition.Wewereateamin name only, I’d sadly come to realize. Although in a few hours wewouldleavecampasagroup,wewouldascendasindividuals,linkedtooneanotherbyneitherropenoranydeepsenseof loyalty.Each clientwas in it forhimselforherself,prettymuch.And Iwasnodifferent: Isincerely hoped Doug got to the top, for instance, yet I would doeverythinginmypowertokeeppushingonifheturnedaround.Inanothercontextthisinsightwouldhavebeendepressing,butIwastoopreoccupiedwiththeweathertodwellonit.Ifthewinddidn’tabate—andsoon—thesummitwouldbeoutofthequestionforallofus.Overtheprecedingweek,Hall’sSherpashadstockedtheColwith363poundsofbottledoxygen—55cylinders.Althoughthatsoundslikealot,itwasonly enough to permit a single attempt for three guides, eight clients,andfourSherpas.Andthemeterwasrunning:evenaswereclinedinourtents,wewereusinguppreciousgas. Ifneedbewecould turnoffouroxygenand safely remainuphere forperhaps twenty-fourhours;afterthat,however,wewouldneedtoeithergouporgodown.But mirabile visu, at 7:30 P.M. the gale abruptly ceased. HerrodcrawledoutofLou’stentandstumbledofftolocatehisteammates.Thetemperature was well below zero, but there was almost no wind:excellentconditionsforasummitclimb.Hall’sinstinctswereuncanny:itappeared thathehad timedour attemptperfectly. “Jonno! Stuart!”heyelled from the tentnextdoor. “Looks likewe’reon, lads.Be ready torockandrollateleven-thirty!”As we sipped tea and readied our gear for the climb, nobody saidmuch.Allofushadsufferedgreatlytogettothismoment.LikeDoug,Ihadeatenlittleand sleptnotatall since leavingCampTwo, twodaysearlier.EverytimeIcoughed, thepainfrommytornthoraciccartilagefeltlikesomeonewasjabbingaknifebeneathmyribs,andbroughttearstomyeyes.ButifIwantedacrackatthesummit,IknewthatIhadnochoicebuttoignoremyinfirmitiesandclimb.Twenty-fiveminutesbeforemidnight,Istrappedonmyoxygenmask,switchedonmyheadlamp,andascendedintothedarkness.Therewerefifteen of us in Hall’s group: three guides, a full complement of eightclients, and Sherpas Ang Dorje, Lhakpa Chhiri, Ngawang Norbu, and

Kami.HalldirectedtwootherSherpas—AritaandChuldum—toremainatthetentsinsupport,readytomobilizeintheeventoftrouble.TheMountainMadnessteam—composedofguidesFischer,Beidleman,

andBoukreev;sixSherpas;andclientsCharlotteFox,TimMadsen,KlevSchoening,SandyPittman,LeneGammelgaard,andMartinAdams—lefttheSouthColhalfanhourafterus.*LopsanghadintendedthatonlyfiveMountainMadnessSherpasaccompanythesummitteam,leavingtwoatthe Col in support, but, he says, “Scott opens his heart, tells to mySherpas, ‘All can go to summit.’”* In the end, Lopsang went behindFischer’s back and ordered one Sherpa, his cousin “Big” Pemba, toremainbehind.“Pembaangrytome,”Lopsangacknowledged,“butItelltohim,‘Youmuststay,orIwillnotgiveyoujobagain.’SohestaysatCampFour.”Leaving camp just after Fischer’s team,MakaluGau started upwith

three Sherpas—contrary to Hall’s understanding that no Taiwanesewouldmakeasummitattemptthesamedaywedid.TheSouthAfricanshad intendedtogo for the top, too,but thegruelingclimbfromCampThree to theColhad takensomuchoutof themthat theydidn’tevenemergefromtheirtents.Alltold,thirty-fourclimbersdepartedforthesummitinthemiddleof

that night. Although we left the Col as members of three distinctexpeditions, our fates were already starting to intertwine—and theywould become more and more tightly bound with every meter weascended.

The night had a cold, phantasmal beauty that intensified as weclimbed. More stars than I had ever seen smeared the frozen sky. Agibbousmoonroseabovetheshoulderof27,824-footMakalu,washingthe slope beneathmy boots in ghostly light, obviating the need for aheadlamp.Fartothesoutheast,alongtheIndia-Nepal frontier,colossalthunderheadsdriftedoverthemalarialswampsoftheTerai,illuminatingtheheavenswithsurrealburstsoforangeandbluelightning.Within threehoursof leaving theCol,Frankdecided that something

aboutthedayjustdidn’tfeelright.Steppingoutofthequeue,heturnedaroundanddescendedtothetents.HisfourthattempttoclimbEverest

wasover.Notlongafterthat,Dougsteppedasideaswell,“Hewasalittleahead

ofmeatthetime,”recallsLou.“Allofasuddenhesteppedoutof lineand juststoodthere.WhenImovedupbesidehim,hetoldmehewascold and feeling bad and was heading down.” Then Rob, who wasbringing up the rear, caught up to Doug, and a brief conversationensued.Nobodyoverheardthedialogue,sothereisnowayofknowingwhat was said, but the upshot was that Doug got back in line andcontinuedhisascent.

ThedaybeforedepartingBaseCamp,Robhadsat the teamdowninthemesstentandgivenusalectureabouttheimportanceofobeyinghisorders on summit day. “I will tolerate no dissension up there,” headmonished, staring pointedly atme. “Myword will be absolute law,beyond appeal. If you don’t like a particular decision I make, I’d behappytodiscussitwithyouafterward,butnotwhilewe’reonthehill.”Themostobvioussourceofpotentialconflictwasthe likelihoodthat

Robmightdecide to turnus aroundbefore the summit.But therewasanothermatter hewas particularly concerned about. During the latterstagesof theacclimatizationperiod,he’dgivenusslightly freerrein toclimb at our own pace—for instance, Hall sometimes allowed me totravel two hours or more out in front of the main group. He nowstressed, however, that for the first half of the summit dayhewantedeverybody toclimb incloseproximity. “Untilweall reach thecrestofthe Southeast Ridge,” he pronounced, referring to a distinctivepromontory at 27,600 feet known as the Balcony, “everyone needs tostaywithinahundredmetersofeachother.Thisisveryimportant.Wewillbeclimbing in thedark,and Iwant theguides tobeable tokeepclosetrackofyou.”Ascending through thepredawnhoursofMay10, thoseofusat the

headofthepackwerethuscompelledtorepeatedlystopandwaitinthebone-cracking cold for our slowest members to catch up. On oneoccasionMike Groom, sirdar Ang Dorje, and I sat on a snow-coveredledge for more than forty-five minutes, shivering and pounding ourhandsandfeettowardofffrostbite,waitingfortheotherstoarrive.But

thesquanderedtimewasevenmoreexcruciatingtobearthanthecold.At 3:45 A.M., Mike announced that we’d gotten too far ahead andneeded to stop and wait yet again. Pressing my body against a shaleoutcrop,tryingtoescapethesubzerobreezenowblowingfromthewest,I stared down the precipitous slope and attempted to identify theclimbersinchingtowardusinthemoonlight.Astheyadvanced,IcouldseethatsomemembersofFischer’sgrouphadcaughtupwithourgroup:Hall’steam,theMountainMadnessteam,andtheTaiwanesewerenowjumbledintoonelong,intermittentqueue.Andthensomethingpeculiarcaughtmyeye.Sixty-fivefeetbelow,atallfigureinabrightyellowdownjacketandpantswashitchedtothebackofamuchsmallerSherpabyathree-footlengthofcord;theSherpa,notwearinganoxygenmask,huffingloudly,washaulinghispartneruptheslopelikeahorsepullingaplow.Theoddpair was passing other people and making good time, but thearrangement—atechniqueforassistingaweakorinjuredclimberknownasshort-roping—appearedtobehazardousandextremelyuncomfortablefor both parties. By and by, I recognized the Sherpa as Fischer’sflamboyantsirdar,LopsangJangbu,andtheclimberinyellowasSandyPittman.Guide Neal Beidleman, who also observed Lopsang towing Pittman,recalls,“AsIcameupfrombelow,Lopsangwasleaningintotheslope,clingingtotherocklikeaspider,supportingSandyonatighttether.Itlookedawkwardandquitedangerous.Iwasn’tsurewhattomakeofit.”Around4:15A.M.,Mikegaveus thego-ahead to resumeourascent,and Ang Dorje and I started climbing as fast as we could in order towarm ourselves. As the first hint of daybreak brightened the easternhorizon,therocky,terracedterrainwe’dbeenascendinggavewaytoabroadgullyofunconsolidatedsnow.Takingturnsbreakingtrailthroughthecalf-deeppowder,AngDorjeandIreachedthecrestoftheSoutheastRidgeat5:30, justas the sunedged into the sky.Threeof theworld’sfivehighestpeaksstoodoutincraggyreliefagainstthepasteldawn.Myaltimeterread27,600feet.Hall hadmade it very clear that Iwas to climb no higher until thewholegrouphadgatheredatthisbalconylikeroost,soIsatdownonmy

packtowait.WhenRobandBeckfinallyarrivedatthebackoftheherd,I’dbeensittingformorethanninetyminutes.AsIwaited,bothFischer’sgroup and theTaiwanese teamcaught andpassedme. I felt frustratedabout wasting so much time and peeved at falling behind everybodyelse.ButIunderstoodHall’srationale,soIkeptatightlidonmyanger.Duringmythirty-four-yeartenureasaclimber,I’dfoundthatthemostrewarding aspects ofmountaineering derive from the sport’s emphasison self-reliance, on making critical decisions and dealing with theconsequences,onpersonalresponsibility.Whenyousignonasaclient,Idiscovered,youareforcedtogiveupallofthat,andmore.Forsafety’ssake,a responsibleguidewillalways insistoncalling the shots—heorshe simply can’t afford to let each client make important decisionsindependently.Passivity on the part of the clients had thus been encouragedthroughoutourexpedition.Sherpasput in theroute,setupthecamps,did the cooking, hauled all the loads. This conserved our energy andvastlyincreasedourchancesofgettingupEverest,butIfoundithugelyunsatisfying.IfeltattimesasifIwasn’treallyclimbingthemountain—thatsurrogatesweredoingitforme.AlthoughIhadwillinglyacceptedthisroleinordertoclimbEverestwithHall,Inevergotusedtoit.SoIwashappyashellwhen,at7:10A.M.,hearrivedatoptheBalconyandgavemetheO.K.tocontinueclimbing.One of the first people I passed when I started moving again wasLopsang,kneeling in thesnowoverapileofvomit.Ordinarily,hewasthe strongest member of any group he climbed with, even though henever used supplemental oxygen. As he proudly told me after theexpedition,“EverymountainIclimb,Igofirst, I fix line. Inninety-fiveonEverestwithRobHallIgofirstfromBaseCamptosummit,Ifixallropes.”HispositionnearthebackofFischer’sgrouponthemorningofMay 10, retching his guts out, seemed to indicate that somethingwasseriouslyamiss.The previous afternoon, Lopsang had exhausted himself carrying asatellitephoneforPittman,inadditiontotherestofhisload,fromCampThree to Camp Four.When Beidleman had seen Lopsang shoulder hiscripplingeighty-poundburdenatCampThree,he’dtoldtheSherpathatitwasn’t necessary to carry the phone to the SouthCol and suggested

thatheleaveitbehind.“Idon’twanttocarrytelephone,”Lopsanglateradmitted,inpartbecauseithadworkedonlymarginallyatCampThreeand it seemed even less likely to work in the colder, harsherenvironmentofCampFour.*“ButScotttoldtome,‘Ifyoudon’tcarry,Iwillcarry.’SoItaketelephone,tieonoutsideofmyrucksack,carrytoCampFour.…Thismakesmeverytired.”AndnowLopsanghadjusttowedPittmanonashort-ropeforfiveor

six hours above the South Col, substantially compounding his fatigueand preventing him from assuming his customary role in the lead,establishingtheroute.Becausehisunexpectedabsencefromtheheadofthe linehadabearingontheday’soutcome,hisdecisiontoshort-ropePittmanprovokedcriticismandbafflementafterthefact.“IhavenoideawhyLopsangwasshort-ropingSandy,”saysBeidleman.“Helostsightofwhathewassupposedtobedoingupthere,whattheprioritieswere.”Forherpart,Pittmandidn’t ask tobe short-roped.As she leftCamp

Fourat the frontofFischer’sgroup,Lopsangabruptlypulledherasideandgirth-hitchedabight of rope to the front of her climbingharness.Then, without consulting her, he clipped the other end to his ownharnessandbegantopull.ShemaintainsthatLopsanghauledheruptheslope very much against her wishes. Which begs a question: as anotoriously assertive New Yorker (she was so adamantine that someKiwis at Base Camp nicknamed her “Sandy Pit Bull”) why didn’t shesimplyunfasten the three-foot tetherconnectingher toLopsang,whichwouldhave requirednothingmore than reachingup andunclipping asinglecarabiner?Pittmanexplainsthatshedidn’tunclipherselffromtheSherpaoutof

respectforhisauthority—assheputit,“Ididn’twanttohurtLopsang’sfeelings.”Shealsosaid thatalthoughshedidn’tconsultherwatch,herrecollectionwasthatheshort-ropedherforonly“onetooneandahalfhours,”* not five to six hours, as several other climbers observed, andLopsangconfirmed.For his part,when askedwhyhe short-ropedPittman, forwhomhe

had openly expressed contempt on multiple occasions, Lopsang gaveconflictingaccounts.HetoldSeattleattorneyPeterGoldman—whohadclimbedBroadPeakwithbothScottandLopsangin1995andwasoneofFischer’s oldest, most trusted friends—that in the darkness he had

confusedPittmanwiththeDanishclientLeneGammelgaardandthathestoppedtowingherassoonasherealizedhismistakeatdaybreak.Butinan extended, tape-recorded interviewwithme, Lopsang insisted ratherconvincingly that he knew all along he was hauling Pittman and haddecidedtodoit“becauseScottwantsallmemberstogotosummit,andIamthinkingSandywillbeweakestmember, Iam thinking shewillbeslow,soIwilltakeherfirst.”Aperceptiveyoungman,Lopsangwasextremelydevoted toFischer;

theSherpaunderstoodhowimportantitwastohisfriendandemployerto get Pittman to the summit. Indeed, one of the last times FischercommunicatedwithJaneBrometfromBaseCamphemused,“IfIcangetSandy to the summit, I’llbet she’llbeonTV talk shows.Doyou thinkshewillincludemeinherfameandfanfare?”AsGoldmanexplained,“LopsangwastotallyloyaltoScott.Tomeit’s

inconceivable that he would have short-roped anybody unless hebelievedverystronglythatScottwantedhimtodoit.”Whatever motivated him, Lopsang’s decision to tow a client didn’t

seemlikeaparticularlyseriousmistakeatthetime.Butitwouldendupbeingoneofmany little things—a slowaccrual, compounding steadilyandimperceptiblytowardcriticalmass.

*ThespentoxygenbottlesblightingtheSouthColhavebeenaccumulatingsincethe1950s,butthankstoanongoinglitter-removalprograminstigatedin1994byScottFischer’sSagarmathaEnvironmentalExpedition,therearefewerofthemuptherenowthanthereusedtobe.MuchofthecreditbelongstoamemberofthatexpeditionnamedBrentBishop(thesonofthelateBarryBishop,theeminentNationalGeographicphotographerwhosummittedEverestin1963),whoinitiatedahighlysuccessfulincentivepolicy,fundedbyNike,Inc.,wherebySherpasarepaidacashbonusforeachoxygenbottletheybringdownfromtheCol.AmongthecompaniesguidingEverest,RobHall’sAdventureConsultants,ScottFischer’sMountainMadness,andToddBurleson’sAlpineAscentsInternationalhaveenthusiasticallyembracedBishop’sprogram,resultingintheremovalofmorethaneighthundredoxygencanistersfromtheuppermountainfrom1994through1996.

*MissingfromFischer’ssummitpartywereclientsDaleKruse,whohadremainedatBaseCampinthewakeofhismostrecentboutwithHACE,andPeteSchoening,thefabledsixty-eight-year-oldveteran,who’delectedtogonohigherthanCampThreeafteracardiogram

administeredbyDrs.Hutchison,Taske,andMackenziehadindicatedapotentiallyseriousanomalyinhisheartbeat.

*MostoftheclimbingSherpasonEverestin1996wantedanopportunitytoreachthetop.TheirunderlyingmotiveswerenolessvariedthanthemotivesofWesternclimbers,butatleastpartoftheincentivewasjobsecurity:asLopsangexplained,“AfterSherpaclimbsEverest,easytofindwork.EverybodywanttohirethisSherpa.”

*Thephonedidn’tworkatallatCampFour.

*PittmanandIdiscussedtheseandothereventsduringaseventy-minutephoneconversationsixmonthsafterreturningfromEverest.Excepttoclarifycertainpointsabouttheshort-ropingincident,sherequestedthatInotquoteanypartofthatdialogueinthisbook,andIhavehonoredthatrequest.

A

THIRTEEN

SOUTHEASTRIDGE

MAY10,1996•27,600FEET

Sufficeittosaythat[Everest]hasthemoststeepridgesandappallingprecipicesthatIhaveeverseen,andthatallthetalkofaneasysnowslopeisamyth.…Mydarlingthisisathrillingbusinessaltogether,Ican’ttellyouhowitpossessesme,andwhataprospectitis.Andthebeautyofitall!

GeorgeLeighMallory,inalettertohiswife,June28,1921

bovetheSouthCol,upintheDeathZone,survivalistonosmall degree a race against the clock. Upon setting out

fromCampFouronMay10,eachclientcarriedtwo6.6-poundoxygenbottles andwould pick up a third bottle on the South Summit from acachetobestockedbySherpas.Ataconservativeflowrateoftwolitersperminute,eachbottlewouldlastbetweenfiveandsixhours.By4:00or5:00P.M.,everyone’sgaswouldbegone.Dependingoneachperson’sacclimatization and physiological makeup, we would still be able tofunctionabovetheSouthCol—butnotwell,andnotforlong.Wewouldinstantly become more vulnerable to HAPE, HACE, hypothermia,impairedjudgment,andfrostbite.Theriskofdyingwouldskyrocket.Hall,who had climbed Everest four times previously, understood as

wellasanybodytheneedtogetupanddownquickly.Recognizingthatthebasicclimbingskillsofsomeofhisclientswerehighlysuspect,Hallintendedtorelyonfixedlinestosafeguardandexpeditebothourgroupand Fischer’s group over the most difficult ground. The fact that noexpeditionhadbeen to the topyet thisyearconcernedhim, therefore,because itmeant that ropes had not been installed overmuch of thisterrain.GöranKropp,theSwedishsoloist,hadascendedtowithin350vertical

feetofthetoponMay3,buthehadn’tbotheredtoputinanyropesatall.TheMontenegrins,who’dgotevenhigher,hadinstalledsomefixedline,butintheirinexperiencethey’dusedalltheyhadinthefirst1,400feetabovetheSouthCol,wastingitonrelativelygentleslopeswhereitwasn’treallyneeded.Thusonthemorningofoursummitbid,theonlyropes strung along the precipitous serrations of the upper SoutheastRidgewereafewancient,tatteredremnantsfrompastexpeditionsthatemergedsporadicallyfromtheice.Anticipating this possibility, before leaving Base Camp Hall andFischer convened ameeting of guides from both teams, during whichtheyagreedthateachexpeditionwoulddispatchtwoSherpas—includingthe climbing sirdars, AngDorje and Lopsang—fromCamp Four ninetyminutesaheadofthemaingroups.ThiswouldgivetheSherpastimetoinstall fixed lineson themost exposed sectionsof theuppermountainbeforetheclientsarrived.“Robmadeitveryclearhowimportantitwasto do this,” recalls Beidleman. “Hewanted to avoid a time-consumingbottleneckatallcosts.”For some unknown reason, however, no Sherpas left the South ColaheadofusonthenightofMay9.Perhapstheviolentgale,whichdidn’tstopblowinguntil7:30P.M.,preventedthemfrommobilizingasearlyasthey’d hoped. After the expedition Lopsang insisted that at the lastminute Hall and Fischer had simply scrapped the plan to fix ropes inadvanceof theirclients,becausethey’dreceivederroneous informationthat the Montenegrins had already completed the job as high as theSouthSummit.But if Lopsang’s assertion is correct, neither Beidleman, Groom, norBoukreev—the three surviving guides—were ever told of the alteredscheme.And if theplan to fix lineshadbeen intentionallyabandoned,therewouldhavebeennoreasonforLopsangandAngDorjetodepartwith the 300 feet of rope that each Sherpa carriedwhen they set outfromCampFouratthefrontoftheirrespectiveteams.Inanycase,above27,400feet,noropeshadbeenfixedaheadoftime.WhenAngDorjeandIfirstarrivedontheBalconyat5:30A.M.,weweremorethananhourinfrontoftherestofHall’sgroup.Atthatpointwecouldeasilyhavegoneaheadtoinstalltheropes.ButRobhadexplicitlyforbiddenmetogoahead,andLopsangwasstillfarbelow,short-roping

Pittman,sotherewasnobodytoaccompanyAngDorje.Quiet andmoodybynature,AngDorje seemedespecially somberaswesattogetherwatchingthesuncomeup.Myattemptstoengagehiminconversationwentnowhere.Hisillhumor,Ifigured,wasperhapsduetotheabscessedtooththathadbeencausinghimpainfortheprevioustwoweeks.Ormaybehewasbroodingover thedisturbingvisionhe’dhadfourdaysearlier:ontheirlasteveningatBaseCamp,heandsomeotherSherpashadcelebratedthecomingsummitattemptbydrinkingalarge quantity of chhang—a thick, sweet beer brewed from rice andmillet.Thenextmorning,severelyhungover,hewasextremelyagitated;beforeascendingtheIcefallheconfidedtoafriendthathe’dseenghostsinthenight.Anintenselyspiritualyoungman,AngDorjewasnotonetotakesuchportentslightly.Itwaspossible, though, thathewassimplyangryatLopsang,whomhe regardedas a showboat. In1995,HallhademployedbothLopsangandAngDorjeonhisEverestexpedition,andthe twoSherpashadnotworkedwelltogether.Onsummitdaythatyear,Hall’steamhadreachedtheSouthSummitlate,around1:30P.M.,tofinddeep,unstablesnowblanketingthefinalstretchof the summit ridge.Hall sent aKiwi guide namedGuyCotteraheadwithLopsang,ratherthanAngDorje,todeterminethefeasibilityof climbinghigher—andAngDorje,whowas the sirdaron that climb,tookitasaninsult.Alittlelater,whenLopsanghadclimbedtothebaseof the Hillary Step, Hall decided to abort the summit attempt andsignaled Cotter and Lopsang to turn around. But Lopsang ignored thecommand,untied fromCotter, and continued ascending to the summitalone. Hall had been angry about Lopsang’s insubordination, and AngDorjehadsharedhisemployer’sdispleasure.Thisyear,even though theywereondifferent teams,AngDorjehadagain been asked to work with Lopsang on summit day—and againLopsangappeared tobeactingsquirrelly.AngDorjehadbeenworkingwellbeyondthecallofdutyforsixlongweeks.Now,apparently,hewastiredofdoingmorethanhisshare.Lookingsullen,hesatbesidemeinthe snow, awaiting the arrival of Lopsang, and the ropes were leftunfixed.

Asaconsequence,IransmackintothefirstbottleneckninetyminutesaftermovingbeyondtheBalcony,at28,000feet,wheretheintermingledteamsencounteredaseriesofmassiverockstepsthatrequiredropesforsafepassage.ClientshuddledrestlesslyatthebaseoftherockfornearlyanhourwhileBeidleman—takingoverthedutiesofanabsentLopsang—laboriouslyrantheropeout.Here, the impatience and technical inexperience of Hall’s client

Yasuko Namba nearly caused a disaster. An accomplishedbusinesswomanemployedbyFederalExpressinTokyo,Yasukodidn’tfitthemeek,deferential stereotypeofamiddle-agedJapanesewoman.Athome,she’dtoldmewithalaugh,herhusbanddidallthecookingandcleaning.HerquestforEveresthadturnedintoaminorcausecélèbreinJapan. Previously on the expedition she’d been a slow, uncertainclimber,buttoday,withthesummitinhercrosshairs,shewasenergizedasneverbefore.“FromthetimewearrivedattheSouthCol,”saysJohnTaske,who’dsharedatentwithheratCampFour,“Yasukowastotallyfocusedonthetop—itwasalmostlikeshewasinatrance.”Eversinceleaving the Col she’d been pushing extremely hard, jostling her waytowardthefrontoftheline.Now,asBeidlemanclungprecariouslytotherock100feetabovethe

clients,theoverlyeagerYasukoclampedherjumartothedanglingropebeforetheguidehadanchoredhisendofit.Asshewasabouttoputherfullbodyweightontherope—whichwouldhavepulledBeidlemanoff—MikeGroom intervened in thenickof timeandgently scoldedher forbeingsoimpatient.Thetrafficjamattheropesgrewwitheacharrivingclimber,sothose

attherearofthescrumfellfartherandfartherbehind.Bylatemorning,threeofHall’sclients—StuartHutchison,JohnTaske,andLouKasischke,climbingnear thebackwithHall—werebecomingquiteworriedaboutthelaggingpace.ImmediatelyinfrontofthemwastheTaiwaneseteam,moving especially sluggishly. “Theywere climbing in a peculiar style,really close together,” says Hutchison, “almost like slices in a loaf ofbread, one behind the other,whichmeant itwas nearly impossible topass them. We spent a lot of time waiting for them to move up theropes.”At Base Camp before our summit bid, Hall had contemplated two

possible turn-around times—either 1:00 P.M. or 2:00 P.M. He neverdeclared which of these times we were to abide by, however—whichwascurious,consideringhowmuchhe’dtalkedabouttheimportanceofdesignatingaharddeadlineandstickingtoitnomatterwhat.Weweresimply left with a vaguely articulated understanding that Hall wouldwithholdmaking a final decisionuntil summit day, after assessing theweatherandotherfactors,andwouldthenpersonallytakeresponsibilityforturningeveryonearoundattheproperhour.BymidmorningonMay10,Hallstillhadn’tannouncedwhatourturn-aroundtimewouldactuallybe.Hutchison,conservativebynature,wasoperatingontheassumptionthat itwouldbe1:00P.M.Around11:00,Hall toldHutchisonandTaske that the topwasstill threehoursaway,and then he sprinted to try and get past the Taiwanese. “It seemedincreasingly unlikely that we would have any chance of summittingbefore the one P.M. turn-around time,” says Hutchison. A briefdiscussion ensued. Kasischkewas initially reluctant to concede defeat,but Taske and Hutchison were persuasive. At 11:30, the three menturned their backs on the summit and headed down, and Hall sentSherpasKamiandLhakpaChhiridownwiththem.Electingtodescendmusthavebeensupremelydifficultforthesethreeclients, as well as for Frank Fischbeck, who’d turned around hoursearlier. Mountaineering tends to draw men and women not easilydeflectedfromtheirgoals.Bythislatestageintheexpeditionwehadallbeensubjectedtolevelsofmiseryandperilthatwouldhavesentmorebalancedindividualspackingforhomelongago.Togetthisfaronehadtohaveanuncommonlyobduratepersonality.Unfortunately, the sort of individual who is programmed to ignorepersonaldistressandkeeppushingforthetopisfrequentlyprogrammedtodisregardsignsofgraveandimminentdangeraswell.Thisformsthenub of a dilemma that every Everest climber eventually comes upagainst: in order to succeed you must be exceedingly driven, but ifyou’retoodrivenyou’relikelytodie.Above26,000feet,moreover,theline between appropriate zeal and reckless summit fever becomesgrievouslythin.ThustheslopesofEverestarelitteredwithcorpses.Taske,Hutchison,Kasischke,andFischbeckhadeachspentasmuchas$70,000andenduredweeksofagonytobegrantedthisoneshotatthe

summit.Allwereambitiousmen,unaccustomedtolosingandevenlesstoquitting.Andyet,facedwithatoughdecision,theywereamongthefewwhomadetherightchoicethatday.AbovetherockstepwhereJohn,Stuart,andLouturnedaround, the

fixed ropes ended. From this point the route angled steeply upwardalonga graceful arêteofwind-compacted snow that culminated in theSouth Summit—where I arrived at 11:00 to find a second, evenworsebottleneck. A little higher, seemingly no more than a stone’s throwaway,wastheverticalgashoftheHillaryStep,andslightlybeyondthatthe summit itself. Rendered dumbwith awe and fatigue, I took somephotos, then sat down with guides Andy Harris, Neal Beidleman, andAnatoli Boukreev to wait for the Sherpas to fix ropes along thespectacularlycornicedsummitridge.I noticed that Boukreev, like Lopsang, wasn’t using supplemental

oxygen. Although the Russian had summitted Everest twice beforewithoutgas,andLopsangthrice,IwassurprisedFischerhadgiventhempermissiontoguidethepeakwithoutit,whichdidn’tseemtobeintheirclients’ best interest. I was also surprised to see that Boukreev didn’thave a backpack—customarily a guide would carry a pack containingrope, first-aid supplies, crevasse-rescue gear, extra clothing, and otheritemsnecessarytoassistclientsintheeventofanemergency.Boukreevwas the first guide I’d ever seen, on any mountain, ignore thisconvention.It turned out that he had departed Camp Four carrying both a

backpackandanoxygenbottle;helatertoldmethatalthoughhedidn’tintendtousethegas,hewantedtohaveabottlehandyintheeventthat“his power was low” and he needed it higher on the peak. Uponreaching the Balcony, however, he jettisoned the pack and gave hisoxygen canister, mask, and regulator to Beidleman to carry for him.Because Boukreev wasn’t breathing supplemental oxygen, he hadapparentlydecidedtostriphisloaddowntothebareminimumtogaineverypossibleadvantageintheappallinglythinair.A 20-knot breeze raked the ridge, blowing a plume of spindrift far

overtheKangshungFace,butoverheadtheskywasanachinglybrilliantblue. Lounging in the sun at 28,700 feet inside my thick down suit,gazingacrosstheroofoftheworldinahypoxicstupor,Icompletelylost

trackoftime.NoneofuspaidmuchattentiontothefactthatAngDorjeandNgawangNorbu,anotherSherpaonHall’steam,weresittingbesideussharingathermosofteaandseemedtobeinnohurrytogohigher.Around 11:40, Beidleman eventually asked, “Hey, Ang Dorje, are yougoing to fix the ropes, or what?” Ang Dorje’s reply was a quick,unequivocal “No”—perhaps because none of Fischer’s Sherpas weretheretosharethework.Growing alarmed at the crowd stacking up at the South Summit,

BeidlemanrousedHarrisandBoukreevandstronglysuggested that thethree guides install the ropes themselves; hearing this, I quicklyvolunteered tohelp.Beidlemanpulleda150-footcoilof rope fromhispack, I grabbed another coil from Ang Dorje, and with Boukreev andHarriswegotunderwayatnoontofixlinesupthesummitridge.Butbythenanotherhourhadalreadytrickledaway.

Bottled oxygen does notmake the top of Everest feel like sea level.Climbing above the South Summit with my regulator delivering justundertwolitersofoxygenperminute,Ihadtostopanddrawthreeorfour lungfuls of air after eachponderous step.Then I’d takeonemorestepandhavetopauseforanother fourheavingbreaths—andthiswasthe fastest pace I couldmanage. Because the oxygen systemswewereusingdelivereda leanmixof compressedgasandambient air, 29,000feet with gas felt like approximately 26,000 feet without gas. But thebottledoxygenconferredotherbenefitsthatweren’tsoeasilyquantified.Climbing along the blade of the summit ridge, sucking gas intomy

raggedlungs,Ienjoyedastrange,unwarrantedsenseofcalm.Theworldbeyond the rubbermaskwas stupendously vivid but seemed not quitereal,asifamoviewerebeingprojectedinslowmotionacrossthefrontof my goggles. I felt drugged, disengaged, thoroughly insulated fromexternal stimuli. I had to remindmyself over and over that therewas7,000feetofskyoneitherside,thateverythingwasatstakehere,thatIwouldpayforasinglebungledstepwithmylife.Half an hour above the South Summit I arrived at the foot of the

HillaryStep.Oneofthemostfamouspitchesinallofmountaineering,itsforty feet of near-vertical rock and ice looked daunting, but—as any

seriousclimberwould—I’dwantedverybadlytotakethe“sharpend”ofthe rope and lead the Step. It was clear, however, that Boukreev,Beidleman,andHarrisallfeltthesameway,anditwashypoxicdelusiononmyparttothinkthatanyofthemwasgoingtoletaclienthogsuchacovetedlead.Intheend,Boukreev—asseniorguideandtheonlyoneofuswhohadclimbedEverestpreviously—claimedthehonor;withBeidlemanpayingout the rope,hedidamasterful jobof leading thepitch.But itwas aslowprocess,andashepainstakinglyascended toward thecrestof theStep,InervouslystudiedmywatchandwonderedwhetherImightrunoutofoxygen.Myfirstcanisterhadexpiredat7:00A.M.ontheBalcony,afterlastingaboutsevenhours.Usingthisasabenchmark,attheSouthSummitI’dcalculatedthatmysecondcanisterwouldexpirearound2:00P.M.,which I’d stupidly assumedwould allowplenty of time to reachthesummitandreturntotheSouthSummittoretrievemythirdoxygenbottle.Butnowitwasalreadyafter1:00,andIwasbeginning tohaveseriousdoubts.AtthetopoftheStepIsharedmyconcernwithBeidlemanandaskedwhetherhemindedifIhurriedaheadtothesummitinsteadofpausingtohelphimstring the last coilof ropealong the ridge. “Go for it,”hegraciouslyoffered.“I’lltakecareoftherope.”Plodding slowly up the last few steps to the summit, I had thesensationofbeingunderwater,oflifemovingatquarterspeed.AndthenI foundmyself atop a slenderwedge of ice, adornedwith a discardedoxygen cylinder and a battered aluminum survey pole, with nowherehigher to climb.A stringofBuddhistprayer flags snapped furiously inthewind.Farbelow,downasideofthemountainIhadneverlaideyeson, the dry Tibetan plateau stretched to the horizon as a boundlessexpanseofdun-coloredearth.Reaching the topofEverest is supposed to triggera surgeof intenseelation;againstlongodds,afterall,IhadjustattainedagoalI’dcovetedsincechildhood.Butthesummitwasreallyonlythehalfwaypoint.AnyimpulseImighthavefelttowardself-congratulationwasextinguishedbyoverwhelmingapprehensionaboutthelong,dangerousdescentthatlayahead.

I

FOURTEEN

SUMMIT

1:12P.M.,MAY10,1996•29,028FEET

Notonlyduringtheascentbutalsoduringthedescentmywillpowerisdulled.ThelongerIclimbthelessimportantthegoalseemstome,themoreindifferentIbecometomyself.Myattentionhasdiminished,mymemory isweakened.Mymental fatigue isnowgreater than thebodily. It is sopleasanttositdoingnothing—andthereforesodangerous.Deaththroughexhaustionis—likedeaththroughfreezing—apleasantone.

ReinholdMessnerTheCrystalHorizon

nmybackpackwasabannerfromOutsidemagazine,asmallpennantemblazonedwithawhimsical lizard thatLinda,my

wife, had sewn, and someothermementoswithwhich I’d intended topose for a series of triumphant photos. Cognizant of my dwindlingoxygenreserves,however,IlefteverythinginmypackandstayedontopoftheworldjustlongenoughtofireofffourquickshotsofAndyHarrisandAnatoliBoukreevposinginfrontofthesummitsurveymarker.ThenIturnedtodescend.AbouttwentyyardsbelowthesummitIpassedNealBeidlemanandaclientofFischer’snamedMartinAdamson theirwayup.AfterexchangingahighfivewithNeal,Igrabbedahandfulofsmallstonesfromawind-scouredpatchofexposedshale,zippedthesouvenirsintothepocketofmydownsuit,andhasteneddowntheridge.AmomentearlierI’dnoticedthatwispycloudsnowfilledthevalleys

to the south, obscuring all but the highest peaks. Adams—a small,pugnaciousTexanwho’dgotten rich sellingbondsduring thebooming1980s—isanexperiencedairplanepilotwho’dspentmanyhoursgazingdownon the tops of clouds; laterhe toldme thathe recognized theseinnocent-looking puffs of water vapor to be the crowns of robustthunderheads immediately after reaching the top. “When you see athunderheadinanairplane,”heexplained,“yourfirstreactionistoget

thefuckoutofthere.Sothat’swhatIdid.”But unlike Adams, I was unaccustomed to peering down atcumulonimbuscellsfrom29,000feet,andIthereforeremainedignorantof the storm thatwas even then bearing down.My concerns revolvedinsteadaroundthediminishingsupplyofoxygeninmytank.Fifteen minutes after leaving the summit I reached the top of theHillary Step, where I encountered a clot of climbers chuffing up thesingle strand of rope, andmy descent came to an enforced halt. As Iwaitedforthecrowdtopass,Andyarrivedonhiswaydown.“Jon,”heasked,“Idon’tseemtobegettingenoughair.Canyoutelliftheintakevalvetomymaskisicedup?”Aquickcheckrevealedafist-sizedchunkoffrozendroolblockingtherubber valve that admitted ambient air into the mask from theatmosphere.Ichippeditoffwiththepickofmyiceax,thenaskedAndytoreturnthefavorbyturningoffmyregulatorinordertoconservemygas until the Step cleared. Hemistakenly opened the valve instead ofclosingit,however,andtenminuteslaterallmyoxygenwasgone.Mycognitivefunctions,whichhadbeenmarginalbefore,instantlywentintoa nosedive. I felt like I’d been slipped an overdose of a powerfulsedative.IfuzzilyrememberSandyPittmanclimbingpastasIwaited,boundforthesummit, followedanindeterminatetimelaterbyCharlotteFoxandthen Lopsang Jangbu. Yasuko materialized next, just below myprecariousstance,butwasflummoxedbythelastandsteepestportionoftheStep.Iwatchedhelplesslyforfifteenminutesasshestruggledtohaulherself up the uppermost brow of rock, too exhausted to manage it.Finally TimMadsen, whowas waiting impatiently directly below her,puthishandsbeneathherbuttocksandpushedhertothetop.RobHall appeared not long after that.Disguisingmy rising panic, IthankedhimforgettingmetothetopofEverest.“Yeah,it’sturnedouttobeaprettygoodexpedition,”hereplied, thenmentionedthatFrankFischbeck, BeckWeathers, Lou Kasischke, Stuart Hutchison, and JohnTaskehadallturnedback.Eveninmystateofhypoxicimbecility,itwasobviousHallwasprofoundlydisappointed that fiveofhis eight clientshad packed it in—a sentiment that I suspectedwas heightened by the

fact that Fischer’s entire crew appeared to be plugging toward thesummit.“Ionlywishwecouldhavegottenmoreclientstothetop,”Roblamentedbeforecontinuingonhisway.Soon thereafter, Adams and Boukreev arrived on their way down,stoppingimmediatelyabovemetowaitforthetraffictoclear.AminutelatertheovercrowdingatoptheStepintensifiedfurtherasMakaluGau,Ang Dorje, and several other Sherpas came up the rope, followed byDougHansenandScottFischer.Then,finally,theHillaryStepwasclear—but only after I’d spent more than an hour at 28,900 feet withoutsupplementaloxygen.Bythatpoint,entiresectorsofmycerebralcortexseemedtohaveshutdownaltogether.Dizzy,fearingthatIwouldblackout,Iwasfrantictoreach the South Summit,wheremy third bottlewaswaiting. I startedtenuously down the fixed lines, stiff with dread. Just below the step,Anatoli and Martin scooted around me and hurried down. Exercisingextremecaution,Icontinueddescendingthetightropeoftheridge,butfiftyfeetabovetheoxygencachetheropeended,andIbalkedatgoingfartherwithoutgas.OverattheSouthSummit,IcouldseeAndyHarrissortingthroughapileoforangeoxygenbottles.“Yo,Harold!” Iyelled.“Couldyoubringmeafreshbottle?”“There’snooxygenhere!”theguideshoutedback.“Thesebottlesareallempty!”Thiswasdisturbingnews.Mybrainscreamedforoxygen.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Justthen,MikeGroomcaughtuptomeonhiswaydownfromthesummit.MikehadclimbedEverestin1993withoutgas,andhewasn’toverlyconcernedaboutgoingwithout.Hegavemehisoxygenbottle,andwequicklyscrambledovertotheSouthSummit.Whenwegotthere,anexaminationoftheoxygencacheimmediatelyrevealedthattherewereatleastsixfullbottles.Andy,however,refusedto believe it. He kept insisting that theywere all empty, and nothingMikeorIsaidcouldconvincehimotherwise.Theonlywaytoknowhowmuchgasisinacanisteristoattachittoyour regulator and read the gauge; presumably this is how Andy hadchecked the bottles at the South Summit. After the expedition, NealBeidlemanpointedoutthatifAndy’sregulatorhadbecomefouledwith

ice, the gaugemight have registered empty even though the canisterswerefull,whichwouldexplainhisbizarreobstinacy.Andifhisregulatorwas perhaps on the fritz and not delivering oxygen to his mask, thatwouldalsoexplainAndy’sapparentlackoflucidity.This possibility—which now seems so self-evident—didn’t occur to

eitherMikeormeat thetime,however. Inhindsight,Andywasactingirrationallyandhadplainlyslippedwellbeyondroutinehypoxia,but Iwassomentallyimpededmyselfthatitsimplydidn’tregister.Myinabilitytodiscerntheobviouswasexacerbatedtosomedegreeby

the guide-client protocol. Andy and I were very similar in terms ofphysicalabilityandtechnicalexpertise;hadwebeenclimbingtogetherinanonguidedsituationasequalpartners,it’sinconceivabletomethatIwouldhaveneglectedtorecognizehisplight.Butonthisexpeditionhehadbeencastintheroleofinvincibleguide,theretolookaftermeandtheotherclients;wehadbeenspecificallyindoctrinatednottoquestionourguides’judgment.ThethoughtneverenteredmycrippledmindthatAndymight in fact be in terrible straits—that a guidemight urgentlyneedhelpfromme.As Andy continued to assert that there were no full bottles at the

South Summit, Mike looked at me quizzically. I looked back andshrugged.TurningtoAndy,Isaid,“Nobigdeal,Harold.Muchadoaboutnothing.” Then I grabbed a new oxygen canister, screwed it onto myregulator, and headed down themountain. Given what unfolded overthehoursthatfollowed,theeasewithwhichIabdicatedresponsibility—my utter failure to consider that Andy might have been in serioustrouble—wasalapsethat’slikelytohauntmefortherestofmylife.Around3:30P.M.IlefttheSouthSummitaheadofMike,Yasuko,and

Andy, andalmost immediatelydescended intoadense layerof clouds.Lightsnowstartedtofall.Icouldscarcelytellwherethemountainendedandwhere the sky began in the flat, diminishing light; it would havebeenveryeasytoblunderofftheedgeoftheridgeandneverbeheardfrom again. And the conditions only worsened as I moved down thepeak.AtthebottomoftherockstepsontheSoutheastRidgeIstoppedwith

MiketowaitforYasuko,whowashavingdifficultynegotiatingthefixed

ropes.HeattemptedtocallRobontheradio,butMike’stransmitterwasworking only intermittently andhe couldn’t raise anybody.WithMikelooking after Yasuko, and both Rob and Andy accompanying DougHansen—the only other client still above us—I assumed the situationwas under control. So as Yasuko caught up to us, I asked Mike’spermissiontocontinuedownalone.“Fine,”hereplied.“Justdon’twalkoffanycornices.”About 4:45 P.M., when I reached the Balcony—the promontory at27,600feetontheSoutheastRidge,where I’dsatwatchingthesunrisewith AngDorje—Iwas shocked to encounter BeckWeathers, standingaloneinthesnow,shiveringviolently.I’dassumedthathe’ddescendedtoCampFourhoursearlier.“Beck!”Iexclaimed,“whatthefuckareyoustilldoinguphere?”Yearsearlier,Beckhadundergonearadialkeratotomy*tocorrecthisvision.A side effect of the surgery, he discovered early in the Everestclimb,wasthatthelowbarometricpressurethatexistsathighaltitudecaused his eyesight to fail. The higher he climbed, the lower thebarometricpressurefell,andtheworsehisvisionbecame.The previous afternoon as he was ascending from Camp Three toCampFour, Beck later confessed tome, “my visionhad gotten so badthat I couldn’t seemore thana few feet. So I just tucked rightbehindJohn Taske and when he’d lift a foot I’d place my foot right in hisbootprint.”Beck had spoken openly of his vision problem earlier, but with thesummit inreachheneglectedtomentionits increasingseveritytoRoboranyoneelse.Hisbadeyesnotwithstanding,hewasclimbingwellandfeelingstrongerthanhehadsincethebeginningoftheexpedition,and,heexplained,“Ididn’twanttobailoutprematurely.”Climbing above the South Col through the night, Beck managed tokeepupwith thegroupbyemploying the same strategyhe’dused theprevious afternoon—stepping in the footsteps of the person directly infrontofhim.ButbythetimehereachedtheBalconyandthesuncameup, he realized his vision was worse than ever. In addition, he’dinadvertently rubbed some ice crystals into his eyes, lacerating bothcorneas.

“Atthatpoint,”Beckrevealed,“oneeyewascompletelyblurredover,Icouldbarelyseeoutoftheother,andI’dlostalldepthperception.IfeltthatIcouldn’tseewellenoughtoclimbhigherwithoutbeingadangertomyselforaburdentosomeoneelse,soItoldRobwhatwasgoingon.”“Sorry pal,” Rob immediately announced, “you’re going down. I’ll

sendoneoftheSherpasdownwithyou.”ButBeckwasn’tquitereadytogiveuphissummithopes:“IexplainedtoRobthatIthoughttherewasapretty good chancemy visionwould improve once the sun got higherandmypupilscontracted.IsaidIwantedtowaitalittlewhile,andthenboogieonupaftereverybodyelseifIstartedseeingmoreclearly.”RobconsideredBeck’sproposal, thendecreed,“O.K., fairenough.I’ll

giveyouhalfanhour to findout.But I can’thaveyougoingdown toCampFouronyourown. If your vision isn’t better in thirtyminutes IwantyoutostayheresoIknowexactlywhereyouareuntilIcomebackfromthesummit,thenwecangodowntogether.I’mveryseriousaboutthis: eitheryougodownrightnow,oryoupromisemeyou’ll sit righthereuntilIreturn.”“So I crossed my heart and hoped to die,” Beck told me good-

naturedlyaswestoodintheblowingsnowandwaninglight.“AndI’vekeptmyword.WhichiswhyI’mstillstandinghere.”Shortlyafternoon,StuartHutchison,JohnTaske,andLouKasischke

hadgonepastontheirwaydownwithLhakpaandKami,butWeatherselected not to accompany them. “The weather was still good,” heexplains, “and I saw no reason to break my promise to Rob at thatpoint.”Now,however,itwasgettingdarkandconditionswereturninggrim.

“Comedownwithme,” I implored. “Itwill be at least another twoorthreehoursbeforeRobshowsup.I’llbeyoureyes.I’llgetyoudown,noproblem.”BeckwasnearlypersuadedtodescendwithmewhenImadethemistakeofmentioningthatMikeGroomwasonhiswaydownwithYasuko,afewminutesbehindme.Inadayofmanymistakes,thiswouldturnouttobeoneofthelargerones.“Thanksanyway,”Becksaid.“IthinkI’lljustwaitforMike.He’sgota

rope;he’llbeabletoshort-ropemedown.”“O.K., Beck,” I replied. “It’s your call. I guess I’ll see you in camp,

then.”Secretly,IwasrelievedthatIwouldn’thavetodealwithgettingBeck down the problematic slopes to come, most of which were notprotected by fixed lines. Daylight was waning, the weather wasworsening,my reserves of strengthwere nearly gone.Yet I still didn’thave any sense that calamity was around the corner. Indeed, aftertalkingwithBeck I even took the time to finda spentoxygencanisterthat I’d stashed in the snow on the way up some ten hours earlier.Wantingtoremoveallmytrashfromthemountain,Istuffeditintomypackwithmyothertwobottles(oneempty,onepartiallyfull)andthenhurriedtowardtheSouthCol,1,600feetbelow.

From the Balcony I descended a few hundred feet down a broad,gentlesnowgullywithoutincident,butthenthingsbegantogetsketchy.The routemeandered through outcroppings of broken shale blanketedwith six inches of fresh snow.Negotiating the puzzling, infirm terraindemanded unceasing concentration, an all-but-impossible feat in mypunch-drunkstate.Because thewind had erased the tracks of the climberswho’d gone

downbeforeme,Ihaddifficultydeterminingthecorrectroute.In1993,Mike Groom’s partner—Lopsang Tshering Bhutia, a skilled Himalayanclimber who was a nephew of Tenzing Norgay’s—had taken a wrongturninthisareaandfallentohisdeath.Fightingtomaintainagriponreality, I started talking tomyself out loud. “Keep it together, keep ittogether,keep it together,” I chantedoverandover,mantra-like. “Youcan’taffordtofuckthingsuphere.Thisiswayserious.Keepittogether.”Isatdowntorestonabroad,slopingledge,butafterafewminutesa

deafeningBOOM!frightenedmebacktomyfeet.EnoughnewsnowhadaccumulatedthatIfearedamassiveslabavalanchehadreleasedontheslopesabove,butwhenIspunaroundtolookIsawnothing.ThentherewasanotherBOOM!,accompaniedbyaflashthatmomentarilylitupthesky,andIrealizedIwashearingthecrashofthunder.In the morning, on the way up, I’d made a point of continually

studyingtherouteonthispartofthemountain,frequentlylookingdownto pick out landmarks that would be helpful on the descent,compulsively memorizing the terrain: “Remember to turn left at the

buttress that looks like a ship’s prow. Then follow that skinny line ofsnowuntilitcurvessharplytotheright.”ThiswassomethingI’dtrainedmyself to domany years earlier, a drill I forcedmyself to go througheverytimeIclimbed,andonEverestitmayhavesavedmylife.By6:00P.M.,asthestormescalatedintoafull-scaleblizzardwithdrivingsnowandwindsgustinginexcessof60knots,Icameupontheropethathadbeen fixedby theMontenegrins on the snow slope600 feet above theCol.Soberedbytheforceoftherisingtempest,IrealizedthatI’dgottendownthetrickiestgroundjustinthenickoftime.Wrappingthefixedlinearoundmyarmstorappel,Icontinueddownthrough the blizzard. Some minutes later I was overwhelmed by adisturbingly familiar feeling of suffocation, and I realized that myoxygenhadonce again runout.Threehours earlierwhen I’d attachedmyregulator tomy thirdand lastoxygencanister, I’dnoticed that thegaugeindicatedthatthebottlewasonlyhalffull.I’dfiguredthatwouldbeenoughtogetmemostofthewaydown,though,soIhadn’tbotheredexchangingitforafullone.Andnowthegaswasgone.Ipulledthemaskfrommyface,leftithangingaroundmyneck,andpressed onward, surprisingly unconcerned. However, withoutsupplementaloxygen, Imovedmoreslowly,andIhadtostopandrestmoreoften.The literature of Everest is rife with accounts of hallucinatoryexperiences attributable to hypoxia and fatigue. In 1933, the notedEnglish climber Frank Smythe observed “two curious looking objectsfloatinginthesky”directlyabovehimat27,000feet:“[One]possessedwhat appeared to be squat underdeveloped wings, and the other aprotuberancesuggestiveofabeak.Theyhoveredmotionlessbutseemedslowly to pulsate.” In 1980, during his solo ascent, ReinholdMessnerimagined that an invisible companion was climbing beside him.Gradually,Ibecameawarethatmymindhadgonehaywireinasimilarfashion, and I observed my own slide from reality with a blend offascinationandhorror.Iwas so far beyond ordinary exhaustion that I experienced a queerdetachmentfrommybody,asifIwereobservingmydescentfromafewfeet overhead. I imagined that I was dressed in a green cardigan andwingtips.Andalthoughthegalewasgeneratingawindchillinexcessof

seventybelowzeroFahrenheit,Ifeltstrangely,disturbinglywarm.At6:30,asthelastofthedaylightseepedfromthesky,I’ddescendedtowithin200vertical feetofCampFour.Onlyoneobstaclenowstoodbetweenmeandsafety:abulginginclineofhard,glassyicethatIwouldhave to descendwithout a rope. Snow pellets borne by 70-knot gustsstung my face; any exposed flesh was instantly frozen. The tents, nomore than 650 horizontal feet away, were only intermittently visiblethrough the whiteout. There was no margin for error. Worried aboutmaking a critical blunder, I sat down to marshal my energy beforedescendingfurther.Once Iwas offmy feet, inertia took hold. Itwas somuch easier toremainatrestthantosummontheinitiativetotacklethedangerousiceslope,soIjustsatthereasthestormroaredaroundme,lettingmyminddrift,doingnothingforperhapsforty-fiveminutes.I’d tightened the drawstrings onmy hood until only a tiny openingremained around my eyes, and I was removing the useless, frozenoxygen mask from beneath my chin when Andy Harris suddenlyappeared out of the gloom beside me. Shining my headlamp in hisdirection,IreflexivelyrecoiledwhenIsawtheappallingconditionofhisface.Hischeekswerecoatedwithanarmoroffrost,oneeyewasfrozenshut,andhewasslurringhiswordsbadly.Helookedinserioustrouble.“Whichwaytothetents?”Andyblurted,frantictoreachshelter.Ipointed in thedirectionofCampFour, thenwarnedhimabout theicejustbelowus.“It’ssteeperthanitlooks!”Iyelled,strainingtomakemyselfheardoverthetempest.“MaybeIshouldgodownfirstandgetaropefromcamp—”AsIwasinmidsentence,Andyabruptlyturnedawayand moved over the lip of the ice slope, leaving me sitting theredumbfounded.Scootingonhisbutt,hestarteddownthesteepestpartoftheincline.“Andy,”Ishoutedafterhim,“it’scrazytotryitlikethat!You’regoingtoblowitforsure!”Heyelledsomethingback,buthiswordswerecarriedoffbythescreamingwind.Asecond laterhe losthispurchase, flippedassoverteakettle,andwassuddenlyrocketingheadfirstdowntheice.Twohundredfeetbelow,IcouldjustmakeoutAndy’smotionlessformslumpedatthefootoftheincline.Iwassurehe’dbrokenatleastaleg,

maybehis neck.But then, incredibly, he stoodup,waved thathewasO.K.,andstartedlurchingtowardCampFour,which,atthemomentwasinplainsight,500feetbeyond.Icouldseetheshadowyformsofthreeorfourpeoplestandingoutside

thetents;theirheadlampsflickeredthroughcurtainsofblowingsnow.IwatchedHarriswalktowardthemacrosstheflats,adistancehecoveredin less than ten minutes. When the clouds closed in a moment later,cuttingoffmyview,hewaswithinsixtyfeetofthetents,maybecloser.Ididn’tseehimagainafter that,but Iwascertainthathe’dreachedthesecurityofcamp,whereChuldumandAritawoulddoubtlessbewaitingwithhot tea.Sittingout in the storm,with the icebulge still standingbetweenme and the tents, I felt a pang of envy. Iwas angry thatmyguidehadn’twaitedforme.Mybackpackheldlittlemorethanthreeemptyoxygencanistersanda

pint of frozen lemonade; it probablyweighednomore than sixteenoreighteenpounds.But Iwas tired, andworried about gettingdown theinclinewithoutbreakinga leg, so I tossed thepackover theedgeandhopeditwouldcometorestwhere Icouldretrieve it.ThenI stoodupandstarteddowntheice,whichwasassmoothandhardasthesurfaceofabowlingball.Fifteenminutesofdicey,fatiguingcramponworkbroughtmesafelyto

thebottomof the incline,whereIeasily locatedmypack,andanothertenminutesafterthatIwasincampmyself.Ilungedintomytentwithmy crampons still on, zipped the door tight, and sprawled across thefrost-coveredfloortootiredtoevensitupright.ForthefirsttimeIhadasense of howwasted I reallywas: Iwasmore exhausted than I’d everbeen inmy life. But I was safe. Andy was safe. The others would becomingintocampsoon.We’dfuckingdoneit.We’dclimbedEverest.Ithadbeenalittlesketchythereforawhile,butintheendeverythinghadturnedoutgreat.

Itwouldbemanyhoursbefore I learned that everythinghadnot infactturnedoutgreat—thatnineteenmenandwomenwerestrandedupon themountainby the storm,caught inadesperate struggle for theirlives.

*Aradialkeratotomyisasurgicalproceduretocorrectmyopiainwhichaseriesofspokelikeincisionsaremadefromtheouteredgeofthecorneatowarditscenter,therebyflatteningit.

N

FIFTEEN

SUMMIT

1:25P.M.,MAY10,1996•29,028FEET

Therearemanyshades in thedangerofadventuresandgales,and it isonlynowand then thatthereappearsonthefaceoffactsasinisterviolenceofintention—thatindefinablesomethingwhichforces it upon the mind and the heart of a man, that this complication of accidents or theseelementalfuriesarecomingathimwithapurposeofmalice,withastrengthbeyondcontrol,withanunbridledcrueltythatmeanstotearoutofhimhishopeandfear,thepainofhisfatigueandthelongingforrest:whichmeanstosmash,todestroy,toannihilateallhehasseen,known,loved,enjoyed, or hated; all that is priceless and necessary—the sunshine, the memories, the future;whichmeans to sweep thewhole preciousworld utterly away from his sight by the simple andappallingactoftakinghislife.

JosephConradLordJim

ealBeidlemanreachedthesummitat1:25P.M.withclientMartin Adams. When they got there, Andy Harris and

Anatoli Boukreev were already on top; I had departed eight minutesearlier.Assumingthat therestofhis teamwouldbeappearingshortly,Beidlemansnappedsomephotos,banteredwithBoukreev,andsatdowntowait.At1:45,clientKlevSchoeningascendedthefinalrise,pulledoutaphotoofhiswifeandchildren,andcommencedatearfulcelebrationofhisarrivalontopoftheworld.Fromthesummit,abumpintheridgeblocksone’sviewoftherestof

theroute,andby2:00—thedesignatedturn-aroundtime—therewasstillno sign of Fischer or any other clients. Beidleman began to growconcernedaboutthelatenessofthehour.Thirty-sixyearsold,anaerospaceengineerbytraining,hewasaquiet,

thoughtful, extremely conscientious guidewhowaswell likedbymostmembersofhisteamandHall’s.Beidlemanwasalsooneofthestrongestclimbersonthemountain.TwoyearsearlierheandBoukreev—whomhe

consideredagoodfriend—hadclimbed27,824-footMakalutogetherinnear-record time,without supplemental oxygen or Sherpa support. Hefirst met Fischer and Hall on the slopes of K2 in 1992, where hiscompetenceandeasygoingdemeanorleftafavorableimpressiononbothmen. But because Beidleman’s high-altitude experience was relativelylimited (MakaluwashisonlymajorHimalayan summit),his station inthe Mountain Madness chain of command was below Fischer andBoukreev.Andhispay reflectedhis junior status:he’dagreed toguideEverestfor$10,000,comparedtothe$25,000FischerpaidBoukreev.Beidleman,sensitivebynature,wasquiteconsciousofhisplaceintheexpeditionpeckingorder.“Iwasdefinitelyconsideredthethirdguide,”heacknowledgedaftertheexpedition,“soItriednottobetoopushy.Asaconsequence,Ididn’talwaysspeakupwhenmaybeIshouldhave,andnowIkickmyselfforit.”BeidlemansaidthataccordingtoFischer’slooselyformulatedplanforthesummitday,LopsangJangbuwassupposedtobeatthefrontoftheline,carryingaradioandtwocoilsofropetoinstallaheadoftheclients;BoukreevandBeidleman—neitherofwhomwasgivenaradio—weretobe“inthemiddleornearthefront,dependingonhowtheclientsweremoving;andScott,carryingasecondradio,wasgoingtobe‘sweep.’AtRob’s suggestion, we’d decided to enforce a two o’clock turn-aroundtime:anybodywhowasn’twithinspittingdistanceofthesummitbytwoP.M.hadtoturnaroundandgodown.“ItwassupposedtobeScott’s jobtoturnclientsaround,”Beidlemanexplained.“We’dtalkedabout it. I’dtoldhimthatasthethirdguide, Ididn’t feel comfortable telling clients who’d paid sixty-five thousanddollars that they had to go down. So Scott agreed that would be hisresponsibility. But for whatever reason, it didn’t happen.” In fact, theonlypeopletoreachthesummitbefore2:00P.M.wereBoukreev,Harris,Beidleman,Adams,Schoening,andme;ifFischerandHallhadbeentruetotheirpre-arrangedrules,everyoneelsewouldhaveturnedbackbeforethetop.Despite Beidleman’s growing anxiety about the advancing clock, hedidn’t have a radio, so therewasnoway todiscuss the situationwithFischer. Lopsang—who did have a radio—was still somewhere out ofsight below. Early that morning, when Beidleman had encountered

LopsangontheBalcony,vomitingbetweenhiskneesintothesnow,he’dtakentheSherpa’stwocoilsofropetofixonthesteeprockstepsabove.As he now laments, however, “It didn’t even occur tome to grab hisradio,too.”The upshot, Beidleman recalled, is that “I ended up sitting on thesummitforaverylongtime,lookingatmywatchandwaitingforScottto show, thinking about heading down—but every time I stood up toleave,anotheroneofourclientswouldrolloverthecrestoftheridge,andI’dsitbackdowntowaitforthem.”SandyPittmanappearedoverthefinalriseabout2:10,slightlyaheadofCharlotteFox,LopsangJangbu,TimMadsen,andLeneGammelgaard.ButPittmanwasmovingveryslowly,andshortlybelowthesummitsheabruptlydroppedtoherkneesinthesnow.WhenLopsangcametoherassistance he discovered that her third oxygen canister had run out.Earlyinthemorning,whenhe’dstartedshort-ropingPittman,he’dalsocrankedheroxygenflowashighasitwouldgo—fourlitersperminute—and consequently she’d used up all her gas relatively quickly.Fortunately,Lopsang—whowasn’tusingoxygenhimself—wascarryingaspare oxygen canister in his pack. He attached Pittman’s mask andregulatortothefreshbottle,andthentheyascendedthelastfewmeterstothetopandjoinedthecelebrationinprogress.Rob Hall, Mike Groom, and Yasuko Namba reached the summitaround this time, too, andHall radioedHelenWiltonatBaseCamp togive her the good news. “Rob said it was cold and windy up there,”Wiltonrecalled,“buthesoundedgood.Hesaid,‘Dougisjustcomingupover the horizon; right after that I’ll be heading down.… If you don’thear fromme again, itmeans everything’s fine.’ ”Wilton notified theAdventureConsultantsofficeinNewZealand,andaflurryoffaxeswentout to friends and families around the world, announcing theexpedition’striumphantculmination.ButDougHansenwasn’tjustbelowthesummitatthatpoint,asHallbelieved, nor was Fischer. It would in fact be 3:40 before Fischerreachedthetop,andHansenwouldn’tgetthereuntilafter4:00P.M.

The previous afternoon—Thursday, May 9—when all of us had

climbed from Camp Three to Camp Four, Fischer hadn’t reached thetents on the South Col until after 5:00 P.M., and hewas visibly tiredwhenhe’d finallygottenthere,althoughhedidhisbest todisguisehisfatiguefromhisclients.“Thatevening,”recalledhistent-mateCharlotteFox,“Icouldn’ttellthatScottmighthavebeensick.HewasactinglikeMr.GungHo,gettingeveryonepsycheduplikeafootballcoachbeforethebiggame.”IntruthFischerwasexhaustedfromthephysicalandmentalstrainof

the preceding weeks. Although he possessed extraordinary reserves ofenergy,he’dbeenprofligatewiththosereserves,andbythetimehegotto Camp Four they were nearly depleted. “Scott strong person,”Boukreev acknowledged after the expedition, “but before summitattemptistired,hasmanyproblems,spendlotsofpower.Worry,worry,worry,worry.Scottnervous,buthekeepinside.”Fischer hid the fact from everyone, aswell, that hemay have been

clinicallyillduringthesummitattempt.In1984,duringanexpeditiontoNepal’s Annapurna massif, he’d picked up a gastrointestinal parasite,Entamoeba histolytica, which he was unable to entirely purge from hisbodyovertheyearsthatfollowed.Thebugemergedfromdormancyonanirregularbasis,producingboutsofacutephysicaldistressandleavinga cyst on his liver. Insisting it was nothing to worry about, FischermentionedtheailmenttofewpeopleatBaseCamp.AccordingtoJaneBromet,whenthediseasewasinitsactivephase(as

wasapparentlythecaseinthespringof1996)Fischerwould“breakintothese intense sweating spells and get the shakes. The spellswould layhim low, but theywould only last for ten or fifteenminutes and thenpass.InSeattlehe’dgettheattacksmaybeonceaweekorso,butwhenhe was stressed they’d occur more frequently. At Base Camp he wasgettingthemmoreoften—everyotherday,sometimeseveryday.”If Fischer suffered such attacks at Camp Four or above, he never

mentioned it. Fox reported that soon after he crawled into their tentThursdayevening,“Scottconkedoutandsleptreallyhardforabouttwohours.”Whenhewokeupat10:00P.M.hewasslowgettingreadyandhe remained in camp long after the last of his clients, guides, andSherpasdepartedforthesummit.

It’sunclearwhenFischeractually leftCampFour;perhapsas lateas1:00 A.M. on Friday, May 10. He dragged far behind everyone elsethrough most of the summit day, and he didn’t arrive at the SouthSummituntilaround1:00P.M.Ifirstsawhimatabout2:45,onmywaydownfromthetop,whileIwaitedontheHillaryStepwithAndyHarrisforthecrowdtoclearout.Fischerwasthelastclimberuptherope,andhelookedextremelywasted.Afterweexchangedpleasantries,hespokebrieflywithMartinAdamsand Anatoli Boukreev, who were standing just above Harris and me,waitingtodescendtheStep.“Hey,Martin,”Fischerbanteredthroughhisoxygen mask, trying to affect a jocular tone. “Do you think you cansummitMountEverest?”“Hey, Scott,” Adams replied, sounding annoyed that Fischer hadn’tofferedanycongratulations,“Ijustdid.”NextFischerhadafewwordswithBoukreev.AsAdamsrememberedtheconversation,BoukreevtoldFischer,“IamgoingdownwithMartin.”Then Fischer plodded slowly on toward the summit, while Harris,Boukreev, Adams, and I turned to rappel down the Step. Nobodydiscussed Fischer’s exhausted appearance. It didn’t occur to any of usthathemightbeintrouble.

At 3:10 Friday afternoon Fischer still hadn’t arrived on top, saysBeidleman, adding, “Idecided itwas time toget thehell outof there,even though Scott hadn’t showed up yet.” He gathered up Pittman,Gammelgaard, Fox, and Madsen and started leading them down thesummitridge.Twentyminuteslater,justabovetheHillaryStep,theyranintoFischer.“Ididn’treallysayanythingtohim,”Beidlemanrecalls.“Hejustsortofraisedhishand.Helookedlikehewashavingahardtime,buthewasScott,soIwasn’tparticularlyworried.Ifiguredhe’dtagthesummitandcatchuptousprettyquicktohelpbringtheclientsdown.”Beidleman’s primary concern at the time was Pittman: “Everybodywasprettymessedupbythatpoint,butSandylookedespeciallyshaky.Ithought that if I didn’t keep real close tabs on her, therewas a goodchanceshe’dpeelrightofftheridge.SoImadesureshewasclippedintothefixedline,andintheplaceswheretherewasnoropeIgrabbedher

harness frombehind and kept a tight hold onher until she could clipintothenextsectionofrope.ShewassooutofitthatI’mnotsuresheevenknewIwasthere.”AshortdistancebelowtheSouthSummit,astheclimbersdescended

into thick clouds and falling snow, Pittman collapsed again and askedFoxtogiveheraninjectionofapowerfulsteroidcalleddexamethasone.“Dex,”as it isknown,cantemporarilynegate thedeleteriouseffectsofaltitude; following the instructionsofDr. IngridHunt,eachmemberofFischer’s team carried a preprepared syringe of the drug in a plastictoothbrushcaseinsidehisorherdownsuit,whereitwouldn’tfreeze,foremergencies. “I pulled aside Sandy’s pants a little,” Fox recalls, “andjammedtheneedleintoherhip,rightthroughherlongunderwearandeverything.”Beidleman, who had lingered at the South Summit to inventory

oxygen, arrived on the scene to see Fox plunging the syringe intoPittman,stretchedout facedownonthesnow.“WhenIcameover theriseandsawSandylyingthere,withCharlottestandingoverherwavinga hypodermic needle, I thought, ‘Oh fuck, this looks bad.’ So I askedSandywhatwasgoingon,andwhenshe tried toanswerall thatcameoutofhermouthwasabunchofgarbledbabble.”Extremelyconcerned,Beidleman orderedGammelgaard to exchange her full oxygen canisterwithPittman’snearlyemptyone,madesureherregulatorwasturnedtofull flow, thengrabbed the semi-comatosePittmanbyherharness andstarteddraggingherdownthesteepsnowoftheSoutheastRidge.“OnceIgothersliding,”heexplains,“I’dletgoandglissadedowninfrontofher.Every fiftymeters I’d stop,wrapmyhandsaround the fixed rope,and bracemyself to arrest her slidewith a body block. The first timeSandycamebarrelingintome,thepointsofhercramponsslicedthroughmy down suit. Featherswent flying everywhere.” To everyone’s relief,after about twenty minutes the injection and extra oxygen revivedPittmanandshewasabletoresumethedescentunderherownpower.Around 5:00 P.M., as Beidleman accompanied his clients down the

ridge, Mike Groom and Yasuko Namba were arriving at the Balconysome 500 feet below them. From this promontory at 27,600 feet, therouteveerssharplyofftheridgetothesouthtowardCampFour.WhenGroomlookedintheotherdirection,however—downthenorthsideof

the ridge—through thebillowingsnowand faltering lighthenoticedalone climber badly off route: it was Martin Adams, who’d becomedisoriented in the storm and mistakenly started to descend theKangshungFaceintoTibet.AssoonasAdamssawGroomandNambaabovehim,herealizedhis

mistakeandclimbedslowlybacktowardtheBalcony.“Martinwasoutofitby the timehegotbackup toYasukoandme,”Groomrecalls. “Hisoxygen mask was off and his face was encrusted in snow. He asked,‘Which way to the tents?’” Groom pointed, and Adams immediatelystarteddownthecorrectsideoftheridge,followingthetrailI’dblazedperhapstenminutesearlier.WhileGroomwaswaitingforAdamstoclimbbackuptotheridge,he

sentNambadownaheadandbusiedhimselftryingtofindacameracasehe’dleftonthewayup.Ashewaslookingaround,forthefirsttimehenoticedanotherpersonontheBalconywithhim.“Becausehewassortofcamouflagedinthesnow,ItookhimtobeoneofFischer’sgroup,andIignoredhim.Then thispersonwasstanding in frontofmesaying, ‘Hi,Mike,’andIrealizeditwasBeck.”Groom, justas surprised to seeBeckas Ihadbeen,gotouthis rope

and began short-roping the Texan down toward the South Col. “Beckwas so hopelessly blind,” Groom reports, “that every ten meters he’dtakeastepintothinairandI’dhavetocatchhimwiththerope.Iwasworriedhewasgoing topullmeoffmany times. Itwasbloodynerve-racking. Ihad tomake sure Ihadagood ice-axbelayand thatallmypointswerecleanandstickingintosomethingsolidatalltimes.”Onebyone, following the tracks I’dmade fifteenor twentyminutes

earlier, Beidleman and the remainder of Fischer’s clients filed downthrough the worsening blizzard. Adams was behind me, ahead of theothers; then came Namba, Groom and Weathers, Schoening andGammelgaard,Beidleman,andfinallyPittman,Fox,andMadsen.Five hundred feet above the South Col, where the steep shale gave

way to a gentler slope of snow, Namba’s oxygen ran out, and thediminutiveJapanesewomansatdown,refusingtomove.“WhenItriedto take her oxygen mask off so she could breathe more easily,” saysGroom, “she’d insist on putting it right back on. No amount of

persuasioncouldconvinceherthatshewasoutofoxygen,thatthemaskwasactually suffocatingher.Bynow,Beckhadweakened to thepointwherehewasn’tabletowalkonhisown,andIhadtosupporthimonmy shoulder. Fortunately, right about then Neal caught up to us.”Beidleman,seeingthatGroomhadhishandsfullwithWeathers,starteddraggingNambadown towardCampFour, even though shewasn’t onFischer’steam.Itwasnowabout6:45P.M.andalmostcompletelydark.Beidleman,Groom, their clients, and two Sherpas from Fischer’s team who hadbelatedly materialized out of the mist—Tashi Tshering and NgawangDorje—had coalesced into a single group.Although theyweremovingslowly,theyhaddescendedtowithin200verticalfeetofCampFour.Atthat moment I was just arriving at the tents—probably nomore thanfifteenminutesinfrontofthefirstmembersofBeidleman’sgroup.Butinthat brief span the storm abruptly metastasized into a full-blownhurricane,andthevisibilitydroppedtolessthantwentyfeet.Wantingtoavoidthedangerousicepitch,Beidlemanledhisgrouponanindirectroutethatloopedfartotheeast,wheretheslopewasmuchlesssteep,andaround7:30theysafelyreachedthebroad,gentlyrollingexpanseof theSouthCol.By then,however,only threeor fourpeoplehadheadlampswithbatteries thathadn’t rundown,andeveryonewason the brink of physical collapse. Fox was increasingly relying onMadsen for assistance. Weathers and Namba were unable to walkwithoutbeingsupportedbyGroomandBeidleman,respectively.Beidlemanknewtheywereontheeastern,TibetansideoftheColandthatthetentslaysomewheretothewest.Buttomoveinthatdirectionitwasnecessarytowalkdirectlyupwindintotheteethofthestorm.Wind-whippedgranulesoficeandsnowstrucktheclimbers’faceswithviolentforce, laceratingtheireyesandmakingit impossibletoseewheretheyweregoing. “Itwas sodifficultandpainful,”Schoeningexplains, “thattherewasan inevitable tendency tobearoff thewind, tokeepanglingawayfromittotheleft,andthat’showwewentwrong.“At times you couldn’t even see your own feet, it was blowing sohard,” he continues. “I was worried somebodywould sit down or getseparatedfromthegroupandwe’dneverseethemagain.ButoncewegottotheflatsoftheColwestartedfollowingtheSherpas,andIfigured

theyknewwhere campwas.Then they suddenly stoppedanddoubledback,anditquicklybecameobvioustheydidn’thaveanyideawherewewere.AtthatpointIgotasickfeelinginthepitofmystomach.That’swhenIfirstknewwewereintrouble.”Forthenexttwohours,Beidleman,Groom,thetwoSherpas,andthesevenclientsstaggeredblindlyaroundinthestorm,growingevermoreexhausted and hypothermic, hoping to blunder across the camp.Oncetheycameacrossa coupleofdiscardedoxygenbottles, suggesting thatthetentswerenear,buttheclimberscouldn’tlocatethem.“Itwastotalchaos,” says Beidleman. “People arewandering all over the place; I’myellingateveryone,tryingtogetthemtofollowasingleleader.Finally,probablyaroundteno’clock,Iwalkedoverthislittlerise,anditfeltlikeIwasstandingontheedgeof theearth. Icouldsenseahugevoid justbeyond.”ThegrouphadunwittinglystrayedtotheeasternmostedgeoftheCol,atthelipofa7,000-footdropdowntheKangshungFace.TheywereatthesameelevationasCampFour,just1,000horizontalfeetfromsafety,*but, says Beidleman, “I knew that ifwe keptwandering in the storm,pretty soon we were going to lose somebody. I was exhausted fromdragging Yasuko. Charlotte and Sandywere barely able to stand. So Iscreamedateveryone tohuddleupright thereandwait forabreak inthestorm.”BeidlemanandSchoeningsearchedforaprotectedplacetoescapethewind,buttherewasnowheretohide.Everyone’soxygenhadlongsincerun out, making the group more vulnerable to the windchill, whichexceededahundredbelowzero.Intheleeofabouldernolargerthanadishwasher,theclimbershunkeredinapatheticrowonapatchofgale-scouredice.“Bythenthecoldhadaboutfinishedmeoff,”saysCharlotteFox.“Myeyeswerefrozen.Ididn’tseehowweweregoingtogetoutofit alive. The cold was so painful, I didn’t think I could endure itanymore. I just curled up in a ball and hoped death would comequickly.”“We tried to keep warm by pummeling each other,” Weathersremembers. “Someone yelled at us to keepmoving our arms and legs.Sandywas hysterical; she kept yelling over and over, ‘I don’twant todie!Idon’twanttodie!’Butnobodyelsewassayingawholelot.”

ThreehundredyardstothewestIwasshiveringuncontrollablyinmytent—eventhoughIwaszippedintomysleepingbag,andwearingmydownsuitandeveryotherstitchofclothingIhad.Thegalethreatenedto blow the tent apart. Every time the door was opened, the shelterwouldfillwithblowingspindrift,soeverythinginsidewascoveredwithaninch-thick layerofsnow.Oblivioustothetragedyunfoldingoutsidein the storm, I drifted in and out of consciousness, delirious fromexhaustion,dehydration,andthecumulativeeffectsofoxygendepletion.At somepoint early in the evening, StuartHutchison,my tent-mate,

came in, shookmehard, and asked if Iwould gooutsidewithhim tobangonpotsandshinelightsintotheskyinthehopeofguidingthelostclimbersin,butIwastooweakandincoherenttorespond.Hutchison—whohadgottenback to campat 2:00P.M. andwas thus considerablyless debilitated thanme—then tried to rouse clients and Sherpas fromtheothertents.Everybodywastoocoldortooexhausted.SoHutchisonwentoutintothestormalone.Heleftourtentsixtimesthatnighttolookforthemissingclimbers,

buttheblizzardwassofiercethatheneverdaredtoventuremorethanafew yards beyond the margin of camp. “The winds were ballisticallystrong,”heemphasizes,“Theblowingspindriftfeltlikeasandblasterorsomething. I could only go out for fifteen minutes at a time before Ibecametoocoldandhadtoreturntothetent.”

Out among the climbers hunkered on the eastern edge of the Col,Beidelmanwilledhimselftostayalertforasignthatthestormmightbeblowing itself out. Just before midnight, his vigilance was rewardedwhen he suddenly noticed a few stars overhead and shouted to theotherstolook.Thewindwasstillwhippingupafuriousground-blizzardatthesurface,but farabove, theskyhadbeguntoclear,revealingthehulking silhouettesofEverest andLhotse.From these referencepoints,KlevSchoeningthoughthe’dfiguredoutwherethegroupwasinrelationtoCampFour.AfterashoutingmatchwithBeidleman,heconvincedtheguidethatheknewthewaytothetents.Beidlemantriedtocoaxeveryonetotheirfeetandgetthemmovingin

the direction indicated by Schoening, but Pittman, Fox,Weathers, and

Nambaweretoofeebletowalk.Bythenitwasobvioustotheguidethatif somebody fromthegroupdidn’tmake it to the tentsandsummonarescueparty,theywereallgoingtodie.SoBeidlemanassembledthosewhowere ambulatory, and thenhe, Schoening,Gammelgaard,Groom,and the two Sherpas stumbled off into the storm to get help, leavingbehind the four incapacitated clients with Tim Madsen. Reluctant toabandon his girlfriend, Fox,Madsen selflessly volunteered to stay andlookaftereverybodyuntilhelparrived.Twenty minutes later, Beidleman’s contingent limped into camp,

where they had an emotional reunion with a very worried AnatoliBoukreev. Schoening and Beidleman, barely able to speak, told theRussianwheretofindthefiveclientswho’dremainedbehindoutintheelementsandthencollapsedintheirrespectivetents,utterlyspent.Boukreevhadcomedown to theSouthColhours in frontofanyone

else inFischer’s team.Indeed,by5:00P.M.,whilehis teammateswerestill struggling down through the clouds at 28,000 feet, Boukreevwasalready inhis tent restinganddrinking tea.Experiencedguideswouldlater question his decision to descend so far ahead of his clients—extremelyunorthodoxbehaviorforaguide.Oneoftheclientsfromthatgroup has nothing but contempt for Boukreev, insisting that when itmatteredmost,theguide“cutandran.”Anatoli had left the summit around 2:00 P.M. and quickly became

entangled in the traffic jam at the Hillary Step. As soon as the mobdispersed he moved very rapidly down the Southeast Ridge withoutwaiting for any clients—despite telling Fischer atop the Step that hewouldbegoingdownwithMartinAdams.BoukreevtherebyarrivedatCampFourwellbeforethebruntofthestorm.Aftertheexpedition,whenIaskedAnatoliwhyhehadhurrieddown

ahead of his group, he handedme the transcript of an interview he’dgiven a few days previously to Men’s Journal through a Russianinterpreter. Boukreev told me that he’d read the transcript andconfirmeditsaccuracy.Readingitonthespot,Iquicklycametoaseriesofquestionsaboutthedescent,towhichhehadreplied:

I stayed [on the summit] for about an hour.… It is very cold, naturally, it takes yourstrength.…MypositionwasthatIwouldnotbegoodifIstoodaroundfreezing,waiting.I

wouldbemoreusefulifIreturnedtoCampFourinordertobeabletotakeoxygenuptothereturningclimbersortogouptohelpthemifsomebecameweakduringthedescent.…Ifyouareimmobileatthataltitudeyoulosestrengthinthecold,andthenyouareunabletodoanything.

Boukreev’s susceptibility to the coldwasdoubtless greatly exacerbatedbythefactthathewasn’tusingsupplementaloxygen;intheabsenceofgashesimplycouldn’tstoptowaitforslowclientsonthesummitridgewithout courting frostbite and hypothermia. For whatever reason, heraced down ahead of the group—which in fact had been his patternthroughout the entire expedition, as Fischer’s final letters and phonecallsfromBaseCamptoSeattlemadeclear.WhenIquestionedhimaboutthewisdomofleavinghisclientsonthe

summitridge,Anatoliinsistedthatitwasforthegoodoftheteam:“Itismuchbetter formetowarmmyselfatSouthCol,bereadytocarryupoxygen ifclients runout.” Indeed, shortlyafterdark,afterBeidleman’sgroup failed to return and the storm had risen to hurricane intensity,Boukreev realized they must be in trouble and made a courageousattempttobringoxygentothem.Buthisstratagemhadaseriousflaw:becauseneitherhenorBeidlemanhada radio,Anatoli hadnowayofknowing the truenatureof themissingclimbers’predicament,orevenwhereonthehugeexpanseoftheuppermountaintheymightbe.Around7:30P.M.,Boukreev leftCampFour tosearch for thegroup,

regardless.Bythen,herecalled,

Visibilitywasmaybeameter. Itdisappearedaltogether. Ihada lamp,and Ibegan touseoxygentospeedupmyascent.Iwascarryingthreebottles.Itriedtogofaster,butvisibilitywasgone.…Itislikebeingwithouteyes,withoutbeingabletosee,itwasimpossibletosee.That is very dangerous, because one can fall into a crevasse, one can fall toward thesouthernsideofLhotse,3,000metersstraightdown.Itriedtogoup,itwasdark,Icouldnotfindthefixedline.

SomesixhundredfeetabovetheCol,Boukreevrecognizedthefutilityofhis effort and returned to the tents, but, he admits, he very nearlybecamelosthimself.Inanycase,itwasjustaswellthatheabandonedthisrescueeffort,becauseatthatpointhisteammateswerenolongeronthepeakabove,whereBoukreevhadbeenheaded—bythetimehegave

uphissearch,Beidleman’sgroupwasactuallywanderingaroundontheColsixhundredfeetbelowtheRussian.BoukreevarrivedbackatCampFouraround9:00P.M.Exhaustedand

extremelyconcernedabouthismissing teammates,he satdownonhispack at the edge of camp, cradled his head in his hands, and tried tofigureouthowhemightrescuethem.“Thewindisdrivingsnowintomybackbut I ampowerless tomove,”he later recalled. “How long Iwasthere, I don’t remember. It is here that I start to lose track of timebecauseIamsotired,soexhausted.”DuringoneofStuartHutchison’sforaysintothestormtolookforthe

missingmembersofRobHall’s team,hewas shocked to stumbleuponBoukreev sitting alone out in the blizzard. According to Hutchison,Boukreev“wasbentover,retching,aboutahundredfeetfromtheSouthAfricans’ tent.When I asked if heneededhelp, he answered, ‘No!No!No!’Heseemedinbadshape,reallyfuckedoutofhistree.SoIbroughthimbacktooneofFischer’stents,andsomeSherpastookhiminside.”Boukreev was worried sick about the nineteen climbers who were

missing, but because he had no idea where theymight be, there waslittlehecoulddoexceptwarmhimself,trytoregainsomestrength,andbidehis time.Then,at12:45A.M.,Beidleman,Groom,Schoening,andGammelgaardhobbledintocamp.“KlevandNealhadlostallpowerandcould barely talk,” Boukreev recalls. “They told me Charlotte, Sandy,andTimneedhelp,Sandyisclosetodying.Thentheygivemegenerallocationwheretofindthem.”Uponhearingtheclimbersarrive,StuartHutchisonwentouttoassist

Groom.“IgotMikeintohistent,”Hutchisonrecalled,“andsawthathewasreally,reallyexhausted.Hewasabletocommunicateclearly,butitrequiredanagonaleffort,likeadyingman’slastwords.‘YouhavetogetsomeSherpas,’ he toldme. ‘Send themout forBeck andYasuko.’AndthenhepointedtowardtheKangshungsideoftheCol.”Hutchison’s efforts to organize a rescue team proved fruitless,

however. Chuldum and Arita—Sherpas on Hall’s team who hadn’taccompanied the summit party and were waiting in reserve at CampFour specifically for such an emergency—had been incapacitatedwithcarbon monoxide poisoning from cooking in a poorly ventilated tent;

Chuldumwas actually vomiting blood. And the other four Sherpas onourteamweretoocoldanddebilitatedfromhavinggonetothesummit.After the expedition, I asked Hutchison why, once he learned the

whereabouts of themissing climbers, he didn’t attempt towake FrankFischbeck,LouKasischke,orJohnTaske—ormakeasecondattempttowakeme—inordertorequestourhelpwiththerescueeffort.“Itwassoobvious that all of you were completely exhausted that I didn’t evenconsiderasking.YouweresofarpastthepointofordinaryfatiguethatIthoughtifyouattemptedtohelpwitharescueyouwereonlygoingtomakethesituationworse—thatyouwouldgetoutthereandhavetoberescuedyourself.”Theupshotwas that Stuartwent out into the stormalone, but once againhe turned around at the edge of campwhenhebecameworriedthathewouldn’tbeabletofindhiswaybackifhewentfarther.Atthesametime,Boukreevwasalsotryingtoorganizearescueeffort.

MartinAdams,exhaustedfromhissummitclimb,“hadcollapsedintoasleep; he had nothing left,” according to Boukreev, and was clearlyunabletohelp.HelocatedLopsang,buttheSherpa,likeAdams,wastoodebilitated togoout into the storm.Next,Boukreevwent fromtent totent trying to find members of other expeditions who might be in aposition to offer assistance—although he didn’t visit the tent I sharedwith Hutchison, so the efforts of Hutchison and Boukreev remaineduncoordinated,andIneverlearnedofeitherrescueplan.TherehappenedtobeanumberofclimbersatCampFourthatnight—

IanWoodall,CathyO’Dowd,andBruceHerrod fromtheSouthAfricanteam; and Neil Laughton, Brigitte Muir, Michael Jorgensen, GrahamRatcliffe, and Mark Pfetzer from Henry Todd’s team—who hadn’t yetattempted the summit,andwere thus relativelywell rested.But in thechaosandconfusionofthemoment,Boukreevapparentlylocatedfew,ifany, of these climbers. And in the end Boukreev discovered, likeHutchison, that everybody he did manage to rouse was too sick, tooexhausted,ortoofrightenedtohelp.So the Russian guide resolved to bring back the group by himself.

Overcominghisowncripplingexhaustion,heplunged into themawofthe hurricane and searched the Col for nearly an hour. It was anincredibledisplayofstrengthandcourage,buthewasunabletofindany

ofthemissingclimbers.Boukreev didn’t give up, however.He returned to camp, obtained amore detailed set of directions from Beidleman and Schoening, thenwent out into the storm again. This time he saw the faint glow ofMadsen’s fading headlamp andwas thereby able to locate themissingclimbers. “They were lying on the ice, without movement,” saysBoukreev.“Theycouldnottalk.”Madsenwasstillconsciousandlargelyabletotakecareofhimself,butPittman,Fox,andWeatherswereutterlyhelpless,andNambaappearedtobedead.After Beidleman and the others had set out from the huddle to gethelp, Madsen had gathered together the climbers who remained andhectoredeverybodytokeepmovinginordertostaywarm.“IsatYasukodowninBeck’slap,”Madsenrecalls,“buthewasprettyunresponsivebythattime,andYasukowasn’tmovingatall.AlittlelaterIsawthatshe’dlaiddownflatonherback,withsnowblowingintoherhood.Somehowshe’dlostaglove—herrighthandwasbare,andherfingerswerecurledup so tightly you couldn’t straighten them. It looked like they wereprettymuchfrozentothebone.“Iassumedshewasdead,”Madsencontinues.“Butthenawhilelatershesuddenlymoved,anditfreakedmeout:shesortofarchedherneckslightly,asifshewastryingtositup,andherrightarmcameup,thenthatwasit.Yasukolaybackdownandnevermovedagain.”AssoonasBoukreevfoundthegroup,itbecameobvioustohimthathecouldbringonlyoneclimberinatatime.Hewascarryinganoxygenbottle, which he and Madsen hooked up to Pittman’s mask. ThenBoukreevindicatedtoMadsenthathe’dbebackassoonaspossibleandstartedhelpingFoxbacktowardthetents.“Aftertheyleft,”saysMadsen,“Beck was crumpled in a fetal position, not moving a whole lot, andSandywascurledupinmylap,notmovingmuch,either.Iscreamedather,‘Hey,keepwigglingyourhands!Letmeseeyourhands!’Andwhenshesitsupandpullsherhandsout,Iseeshedoesn’thaveanymittenson—thattheyweredanglingfromherwrists.“SoI’mtryingtoshoveherhandsbackintohermittenswhenallofasuddenBeckmumbles,‘Hey,I’vegotthisallfiguredout.’Thenhekindof rolls a little distance away, crouches on a big rock, and stands up

facingthewindwithhisarmsstretchedouttoeitherside.Asecondlatera gust comes up and just blows him over backward into the night,beyondthebeamofmyheadlamp.AndthatwasthelastIsawofhim.“Toli came back a little bit after that and grabbed Sandy, so I justpacked upmy stuff and started waddling after them, trying to followToli’sandSandy’sheadlamps.BythenIassumedYasukowasdeadandBeck was a lost cause.” When they finally reached camp it was 4:30A.M., and the skywas starting to brighten above the eastern horizon.UponhearingfromMadsenthatYasukohadn’tmadeit,Beidlemanbrokedowninhistentandweptforforty-fiveminutes.

*Althoughastrongclimbermightrequirethreehourstoascend1,000verticalfeet,inthiscasethedistancewasovermoreorlessflatterrain,whichthegroupwouldhavebeenabletocoverinperhapsfifteenminuteshadtheyknownwherethetentswere.

S

SIXTEEN

SOUTHCOL

6:00A.M.,MAY11,1996•26,000FEET

Idistrustsummaries,anykindofglidingthroughtime,anytoogreataclaimthatoneisincontrolofwhatonerecounts;I thinksomeonewhoclaimstounderstandbut isobviouslycalm,someonewhoclaimstowritewithemotionrecollectedintranquillity,isafoolandaliar.Tounderstandistotremble.Torecollectistoreenterandberiven.…Iadmiretheauthorityofbeingonone’skneesinfrontoftheevent.

HaroldBrodkey“Manipulations”

tuartHutchisonfinallymanagedtoshakemeawakeat6:00A.M. on May 11. “Andy’s not in his tent,” he told me

somberly,“andhedoesn’tseemtobeinanyoftheothertents,either.Idon’tthinkheevermadeitin.”“Harold’smissing?”Iasked.“Noway.Isawhimwalktotheedgeof

campwithmyowneyes.”Shockedandconfused,Ipulledonmybootsand rushed out to look for Harris. The wind was still fierce—strongenough to knock me down several times—but it was a bright, cleardawn,andthevisibilitywasperfect.Isearchedtheentirewesternhalfofthe Col for more than an hour, peering behind boulders and pokingunder shredded, long-abandoned tents, but found no trace of Harris.Adrenalinesurgedthroughmyveins.Tearswelledinmyeyes,instantlyfreezingmyeyelidsshut.HowcouldAndybegone?Itcouldn’tbeso.IwenttotheplacewhereHarrishadsliddowntheicejustabovethe

Col, and then methodically retraced the route he’d followed towardcamp,whichfollowedabroad,almostflaticegully.AtthepointwhereIlast sawhimwhenthecloudsdescended,asharp left turnwouldhavetakenHarrisfortyorfiftyfeetuparockyrisetothetents.Irealized,however,thatifhehadn’tturnedleftbutinsteadcontinued

straight down the gully—which would have been easy to do in thewhiteoutevenifonewasn’texhaustedandstupidwithaltitudesickness—he would have quickly come to the westernmost edge of the Col.Below,thesteepgrayiceoftheLhotseFacedropped4,000verticalfeetto the floor of theWestern Cwm. Standing there, afraid to move anyclosertotheedge,Inoticedasinglesetoffaintcrampontracksleadingpastmetowardtheabyss.Thosetracks,Ifeared,wereAndyHarris’s.Aftergettingintocampthepreviousevening,I’dtoldHutchisonthatI’d seen Harris arrive safely at the tents. Hutchison had radioed thisnews to Base Camp, and from there it was passed along via satellitephonetothewomanwithwhomHarrissharedhislifeinNewZealand,Fiona McPherson. She’d been overcome with relief when she learnedthatHarriswas safe atCampFour.Now,however,Hall’swifeback inChristchurch, Jan Arnold, would have to do the unthinkable: callMcPhersonbacktoinformhertherehadbeenahorriblemistake—thatAndy was in fact missing and presumed dead. Imagining this phoneconversation, andmy role in the events leading up to it, I fell tomykneeswithdryheaves, retchingoverandoveras the icywindblastedagainstmyback.AfterspendingsixtyminutessearchinginvainforAndy,IreturnedtomytentjustintimetooverheararadiocallbetweenBaseCampandRobHall;hewasupon thesummit ridge, I learned,callingdownforhelp.HutchisonthentoldmethatBeckandYasukoweredeadandthatScottFischerwasmissing somewhere on the peak above. Shortly after that,the batteries to our radio died, cutting us off from the rest of themountain.Alarmedthat theyhad lostcontactwithus,membersof theIMAXteamatCampTwocalledtheSouthAfricanteam,whosetentsontheColwereonlya fewyardsaway fromours.DavidBreashears—theIMAXleader,andaclimberIhadknownfortwentyyears—reports,“WeknewtheSouthAfricanshadapowerfulradioandthatitwasworking,sowegotoneoftheirteammembersatCampTwotocalluptoWoodallontheSouthColandsay,‘Look,thisisanemergency.Peoplearedyingupthere.WeneedtobeabletocommunicatewiththesurvivorsinHall’steam to coordinate a rescue. Please lend your radio to Jon Krakauer.’And Woodall said no. It was very clear what was at stake, but theywouldn’tgiveuptheirradio.”

Immediately after the expedition,when Iwas researchingmyarticleforOutsidemagazine,IinterviewedasmanyofthepeopleonHall’sandFischer’s summit teamsaspossible—Ispokewithmostof themseveraltimes.ButMartinAdams,distrustfulof reporters,kepta lowprofile inthe aftermath of the tragedy and eluded my repeated attempts tointerviewhimuntilaftertheOutsidepiecewenttopress.When I eventually reached Adams by phone in mid-July and heconsented to talk, I began by asking him to recount everything heremembered about the summit push. One of the stronger clients thatday,he’dremainednearthefrontofthepackandwaseitherjustaheadofme or just behindme formuch of the climb. Because he possessedwhat seemed to be an unusually reliable memory, I was particularlyinterestedtohearhowhisversionoftheeventsjibedwithmyown.Very late in the afternoon, when Adams headed down from theBalcony at 27,600 feet, he said that Iwas still visible, perhaps fifteenminutesaheadofhim,butthatIwasdescendingfasterthanhewasandsoonmovedoutofsight.“AndthenexttimeIsawyou,”hesaid,“itwasalmost dark andyouwere crossing the flats of the SouthCol, about ahundred feet from the tents. I recognized that it was you from yourbrightreddownsuit.”Shortly after that, Adams descended to a flat bench just above thesteepiceinclinethathadgivenmesomuchtrouble,andfellintoasmallcrevasse.Hemanagedtoextricatehimself,thenfellintoanother,deeper,crevasse. “Lying in that crevasse, Iwas thinking, ‘Thismay be it,’” hemused.“It tookawhile,buteventuallyImanagedtoclimboutof thatone,too.WhenIgotout,myfacewascoveredwithsnow,whichquicklyturned to ice. Then I saw somebody sitting on the ice off to the left,wearingaheadlamp,soIwalkedoverinthatdirection.Itwasn’tpitch-blackyet,butitwasdarkenoughthatIcouldn’tseethetentsanymore.“SoIgottothis fuckerandsaid, ‘Hey,wherearethetents?’andtheguy,whoever hewas, pointed theway. So I said, ‘Yeah, that’swhat Ithought.’Thentheguysaidsomethinglike, ‘Becareful.Theicehereissteeper than it looks. Maybe we should go down and get a rope andsomeicescrews.’Ithought,‘Fuckthat.I’moutofhere.’SoItooktwoorthreesteps, tripped,andsliddownthe iceonmychest,headfirst.As I

wassliding,somehowthepickofmyiceaxcaughtsomethingandswungmearound,thenIcametoastopatthebottom.Igotup,stumbledtothetent,andthat’saboutthesizeofit.”AsAdamsdescribedhisencounterwith theanonymousclimber,and

thenslidingdowntheice,mymouthwentdryandthehairsonthebackof my neck suddenly bristled. “Martin,” I asked when he’d finishedtalking,“doyouthinkthatcouldhavebeenmeyouranintooutthere?”“Fuck, no!” he laughed. “I don’t knowwho it was, but it definitely

wasn’tyou.”ButthenItoldhimaboutmyencounterwithAndyHarrisandthechillingseriesofcoincidences: IhadbumpedintoHarrisaboutthesametimeAdamshadencounteredthecipher,andinaboutthesameplace.MuchofthedialoguethattranspiredbetweenHarrisandmewaseerilysimilartothedialoguebetweenAdamsandthecipher.AndthenAdams had slid headfirst down the ice in much the same manner IrememberedseeingHarrisslide.Aftertalkingforafewminutesmore,Adamswasconvinced:“Sothat

was you I talked to out there on the ice,” he stated, astounded,acknowledging that he must have been mistaken when he saw mecrossing the flats of the SouthCol just beforedark. “And thatwasmeyoutalkedto.Whichmeansitwasn’tAndyHarrisatall.Wow.Dude,I’dsayyou’vegotsomeexplainingtodo.”Iwasstunned.FortwomonthsI’dbeentellingpeoplethatHarrishad

walkedofftheedgeoftheSouthColtohisdeath,whenhehadn’tdonethatatall.MyerrorhadgreatlyandunnecessarilycompoundedthepainofFionaMcPherson;Andy’sparents,RonandMaryHarris;hisbrother,DavidHarris;andhismanyfriends.Andywasalargeman,oversixfeettalland200pounds,whospoke

with a sharpKiwi lilt;Martinwas at least six inches shorter,weighedmaybe130pounds,andspokeinathickTexasdrawl.HowhadImadesuchanegregiousmistake?WasIreallysodebilitatedthatIhadstaredinto the face of a near stranger and mistaken him for a friend withwhomI’dspenttheprevioussixweeks?AndifAndyhadneverarrivedatCampFourafterreachingthesummit,whatinthenameofGodhadhappenedtohim?

S

SEVENTEEN

SUMMIT

3:40P.M.,MAY10,1996•29,028FEET

[O]urwreckiscertainlyduetothissuddenadventofsevereweather,whichdoesnotseemtohaveanysatisfactorycause.Idonotthinkhumanbeingsevercamethroughsuchamonthaswehavecomethrough,andweshouldhavegot throughinspiteof theweatherbutforthesickeningofasecondcompanion,CaptainOates,andashortageoffuelinourdepotsforwhichIcannotaccount,and finally, but for the stormwhichhas fallenonuswithin11miles of thedepotatwhichwehopedtosecureourfinalsupplies.Surelymisfortunecouldscarcelyhaveexceededthislastblow.…Wetookrisks,weknewwetookthem,thingshavecomeoutagainstus,andthereforewehavenocauseforcomplaint,butbowtothewillofProvidence,determinedstilltodoourbesttothelast.…Hadwelived,Ishouldhavehadataletotellofthehardihood,endurance,andcourageofmycompanionswhichwouldhavestirredtheheartofeveryEnglishman.Theseroughnotesandourdeadbodiesmusttellthetale.

Robert Falcon Scott, in “Message to the Public,” penned just prior to his death inAntarcticaonMarch29,1912,fromScott’sLastExpedition

cott Fischer ascended to the summit around 3:40 on theafternoonofMay10 to findhisdevoted friendand sirdar,

Lopsang Jangbu, waiting for him. The Sherpa pulled his radio frominside his down jacket,made contactwith IngridHunt at Base Camp,thenhandedthewalkie-talkietoFischer.“Weallmadeit,”FischertoldHunt,11,400feetbelow.“God,I’mtired.”AroundthistimetwoSherpasontheTaiwaneseteamarrived,followedsoonthereafterbyMakaluGau.RobHallwasthere,too,waitingimpatientlyforDougHansentoappearasarisingtideofcloudlappedominouslyatthesummitridge.According to Lopsang, during the fifteen or twenty minutes Fischer

spent on the summit, he complained repeatedly that hewasn’t feelingwell—something the congenitally stoic guide almost never did. “Scotttelltome,‘Iamtootired.Iamsick,also,needmedicineforstomach,’”

theSherparecalls.“Igavehimtea,buthedrankjustalittlebit,justhalfcup.SoItelltohim,‘Scott,please,wegofastdown.’Sowecomedownthen.”Fischerstarteddownfirst,about3:55.Lopsangreports thatalthoughScott had used supplemental oxygen during the entire ascent and histhirdcanisterwasmorethanthree-quartersfullwhenheleftthesummit,forsomereasonhetookhismaskoffandstoppedusingit.Shortly after Fischer left the top, Gau and his Sherpas departed aswell, and finally Lopsang headed down—leaving Hall alone on thesummitawaitingHansen.AmomentafterLopsangstarteddown,about4:00,Hansenatlastappeared,toughingitout,movingpainfullyslowlyoverthelastbumpontheridge.AssoonashesawHansen,Hallhurrieddowntomeethim.Hall’sobligatoryturn-aroundtimehadcomeandgoneafulltwohoursearlier.Given the guide’s conservative, exceedinglymethodical nature,many of his colleagues have expressed puzzlement at thisuncharacteristiclapseofjudgment.Why,theywondered,didn’theturnHansen around much lower on the mountain, as soon as it becameobviousthattheAmericanclimberwasrunninglate?Exactlyoneyearearlier,HallhadturnedHansenaroundontheSouthSummitat2:30P.M.,andtobedeniedsoclosetothetopwasacrushingdisappointmenttoHansen.Hetoldmeseveraltimesthathe’dreturnedtoEverest in 1996 largely as a result ofHall’s advocacy—he saidRobhadcalledhimfromNewZealand“adozentimes”urginghimtogiveitanothershot—andthistimeDougwasabsolutelydeterminedtobagthetop.“Iwanttogetthisthingdoneandoutofmylife,”he’dtoldmethreedaysearlieratCampTwo.“Idon’twanttohavetocomebackhere.I’mgettingtoooldforthisshit.”Itdoesn’t seem far-fetched to speculate thatbecauseHallhad talkedHansenintocomingbacktoEverest,itwouldhavebeenespeciallyhardforhimtodenyHansenthesummitasecondtime.“It’sverydifficulttoturn someone around high on the mountain,” cautions Guy Cotter, aNewZealandguidewhosummittedEverestwithHall in1992andwasguidingthepeakforhimin1995whenHansenmadehisfirstattempt.“Ifaclientseesthatthesummitiscloseandthey’redead-setongetting

there, they’re going to laugh in your face and keep going up.”As theveteran American guide Peter Lev told Climbing magazine after thedisastrouseventsonEverest,“Wethinkthatpeoplepayustomakegooddecisions,butwhatpeoplereallypayforistogettothetop.”In any case, Hall did not turnHansen around at 2:00 P.M.—or, forthatmatter,at4:00,whenhemethisclientjustbelowthetop.Instead,according to Lopsang, Hall placed Hansen’s arm around his neck andassisted the weary client up the final forty feet to the summit. Theystayedonlyaminuteortwo,thenturnedtobeginthelongdescent.When Lopsang saw that Hansen was faltering, he held up his owndescentlongenoughtomakesureDougandRobmadeitsafelyacrossadangerously corniced area just below the top. Then, eager to catchFischer,whowas by nowmore than thirtyminutes ahead of him, theSherpacontinueddowntheridge,leavingHansenandHallatthetopoftheHillaryStep.JustafterLopsangdisappeareddowntheStep,Hansenapparentlyranout of oxygen and foundered. He’d expended every last bit of hisstrengthtoreachthesummit—andnowtherewasnothingleftinreserveforthedescent.“PrettymuchthesamethinghappenedtoDougin’95,”says Ed Viesturs,who, like Cotter,was guiding the peak forHall thatyear.“Hewasfineduringtheascent,butassoonashestarteddownhelost itmentallyandphysically;heturnedintoazombie, likehe’dusedeverythingup.”At4:30P.M.,andagainat4:41,Hallgotontheradiotosaythatheand Hansen were in trouble high on the summit ridge and urgentlyneeded oxygen. Two full bottles were waiting for them at the SouthSummit; ifHall had known this he could have retrieved the gas fairlyquicklyandthenclimbedbackuptogiveHansenafreshtank.ButAndyHarris,stillattheoxygencache,inthethroesofhishypoxicdementia,overheardtheseradiocallsandbrokeintotellHall—incorrectly,justashe’dtoldMikeGroomandme—thatallthebottlesattheSouthSummitwereempty.GroomheardtheconversationbetweenHarrisandHallonhisradioashewasdescendingtheSoutheastRidgewithYasukoNamba,justabovetheBalcony.HetriedtocallHall tocorrectthemisinformationandlet

himknowthattherewereinfactfulloxygencanisterswaitingforhimattheSouthSummit,but,Groomexplains,“myradiowasmalfunctioning.Iwas able to receivemost calls, but my outgoing calls could rarely beheardbyanyone.On thecoupleofoccasions thatmycallswerebeingpickedupbyRob,andItriedtotellhimwherethefullcylinderswere,IwasimmediatelyinterruptedbyAndy,transmittingtosaytherewasnogasattheSouthSummit.”Unsurewhethertherewasoxygenwaitingforhim,Halldecidedthat

thebestcourseofactionwastoremainwithHansenandtrytobringthenearlyhelplessclientdownwithoutgas.Butwhentheygottothetopofthe Hillary Step, Hall couldn’t get Hansen down the 40-foot verticaldrop,andtheirprogressgroundtoahalt.“Icangetmyselfdown,”Hallreportedover the radio,gaspingaudibly forbreath. “I justdon’tknowhow the fuck I can get this man down the Hillary Step without anyoxygen.”Shortlybefore5:00,GroomfinallymanagedtogetthroughtoHalland

communicate that there actually was oxygen at the South Summit.Fifteenminutes later,Lopsangarrivedat theSouthSummitonhiswaydownfromthetopandencounteredHarris.*Atthispoint,accordingtoLopsang, Harrismust have finally understood that at least two of theoxygen canisters stashed therewere full, because he pleadedwith theSherpatohelphimcarrythe life-sustaininggasuptoHallandHansenontheHillaryStep.“Andysayshewillpaymefivehundreddollars tobringoxygentoRobandDoug,”Lopsangrecalls.“ButIamsupposedtotakecareofjustmygroup.IhavetotakecareofScott.SoIsaytoAndy,no,Igofastdown.”At5:30,asLopsang left theSouthSummit toresumehisdescent,he

turned to see Harris—whomust have been severely debilitated, if hisconditionwhenI’dseenhimontheSouthSummittwohoursearlierwasanyindication—ploddingslowlyupthesummitridgetoassistHallandHansen.ItwasanactofheroismthatwouldcostHarrishislife.

A few hundred feet below, Scott Fischer was struggling down theSoutheastRidge,growingweakerandweaker.Uponreachingthetopofthe rock stepsat28,400 feet,hewasconfrontedwitha seriesof short

but troublesome rappels that angledalong the ridge.Tooexhausted tocopewiththecomplexitiesoftheropework,Fischersliddirectlydownanadjacent snowslopeonhisbutt.Thiswaseasier than following thefixed lines,butoncehewasbelowthe levelof therocksteps itmeantthathehadtomakea laborious330-footrisingtraverse throughknee-deepsnowtoregaintheroute.TimMadsen,descendingwithBeidleman’sgroup,happenedtoglanceup from the Balcony around 5:20 and saw Fischer as he began thetraverse. “He looked really tired,” Madsen remembers. “He’d take tensteps, then sit and rest, take a couple more steps, rest again. He wasmovingrealslow.ButIcouldseeLopsangabovehim,comingdowntheridge,and I figured, shoot,withLopsang there to lookafterhim,ScottwouldbeO.K.”AccordingtoLopsang, theSherpacaughtupwithFischerabout6:00P.M., justabovetheBalcony:“Scott isnotusingoxygen,soIputmaskon him.He says, ‘I am very sick, too sick to go down. I am going tojump.’He is sayingmanytimes,acting likecrazyman,so I tiehimonrope,quickly,otherwiseheisjumpingdownintoTibet.”SecuringFischerwitha75-footlengthofrope,Lopsangpersuadedhisfriendnot to jump and then got himmoving slowly toward the SouthCol.“Thestormisverybadnow,”Lopsangrecalls.“BOOM!BOOM!Twotimes like sound of gun, there is big thunder. Two times lightning hitveryclosenearmeandScott,veryloud,veryscared.”A little later, Fischer and Lopsang were resting when they wereovertaken byMakaluGau and his two Sherpas,Mingma Tshering andNgimaGombu.Afterabrief,semicoherentdiscussion,Gau,Mingma,andNgimacontinueddown.FischerandLopsangsoonresumedtheirdescentas well, following the faint tracks left by the Taiwanese team as bestthey could. About 8:00 P.M. they encountered Gau, alone now, aboutthreehundredfeetbelowtheBalcony.Tooweaktogoon,Gauhadbeenleftonasnow-coveredledgebyhisSherpas.The gentle snow gully Fischer and Lopsang had been gingerlydescending ended here amid outcroppings of loose, steep shale, andFischer, like Gau, was unable to handle the challenging terrain in hisailing condition. “Scott cannot walk now, I have big problem,” says

Lopsang.“Itrytocarry,butIamalsoverytired.Scottisbigbody,Iamvery small; I cannot carryhim.He tell tome, ‘Lopsang,yougodown.Yougodown.’Itelltohim.‘No,Istaytogetherherewithyou.’“IstaywithScottandMakaluonehour,maybelonger,”saysLopsang.

“I am very cold, very tired. Scott tell to me, ‘You go down, send upAnatoli.’SoIsay,‘O.K.,Igodown,IsendquickSherpaupandAnatoli.’ThenImakegoodplaceforScottandgodown.”Lopsang leftFischerandGauona ledge1,200 feet above theSouth

Colandfoughthiswaydownthroughthestorm.Unabletosee,hegotfaroffroutetowardthewest,endedupbelowtheleveloftheColbeforehe realized his error, and was forced to climb back up the northernmargin of the Lhotse Face* to locate Camp Four. Around midnight,nevertheless, he made it to safety. “I go to Anatoli tent,” reportedLopsang. “I tell to Anatoli, ‘Please, you go up, Scott is very sick, hecannot walk.’ Then I go to my tent, just fall asleep, sleep like deadperson.”

GuyCotter,alongtimefriendofbothHall’sandHarris’s,happenedtobe a fewmiles from Everest Base Camp on the afternoon ofMay 10,where he was guiding an expedition on Pumori, and had beenmonitoringHall’sradiotransmissionsthroughouttheday.At2:15P.M.hetalkedtoHallonthesummit,andeverythingsoundedfine.At4:30,however, Hall called down to say that Doug was out of oxygen andunable tomove. “I need a bottle of gas!”Hall pleaded in a desperate,breathless voice to anyone on the mountain who might be listening.“Somebody,please!I’mbeggingyou!”Cotter grewvery alarmed.At 4:53he got on the radio and strongly

urged Hall to descend to the South Summit. “The call was mostly toconvincehimtocomedownandgetsomegas,”saysCotter,“becauseweknewhewasn’tgoingtobeabletodoanythingforDougwithoutit.RobsaidhecouldgethimselfdownO.K.,butnotwithDoug.”But fortyminutes later, Hall was still with Hansen atop the Hillary

Step,goingnowhere.DuringradiocallsfromHallat5:36,andagainat5:57,CotterimploredhismatetoleaveHansenandcomedownalone.“Iknow I sound like the bastard for telling Rob to abandon his client,”

confessedCotter,“butbythenitwasobviousthatleavingDougwashisonly choice.” Hall, however, wouldn’t consider going down withoutHansen.TherewasnofurtherwordfromHalluntilthemiddleofthenight.At

2:46 A.M., Cotter woke up in his tent below Pumori to hear a long,broken transmission, probably unintended: Hall had been wearing aremotemicrophoneclippedtotheshoulderstrapofhisbackpack,whichwas occasionally keyed on bymistake. In this instance, saysCotter, “IsuspectRobdidn’tevenknowhewastransmitting.Icouldhearsomeoneyelling—itmighthavebeenRob,butIcouldn’tbesurebecausethewindwassoloudinthebackground.Buthewassayingsomethinglike,‘Keepmoving!Keepgoing!’presumablytoDoug,urginghimon.”If this was indeed the case, it meant that in the wee hours of the

morningHall andHansen—perhaps accompaniedbyHarris—were stillstruggling fromtheHillaryStep toward theSouthSummit through thegale.Andifso,italsomeantthatithadtakenthemmorethantenhoursto move down a stretch of ridge that was typically covered bydescendingclimbersinlessthanhalfanhour.Of course, this is highly speculative. All that is certain is that Hall

calleddownat5:57P.M.Atthatpoint,heandHansenwerestillontheStep;andat4:43onthemorningofMay11,whenhenextspoketoBaseCamp,hehaddescendedtotheSouthSummit.AndatthatpointneitherHansennorHarriswaswithhim.In a series of transmissions over the next two hours, Rob sounded

disturbingly confused and irrational. During the call at 4:43 A.M., hetoldCarolineMackenzie,ourBaseCampdoctor,thathislegsnolongerworked, and that he was “too clumsy to move.” In a ragged, barelyaudible voice, Rob croaked, “Harold was with me last night, but hedoesn’t seemtobewithmenow.Hewasveryweak.”Then,obviouslybefuddled,heasked,“WasHaroldwithme?Canyoutellmethat?”*

BythispointHallhadpossessionoftwofulloxygencanisters,butthevalvesonhismaskweresochokedwithicethathecouldn’tgetthegasto flow. He indicated, however, that he was attempting to de-ice theoxygenrig,“which,”saysCotter,“madeusallfeelalittlebetter.Itwasthefirstpositivethingwe’dheard.”

At 5:00 A.M., Base Camp patched through a call on the satellitetelephonetoJanArnold,Hall’swife,inChristchurch,NewZealand.Shehad climbed to the summit of Everest with Hall in 1993, and sheentertainednoillusionsaboutthegravityofherhusband’spredicament.“My heart really sank when I heard his voice,” she recalls. “He wasslurringhiswordsmarkedly.HesoundedlikeMajorTomorsomething,likehewasjustfloatingaway.I’dbeenupthere;Iknewwhatitcouldbelike in bad weather. Rob and I had talked about the impossibility ofbeing rescued from the summit ridge. As he himself had put it, ‘Youmightaswellbeonthemoon.’”At 5:31, Hall took four milligrams of oral dexamethasone andindicatedhewasstilltryingtoclearhisoxygenmaskofice.TalkingtoBase Camp, he asked repeatedly about the condition of Makalu Gau,Fischer,BeckWeathers,YasukoNamba,andhisotherclients.Heseemedmost concerned about Andy Harris and kept inquiring about hiswhereabouts. Cotter says they tried to steer the discussion away fromHarris,whoinalllikelihoodwasdead,“becausewedidn’twantRobtohave another reason for staying up there. At one point Ed Viestursjumped on the radio from Camp Two and fibbed, ‘Don’t worry aboutAndy;he’sdownherewithus.’”A little later,Mackenzie askedRobhowHansenwasdoing. “Doug,”Hallreplied,“isgone.”Thatwasallhesaid,anditwasthelastmentionheevermadeofHansen.On May 23, when David Breashears and Ed Viesturs reached thesummit, theywould findno signofHansen’sbody; theydid,however,findaniceaxplantedaboutfiftyverticalfeetabovetheSouthSummit,alongaveryexposedsectionofridgewherethefixedropescametoanend. It’squitepossible thatHalland/orHarrismanaged togetHansendowntheropestothispoint,onlytohavehimlosehisfootingandfall7,000 feet down the sheer Southwest Face, leaving his ice ax jammedintotheridgewhereheslipped.Butthis,too,ismerelyconjecture.WhatmighthavehappenedtoHarrisremainsevenhardertodiscern.Between Lopsang’s testimony, Hall’s radio calls, and the fact thatanother iceax foundon theSouthSummitwaspositively identifiedasAndy’s,wecanbereasonablysurehewasattheSouthSummitwithHallon the night of May 10. Beyond that, however, virtually nothing is

knownabouthowtheyoungguidemethisend.At 6:00 A.M., Cotter asked Hall if the sun had reached him yet.“Almost,” Rob replied—which was good, because he’d mentioned amomentearlierthathewasshakinguncontrollablyintheawfulcold.Inconjunction with his earlier revelation that he was no longer able towalk, this had been very upsetting news to the people listening downbelow. Nevertheless, it was remarkable that Hall was even alive afterspendinganightwithoutshelteroroxygenat28,700feetinhurricane-forcewindsandwindchillofonehundreddegreesbelowzero.During this same radio call, Hall asked after Harris yet again: “DidanyoneseeHaroldlastnightexceptmeself?”SomethreehourslaterRobwas still obsessing over Andy’s whereabouts. At 8:43 A.M. he musedovertheradio,“SomeofAndy’sgearisstillhere.Ithoughthemusthavegoneahead in thenighttime.Listen, canyouaccount forhimornot?”Wiltonattemptedtododgethequestion,butRobpersistedinhislineofinquiry:“O.K.Imeanhisiceaxishereandhisjacketandthings.”“Rob,”ViestursrepliedfromCampTwo,“ifyoucanputthejacketon,justuseit.Keepgoingdownandworryonlyaboutyourself.Everybodyelseistakingcareofotherpeople.Justgetyourselfdown.”Afterstrugglingforfourhourstode-icehismask,Hallfinallygotittowork,andby9:00A.M.hewasbreathingsupplementaloxygenforthefirsttime;bythenhe’dspentmorethansixteenhoursabove28,700feetwithoutgas.Thousandsoffeetbelow,hisfriendssteppeduptheireffortstocajolehimtostartdown.“Rob, this isHelenatBaseCamp,”Wiltonimportuned, sounding as if she was on the brink of tears. “You thinkaboutthatlittlebabyofyours.You’regoingtoseeitsfaceinacoupleofmonths,sokeepongoing.”SeveraltimesHallannouncedhewaspreparingtodescend,andatonepointwewere surehe’d finally left the South Summit.AtCampFour,LhakpaChhiriandIshiveredinthewindoutsidethetents,peeringupatatinyspeckmovingslowlydowntheupperSoutheastRidge.ConvincedthatitwasRob,comingdownatlast,LhakpaandIslappedeachotheron the back and cheered himon. But an hour latermy optimismwasrudelyextinguishedwhenInoticedthatthespeckwasstillinthesameplace:itwasactuallynothingbutarock—justanotheraltitude-induced

hallucination.Intruth,RobhadneverevenlefttheSouthSummit.

Around9:30A.M.,AngDorjeandLhakpaChhiri leftCampFourandstartedclimbingtowardtheSouthSummitwithathermosofhotteaandtwoextra canisters of oxygen, intending to rescueHall. They facedanexceedingly formidable task. As astounding and courageous asBoukreev’s rescue of Sandy Pittman and Charlotte Fox had been thenight before, it paled in comparison to what the two Sherpas wereproposingtodonow:PittmanandFoxhadbeenatwenty-minutewalkfrom the tents over relatively flat ground;Hallwas 3,000vertical feetaboveCampFour—anexhaustingeight-ornine-hourclimbinthebestofcircumstances.And thesewere surely not the best of circumstances. Thewindwas

blowinginexcessof40knots.BothAngDorjeandLhakpawerecoldandwastedfromclimbingtothesummitandbackjustthedaybefore.Iftheydid somehow manage to reach Hall, moreover, it would be lateafternoon before they got there, leaving only one or two hours ofdaylightinwhichtobegintheevenmoredifficultordealofbringinghimdown.Yet their loyalty toHallwassuchthat thetwomenignoredtheoverwhelmingoddsandsetouttowardtheSouthSummitasfastastheycouldclimb.Shortly thereafter, two Sherpas from theMountainMadness team—

TashiTsheringandNgawangSyaKya(asmall,trimman,grayingatthetemples,whoisLopsang’sfather)—andoneSherpafromtheTaiwaneseteam,TenzingNuri,headeduptobringdownScottFischerandMakaluGau.TwelvehundredfeetabovetheSouthColthetrioofSherpasfoundthe incapacitated climbers on the ledgewhere Lopsang had left them.AlthoughtheytriedtogiveFischeroxygen,hewasunresponsive.Scottwasstillbreathing,barely,buthiseyeswerefixedintheirsockets,andhis teethwere tightly clenched. Concluding that hewas beyond hope,theylefthimontheledgeandstarteddescendingwithGau,who,afterreceiving hot tea and oxygen, and with considerable assistance fromTenzingNuri,wasabletomovedowntothetentsonashort-ropeunderhisownpower.The day had started out sunny and clear, but the wind remained

fierce, andby latemorning theuppermountainwaswrapped in thickclouds.DownatCampTwotheIMAXteamreportedthatthewindoverthe summit sounded like a squadron of 747s, even from 7,000 feetbelow.Meanwhile,highontheSoutheastRidge,AngDorjeandLhakpaChhiripressedonresolutelythroughtheintensifyingstormtowardHall.At3:00P.M.,however,still700feetbelowtheSouthSummit,thewindandsubzerocoldprovedtobetoomuchforthem,andtheSherpascouldgo no higher. It was a valiant effort, but it had failed—and as theyturnedaroundtodescend,Hall’schancesforsurvivalallbutvanished.ThroughoutthedayonMay11,hisfriendsandteammatesincessantly

begged him to make an effort to come down under his own power.SeveraltimesHallannouncedthathewaspreparingtodescend,onlytochange his mind and remain immobile at the South Summit. At 3:20P.M.,Cotter—whobynowhadwalkedoverfromhisowncampbeneathPumori to the Everest Base Camp—scolded over the radio, “Rob, getmovingdowntheridge.”Soundingannoyed,Hallfiredback,“Look,ifIthoughtIcouldmanage

the knots on the fixed ropes withme frostbitten hands, I would havegonedownsixhoursago,pal.Justsendacoupleoftheboysupwithabigthermosofsomethinghot—thenI’llbefine.”“Thing is,mate, the ladswhowentuptodayencounteredsomehigh

winds and had to turn around,” Cotter replied, trying to convey asdelicatelyaspossible that therescueattempthadbeenabandoned,“sowethinkyourbestshotistomovelower.”“I can last another night here if you send up a couple of boyswith

someSherpatea,firstthinginthemorning,nolaterthannine-thirtyorten,”Robanswered.“You’re a tough man, Big Guy,” said Cotter, his voice quavering.

“We’llsendsomeboysuptoyouinthemorning.”At6:20P.M.,CottercontactedHalltotellhimthatJanArnoldwason

the satellite phone from Christchurch and was waiting to be patchedthrough.“Givemeaminute,”Robsaid.“Memouth’sdry.Iwanttoeatabit of snow before I talk to her.” A little later he came back on andrasped in a slow, horribly distorted voice, “Hi,my sweetheart. I hopeyou’retuckedupinanicewarmbed.Howareyoudoing?”

“I can’t tell youhowmuch I’m thinkingaboutyou!”Arnold replied.“You sound so much better than I expected.… Are you warm, mydarling?”“In the context of the altitude, the setting, I’m reasonably

comfortable,”Hallanswered,doinghisbestnottoalarmher.“Howareyourfeet?”“Ihaven’ttakenmebootsofftocheck,butIthinkImayhaveabitof

frostbite.…”“I’mlookingforwardtomakingyoucompletelybetterwhenyoucome

home,”saidArnold.“Ijustknowyou’regoingtoberescued.Don’tfeelthatyou’realone.I’msendingallmypositiveenergyyourway!”Before signing off, Hall told his wife, “I love you. Sleep well, my

sweetheart.Pleasedon’tworrytoomuch.”These would be the last words anyone would hear him speak.

Attempts tomakeradiocontactwithHall later thatnightandthenextdaywentunanswered.Twelvedayslater,whenBreashearsandViestursclimbedovertheSouthSummitontheirwaytothetop,theyfoundHalllying onhis right side in a shallow ice hollow, his upper body buriedbeneathadriftofsnow.

*Itwasn’tuntilIinterviewedLopsanginSeattleonJuly25,1996,thatIlearnedhehadseenHarrisontheeveningofMay10.AlthoughI’dspokenbrieflywithLopsangseveraltimespreviously,I’dneverthoughttoaskwhetherhe’dencounteredHarrisontheSouthSummit,becauseatthatpointIwasstillcertainI’dseenHarrisattheSouthCol,3,000feetbelowtheSouthSummit,at6:30P.M.Moreover,GuyCotterhadaskedLopsangifhe’dseenHarris,andforsomereason—perhapsasimplemisunderstandingofthequestion—onthatoccasionLopsangsaidno.

*EarlythenextmorningwhilesearchingtheColforAndyHarris,IcameacrossLopsang’sfaintcrampontracksintheiceleadingupfromthelipoftheLhotseFace,andmistakenlybelievedtheywereHarris’stracksheadeddowntheface—whichiswhyIthoughtHarrishadwalkedofftheedgeoftheCol.

*I’dalreadyreportedwithabsolutecertaintythatI’dseenHarrisontheSouthColat6:30P.M.,May10.WhenHallsaidthatHarriswaswithhimupontheSouthSummit—3,000feethigherthanwhereIsaidI’dseenhim—mostpeople,thankstomyerror,wronglyassumedthatHall’s

statementsweremerelytheincoherentramblingsofanexhausted,severelyhypoxicman.

A

EIGHTEEN

NORTHEASTRIDGE

MAY10,1996•28,550FEET

Everestwastheembodimentofthephysicalforcesoftheworld.Againstithehadtopitthespiritofman.Hecouldseethejoyinthefacesofhiscomradesifhesucceeded.Hecouldimaginethethrillhissuccesswouldcauseamongall fellow-mountaineers; thecredit itwouldbringtoEngland;theinterestallovertheworld;thenameitwouldbringhim;theenduringsatisfactiontohimselfthathehadmadehislifeworthwhile.…Perhapsheneverexactlyformulatedit,yetinhismindmusthavebeenpresenttheideaof“allornothing.”Ofthetwoalternatives,toturnbackathirdtime,ortodie,thelatterwasforMalloryprobablytheeasier.Theagonyofthefirstwouldbemorethanheasaman,asamountaineer,andasanartist,couldendure.

SirFrancisYounghusbandTheEpicofMountEverest,1926

t 4:00 P.M. onMay 10, around the same time a hurtingDoug Hansen arrived on the summit supported by Rob

Hall’s shoulder, three climbers from the northern Indian province ofLadakhradioeddowntotheirexpeditionleaderthatthey,too,wereontopofEverest.Membersofathirty-nine-personexpeditionorganizedbythe Indo-Tibetan Border Police, Tsewang Smanla, Tsewang Paljor, andDorjeMorup had ascended from the Tibetan side of the peak via theNortheastRidge—therouteonwhichGeorgeLeighMalloryandAndrewIrvinehadsofamouslydisappearedin1924.Leavingtheirhighcampat27,230feetasapartyofsix,theLadakhis

didnotgetawayfromtheirtentsuntil5:45A.M.*Bymidafternoon,stillmorethanathousandverticalfeetbelowthetop,theywereengulfedbythe same storm clouds that we encountered on the other side of themountain. Three members of the team threw in the towel and wentdown at around 2:00 P.M., but Smanla, Paljor, and Morup pushedonward despite the deteriorating weather. “They were overcome by

summitfever,”explainedHarbhajanSingh,oneofthethreewhoturnedaround.Theotherthreereachedwhattheybelievedtobethesummitat4:00P.M.,bywhichtimethecloudshadbecomesothickthatvisibilitywasreducedtonomorethan100feet.TheyradioedtheirBaseCampontheRongbukGlacier tosaytheywereontop,whereupontheleaderoftheexpedition, Mohindor Singh, placed a satellite-telephone call to NewDelhi and proudly reported the triumph to PrimeMinister NarashimaRao.Celebratingtheirsuccess,thesummitteamleftanofferingofprayerflags, katas, and climbing pitons on what appeared to be the highestpoint,andthendescendedintothefast-risingblizzard.Intruth,theLadakhiswereat28,550feetwhentheyturnedaround,abouttwohoursbelowtheactualsummit,whichatthattimestilljuttedabove thehighest clouds.The fact that theyunwittingly stopped some500feetshortoftheirgoalexplainswhytheydidn’tseeHansen,Hall,orLopsangontop,andviceversa.Later, shortly after dark, climbers lower on the Northeast Ridgereportedseeingtwoheadlampsinthevicinityof28,300feet,justaboveanotoriously problematic cliff knownas the SecondStep, but noneofthe threeLadakhismade itback to their tents thatnight,nordid theymakefurtherradiocontact.At 1:45 the next morning, May 11—around the same time AnatoliBoukreev was frantically searching the South Col for Sandy Pittman,Charlotte Fox, and TimMadsen—two Japanese climbers, accompaniedbythreeSherpas,setoutforthesummitfromthesamehighcampontheNortheastRidgethattheLadakhishadused,despitetheveryhighwindsbuffetingthepeak.At6:00A.M.,astheyskirtedasteeprockpromontorycalled theFirstStep, twenty-one-year-oldEisukeShigekawaand thirty-six-year-oldHiroshiHanadaweretakenabacktoseeoneoftheLadakhiclimbers,probablyPaljor,lyinginthesnow,horriblyfrostbittenbutstillaliveafteranightwithoutshelteroroxygen,moaningunintelligibly.Notwanting to jeopardize their ascent by stopping to assist him, theJapaneseteamcontinuedclimbingtowardthesummit.At 7:15 A.M. they arrived at the base of the Second Step, a dead-verticalprowofcrumblingschistthatisusuallyascendedbymeansofan

aluminumladderthathadbeenlashedtothecliffbyaChineseteamin1975.TothedismayoftheJapaneseclimbers,however,theladderwasfallingapartandhadbecomepartiallydetachedfromtherock,soninetyminutes of strenuous climbingwere required to surmount this 20-footcliff.JustbeyondthetopoftheSecondSteptheycameupontheothertwoLadakhis, Smanla andMorup. According to an article in the FinancialTimeswrittenbytheBritishjournalistRichardCowper,whointerviewedHanada and Shigekawa at 21,000 feet immediately after their ascent,oneoftheLadakhiswas“apparentlyclosetodeath,theothercrouchinginthesnow.Nowordswerepassed.Nowater,foodoroxygenexchangedhands. The Japanesemoved on and160 feet farther along they restedandchangedoxygencylinders.”HanadatoldCowper,“Wedidn’tknowthem.No,wedidn’tgivethemany water. We didn’t talk to them. They had severe high-altitudesickness.Theylookedasiftheyweredangerous.”Shigekawaexplained,“Weweretootiredtohelp.Above8,000metersisnotaplacewherepeoplecanaffordmorality.”Turning their backs on Smanla and Morup, the Japanese teamresumed their ascent, passed the prayer flags and pitons left by theLadakhis at 28,550 feet, and—in an astonishing display of tenacity—reachedthesummitat11:45A.M.inascreaminggale.RobHallwasatthemomenthuddledon theSouthSummit, fighting forhis life, ahalfhour’sclimbbelowthemalongtheSoutheastRidge.DuringtheirreturndowntheNortheastRidgetotheirhighcamp,theJapaneseagaincameacrossSmanlaandMorupabovetheSecondStep.AtthistimeMorupappearedtobedead;Smanla,thoughstillalive,washopelessly tangled in a fixed line. Pasang Kami, a Sherpa on theJapanese team, freed Smanla from the rope, then continued down theridge.AstheydescendedpasttheFirstStep—whereonthewayuptheyhadclimbedpastPaljor,crumpledandravinginthesnow—theJapanesepartynowsawnosignofthethirdLadakhi.Sevendays later the Indo-TibetanBorderPolice expedition launchedanother summit attempt. Departing their high camp at 1:15 on themorningofMay17,twoLadakhisandthreeSherpassooncameuponthe

frozenbodiesoftheirteammates.Theyreportedthatoneofthemen,inhis death throes, had torn off most of his clothing before finallysuccumbingtotheelements.Smanla,Morup,andPaljorwereleftonthemountainwheretheyhadfallen,andthefiveclimberscontinuedtothetopofEverest,whichtheyreachedat7:40A.M.

*Toavoidconfusion,alltimesquotedinthischapterhavebeenconvertedtoNepaltime,eventhoughtheeventsIdescribeoccurredinTibet.ClocksinTibetaresettoreflecttheBeijingtimezone,whichistwohoursandfifteenminutesaheadoftheNepaltimezone—e.g.,6:00A.M.inNepalis8:15inTibet.

W

NINETEEN

SOUTHCOL

7:30A.M.,MAY11,1996•26,000FEET

TurningandturninginthewideninggyreThefalconcannotbearthefalconer;Thingsfallapart;thecentercannothold;Mereanarchyisloosedupontheworld,Theblood-dimmedtideisloosed,andeverywhereTheceremonyofinnocenceisdrowned.

WilliamButlerYeats“TheSecondComing”

henIwobbledbacktoCampFouraround7:30Saturdaymorning,May11,theactualityofwhathadhappened—

ofwhatwas still happening—began to sink inwithparalyzing force. IwasphysicallyandemotionallywreckedafterhavingjustspentanhourscouringtheSouthColforAndyHarris;thesearchhadleftmeconvincedthathewasdead.RadiocallsmyteammateStuartHutchisonhadbeenmonitoring from Rob Hall on the South Summit made clear that ourleader was in desperate straits and that Doug Hansen was dead.MembersofScottFischer’s teamwho’dspentmostof thenight lostontheColreportedthatYasukoNambaandBeckWeathersweredead.AndScott Fischer andMakalu Gauwere believed to be dead or very neardeath,1,200feetabovethetents.Confrontedwiththistally,mymindbalkedandretreatedintoaweird,

almost robotic state of detachment. I felt emotionally anesthetized yethyperaware,asifIhadfledintoabunkerdeepinsidemyskullandwaspeeringoutatthewreckagearoundmethroughanarrow,armoredslit.AsIgazednumblyatthesky,itseemedtohaveturnedapreternaturallypaleshadeofblue,bleachedofallbutthefaintestremnantofcolor.Thejagged horizon was limned with a coronalike glow that flickered and

pulsedbeforemyeyes.IwonderedifIhadbegunthedownwardspiralintothenightmarishterritoryofthemad.Afteranightat26,000feetwithoutsupplementaloxygen,IwasevenweakerandmoreexhaustedthanIhadbeenthepreviouseveningaftercomingdownfromthesummit.Unlesswesomehowacquiredsomemoregas or descended to a lower camp, I knew that my teammates and Iwouldcontinuetodeterioraterapidly.The fast-track acclimatization schedule followed by Hall and mostother modern Everesters is remarkably efficient: it allows climbers toembarkforthesummitafterspendingarelativelybrieffour-weekperiodabove 17,000 feet—including just a single overnight acclimatizationexcursion to 24,000 feet.* Yet this strategy is predicated on theassumption that everyone will have a continuous supply of bottledoxygenabove24,000feet.Whenthatceasestobethecase,allbetsareoff.Searchingout therestofourcrew, I foundFrankFischbeckandLouKasischke lying in a nearby tent. Lou was delirious and snow-blind,completelywithout sight,unable todoanything forhimself,mutteringincoherently.Franklookedasifhewereinaseverestateofshock,buthewas doinghis best to take care of Lou. JohnTaskewas in anothertentwithMikeGroom;bothmenappearedtobeasleeporunconscious.AsricketyandfeebleasIfelt, itwasobviousthateveryoneelseexceptStuartHutchisonwasfaringevenworse.AsIwentfromtenttotentItriedtolocatesomeoxygen,butallthecanisters I foundwere empty. The ongoing hypoxia, coupledwithmyprofoundfatigue,exacerbatedthesenseofchaosanddespair.Thankstothe relentless din of nylon flapping in the wind, it was impossible tocommunicatefromtenttotent.Thebatteriesinouroneremainingradiowerenearlydepleted.Anatmosphereofterminalentropypervadedthecamp,heightenedbythefactthatourteam—whichfortheprecedingsixweekshadbeenencouragedtorelythoroughlyonourguides—wasnowsuddenlyandutterlywithoutleadership:RobandAndyweregone,andalthoughGroomwaspresent,theordealofthepreviousnighthadtakenaterribletollonhim.Seriouslyfrostbitten,lyinginsensateinhistent,atleastforthetimebeinghewasunableeventospeak.

Withallourguideshorsdecombat,Hutchisonsteppedupto fill theleadership vacuum. A high-strung, self-serious young man from theupper crust of English-speaking Montreal society, he was a brilliantmedicalresearcherwhowentonabigmountaineeringexpeditioneverytwo or three years but otherwise had little time for climbing. As thecrisismountedatCampFour,hedidhisbesttorisetotheoccasion.WhileItriedtorecoverfrommyfruitlesssearchforHarris,Hutchisonorganizeda teamof fourSherpas to locate thebodiesofWeathersandNamba, who had been left on the far side of the Col when AnatoliBoukreev brought in Charlotte Fox, Sandy Pittman, and TimMadsen.The Sherpa search party, headedby LhakpaChhiri, departed ahead ofHutchison,whowassoexhaustedandbefuddled thathe’d forgottentoputhisbootsonandhadtriedtoleavecampinhislight,smooth-soledliners.OnlywhenLhakpapointedouttheblunderdidHutchisonreturnforhisboots.FollowingBoukreev’sdirections,theSherpasquicklyfoundthetwobodiesonaslopeofgrayicefreckledwithbouldersnearthelipoftheKangshungFace.Extremelysuperstitiousaboutthedead,asmanySherpasare,theyhalted60or70feetawayandwaitedforHutchison.“Both bodies were partially buried,” Hutchison recalls. “Theirbackpacksweremaybe100feetaway,uphillfromthem.Theirfacesandtorsoswerecoveredwithsnow;onlytheirhandsandfeetwerestickingout.ThewindwasjustscreamingacrosstheCol.”Thefirstbodyhecameto turnedout tobeNamba,butHutchisoncouldn’tdiscernwho itwasuntilhekneltinthegaleandchippedathree-inch-thickcarapaceoficefromherface.Stunned,hediscoveredthatshewasstillbreathing.Bothherglovesweregone,andherbarehandsappeared tobe frozensolid.Her eyes were dilated. The skin on her face was the color of whiteporcelain.“Itwasterrible,”Hutchisonrecalls.“Iwasoverwhelmed.Shewasveryneardeath.Ididn’tknowwhattodo.”He turned his attention to Beck, who lay twenty feet away. Beck’sheadwasalsocakedwithathickarmoroffrost.Ballsoficethesizeofgrapes were matted to his hair and eyelids. After clearing the frozendetritusfromBeck’sface,HutchisondiscoveredthattheTexanwasstillalive, too: “Beckwasmumbling something, I think, but I couldn’t tellwhat he was trying to say. His right glove was missing and he hadterriblefrostbite.Itriedtogethimtositupbuthecouldn’t.Hewasas

closetodeathasapersoncanbeandstillbebreathing.”Horribly shaken, Hutchison went over to the Sherpas and asked

Lhakpa’s advice. Lhakpa, an Everest veteran respected by Sherpas andsahibsalikeforhismountainsavvy,urgedHutchisontoleaveBeckandYasukowheretheylay.Eveniftheysurvivedlongenoughtobedraggedback to Camp Four, they would certainly die before they could becarrieddown toBaseCamp,andattemptinga rescuewouldneedlesslyjeopardizethelivesoftheotherclimbersontheCol,mostofwhomweregoingtohaveenoughtroublegettingthemselvesdownsafely.HutchisondecidedthatLhakpawasright—therewasonlyonechoice,

however difficult: let nature take its inevitable course with Beck andYasuko,andsavethegroup’sresourcesforthosewhocouldactuallybehelped.Itwasaclassicactoftriage.WhenHutchisonreturnedtocamphewasonthevergeof tearsandlookedlikeaghost.Athisurgingweroused Taske and Groom and then crowded into their tent to discusswhat todoaboutBeckandYasuko.The conversation that ensuedwasanguished and halting. We avoided making eye contact. After fiveminutes,however,allfourofusconcurred:Hutchison’sdecisiontoleaveBeckandYasukowheretheylaywasthepropercourseofaction.We also debated heading down to Camp Two that afternoon, but

Taskewas insistent thatwe not descend from the Col while Hall wasmaroonedontheSouthSummit.“Iwon’tevenconsiderleavingwithouthim,” he pronounced. It was a moot point, regardless: Kasischke andGroom were in such bad shape that going anywhere was out of thequestionforthetimebeing.“BythenIwasveryworriedthatwewereheadedforarepeatofwhat

happenedonK2in1986,”saysHutchison.OnJuly4ofthatyear,sevenHimalayan veterans—including the legendary Austrian bergsteiger KurtDiemberger—set out for the summit of the world’s second-highestmountain. Six of the seven reached the top, but during the descent aseverestormstrucktheupperslopesofK2,pinningtheclimbersintheirhigh camp at 26,250 feet. As the blizzard continuedwithout letup forfivedays,theygrewweakerandweaker.Whenthestormfinallybroke,onlyDiembergerandoneotherpersonmadeitdownalive.

Saturday morning, as we discussed what to do about Namba andWeathers and whether to descend, Neal Beidleman was musteringFischer’s team from their tentsandhectoring them to startdown fromtheCol.“Everyonewassomessedupfromthenightbeforethat itwasreallyhardgettingourgroupupandoutofthetents—Ipracticallyhadtopunchsomepeopletogetthemtoputtheirbootson,”hesays.“ButIwasadamantthatweleaveimmediately.Inmyview,stayingattwenty-sixthousandfeetlongerthanabsolutelynecessaryisaskingfortrouble.Icould see that rescue efforts were under way for Scott and Rob, so IturnedmyfullattentiontogettingourclientsofftheColanddowntoalowercamp.”While Boukreev remained behind at Camp Four towait for Fischer,BeidlemanherdedhisgroupslowlydownfromtheCol.At25,000feethepaused to give Pittman another injection of dexamethasone, and theneveryonestoppedforalongtimeatCampThreetorestandrehydrate.“When I saw those guys,” says David Breashears, who was at CampThreewhen Beidleman’s crew arrived, “I was astounded. They lookedlikethey’dbeenthroughafive-monthwar.Sandystartedtobreakdown—shewascrying.‘Itwasterrible!Ijustgaveupandlaydowntodie!’Allofthemappearedtobeinsevereshock.”Justbeforedark,thelastofBeidleman’sgroupwasworkingtheirwaydown the steep ice of the lower Lhotse Face,when, 500 feet from thebottomofthefixedropes,theyweremetbysomeSherpasfromaNepalicleanupexpeditionwho’dcomeuptoassistthem.Astheyresumedtheirdescent, a volley of grapefruit-sized stones came whizzing down fromtheuppermountainandoneofthemstruckaSherpainthebackofthehead.“The rock justcreamedhim,” saysBeidleman,whoobserved theincidentfromashortdistanceabove.“Itwassickening,”KlevSchoeningrecalls.“Itsoundedlikehe’dbeenhitwithabaseballbat.”TheforceoftheblowchippedadivotaslargeasasilverdollarfromtheSherpa’sskull,knockedhimunconscious,andsent him into cardiopulmonary arrest. As he flopped over and startedslidingdowntherope,Schoeningjumpedinfrontofhimandmanagedtohalthisfall.Butamomentlater,asSchoeningcradledtheSherpainhisarms,asecondrockcamedownandsmashedintotheSherpa;onceagainthemantooktheimpactsquarelyonthebackofhishead.

Despitethissecondblow,afterafewminutesthestrickenmangaspedviolentlyandbeganbreathingagain.Beidlemanmanagedtolowerhimto the bottom of the Lhotse Face, where a dozen of the Sherpa’steammatesmetthemandcarriedtheinjuredmantoCampTwo.Atthatpoint,saysBeidleman,“KlevandIjuststaredateachotherindisbelief.It was like, ‘What’s going on here?What have we done to make thismountainsoangry?’”

ThroughoutAprilandearlyMay,RobHallhadexpressedhisconcernthatoneormoreofthelesscompetentteamsmightblunderintoabadjam,compellingourgrouptorescuethem,therebyruiningoursummitbid!Now,ironically,itwasHall’sexpeditionthatwasingravetrouble,and other teams were in the position of having to come to our aid.Without rancor, three such groups—Todd Burleson’s Alpine AscentsInternational expedition,DavidBreashears’s IMAXexpedition, andMalDuff’s commercial expedition—immediately postponed their ownsummitplansinordertoassistthestrickenclimbers.The day before—Friday, May 10—while we in Hall’s and Fischer’s

teamswereclimbingfromCampFourtowardthetop,theAlpineAscentsInternational expedition headed by Burleson and Pete Athans wasarrivingatCampThree.OnSaturdaymorning,assoonastheylearnedofthe disaster that was unfolding above, Burleson and Athans left theirclients at 24,000 feet in care of their third guide, Jim Williams, andrusheduptotheSouthColtohelp.Breashears,EdViesturs,andtherestoftheIMAXteamhappenedtobe

inCampTwoatthattime;Breashearsimmediatelysuspendedfilminginordertodirectallofhisexpedition’sresourcestowardtherescueeffort.First,herelayedamessagetomethatsomesparebatterieswerestashedinoneof the IMAX tentson theCol;bymidafternoon I’d found them,allowingHall’steamtore-establishradiocontactwiththelowercamps.Then Breashears offered his expedition’s supply of oxygen—fiftycanistersthathadbeenlaboriouslycarriedto26,000feet—totheailingclimbersandwould-berescuersontheCol.Eventhoughthisthreatenedtoputhis$5.5millionfilmprojectinjeopardy,hemadethecrucialgasavailablewithouthesitation.

Athans and Burleson arrived at Camp Four in midmorning,immediatelybegandistributingIMAXgasbottles tothoseofusstarvedfor oxygen, then waited to see what came of the Sherpas’ efforts torescue Hall, Fischer, and Gau. At 4:35 P.M., Burleson was standingoutsidethetentswhenhenoticedsomeonewalkingslowlytowardcampwithapeculiar,stiff-kneedgait.“Hey,Pete,”hecalledtoAthans.“Checkthisout.Somebody’scomingintocamp.”Theperson’sbarerighthand,nakedtothefrigidwindandgrotesquelyfrostbitten,wasoutstretchedina kind of odd, frozen salute. Whoever it was reminded Athans of amummyinalow-budgethorrorfilm.Asthemummylurchedintocamp,BurlesonrealizedthatitwasnoneotherthanBeckWeathers,somehowrisenfromthedead.Thepreviousnight,huddlingwithGroom,Beidleman,Namba,andthe

othermembersofthatgroup,Weathershadfelthimself“growingcolderandcolder.I’dlostmyrightglove.Myfacewasfreezing.Myhandswerefreezing.Ifeltmyselfgrowingreallynumbandthenitgotreallyhardtostayfocused,andfinallyIjustsortofslidoffintooblivion.”Throughtherestofthenightandmostofthefollowingday,Becklay

out on the ice, exposed to the merciless wind, cataleptic and barelyalive.HehasnorecollectionofBoukreevcomingforPittman,Fox,andMadsen.Nordoeshe rememberHutchison findinghim in themorningandchippingtheicefromhisface.Heremainedcomatoseformorethantwelve hours. Then, late Saturday afternoon, for some unknowablereasonalightwentoninthereptiliancoreofBeck’sinanimatebrainandhefloatedbacktoconsciousness.“InitiallyIthoughtIwasinadream,”Weathersrecalls.“WhenIfirst

came to, I thought I was laying in bed. I didn’t feel cold oruncomfortable.Isortofrolledontomyside,gotmyeyesopen,andtherewasmyrighthandstaringmeintheface.ThenIsawhowbadlyfrozenitwas, and that helped bringme around to reality. Finally Iwoke upenough to recognize that I was in deep shit and the cavalry wasn’tcomingsoIbetterdosomethingaboutitmyself.”AlthoughBeckwasblindinhisrighteyeandabletofocushislefteye

withinaradiusofonlythreeorfourfeet,hestartedwalkingdirectlyintothe wind, deducing correctly that camp lay in that direction. Had hebeen mistaken, he would have stumbled immediately down the

KangshungFace, the edge ofwhich lay just thirty feet in the oppositedirection.Aboutninetyminuteslaterheencountered“someunnaturallysmooth,bluish-lookingrocks,”whichturnedouttobethetentsofCampFour.Hutchison and I were in our tentmonitoring a radio call from RobHallon theSouthSummitwhenBurlesoncame rushingover. “Doctor!Weneedyoubad!”heyelledtoStuartfromjustoutsidethedoor.“Grabyourstuff.Beckjustwalkedin,andhe’sinbadshape!”StruckdumbbyBeck’smiraculousresurrection,anexhaustedHutchisoncrawledoutsidetoanswerthecall.He,Athans,andBurlesonplacedBeckinanunoccupiedtent,bundledhim into two sleeping bagswith several hot-water bottles, and put anoxygenmaskoverhis face.“Atthatpoint,”Hutchisonconfesses,“noneofusthoughtBeckwasgoingtosurvivethenight.Icouldbarelydetecthiscarotidpulse,whichisthelastpulseyoulosebeforeyoudie.Hewascritically ill.And even if he did liveuntilmorning, I couldn’t imaginehowweweregoingtogethimdown.”BynowthethreeSherpaswhohadgoneuptorescueScottFischerandMakalu Gau were back in camp after bringing down Gau; they’d leftFischerona ledgeat27,200 feet after concluding thathewasbeyondsaving.Having just seenBeckwalk intocampafterbeinggivenup fordead,however,AnatoliBoukreevwasunwillingtowriteFischeroff.At5:00 P.M., as the storm intensified, the Russian headed up alone toattempttosavehim.“I findScottatseveno’clock,maybeit isseven-thirtyoreight,”saysBoukreev.“Bythenitisdark.Stormisverystrong.Hisoxygenmaskisaround face, but bottle is empty. He is not wearing mittens; handscompletelybare.Downsuitisunzipped,pulledoffhisshoulder,onearmis outside clothing. There is nothing I can do. Scott is dead.”With aheavy heart, Boukreev lashed Fischer’s backpack across his face as ashroudandlefthimontheledgewherehelay.ThenhecollectedScott’scamera,iceax,andfavoritepocketknife—whichBeidlemanwouldlatergive to Scott’s nine-year-old son in Seattle—and descended into thetempest.The gale that struck on Saturday evening was even more powerful

than the one that had lashed the Col the night before. By the timeBoukreevmadeitbackdowntoCampFourthevisibilitywasdowntoafewyards,andhealmostfailedtofindthetents.Breathingbottledoxygen(thankstotheIMAXteam)forthefirsttimein thirty hours, I fell into a tortured, fitful sleep despite the racketproducedbythefuriouslyflappingtent.Shortlyaftermidnight,IwasinthemidstofanightmareaboutAndy—hewas fallingdowntheLhotseFace trailing a rope, demanding to knowwhy I hadn’t held on to theotherend—whenHutchisonshookmeawake.“Jon,”heshoutedabovetheroarof thestorm,“I’mconcernedabout the tent.Doyou think it’sgoingtobeO.K.?”AsIstruggledgroggilyupfromthedepthsofmytroubledreverielikea drowningman rising to the ocean’s surface, it tookme aminute tonotice why Stuart was so worried: the wind had flattened half ourshelter,whichrockedviolentlywitheachsuccessivegust.Severalofthepoleswerebadlybent,andmyheadlamprevealedthattwoofthemainseamswereinimminentdangerofbeingrippedasunder.Flurriesoffinesnowparticles filled theair inside the tent,blanketingeverythingwithfrost.ThewindwasblowingharderthananythingI’deverexperiencedanywhere, even on the Patagonian Ice Cap, a place reputed to be thewindiest on the planet. If the tent disintegrated before morning, wewouldbeingravetrouble.Stuart and I gathered up our boots and all our clothing and thenpositioned ourselves on thewindward side of the shelter. Bracing ourbacksandshouldersagainstthedamagedpoles,forthenextthreehoursweleanedintothehurricane,despiteoursurpassingfatigue,holdingupthebatterednylondomeasifourlivesdependedonit.IkeptimaginingRobupontheSouthSummitat28,700feet,hisoxygengone,exposedtothefullsavageryofthisstormwithnoshelterwhatsoever—butitwassodisturbingthatItriednottothinkaboutit.Just before dawn on Sunday, May 12, Stuart’s oxygen ran out.“WithoutitIcouldfeelmyselfbecomingreallycoldandhypothermic,”hesays.“Ibeganto losefeelinginmyhandsandfeet. Iworriedthat Iwas slippingover theedge, that Imightnotbeable togetdown fromtheCol.And Iworried that if Ididn’t getdown thatmorning, Imightnevergetdown.”GivingStuartmyoxygenbottle,IrootedarounduntilI

found another one with some gas left in it, and then we both beganpackingforthedescent.When I ventured outside, I saw that at least one of the unoccupied

tents had blown completely off the Col. Then I noticed Ang Dorje,standingaloneintheappallingwind,sobbinginconsolablyoverthelossof Rob. After the expedition, when I told his Canadian friendMarionBoydabouthisgrief,sheexplainedthat“AngDorjeseeshisroleonthisearthaskeepingpeoplesafe—heandIhavetalkedaboutitalot.It’sall-importantforhimintermsofhisreligion,andpreparingforthenextgo-aroundinlife.*EventhoughRobwas theexpedition leader,AngDorjewouldsee itashisresponsibilitytoensurethesafetyofRobandDougHansenandtheothers.Sowhentheydied,hecouldn’thelpbutblamehimself.”WorriedthatAngDorjewassodistraughtthathemightrefusetogo

down,Hutchisonbeseechedhim todescend from theCol immediately.Then, at 8:30 A.M.—believing that by now Rob, Andy, Doug, Scott,Yasuko,andBeckwereallsurelydead—abadlyfrostbittenMikeGroomforced himself out of his tent, gamely assembled Hutchison, Taske,Fischbeck,andKasischke,andstartedleadingthemdownthemountain.Intheabsenceofanyotherguides,Ivolunteeredtofillthatroleand

bringuptherear.AsourdespondentgroupfiledslowlyawayfromCampFourtowardtheGenevaSpur,IbracedmyselftomakeonelastvisittoBeck,whomIassumedhaddied in thenight. I locatedhis tent,whichhad been blasted flat by the hurricane, and saw that both doorswerewide open.When I peered inside, however, Iwas shocked to discoverthatBeckwasstillalive.He was lying on his back across the floor of the collapsed shelter,

shivering convulsively. His face was hideously swollen; splotches ofdeep, ink-black frostbite covered his nose and cheeks. The storm hadblown both sleeping bags from his body, leaving him exposed to thesubzerowind,andwithhisfrozenhandshe’dbeenpowerlesstopullthebagsbackoverhimselforzipthetentclosed.“JesusfuckingChrist!”hewailedwhenhesawme,hisfeaturestwistedintoarictusofagonyanddesperation.“What’saguyhavetodotogetalittlehelparoundhere!”He’dbeenscreamingforhelpfortwoorthreehours,butthestormhadsmotheredhiscries.

Beckhadawakenedinthemiddleofthenighttofindthat“thestormhadcollapsedthetentandwasblowingitapart.ThewindwaspressingthetentwallsohardagainstmyfacethatIcouldn’tbreathe.Itwouldletupforasecond,thencomeslammingbackdownintomyfaceandchest,knocking thewindoutofme.On topofeverythingelse,myrightarmwasswellingup,andIhadthisstupidwristwatchon,soasmyarmgotbiggerandbigger,thewatchgottighterandtighteruntilitwascuttingoffmostofthebloodsupplytomyhand.Butwithmyhandsmessedupsobadly,therewasnowayIcouldgetthedamnthingoff. Iyelledforhelp,butnobodycame.Itwasonehellofalongnight.Man,Iwasgladtoseeyourfacewhenyoustuckyourheadinsidethedoor.”Upon first findingBeck in the tent, Iwas so shockedbyhishideous

condition—and by the unforgivable way that we’d let him down yetagain—Inearlybrokeintotears.“Everything’sgoingtobeO.K.,”Ilied,chokingbackmysobsasIpulledthesleepingbagsoverhim,zippedthetentdoorsshut,andtriedtore-erectthedamagedshelter.“Don’tworry,pal.Everything’sundercontrolnow.”AssoonasImadeBeckascomfortableaspossible,Igotontheradio

to Dr. Mackenzie at Base Camp. “Caroline!” I begged in a hystericalvoice.“WhatshouldIdoaboutBeck?He’sstillalive,butIdon’tthinkhecansurvivemuchlonger.He’sinreallybadshape!”“Try to remain calm, Jon,” she replied. “Youneed to go downwith

Mikeandtherestofthegroup.WherearePeteandTodd?AskthemtolookafterBeck,thenstartdown.”Frantic,IrousedAthansandBurleson,whoimmediatelyrushedovertoBeck’stentwithacanteenofhottea.AsIhurriedoutofcamptorejoinmyteammates,AthanswasgettingreadytoinjectfourmilligramsofdexamethasoneintothedyingTexan’sthigh.Thesewerepraiseworthygestures,butitwashardtoimaginethattheywoulddohimmuchgood.

*In1996,RobHall’steamspentjusteightnightsatCampTwo(21,300feet)orhigherbeforesettingoutforthesummitfromBaseCamp,whichisaprettytypicalacclimatizationperiodnowadays.Priorto1990,climberscommonlyspentconsiderablymoretimeatCampTwoorhigher—includingatleastoneacclimatizationsortieto26,000feet—beforeembarkingforthetop.Althoughthevalueofacclimatizingashighas26,000feetisdebatable(thedeleterious

effectsofspendingextratimeatsuchextremealtitudemaywelloffsetthebenefits),thereislittlequestionthatextendingthecurrenteight-ornine-nightacclimatizationperiodat21,000to24,000feetwouldprovideagreatermarginofsafety.

*DevoutBuddhistsbelieveinsonam—anaccountingofrighteousdeedsthat,whenlargeenough,enablesonetoescapethecycleofbirthandrebirthandtranscendforeverthisworldofpainandsuffering.

F

TWENTY

THEGENEVASPÜR

9:45A.M.,MAY12,1996•25,900FEET

Theonegreatadvantagewhichinexperienceconfersonthewould-bemountaineeristhatheisnotbogged down by tradition or precedence. To him, all things appear simple, and he choosesstraightforward solutions to the problems he faces.Often, of course, it defeats the success he isseeking,andsometimesithastragicresults,butthemanhimselfdoesn’tknowthiswhenhesetsoutonhisadventure.MauriceWilson,EarlDenman,KlavsBecker-Larsen—noneofthemknewmuchabout mountain climbing or they would not have set out on their hopeless quests, yet,untrammelledbytechniques,determinationcarriedthemalongway.

WaltUnsworthEverest

ifteen minutes after leaving the South Col on Sundaymorning, May 12, I caught up to my teammates as they

were descending from the crest of the Geneva Spur. Itwas a patheticsight:wewereallsodebilitatedthatittookthegroupanincrediblylongtimejusttodescendthefewhundredfeettothesnowslopeimmediatelybelow.Themostwrenchingthing,however,wasourshrunkensize:threedaysearlier,whenwehadascendedthisterrainwe’dnumberedeleven;nowtherewereonlysixofus.StuartHutchison,atthebackofthepack,wasstillatoptheSpurwhen

Ireachedhim,preparingtorappeldownthefixedlines.Inoticedthathewasn’twearinghisgoggles.Eventhoughitwasacloudyday,theviciousultraviolet radiationat this altitudewould renderhimsnow-blindveryquickly. “Stuart!” I yelled over the wind, pointing at my eyes. “Yourgoggles!”“Oh yeah,” he replied in aweary voice. “Thanks for remindingme.

Hey,aslongasyou’rehere,wouldyoumindcheckingmyharness?I’msotiredthatI’mnotthinkingclearlyanymore.I’dappreciateitifyou’dkeepaneyeonme.”Examininghisharness,Isawimmediatelythatthe

buckle was only half-fastened. Had he clipped into the rope with hissafetytetheritwouldhaveopenedunderhisbodyweightandsenthimtumblingdowntheLhotseFace.WhenIpointedthisout,hesaid,“Yeah,that’s what I thought, but my hands were too cold to do it right.”Yankingoffmyglovesinthebitterwind,IhurriedlycinchedtheharnesstightlyaroundhiswaistandsenthimdowntheSpuraftertheothers.Asheclippedhissafetytetherontothefixedropehetossedhisiceaxdown,thenleftitlyingontherocksasheembarkedonthefirstrappel.“Stuart!”Ishouted.“Yourax!”“I’mtootiredtocarryit,”heshoutedback.“Justleaveitthere.”IwassoknackeredmyselfthatIdidn’targuewithhim.Ilefttheaxwhereitlay, clipped the rope, and followedStuart down the steep flankof theGenevaSpur.An hour later we arrived atop the Yellow Band, and a bottleneckensuedaseachclimbercautiouslydescendedtheverticallimestonecliff.AsIwaitedatthebackofthequeue,severalofScottFischer’sSherpascaughtuptous.LopsangJangbu,half-crazedwithgriefandexhaustion,wasamongthem.Placingahandonhisshoulder,ItoldhimthatIwassorry about Scott. Lopsang pounded his chest and tearfully blurted, “Iamverybadluck,verybadluck.Scottisdead;itismyfault.Iamverybadluck.Itismyfault.Iamverybadluck.”

IdraggedmyhaggardassintoCampTwoaround1:30P.M.Althoughbyany rational standard Iwas still athighaltitude—21,300 feet—thisplacefeltmanifestlydifferentfromtheSouthCol.Themurderouswindhad completely abated. Instead of shivering and worrying aboutfrostbite,Iwasnowsweatingheavilybeneathascorchingsun.NolongerdiditseemasthoughIwereclingingtosurvivalbyafrayingthread.Our mess tent, I saw, had been transformed into a makeshift fieldhospital, staffed by Henrik Jessen Hansen, a Danish physician onMalDuff’steam,andKenKamler,anAmericanclientandphysicianonToddBurleson’sexpedition.At3:00P.M.,as Iwasdrinkingacupof tea, sixSherpas hustled a dazed-looking Makalu Gau into the tent and thedoctorssprangintoaction.Theyimmediatelylaidhimdown,removedhisclothing,andstuckan

IVtubeintohisarm.Examininghisfrozenhandsandfeet,whichhadadullwhitishsheen likeadirtybathroomsink,Kamlerobservedgrimly,“This is the worst frostbite I’ve ever seen.”When he asked Gau if hecould photograph his limbs for the medical record, the Taiwaneseclimber consented with a broad smile; like a soldier displaying battlewounds, he seemed almost proud of the gruesome injuries he’dsustained.Ninetyminuteslater,thedoctorswerestillworkingonMakaluwhenDavidBreashears’svoicebarkedovertheradio:“We’reonourwaydownwithBeck.We’llhavehimtoCampTwobydark.”A long beat passed before I realized that Breashears wasn’t talkingabout hauling a body off the mountain; he and his companions werebringingBeckdownalive.Icouldn’tbelieveit.WhenI’dlefthimontheSouth Col seven hours earlier, I was terrified that he wasn’t going tosurvivethroughthemorning.Given up for dead yet again, Beck had simply refused to succumb.LaterIlearnedfromPeteAthansthatshortlyafterhehadinjectedBeckwith dexamethasone, the Texan experienced an astonishing recovery.“Around ten-thirty we got him dressed, put his harness on, anddiscoveredthathewasactuallyabletostandupandwalk.Wewereallprettyamazed.”TheystarteddescendingfromtheColwithAthansdirectlyinfrontofBeck,tellinghimwheretoplacehisfeet.WithBeckdrapinganarmoverAthans’s shouldersandBurlesongrasping theTexan’s climbingharnesstightly from behind, they shuffled carefully down the mountain. “Attimeswehadtohelphimprettysubstantially,”saysAthans,“butreally,hemovedsurprisinglywell.”At25,000feet,arrivingabovethelimestonecliffsoftheYellowBand,they were met by Ed Viesturs and Robert Schauer, who efficientlyloweredBeckdownthesteeprock.AtCampThreetheywereassistedbyBreashears, JimWilliams, Veikka Gustafsson, and Araceli Segarra; theeighthealthyclimbersactuallybroughttheseverelycrippledBeckdowntheLhotseFaceinconsiderablylesstimethanmyteammatesandIhadmanagedtodescendearlierthatmorning.WhenIheardthatBeckwasonhiswaydown,Imademywaytomy

tent,wearilypulledonmymountaineeringboots,andstartedploddinguptomeettherescueparty,expectingtoencounterthemonthelowerreaches of the Lhotse Face. Just twenty minutes above Camp Two,however, I was amazed to run into the entire crew. Although hewasbeingassistedwithashort-rope,Beckwasmovingunderhisownpower.Breashears and company hustled him down the glacier at such a fastpacethatinmyownwoefulstate,Icouldbarelykeepupwiththem.BeckwasplacedbesideGau in thehospital tent, and thephysicians

beganstrippingoffhisclothing.“MyGod!”Dr.Kamlerexclaimedwhenhe sawBeck’s righthand. “His frostbite is evenworse thanMakalu’s.”Three hours later, when I crawled into my sleeping bag, the doctorswere still gingerly thawing Beck’s frozen limbs in a pot of lukewarmwater,workingbytheglowoftheirheadlamps.Thenextmorning—Monday,May13—Ileftthetentsatfirstlightand

walkedtwoandahalfmilesthroughthedeepcleftoftheWesternCwmto the lip of the Icefall. There, acting on instructions radioed up fromGuyCotteratBaseCamp,Iscoutedforalevelareathatcouldserveasahelicopterlandingpad.Over the preceding days, Cotter had been doggedly working the

satellitephonetoarrangeahelicopterevacuationfromthelowerendoftheCwmso thatBeckwouldn’thave todescend the treacherous ropesand ladders of the Icefall, which would have been difficult and veryhazardouswith such severely injuredhands.Helicoptershad landed intheCwmpreviously,in1973,whenanItalianexpeditionusedapairofthem to ferry loads from Base Camp. It was nevertheless extremelydangerous flying, at the limit of the aircraft’s range, and one of theItalianmachines had crashed on the glacier. In the twenty-three yearssince,nobodyhadattemptedtolandabovetheIcefallagain.Cotterwaspersistent,however,andthankstohiseffortstheAmerican

EmbassypersuadedtheNepalesearmytoattemptahelicopterrescueinthe Cwm.Around 8:00Mondaymorning, as I searched in vain for anacceptable helipad among the jumbled seracs at the lip of the Icefall,Cotter’svoicecrackledovermyradio:“Thehelicopter’sontheway,Jon.Heshouldbethereanyminute.Youbetterfindaplaceforhimtolandpretty quickly.” Hoping to find level terrain higher on the glacier, Ipromptly ran into Beck being short-roped down the Cwm by Athans,

Burleson, Gustafsson, Breashears, Viesturs, and the rest of the IMAXcrew.Breashears, who had worked around many helicopters during thecourse of a long and distinguished film career, immediately found alandingpadborderedbytwogapingcrevassesat19,860feet.Itiedasilkkatatoabamboowandtoserveasawindindicator,whileBreashears—usingabottleofredKool-Aidasdye—markedagiantXinthesnowatthe center of the landing zone. A few minutes later Makalu Gauappearedhavingbeendraggeddowntheglacieronapieceofplasticbya half-dozen Sherpas. A moment after that we heard the THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK of a helicopter’s rotors thrashing furiously at thethinair.PilotedbyLieutenantColonelMadanKhatriChhetri of theNepalesearmy,theolive-drabB2Squirrelhelicopter—strippedofallunnecessaryfuelandequipment—madetwopasses,butoneachoccasionabortedatthe last moment. On Madan’s third attempt, however, he settled theSquirrelshakilyontotheglacierwithitstailhangingoverabottomlesscrevasse.Keepingtherotorsrevvingatfullpower,nevertakinghiseyesoff the control panel,Madan raised a single finger, indicating that hecould take only one passenger; at this altitude, any additional weightmightcausehimtocrashwhiletakingoff.Because Gau’s frostbitten feet had been thawed at Camp Two, hecouldnolongerwalkorevenstand,soBreashears,Athans,andIagreedthattheTaiwaneseclimbershouldbetheonetogo.“Sorry,”IyelledtoBeckabovethescreamofthechopper’sturbines.“Maybehe’llbeabletomakeasecondflight.”Becknoddedphilosophically.We hoisted Gau into the rear of the helicopter, and the machinelaboredtentativelyintotheair.AssoonasMadan’sskidsliftedfromtheglacier,henosedtheaircraftforward,droppedlikeastoneoverthelipof the Icefall, and disappeared into the shadows. A dense silence nowfilledtheCwm.Thirty minutes later we were standing around the landing zone,discussing how to get Beck down, when a faint THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK sounded from the valley below. Slowly the noisegrew louder and louder, and finally the small greenhelicopterpopped

intoview.MadanflewashortdistanceuptheCwmbeforebringingtheaircraft around, so that its snout pointed downhill. Then, withouthesitation, he set the Squirrel down once more on the Kool-Aidcrosshatch, and Breashears and Athans hustled Beck aboard. A fewsecondslaterthehelicopterwasairborne,flittingpasttheWestShoulderof Everest like a freakish metal dragonfly. An hour later Beck andMakaluGauwerereceivingtreatmentinaKathmanduhospital.Aftertherescueteamdispersed,Isatinthesnowforalongwhileby

myself, staring at my boots, endeavoring to get a grip on what hadhappenedovertheprecedingseventy-twohours.Howcouldthingshavegone so haywire? How could Andy and Rob and Scott and Doug andYasukoreallybedead?ButtryasImight,noanswerswereforthcoming.The magnitude of this calamity was so far beyond anything I’d everimaginedthatmybrainsimplyshortedoutandwentdark.Abandoningmy hope of comprehending what had transpired, I shouldered mybackpack and headed down into the frozen witchery of the Icefall,nervousasacat,foronelasttripthroughthemazeofdecayingseracs.

A

TWENTY-ONE

EVERESTBASECAMP

MAY13,1996•17,600FEET

Ishall inevitablybeaskedforawordofmaturejudgementontheexpeditionofakindthatwasimpossiblewhenwewereall up close to it.…On theonehand,Amundsen going straight there,getting there first, and returning without the loss of a singleman, and without having put anygreaterstrainonhimselfandhismenthanwasallintheday’sworkofpolarexploration.Ontheother hand, our expedition, running appalling risks, performing prodigies of superhumanendurance,achievingimmortalrenown,commemoratedinaugustcathedralsermonsandbypublicstatues, yet reaching thePoleonly to findour terrible journey superfluous,and leavingourbestmen dead on the ice. To ignore such a contrast would be ridiculous: to write a book withoutaccountingforitawasteoftime.

ApsleyCherry-GarrardTheWorstJourneyintheWorld,anaccountofRobertFalconScott’sdoomed1912expeditiontotheSouthPole

rriving at the bottom of the Khumbu Icefall on Mondaymorning,May13,IcamedownthefinalslopetofindAng

Tshering,GuyCotter,andCarolineMackenziewaitingformeattheedgeoftheglacier.Guyhandedmeabeer,Carolinegavemeahug,andthenextthingIknewIwassittingontheicewithmyfaceinmyhandsandtearsstreakingmycheeks,weepinglikeIhadn’tweptsinceIwasasmallboy.Safenow,thecrushingstrainoftheprecedingdaysliftedfrommyshoulders,Icriedformylostcompanions,IcriedbecauseIwasgratefultobealive,IcriedbecauseIfeltterribleforhavingsurvivedwhileothershaddied.On Tuesday afternoon, Neal Beidleman presided over a memorial

serviceattheMountainMadnessencampment.LopsangJangbu’sfather,Ngawang Sya Kya—an ordained lama—burned juniper incense andchantedBuddhistscripturebeneathametallicgraysky.Nealsaidafewwords,Guyspoke,AnatoliBoukreevmournedthelossofScottFischer.Igot up and stammered out some memories of Doug Hansen. PeteSchoeningtriedtoraiseeveryone’sspiritsbyurgingustolookforward,notback.Butwhentheserviceendedandwealldispersedtoourtents,afunerealgloomhungoverBaseCamp.Earlythenextmorning,ahelicopterarrivedtoevacuateCharlotteFoxandMike Groom, both of whom had frostbitten feet that would havebeendamagedfurtherhadtheyattemptedtowalkout.JohnTaske,whowas a doctor, flew out as well to treat Charlotte and Mike en route.Then, shortly before noon,while HelenWilton andGuy Cotter stayedbehind to oversee the dismantling of the Adventure Consultantscompound, LouKasischke, StuartHutchison, FrankFischbeck,CarolineMackenzie,andItrudgedoutofBaseCamp,boundforhome.On Thursday, May 16, we were helicoptered from Pheriche to thevillageofSyangboche,justaboveNamcheBazaar.Aswewalkedacrossthe dirt landing strip to await a second flight intoKathmandu, Stuart,Caroline, and I were approached by three ashen-faced Japanese men.ThefirstsaidthathisnamewasMuneoNukita—hewasanaccomplishedHimalayan climberwho’d twice reached the top of Everest—and thenpolitelyexplained thathewasactingasaguideandan interpreter fortheothertwo,whomheintroducedasYasukoNamba’shusband,KenichiNamba, and her brother. Over the next forty-five minutes they askedmanyquestions,fewofwhichIcouldanswer.By then Yasuko’s death had become headline news across Japan.Indeed, onMay 12—less than twenty-four hours after she perished onthe South Col—a helicopter had touched down in themiddle of BaseCamp, and two Japanese journalists had hopped out wearing oxygenmasks.Accostingthefirstpersontheysaw—anAmericanclimbernamedScott Darsney—they had demanded information about Yasuko. Now,fourdays later,NukitawarnedusthatasimilarlypredaciousswarmofprintandtelevisionreporterslayinwaitforusinKathmandu.LatethatafternoonwejammedaboardagiganticMi-17helicopterandlifted off through a gap in the clouds. An hour later the chopper set

downatTribhuvan InternationalAirport,andwesteppedout thedoorintoa thicketofmicrophonesandtelevisioncameras.Asa journalist, Ifounditedifyingtoexperiencethings fromtheothersideof the fence.The throng of reporters, mostly Japanese, wanted a neatly scriptedversionof thecalamity, repletewithvillainsandheroes.But thechaosandsufferingI’dwitnessedwerenoteasilyreducedtosoundbites.Aftertwenty minutes of grilling on the tarmac, I was rescued by DavidSchensted,theconsulfromtheAmericanEmbassy,whodeliveredmetotheGarudaHotel.Moredifficultinterviewsfollowed—byotherreporters,andthenbyagauntletofscowlingofficialsattheMinistryofTourism.Fridayevening,wandering through thealleysofKathmandu’sThameldistrict, I soughtrefugefromadeepeningdepression.IhandedascrawnyNepaleseboyafistful of rupees and received a tiny paper-covered packet in return,emblazonedwithasnarlingtiger.Unwrappingitbackinmyhotelroom,Icrumbledthecontentsacrossaleafofcigarettepaper.Thepalegreenbudswerestickywithresinandredolentofrottingfruit.Irolledajoint,smoked it down to nothing, rolled a second fatty, and smoked nearlyhalfofthatone,too,beforetheroombegantospinandIstubbeditout.Ilaynakedacrossthebedandlistenedtothesoundsofthenightdriftthroughtheopenwindow.The jingleof rickshabellsblendedwithcarhorns,thecome-onsofstreetpeddlers,awoman’slaughter,musicfromanearbybar.Flatonmyback,toohightomove,Iclosedmyeyesandlettheglutinouspremonsoonheatcovermelikeabalm;IfeltasthoughIwere melting into the mattress. A procession of intricately etchedpinwheelsandbig-nosedcartoonfiguresfloatedacrossthebacksofmyeyelidsinneonhues.As I turnedmyheadtotheside,myearbrushedagainstawetspot;tears, I realized,were runningdownmy faceandsoaking the sheets. Ifeltagurgling,swellingbubbleofhurtandshamerollupmyspinefromsomewheredeepinside.Eruptingoutofmynoseandmouthinafloodofsnot,thefirstsobwasfollowedbyanother,thenanotherandanother.

OnMay 19 I flew back to the States, carrying two duffels of DougHansen’s belongings to return to the people who loved him. At the

SeattleairportIwasmetbyhischildren,AngieandJaime;hisgirlfriend,KarenMarie; and other friends and familymembers. I felt stupid andutterlyimpotentwhenconfrontedbytheirtears.Breathing thickmarine air that carried the scent of a minus tide, I

marveled at the fecundity of the Seattle spring, appreciating its damp,mossycharmsasneverbefore.Slowly,tentatively,LindaandIbegantheprocess of becoming reacquainted. The twenty-five pounds I’d shed inNepal came back with a vengeance. The ordinary pleasures of life athome—eatingbreakfastwithmywife,watching the sungodownoverPugetSound,beingable togetup in themiddleof thenightandwalkbarefoottoawarmbathroom—generatedflashesofjoythatborderedonrapture.ButsuchmomentsweretemperedbythelongpenumbracastbyEverest,whichseemedtorecedelittlewiththepassageoftime.Stewing overmy culpability, I put off callingAndyHarris’s partner,

FionaMcPherson,andRobHall’swife,JanArnold,forsuchalongtimethat they finallyphonedme fromNewZealand.When thecall came, Iwas able to say nothing to diminish Fiona’s anger or bewilderment.Duringmyconversationwith Jan, she spentmore time comfortingmethanviceversa.I’dalwaysknown that climbingmountainswasahigh-riskpursuit. I

acceptedthatdangerwasanessentialcomponentofthegame—withoutit, climbing would be little different from a hundred other triflingdiversions.Itwastitillatingtobrushupagainsttheenigmaofmortality,to steal a glimpse across its forbidden frontier. Climbing was amagnificentactivity,Ifirmlybelieved,notinspiteoftheinherentperils,butpreciselybecauseofthem.UntilIvisitedtheHimalaya,however,I’dneveractuallyseendeathat

close range. Hell, before I went to Everest, I’d never even been to afuneral.Mortalityhadremainedaconvenientlyhypotheticalconcept,anideatoponderintheabstract.Soonerorlaterthedivestitureofsuchaprivileged innocencewas inevitable, butwhen it finally happened theshockwasmagnified by the sheer superfluity of the carnage: all told,Everestkilledtwelvemenandwomeninthespringof1996, theworstsingle-seasondeathtollsinceclimbersfirstsetfootonthepeakseventy-fiveyearsago.

OfthesixclimbersonHall’sexpeditionwhoreachedthesummit,onlyMikeGroomand Imade itbackdown: four teammateswithwhomI’dlaughed and vomited and held long, intimate conversations lost theirlives.Myactions—orfailuretoact—playedadirectroleinthedeathofAndyHarris.AndwhileYasukoNambalaydyingontheSouthCol,Iwasamere350yardsaway,huddledinsideatent,oblivioustoherstruggle,concernedonlywithmyownsafety.Thestainthishasleftonmypsycheisnot thesortof thingthatwashesoffaftera fewmonthsofgriefandguilt-riddenself-reproach.Eventually I spoke of my lingering disquietude to Klev Schoening,whose homewas not far frommine. Klev said that he, too, felt awfulabout the loss of somany lives, but unlikeme, he had no “survivor’sguilt.”Heexplained,“OutontheColthatnight,IusedupeverythingIhadtryingtosavemyselfandthepeoplewithme.Bythetimewemadeit back to the tents I had absolutely nothing left. I’d frostbitten onecornea and was practically blind. I was hypothermic, delirious, andshivering uncontrollably. It was terrible losing Yasuko, but I’ve madepeacewithmyself over it, because I know inmyheart that therewasnothingmoreIcouldhavedonetosaveher.Youshouldn’tbesohardonyourself. Itwasabadstorm. In theconditionyouwere inat the time,whatcouldyouhavepossiblydoneforher?”Perhapsnothing,Iconcurred.But incontrasttoSchoening,I’llneverbesure.Andtheenviablepeaceofwhichhespeakseludesme.

WithsomanymarginallyqualifiedclimbersflockingtoEverestthesedays, a lot of people believe that a tragedy of this magnitude wasoverdue.ButnobodyimaginedthatanexpeditionledbyRobHallwouldbe at the center of it. Hall ran the tightest, safest operation on themountain,barnone.Acompulsivelymethodicalman,hehadelaboratesystems inplace thatwere supposed toprevent sucha catastrophe. Sowhathappened?Howcanitbeexplained,notonlytothelovedonesleftbehind,buttoacensoriouspublic?Hubris probably had something to do with it. Hall had become soadeptatrunningclimbersofallabilitiesupanddownEverestthathegotalittlecocky,perhaps.He’dbraggedonmorethanoneoccasionthathe

couldgetalmostanyreasonablyfitpersontothesummit,andhisrecordseemedtosupport this.He’dalsodemonstratedaremarkableability toprevailoveradversity.In1995, for instance,Hallandhisguidesnotonlyhad tocopewith

Hansen’sproblemshighonthepeak,buttheyalsohadtodealwiththecompletecollapseofanotherclientnamedChantalMauduit,acelebratedFrench alpinist who was making her seventh stab at Everest withoutoxygen. Mauduit passed out stone cold at 28,700 feet and had to bedragged and carried all the way down from the South Summit to theSouthCol“likeasackofspuds,”asGuyCotterput it.Aftereverybodycame out of that summit attempt alive, Hall may well have thoughttherewaslittlehecouldn’thandle.Beforethisyear,however,Hallhadhaduncommonlygoodluckwith

the weather, and it might have skewed his judgment. “Season afterseason,” confirmed David Breashears, who has been on more than adozen Himalayan expeditions and has himself climbed Everest threetimes, “Rob had brilliant weather on summit day. He’d never beencaughtbyastormhighon themountain.” In fact, thegaleofMay10,thoughviolent,wasnothingextraordinary;itwasafairlytypicalEverestsquall. If ithadhit twohours later, it’s likely thatnobodywouldhavedied.Conversely,ifithadarrivedevenonehourearlier,thestormcouldeasilyhavekilledeighteenortwentyclimbers—meamongthem.Certainlytimehadasmuchtodowiththetragedyastheweather,and

ignoring the clock can’t be passed off as an act of God. Delays at thefixed lineswere foreseeable and eminently preventable. Predeterminedturn-aroundtimeswereegregiouslyignored.Extending the turn-around timesmay have been influenced to some

degree by the rivalry between Fischer and Hall. Fischer had neverguided Everest before 1996. From a business standpoint, there wastremendous pressure on him to be successful. He was exceedinglymotivatedtogetclientstothesummit,especiallyacelebrityclientlikeSandyHillPittman.Likewise, since he had failed to get anybody to the top in 1995, it

would have been bad for Hall’s business if he failed again in 1996—especiallyifFischersucceeded.Scotthadacharismaticpersonality,and

thatcharismahadbeenaggressivelymarketedbyJaneBromet.Fischerwas trying very hard to eatHall’s lunch, and Rob knew it. Under thecircumstances,theprospectofturninghisclientsaroundwhilehisrival’sclients were pushing toward the summit may have been sufficientlydistastefultocloudHall’sjudgment.Itcan’tbestressedstronglyenough,moreover,thatHall,Fischer,and

therestofuswereforcedtomakesuchcriticaldecisionswhileseverelyimpaired with hypoxia. In pondering how this disaster could haveoccurred, it is imperative to remember that lucid thought is all butimpossibleat29,000feet.Wisdomcomeseasilyafterthefact.Shockedbythetollinhumanlife,

criticshavebeenquicktosuggestpoliciesandprocedurestoensurethatthecatastrophesofthisseasonwon’tberepeated.Ithasbeenproposed,forexample thataguide-to-client ratioofone toonebeestablishedasthe standard on Everest—i.e., each clientwould climbwith his or herownpersonalguideandremainropedtothatguideatalltimes.Perhaps the simplestway to reduce future carnagewould be to ban

bottledoxygenexcept foremergencymedicaluse.A fewreckless soulsmightperishtryingtoreachthesummitwithoutgas,butthegreatbulkofmarginallycompetentclimberswouldbeforcedtoturnbackbytheirownphysical limitationsbefore theyascendedhighenough toget intoserioustrouble.Andano-gasregulationwouldhavethecorollarybenefitof automatically reducing trash and crowding because considerablyfewerpeoplewouldattemptEverest if theyknewsupplementaloxygenwasnotanoption.ButguidingEverestisaverylooselyregulatedbusiness,administered

by byzantine Third World bureaucracies spectacularly ill-equipped toassessqualificationsofguidesorclients.Moreover,thetwonationsthatcontrol access to the peak—Nepal and China—are staggeringly poor.Desperate forhardcurrency, thegovernmentsofbothcountrieshaveavested interest in issuing as many expensive climbing permits as themarket will support, and both are unlikely to enact any policies thatsignificantlylimittheirrevenues.AnalyzingwhatwentwrongonEverestisausefulenoughenterprise;

itmightconceivablypreventsomedeathsdowntheroad.Buttobelieve

that dissecting the tragic events of 1996 inminute detailwill actuallyreducethefuturedeathrateinanymeaningfulwayiswishfulthinking.The urge to catalog the myriad blunders in order to “learn from themistakes”isforthemostpartanexerciseindenialandself-deception.IfyoucanconvinceyourselfthatRobHalldiedbecausehemadeastringofstupiderrorsandthatyouaretooclevertorepeatthosesameerrors,itmakesiteasierforyoutoattemptEverest inthefaceofsomerathercompellingevidencethatdoingsoisinjudicious.In fact, the murderous outcome of 1996 was in many ways simplybusinessasusual.AlthougharecordnumberofpeoplediedinthespringclimbingseasononEverest,the12fatalitiesamountedtoonly3percentof the 398 climbers who ascended higher than Base Camp—which isactually slightly below the historical fatality rate of 3.3 percent. Orhere’s another way to look at it: between 1921 and May 1996, 144peoplediedandthepeakwasclimbedsome630times—aratioofoneinfour.Lastspring,12climbersdiedand84reachedthesummit—aratioof one in seven. Compared to these historical standards, 1996 wasactuallyasafer-than-averageyear.Truth be told, climbing Everest has always been an extraordinarilydangerousundertakinganddoubtlessalwayswillbe,whetherthepeopleinvolvedareHimalayanneophytesbeingguidedup thepeakorworld-class mountaineers climbing with their peers. It is worth noting thatbeforethemountainclaimedthelivesofHallandFischer,ithadalreadywiped out a whole corps of elite climbers, including Peter Boardman,Joe Tasker, Matty Hoey, Jake Breitenbach, Mick Burke, MichelParmentier,RogerMarshall,RayGenet,andGeorgeLeighMallory.In the caseof theguided ilk, it rapidlybecameclear tome in1996that fewof theclientson thepeak (myself included) trulyappreciatedthegravityof theriskswefaced—thethinnessof themarginbywhichhuman life is sustained above 25,000 feet.WalterMittyswith EverestdreamsneedtobearinmindthatwhenthingsgowrongupintheDeathZone—andsooneror later theyalwaysdo—the strongestguides in theworldmaybepowerless tosaveaclient’s life; indeed,as theeventsof1996 demonstrated, the strongest guides in the world are sometimespowerlesstosaveeventheirownlives.FourofmyteammatesdiednotsomuchbecauseRobHall’ssystemswerefaulty—indeed,nobody’swere

better—butbecauseonEverestitisthenatureofsystemstobreakdownwithavengeance.Inthemidstofallthepostmortemratiocination,itiseasytolosesightof the fact that climbing mountains will never be a safe, predictable,rule-bound enterprise. This is an activity that idealizes risk-taking; thesport’smost celebrated figureshavealwaysbeen thosewho stick theirnecks out the farthest andmanage to get awaywith it.Climbers, as aspecies,aresimplynotdistinguishedbyanexcessofprudence.AndthatholdsespeciallytrueforEverestclimbers:whenpresentedwithachanceto reach the planet’s highest summit, history shows, people aresurprisinglyquicktoabandongoodjudgment.“Eventually,”warnsTomHornbein, thirty-three years after his ascent of theWest Ridge, “whathappenedonEverestthisseasoniscertaintohappenagain.”ForevidencethatfewlessonswerelearnedfromthemistakesofMay10, one need look no farther than what happened on Everest in theweeksthatimmediatelyfollowed.

OnMay17, twodaysafterHall’s teamquitBaseCamp,overon theTibetansideofthemountainanAustriannamedReinhardWlasichandaHungarianteammate,climbingwithoutsupplementaloxygen,ascendedto the high camp at 27,230 feet on the Northeast Ridge, where theyoccupied a tent abandoned by the ill-fated Ladakhi expedition. Thefollowing morning Wlasich complained that he felt ill and then lostconsciousness; a Norwegian doctor who happened to be presentdetermined that the Austrian was suffering from both pulmonary andcerebral edema. Although the doctor administered oxygen andmedication,bymidnightWlasichwasdead.Meanwhile,overon theNepalese sideofEverest,DavidBreashears’sIMAX expedition regrouped and considered their options. Since $5.5millionhadbeeninvestedintheirfilmproject,theyhadabigincentiveto remain on the mountain and undertake a summit attempt. WithBreashears,EdViesturs,andRobertSchauer,theywerewithoutquestionthestrongest,mostcompetentteamonthemountain.Anddespitegivingaway half of their supply of oxygen to assist rescuers and climbers inneed, they were subsequently able to scrounge enough gas from

expeditionsleavingthemountaintoreplacemostofwhatthey’dlost.Paula Barton Viesturs, Ed’s wife, had been monitoring the radio as

BaseCampmanagerfortheIMAXcrewwhendisasterstruckonMay10.AfriendofbothHall’sandFischer’s,shewasdevastated;PaulaassumedthataftersuchahorrifyingtragedytheIMAXteamwouldautomaticallyfold up their tents and go home. Then she overheard a radio callbetween Breashears and another climber, in which the IMAX leadernonchalantly declared that the team intended to take a short break atBaseCampandthengoforthesummit.“Afterallthathadhappened,Icouldn’tbelievethey’dreallygoback

upthere,”Paulaadmits.“WhenIheardtheradiocall,Ijustlostit.”ShewassoupsetthatsheleftBaseCampandwalkeddowntoTengbocheforfivedaystocollectherself.OnWednesday,May22,theIMAXteamarrivedontheSouthCol,in

perfectweather,andsetoutforthetopthatnight.EdViesturs,whohadthe starring role in the film, reached the summit at 11:00 Thursdaymorning, without using supplemental oxygen.* Breashears arrivedtwentyminutes later, followedbyAraceliSegarra,RobertSchauer,andJamlingNorgaySherpa—thesonof the firstascender,TenzingNorgay,and the ninthmember of theNorgay clan to climb the peak.All told,sixteenclimberssummittedthatday,includingtheSwedewho’driddenhisbike toNepal fromStockholm,GöranKropp,andAngRitaSherpa,whoseascentmarkedhistenthvisittothetopofEverest.Onthewayup,ViesturshadclimbedpastthefrozenbodiesofFischer

andHall.“BothJean[Fischer’swife]andJan[Hall’swife]hadaskedmetobringsomepersonaleffectsbackforthem,”Viesturssayssheepishly.“IknewScottworehisweddingringaroundhisneck,andIwantedtobring it down to Jeannie, but I couldn’t force myself to go diggingaroundhisbody. I justdidn’thave it inme.” Insteadof collectinganykeepsakes, Viesturs sat down next to Fischer during the descent andspenta fewminutesalonewithhim.“Hey,Scott,howyoudoing?”Edsadlyinquiredofhisfriend.“Whathappened,man?”OnFridayafternoon,May24,astheIMAXteamwasdescendingfrom

CampFourtoCampTwo,theyencounteredwhatremainedoftheSouthAfrican Team—Ian Woodall, Cathy O’Dowd, Bruce Herrod, and four

Sherpas—at the Yellow Band, on their way to the South Col tomaketheirownsummitattempt.“Brucelookedstrong,hisfacelookedgood,”recalls Breashears. “He shook my hand really hard, congratulated us,said he felt great. Half an hour behind him were Ian and Cathy,collapsedovertheiriceaxes,lookinglikehell—reallyoutofit.”“I made a point of spending a little time with them,” Breashears

continues. “I knew theywere very inexperienced, so I said, ‘Please becareful.Yousawwhathappeneduphereearlierthismonth.Rememberthatgettingtothesummitistheeasypart;it’sgettingbackdownthat’shard.’”The South Africans set out for the summit that night. O’Dowd and

Woodall left the tents twenty minutes after midnight with SherpasPembaTendi,AngDorje,*andJangbucarryingoxygenforthem.Herrodseems tohave left campwithinminutesof themaingroup,buthe fellfartherandfartherbehindastheascentdraggedon.OnSaturday,May25, at 9:50A.M.,Woodall calledPatrickConroy, theBaseCamp radiooperator, to report that he was on the summit with Pemba and thatO’DowdwouldbeontopinfifteenminuteswithAngDorjeandJangbu.Woodall said that Herrod, who wasn’t carrying a radio, was someunknowndistancebelow.Herrod,whomI’dmetseveraltimesonthemountain,wasanamiable

thirty-seven-year-old of bearish build. Although he had no previoushigh-altitudeexperience,hewasacompetentmountaineerwho’dspenteighteen months in the frigid wastes of Antarctica working as ageophysicist—he was far and away the most accomplished climberremaining on the South African team. Since 1988 he’d been workinghard to make a go of it as a freelance photographer, and he hopedreachingthesummitofEverestwouldgivehiscareeraneededboost.When Woodall and O’Dowd were on the summit, as it turned out,

Herrodwasstillfarbelow,strugglinguptheSoutheastRidgebyhimselfat a dangerously slow pace. Around 12:30 P.M. he passed Woodall,O’Dowd, and the three Sherpas on their way down. Ang Dorje gaveHerrodaradioanddescribedwhereanoxygenbottlehadbeenstashedfor him, thenHerrod continued alone toward the top.Hedidn’t reachthe summit until just after 5:00P.M., sevenhours after the others, bywhichtimeWoodallandO’Dowdwerealreadybackintheirtentatthe

SouthCol.Coincidentally, at the same moment Herrod radioed down to Base

Camp to report that he was on top, his girlfriend, Sue Thompson,happened to call Conroy on the Base Camp satellite phone from herLondonhome. “WhenPatrick toldme thatBrucewason the summit,”Thompsonrecalls,“Isaid, ‘Fuck!Hecan’tbeonthesummitthis late—it’sfive-fifteen!Idon’tlikethis.’”A moment later Conroy patched Thompson’s phone call through to

HerrodontopofEverest.“Brucesoundedcomposmentis,”shesays.“Hewasaware thathe’d takena long time toget there,buthesoundedasnormalasonecansoundatthataltitude,havingtakenhisoxygenmaskofftospeak.Hedidn’tevenseemparticularlybreathless.”Nevertheless, ithadtakenHerrodseventeenhours toclimbfromthe

South Col to the summit. Although there was little wind, clouds nowenveloped the upper mountain, and darkness was fast approaching.Completelyaloneontheroofoftheworld,extremelyfatigued,hemusthavebeenoutofoxygen,ornearlyout.“Thathewasuptherethatlate,withnobodyelsearound,was crazy,” sayshis former teammate,AndydeKlerk.“It’sabsolutelyboggling.”Herrod had been up on the South Col from the evening of May 9

throughMay12.He’dfelttheferocityofthatstorm,heardthedesperateradiocallsforhelp,seenBeckWeatherscrippledwithhorriblefrostbite.Early on during his ascent of May 25, Herrod climbed right past thecorpseofScottFischer,andseveralhourslaterattheSouthSummithewould have had to step over Rob Hall’s lifeless legs. Apparently, thebodies made little impression on Herrod, however, for despite hislaggingpaceandthelatenessofthehourhepressedonwardtothetop.Therewas no further radio transmission fromHerrod after his 5:15

call from the summit. “We satwaiting forhimatCampFourwith theradio on,” O’Dowd explained in an interview published in theJohannesburgMail&Guardian. “Wewere terribly tiredandeventuallyfellasleep.WhenIwokeupthenextmorningatabout5:00A.M.,andhehadn’tradioed,Irealisedwehadlosthim.”Bruce Herrod is now presumed dead, the twelfth casualty of the

season.

*ViesturshadpreviouslyascendedEverestin1990and’91withoutgas.In1994heclimbeditathirdtime,withRobHall;onthatascentheusedbottledoxygenbecausehewasguidingthepeakandthoughtitwouldbeirresponsibletodosowithoutit.

*Areminder:theSherpanamedAngDorjeontheSouthAfricanteamisnotthesamepersonastheSherpanamedAngDorjeonRobHall’steam.

S

EPILOGUE

SEATTLE

NOVEMBER29,1996•270FEET

NowIdreamofthesofttouchofwomen,thesongsofbirds,thesmellofsoilcrumblingbetweenmyfingers,andthebrilliantgreenofplantsthatIdiligentlynurture.IamlookingforlandtobuyandIwill sow itwithdeerandwildpigsandbirdsandcottonwoodsandsycamoresandbuildapondandtheduckswillcomeandfishwillriseintheearlyeveninglightandtaketheinsectsintotheirjaws.TherewillbepathsthroughthisforestandyouandIwillloseourselvesinthesoftcurvesandfoldsoftheground.Wewillcometothewater’sedgeandlieonthegrassandtherewillbeasmall,unobtrusivesignthatsays,THISISTHEREALWORLD,MUCHACHOS,ANDWEAREALLINIT.—B.TRAVEN.…

CharlesBowdenBloodOrchid

everal peoplewhowere onEverest lastMayhave toldmethey’ve managed to move beyond the tragedy. In mid-

NovemberIreceivedaletterfromLouKasischkeinwhichhewrote,

Ittookafewmonthsinmycaseforthepositiveaspectstobegintodevelop.Buttheyhave.Everestwastheworstexperienceinmylife.Butthatwasthen.Nowisnow.I’mfocusingonthepositive.Ilearnedsomeimportantthingsaboutlife,others,andmyself.IfeelInowhaveaclearerperspectiveonlife.IseethingstodayIneversawbefore.

LouhadjustreturnedfromspendingaweekendwithBeckWeathersinDallas.FollowinghishelicopterevacuationfromtheWesternCwm,Beckhadhisrightarmamputatedhalfwaybelowtheelbow.All fourfingersandthethumbonhislefthandwereremoved.Hisnosewasamputatedandreconstructedwithtissuefromhisearandforehead.LoumusedthatvisitingBeck

wasbothsadandtriumphant.IthurtstoseeBecklikethis:rebuiltnose,facialscars,disabledfor life, Beckwondering if he can practicemedicine again, and the like. But it was alsoremarkable to see how aman can accept all this and be ready tomove on in life.He is

conqueringthis.Hewillbevictorious.Beckhadonlynicethingstosayabouteveryone.Beckdoesn’tplaytheblamegame.YoumaynothavesharedpoliticalviewswithBeck,butyouwouldsharemyprideinseeinghowhehashandledthis.Somehow,someday,thiswillnetoutinapositivewayforBeck.

I’mheartenedthatBeck,Lou,andothersareapparentlyabletolookatthe positive side of the experience—and envious. Perhaps after moretimehaspassedI,too,willbeabletorecognizesomegreatergoodthat’sresultedfromsomuchsuffering,butrightnowIcan’t.As Iwrite thesewords,half ayearhaspassed since I returned fromNepal,andonanygivendayduringthosesixmonths,nomorethantwoor three hours have gone by inwhich Everest hasn’tmonopolizedmythoughts.Noteveninsleepisthererespite:imageryfromtheclimbanditsaftermathcontinuestopermeatemydreams.AftermyarticleabouttheexpeditionwaspublishedintheSeptemberissue ofOutside, the magazine received an unusually large volume ofmail about thepiece.Muchof the correspondenceoffered support andsympathy for those of us who had returned, but there was also anabundance of scathingly critical letters. For example, a lawyer fromFloridaadmonished,

AllIcansayisthatIagreewithMr.Krakauerwhenhesaid,“Myactions—orfailuretoact—playedadirectroleinthedeathofAndyHarris.”Ialsoagreewithhimwhenhesays,“[Hewas] amere 350 yards [away], lying inside a tent, doing absolutely nothing… ” I don’tknowhowhecanlivewithhimself.

Someof theangriest letters—andby far themostdisturbing to read—camefromrelativesofthedeceased.ScottFischer’ssister,LisaFischer-Luckenbach,wrote,

Basedonyourwrittenword,YOUcertainlyseemnowtohavetheuncannyabilitytoknowpreciselywhatwasgoingoninthemindsandheartsofeveryindividualontheexpedition.NowthatYOUarehome,aliveandwell,youhavejudgedthejudgmentsofothers,analyzedtheir intentions, behaviors, personalities and motivations. You have commented on whatSHOULDhavebeendonebytheleaders, theSherpas,theclients,andhavemadearrogantaccusationsoftheirwrongdoing.AllaccordingtoJonKrakauer,whoaftersensingthedoombrewing,scrambledbacktohistentforhisownsafetyandsurvival…PerhapscatchaglimpseofwhatyouaredoingbyseemingtoKNOWEVERYTHING.You

have already been wrong with your SPECULATION of what happened to Andy Harriscausingmuchgriefandanguishtohisfamilyandfriends.AndnowyouhaverepudiatedthecharacterofLopsangwithyour“tattletale”accountsofhim.What I am reading isYOUROWNego frantically struggling tomake senseout ofwhathappened.Noamountofyouranalyzing,criticizing,judging,orhypothesizingwillbringthepeace you are looking for. There are no answers.Noone is at fault.No one is to blame.Everyonewasdoingtheirbestatthegiventimeunderthegivencircumstances.Nooneintendedharmforoneanother.Noonewantedtodie.

This lattermissivewas especially upsetting because I received it soonafter learning that the list of victims had grown to include LopsangJangbu. In August, after the retreat of the monsoon from the highHimalaya,LopsanghadreturnedtoEveresttoguideaJapaneseclientuptheSouthColandSoutheastRidgeroute.OnSeptember25,astheywereascending from Camp Three to Camp Four to launch their summitassault, a slab avalanche engulfed Lopsang, another Sherpa, and aFrench climber just below theGeneva Spur and swept themdown theLhotseFacetotheirdeaths.Lopsangleftbehindayoungwifeandatwo-month-oldbabyinKathmandu.Therehasbeenotherbadnewsaswell.OnMay17,afterrestingforjust two days at Base Camp after coming down from Everest, AnatoliBoukreevclimbedalone to the summitofLhotse. “Iam tired,”he toldme,“but Igo forScott.”Continuinghisquest toascendall fourteenoftheworld’s8,000-meterpeaks,inSeptemberBoukreevtraveledtoTibetandclimbedbothChoOyuand26,291-footShishaPangma.Butinmid-November,duringavisittohishomeinKazakhstan,abushewasridingin crashed. The driver was killed and Anatoli received severe headinjuries, includinggraveandpossiblypermanentdamage tooneofhiseyes.On October 14, 1996, the following message was posted on theInternetaspartofaSouthAfricandiscussionforumaboutEverest:

IamaSherpaorphan.MyfatherwaskilledintheKhumbuIcefallwhileload-ferryingforanexpeditioninthelatesixties.MymotherdiedjustbelowPherichewhenherheartgaveoutundertheweightoftheloadshewascarryingforanotherexpeditionin1970.Threeofmysiblingsdiedfromvariouscauses,mysisterandIweresenttofosterhomesinEuropeandtheU.S.

IneverhavegonebacktomyhomelandbecauseIfeelitiscursed.Myancestorsarrivedinthe Solo-Khumbu region fleeing from persecution in the lowlands. There they foundsanctuary in the shadowof “Sagarmathaji,” “mothergoddessof theearth.” In return theywereexpectedtoprotectthatgoddesses’sanctuaryfromoutsiders.But my people went the other way. They helped outsiders find their way into the

sanctuaryandviolateeverylimbofherbodybystandingontopofher,crowinginvictory,anddirtyingandpollutingherbosom.Someofthemhavehadtosacrificethemselves,othersescapedthroughtheskinoftheirteeth,orofferedotherlivesinlieu.…SoIbelievethateventheSherpasaretoblameforthetragedyof1996on“Sagarmatha.”I

havenoregretsofnotgoingback,forIknowthepeopleoftheareaaredoomed,andsoarethoserich,arrogantoutsiderswhofeeltheycanconquertheworld.RemembertheTitanic.Even the unsinkable sank, and what are foolish mortals like Weathers, Pittman, Fischer,Lopsang,Tenzing,Messner,Boningtoninthefaceofthe“MotherGoddess.”AssuchIhavevowednevertoreturnhomeandbepartofthatsacrilege.

Everest seems to have poisoned many lives. Relationships havefoundered. The wife of one of the victims has been hospitalized fordepression.When I last spoke toacertain teammate,his lifehadbeenthrown into turmoil. He reported that the strain of coping with theexpedition’s aftereffects was threatening to wreck his marriage. Hecouldn’t concentrate atwork, he said, andhehad received taunts andinsultsfromstrangers.Upon her return to Manhattan, Sandy Pittman found that she’d

becomea lightningrod foragreatdealofpublicangeroverwhathadhappenedonEverest.VanityFairmagazinepublishedawitheringarticleabout her in its August 1996 issue. A camera crew from the tabloidtelevisionprogramHardCopyambushedheroutsideherapartment.Thewriter Christopher Buckley used Pittman’s high-altitude tribulations asthepunchlineofajokeonthebackpageofTheNewYorker.Byautumn,thingshadgottensobadthatsheconfessedtearfullytoafriendthatherson was being ridiculed and ostracized by classmates at his exclusiveprivate school. The blistering intensity of the collective wrath overEverest—andthefactthatsomuchofthatwrathwasdirectedather—tookPittmancompletelybysurpriseandleftherreeling.ForNealBeidleman’spart,hehelpedsavethe livesof fiveclientsby

guidingthemdownthemountain,yetheremainshauntedbyadeathhe

was unable to prevent, of a client who wasn’t on his team and thuswasn’tevenofficiallyhisresponsibility.I chattedwithBeidlemanafterwe’dboth re-acclimated toourhometurf, and he recalled what it felt like to be out on the South Col,huddlingwithhis group in the awfulwind, tryingdesperately to keepeveryone alive. “As soonas the sky cleared enough to giveus an ideawhere camp was,” he recounted, “it was like, ‘Hey, this break in thestormmaynotlastlong,solet’sGO!’Iwasscreamingateveryonetogetmoving, but it became clear that some people didn’t have enoughstrengthtowalk,orevenstand.“Peoplewerecrying.Iheardsomeoneyell, ‘Don’tletmediehere!’Itwasobviousthatitwasnowornever.ItriedtogetYasukoonherfeet.Shegrabbedmyarm,butshewastooweaktogetuppastherknees.Istarted walking, and dragged her for a step or two, then her griploosenedandshefellaway.Ihadtokeepgoing.Somebodyhadtomakeittothetentsandgethelporeverybodywasgoingtodie.”Beidlemanpaused. “But I can’thelp thinkingaboutYasuko,”he saidwhenheresumed,hisvoicehushed.“Shewassolittle.Icanstillfeelherfingersslidingacrossmybiceps,andthenlettinggo.Inevereventurnedtolookback.”

AUTHOR’SNOTE

Myarticle inOutside angered several of thepeople Iwrote about, andhurtthefriendsandrelativesofsomeEverestvictims.Isincerelyregretthis—Ididnotsetouttoharmanyone.Myintentinthemagazinepiece,andtoanevengreaterdegreeinthisbook,wastotellwhathappenedonthemountain as accurately andhonestly as possible, and todo it in asensitive, respectful manner. I believe quite strongly that this storyneeded to be told. Obviously, not everyone feels this way, and Iapologizetothosewhofeelwoundedbymywords.Additionally, I would like to express my profound condolences to

FionaMcPherson, Ron Harris, Mary Harris, David Harris, Jan Arnold,SarahArnold,EddieHall,MillieHall,JaimeHansen,AngieHansen,BudHansen,TomHansen,SteveHansen,DianeHansen,KarenMarieRochel,KenichiNamba,JeanPrice,AndyFischer-Price,KatieRoseFischer-Price,GeneFischer,ShirleyFischer,LisaFischer-Luckenbach,RhondaFischerSalerno,SueThompson,andNgawangSyaKyaSherpa.In assembling this book I received invaluable assistance frommany

people, but LindaMariamMoore andDavidS.Robertsdeserve specialmention.Not onlywas their expert advice crucial to this volume, butwithouttheirsupportandencouragementIwouldneverhaveattemptedthe dubious business of writing for a living, or stuckwith it over theyears.OnEverestIbenefitedfromthecompanionshipofCarolineMackenzie,

HelenWilton, Mike Groom, Ang Dorje Sherpa, Lhakpa Chhiri Sherpa,ChhongbaSherpa,AngTsheringSherpa,KamiSherpa,TenzingSherpa,AritaSherpa,ChuldumSherpa,NgawangNorbuSherpa,PembaSherpa,Tendi Sherpa, BeckWeathers, Stuart Hutchison, Frank Fischbeck, LouKasischke, John Taske, Guy Cotter, Nancy Hutchison, Susan Allen,Anatoli Boukreev, Neal Beidleman, Jane Bromet, Ingrid Hunt, NgimaKale Sherpa, Sandy Hill Pittman, Charlotte Fox, Tim Madsen, Pete

Schoening, Klev Schoening, Lene Gammelgaard, Martin Adams, DaleKruse,DavidBreashears,RobertSchauer,EdViesturs,PaulaViesturs,LizCohen,AraceliSegarra,SumiyoTsuzuki,LauraZiemer,JimLitch,PeterAthans,ToddBurleson,ScottDarsney,BrentBishop,AndydeKlerk,EdFebruary, Cathy O’Dowd, Deshun Deysel, Alexandrine Gaudin, PhilipWoodall, Makalu Gau, Ken Kamler, Charles Corfield, Becky Johnston,JimWilliams,Mal Duff,Mike Trueman,Michael Burns, Henrik JessenHansen,VeikkaGustafsson,HenryTodd,MarkPfetzer,RayDoor,GöranKropp, Dave Hiddleston, Chris Jillet, Dan Mazur, Jonathan Pratt, andChantalMauduit.Iamverygrateful tomymatchlesseditorsatVillardBooks/RandomHouse, David Rosenthal and Ruth Fecych. Thanks, as well, to AdamRothberg,AnnikLaFarge,DanRembert,DianaFrost,KirstenRaymond,Jennifer Webb, Melissa Milsten, Dennis Ambrose, Bonnie Thompson,BrianMcLendon, Beth Thomas, Caroline Cunningham, Dianne Russell,KatieMehan,andSuzanneWickham.ThisbookoriginatedasanassignmentfromOutsidemagazine.Specialgratitude is owed to Mark Bryant, who has edited my work withuncommon intelligenceand sensitivity for some fifteenyearsnow,andLarry Burke, who has been publishing my work even longer. Alsocontributing to my Everest piece were Brad Wetzler, John Alderman,Katie Arnold, John Tayman, Sue Casey, Greg Cliburn,Hampton Sides,Amanda Stuermer, Lorien Warner, Sue Smith, Cricket Lengyel, LollyMerrell, Stephanie Gregory, Laura Hohnhold, Adam Horowitz, JohnGalvin,AdamHicks,ElizabethRand,ChrisCzmyrid,ScottParmalee,KimGattone,andScottMathews.I’m indebted toJohnWare,mysuperbagent.Thanks,also, toDavidSchenstedandPeterBoddeoftheAmericanEmbassyinKathmandu,LisaChoegyalofTigerMountain,andDeepakLamaofWildernessExperienceTrekkingfortheirassistanceinthewakeofthetragedy.For providing inspiration, hospitality, friendship, information, andsage advice, I’m grateful to Tom Hornbein, Bill Atkinson, MadeleineDavid, Steve Gipe, Don Peterson,Martha Kongsgaard, Peter Goldman,Rebecca Roe, Keith Mark Johnson, Jim Clash, Muneo Nukita, HelenTrueman,SteveSwenson,ConradAnker,AlexLowe,ColinGrissom,KittyCalhoun, Peter Hackett, David Shlim, Brownie Schoene, Michael

Chessler,MarionBoyd,GraemNelson,StephenP.Martin,JaneTranel,Ed Ward, Sharon Roberts, Matt Hale, Roman Dial, Peggy Dial, SteveRottler,DavidTrione,DeborahShaw,NickMiller,DanCauthorn,GregCollum,Dave Jones, Fran Kaul, DielleHavlis, Lee Joseph, Pat Joseph,Pierret Vogt, Paul Vogt, David Quammen, Tim Cahill, Paul Theroux,CharlesBowden,AlisonLewis,BarbaraDetering,LisaAnderheggen-Leif,HelenForbes,andHeidiBaye.Iwasaidedby the effortsof fellowwriters and journalistsElizabethHawley,Michael Kennedy,Walt Unsworth, Sue Park, Dile Seitz, KeithMcMillan, Ken Owen, Ken Vernon, Mike Loewe, Keith James, DavidBeresford,GregChild,BruceBarcott,PeterPotter-field,StanArmington,Jennet Conant, Richard Cowper, Brian Blessed, Jeff Smoot, PatrickMorrow, John Colmey, Meenakshi Ganguly, Jennifer Mattos, SimonRobinson,DavidVanBiema, JerryAdler, RodNordland, TonyClifton,Patricia Roberts, David Gates, Susan Miller, Peter Wilkinson, ClaudiaGlenn Dowling, Steve Kroft, Joanne Kaufman, Howie Masters, ForrestSawyer,TomBrokaw,AudreySalkeld,LieslClark,JeffHerr,JimCurran,AlexHeard,andLisaChase.

POSTSCRIPT

InNovember1997abooktitledTheClimbarrivedinbookstores—AnatoliBoukreev’saccountofthe1996Everestdisaster,astoldtoanAmericannamedG.WestonDeWalt.Itwasfascinating,forme, to read about the events of 1996 from Boukreev’s perspective. Parts of the book werepowerfully told, andmovedme deeply. BecauseBoukreev took strong exception to howhewasportrayedin IntoThinAir,however,asignificantportionofTheClimb isdevoted todefendingBoukreev’sactionsonEverest,challengingtheaccuracyofmyaccount,andcalling intoquestionmyintegrityasajournalist.DeWalt—whooversawtheresearch,wroteTheClimb,andhasassumedtheroleofBoukreev’sspokesman—undertookthederogationof IntoThinAirwithnotable energyandenthusiasm.Hehastirelesslyexpressedhisviewofmybook—andmycharacter—inprintandradiointerviews,ontheInternet,andinpersonalletterstofamilymembersofthosewhodiedonthemountain.Inthecourseofthiscampaign,DeWalthasbrandishedanarticlefromtheJuly/August1998issueoftheColumbia Journalism Review with particular relish. Titled “Why Books Err So Often,” andwrittenbyaMissouri-basedauthorandinstructorofjournalismnamedSteveWeinberg,thearticleraised doubts about the accuracy of three recent bestsellers. One of the books singled out forcriticism was Into Thin Air. DeWalt was delighted with Weinberg’s article, and has cited itfrequently.Whenpressed,WeinbergsheepishlyadmittedtomethathebasedhiscriticismofIntoThinAironnothingmorethanhisreadingofDeWalt’sbook:WeinbergsimplyechoedDeWalt’sallegations,withoutbotheringtoindependentlychecktheaccuracyofanyofthoseallegations.Afterhisarticlewaspublished,WeinbergpostedthefollowingclarificationintheColumbiaJournalismReview:

MyarticledistinguishesKrakauer’sbookfromotherbestsellersthathavebeencriticized.Thoughasmallportionofthebookhasbeenchallenged,noneofthecriticshaveprovedfactualerrors.Into Thin Air was included in my article not to damn it, but rather to question a

publishingpractice.BookAcomesout,BookBchallengesit,andtheauthor,editor,andpublisherofBookAdonothingtoanswer,leavingreadersconfused.

Uponreadingthis,IaskedWeinbergtoelaborate.HeexplainedthathehadmistakenlyassumedIacceptedthevalidityofDeWalt’sallegationsbecausethefirstpaperbackeditionofIntoThinAir

O

(whichwaspublishedfivemonthsafterTheClimb)hadn’tincludedarebuttaltothoseallegations.Weinberg then argued—quite persuasively—that whenever an author believes his credibility hasbeenimpugned,theauthorhasaprofessionalobligationtopublisharebuttalinatimelymanner,lestreadersbemisled.AfterhearingWeinbergout,Ireconsideredmyearlierreluctancetoengageinthehurly-burlyofapublicdebate.WhenTheClimbwasinitiallypublished,IhadmadeadeliberatedecisionnottorebutDeWalt’schargesinapublicforum.Instead,Idocumentedsomeofthebook’snumerouserrorsinaseriesofletters to DeWalt and his editors at St.Martin’s. A spokesman for the publisher indicated thatcorrectionswouldbemadeinsubsequenteditions.Incredibly,whenSt.Martin’sreleasedapaperbackeditionofTheClimbinJuly1998,mostofthe errors I’d pointedout sevenmonths earlierwere repeated in thenewedition. Suchapparentdisdain forverityon thepartofDeWaltandhispublisher troubledme.Theneweditionand itsuncorrectederrorscametomyattention,coincidentally,a fewdaysafterWeinberghad lecturedmeaboutthedutyofjournaliststodefendtheirwork.ThisconfluenceofcircumstancesconvincedmetoendmyreticenceandstandupfortheaccuracyandintegrityofIntoThinAir.Theonlywaytodothat,unfortunately,wastopointoutsomeofthemisrepresentationsinTheClimb. Ibrokemyself-imposedsilenceinthesummerof1998bytalkingtoareporterfromtheInternetmagazineSalon,andrebuttingDeWalt’schargesinanaddendumtotheillustratededitionofIntoThinAir,which was published in November 1998. In June 1999, St. Martin’s released an expanded,repackagededitionofTheClimbthatincludedalengthynewassaultonmycredibility.ThislatestscreedfromDeWaltinspiredmetowritethepostscriptthatfollows.

f the six professional climbing guides who were caughthighonEverestwhenthestormhitonMay10,1996,only

three survived: Boukreev, Michael Groom, and Neal Beidleman. Ascrupulous journalist intentondescribing the tragedyaccurately, in itsfull complexity, would presumably have interviewed each of thesurvivingguides(asIdidfor IntoThinAir).Decisionsmadebyeachofthe guides, after all, had immense bearing on the outcome of thedisaster. Inexplicably, DeWalt interviewed Boukreev but neglected tointervieweitherGroomorBeidleman.NolessbafflingwasDeWalt’sfailuretocontactLopsangJangbu,ScottFischer’sheadclimbingSherpa.Lopsanghadoneofthemostpivotalandcontroversialrolesinthedisaster.Itwashewhoshort-ropedSandyHillPittman. He was with Fischer when the Mountain Madness leadercollapsed during the descent; Lopsang was the last person to talk to

Fischerbeforehedied.LopsangwasalsothelastpersontoseeRobHall,AndyHarris,orDougHansenbeforetheydied.YetDeWaltnevermadeanyattempttocontactLopsang,eventhoughtheSherpaspentmuchofthesummerof1996inSeattle,andwaseasytoreachbyphone.Lopsang Jangbu Sherpa perished in an avalanche on Everest inSeptember 1996. DeWalt has insisted that he intended to interviewLopsang, but the Sherpa died before he got around to it. This is aconvenient explanation (and perhaps true), but it nevertheless fails toexplainwhy he didn’t interview any of the other Sherpaswho playedimportant roles in the disaster. It also fails to explain why he didn’tinterviewthreeoftheeightclientsonBoukreev’sownteam,andseveralother climberswhoplayed crucial roles in the tragedy and/or ensuingrescue.Perhaps it’smerelycoincidence,butmostof thepeopleDeWaltchosenottocontacthavebeencriticalofBoukreev’sactionsonEverest.*

DeWalt has argued that he tried to interview two of theaforementioned principals, but was rebuffed. In the case of KlevSchoening,at least, this isaccurate.ButDeWalthastakenpainsnottomention that he didn’t ask Schoening for an interview until after TheClimbhadbeenpublished.“Ifinditpuzzlingthatyoushouldcontactmenow,” Schoening wrote to DeWalt upon receiving a request for aninterview after the book was already on the shelves of his localbookstore. “You were obviously pursuing your own objectives, whichfrom my perspective did not make a priority of the truth, the facts,acknowledgmentorreconciliation.”Whatever the reason for DeWalt’s reportorial lapses, the result is abadly compromised document. Perhaps it is related to the fact thatDeWalt—anamateurfilmmakerwhofirstmadeBoukreev’sacquaintanceimmediately after the Everest disaster—had no prior knowledge ofmountaineering, andhas never visited themountains ofNepal. In anycase, Beidleman was sufficiently disenchanted with the book that inDecember 1997 hewrote a letter to DeWalt stating, “I think thatTheClimb is a dishonest account of theMay tragedy.… [N]either you noryourassociatesoncecalledtofact-checkasingledetailwithme.”OwingtoDeWalt’shaphazardresearch,errorsaboundinTheClimb.Tocite but one example: Andy Harris’s ice ax—the location of whichprovidesanimportantclueabouthowHarrismighthavedied—wasnot

found where DeWalt reported that it was found. This was one of themanyerrorsIpointedouttoDeWaltandhiseditorsuponpublicationofthefirsteditionofTheClimbinNovember1997,yetitwasstillincorrectin the paperback edition published some seven months later.Astoundingly, this error remainsuncorrected in theextensively revisedpaper back edition published in July 1999—despite DeWalt’s printedassurances to the contrary.* Such indifference is vexing to those of uswho were transformed by the disaster, and are still consumed withtrying to sortoutwhat reallyhappenedup there.AndyHarris’s familycertainlydoesnotconsiderthematterofwherehisiceaxwasfoundtobeaninconsequentialdetail.Sadly,someoftheerrorsinTheClimbdonotappeartobetheproduct

ofmerecarelessness,butrathertobedeliberatedistortionsofthetruthintendedtodiscreditmyreportinginIntoThinAir.Forinstance,DeWaltreports in The Climb that important details in my Outside magazinearticleweren’t fact-checked,eventhoughhewasawarethatanOutsideeditornamedJohnAldermanmetwithBoukreevatlengthandinpersonatthemagazine’sofficesinSantaFespecificallytoconfirmtheaccuracyof my entire manuscript before publication of the magazine.Additionally, I, personally, had several conversations over a period oftwomonthswithBoukreevinwhichImadeeveryeffort todiscernthetruth.The Boukreev/DeWalt version of events does indeed differ from the

version that I found tobe true,butOutside publishedwhat the editorsandIbelievedtobethefactualversion,ratherthanBoukreev’sversion.Over the courseofmynumerous interviewswithAnatoli, I discoveredthat his account of important events changed significantly from onetellingtothenext,forcingmetodoubttheaccuracyofhismemory.AndAnatoli’s versions of certain events were subsequently proven to beuntrue by other witnesses, most notably Dale Kruse, Klev Schoening,LopsangJangbu,MartinAdams,andNealBeidleman(ofwhomDeWaltinterviewed only Adams). In short, I found many of Anatoli’srecollectionstobesingularlyunreliable.InTheClimbandelsewhere,DeWalthassuggestedthatinwritingInto

Thin Air my intent was to destroy Anatoli Boukreev’s good name. Tosupportthisdespicableimputation,DeWaltreliesontwocomplaints:1)I

didn’tmentionapurportedconversationabovetheHillaryStepbetweenBoukreev and Scott Fischer in which Fischer allegedly gave Boukreevpermission to descend ahead of his clients; and 2) I refused toacknowledgethatFischersupposedlyhadapredeterminedplaninplaceforBoukreevtodescendaheadofhisclients.Regardingthefirstofthesecomplaints,thisiswhatIknowtobetrueabout the conversationbetweenFischer andBoukreevatop theHillaryStep:Boukreev,MartinAdams,AndyHarris,andIwerewaitingtogetherabove theStepwhenanobviouslyailingFischerarrivedonhiswaytothesummit.FischerfirstexchangedafewwordswithAdams,thenhadanevenshorterconversationwithBoukreev.AsAdamsremembersthislatter conversation, Boukreev told Fischer, “I am going down withMartin,” and said nothing more. These six words comprised the fullextent of their discussion, after which Fischer spoke briefly with me,then turned his back on all of us and resumed his plod toward thesummit.BoukreevlaterinsistedthatafterHarris,Adams,andIhadleftthe scene, he and Fischer had a second conversation inwhich Fischergavehimpermissiontodescendaheadofhisclientsinordertomaketeaforthemandprovide“supportbelow.”Intheweeksandmonths immediately followingtheEverestdisaster,Adams—Boukreev’sclose friendandoneofhis fiercestdefenders—toldme, Neal Beidleman, and others that he doubted that this secondconversation actually occurred. Since then he has revised his positionsomewhat:Adams’s latest stance is thathehasno ideawhetherornottherewasasecondconversationbetweenFischerandBoukreev,becausehewasn’tpresentwhenitwasallegedtohavetakenplace.Obviously, I wasn’t present, either. So why do I doubt Anatoli’smemory of a second conversation? Partly because the first timeBoukreev told me about having a long discussion in which Fischerencouragedhimtodescendaheadofhisclients,Boukreevclearlystatedthat itoccurredwhenFischerfirstarrivedatoptheHillaryStep—whenAdams,Harris,andIwerepresent.Later,afterIpointedoutthatAdamsremembered this conversation very differently, Anatoli changed hisstory: now he said he’d had a second conversation with Fischer afterAdams,Harris,andIhaddescended.My main reason for doubting the second conversation, however,

comes fromwhat I sawas IbeganheadingdowntheHillaryStep:as Ilookeduponelasttimetochecktherappelanchorsbeforedescending,Inoticed that Fischer had already moved well above the small stagingareawhereHarris,Adams,Boukreev,andIhadcongregatedtoclipintothe rappel ropes. Am I certain that Boukreev didn’t climb back up toFischerandhaveasecondconversationwithhim?No.ButAnatoli,likethe restofus,wasverycoldand tired,andexceedinglyanxious togetdown. As I rappelled over the lip of the Step, Anatoli was shiveringimpatientlyon thenarrow ridge crest immediatelyaboveme; it’shardformetoconceiveofwhatwouldhavepromptedhimtoclimbbackupandhaveanotherdiscussionwithFischer.ThusIhavereasontobeskepticalthatasecondconversationbetween

FischerandBoukreevoccurred.Nevertheless,inretrospect,tobefairtoBoukreev I should have reported his recollection of a secondconversationandthenexplainedwhyIdoubtedit,ratherthanmakenomention of it at all in my book. I regret the hard feelings and sharpwordsthathaveresulted.Iampuzzled,however,astowhyDeWalthasexpressedsuchoutrage

overmydecisionnottoreportthisdisputedsecondconversation,whileat the same time he saw no reason, in The Climb, to report the firstconversation between Fischer and Boukreev—a conversation aboutwhich there is absolutely no argument: Boukreev told Fischer he was“goingdownwithMartin.”AlthoughAdamshasexpressedtheviewthatIwasn’t inapositiontooverhearthesewordswhentheywerespoken,hehasneverdisputedthatthisbriefdeclarationispreciselywhatAnatolisaid.ButintheversionofeventspresentedbyDeWaltinTheClimb,thisconversation simply didn’t occur. It should be noted, moreover, thatBoukreev’s failure to stay with Adams during the descent, as he toldFischerhewould,nearlycostAdamshislife.Inhisbook,SheerWill,MichaelGroomdescribed themomentwhen

he,YasukoNamba,andIencounteredAdamsaswemadeourwaydowntowardtheBalconyat27,600feet.Adams,accordingtoGroom,“wasinanuncontrolledtumbleofftoourleft.FromwhereIstoodhelookedoutofcontrolandinnohurrytoregainit.”GroommetupwithAdamsagainlowerdown,afterhistumblehadsomehowended.Adamswas

onlyjustgettingtohisfeet…veeringdangerouslyclosetothewrongsideofthemountaininaseriesofdrunkenflopsintothesnow,oneofwhichcouldendupovertheedgeinTibet.Idetouredoffmypathtogetcloseenoughtospeakwithhim.Icouldseethathisoxygenmaskhadslippedoffbeneathhischinandclumpsoficehungfromhiseyebrowsandchin.Lyinghalf-buriedinthesnow,hewasgiggling—theresultofoxygendebttothebrain.Itoldhimtopullhisoxygenmaskoverhismouth.InafatherlysortofmannerIthencoaxedhimcloserandclosertotheridgecrest.…“Now,seethosetwoclimbersdownthereinred?Justfollowthem,”Isaid,pointingtoJonandYasukostillvisibleinthegullybelow.Hesteppedofftheridgeinsuchahaphazardmanner,Iwonderedwhetherhecaredifhelivedordied.Concernedabouthisjudgment,Idecidedtostickwithhim.

If Groom hadn’t happened upon Adams—who was completelydisoriented after being left behind by Boukreev—it seems likely thatAdamswouldhavecontinueddownthewrongsideofthemountainanddied.YetnoneofthisisreportedinTheClimb.PerhapsthemostdisturbingmisrepresentationinTheClimbconcernsa

conversationbetweenScottFischerandJaneBromet(Fischer’spublicistand confidant,whoaccompaniedhim toBaseCamp).Bromet, offeringher memory of this conversation, is quoted by DeWalt in a mannerintended toconvince readers thatFischerhadapredeterminedplan inplaceforBoukreevtodescendquicklyafterreachingthesummit,aheadofhisclients.ThiseditedquoteformsthebasisofDeWalt’ssecondmajorallegation:thatmyfailuretomentionthepurportedplaninIntoThinAirwasanefarious“assassinationofcharacterforwhich,afterthefact,Idonotbelievethereisajustifiabledefense.”Actually, I didn’t mention this so-called plan because I found

compelling evidence that no such plan existed. Beidleman—who iswidelyrespectedforhisquiethumility,hishonesty,andhisstrengthandexperienceasamountaineer—toldmethatifsuchaplanwereinplace,hedefinitelywasn’tawareofitwhentheMountainMadnessteamwenttothesummitonMay10,andheiscertainthatBoukreevwasn’tawareof it either. During the year immediately following the tragedy,Boukreev explained his decision to descend ahead of his clientsnumerous times—on television, on the Internet, in magazine andnewspaper interviews.Yet neverduring anyof those opportunities didheeverindicatethathehadfollowedapredeterminedplan.Indeed, inthe summer of 1996, Boukreev himself stated during a videotaped

interview for ABC News that there was no plan. As he explained tocorrespondent Forrest Sawyer, until arriving on the summit, Boukreev“didn’tknowhow,whatismyplan.Ineedtoseethesituationandthenmake.…Becausewedidn’tmakethisplan.”Apparently failing to comprehend Boukreev, a minute later Sawyerasked,“Soyourplan, then,onceyoupassedeverybody,was,youwerewaitingonthesummitforeverybodytocomeupasagroup.”Boukreev scoffed, and reiterated that nothing had been determinedaheadoftime:“It, itwasn’texactlyaplan.Wedidn’tmakeplan.ButIneedtoseethesituation.ThenIwillmakemyplan.”In the 1999 edition of The Climb even DeWalt admits, belatedly,“Boukreevhasnever said thatheknewofFischer’splan inadvanceofsummitday.”DeWalt further admits that theonly evidence to supporthisconjectureaboutapredeterminedplanwasBromet’srecollectionofasingleconversationwithFischer.YetBrometherselfemphasizedtobothDeWaltandmebeforepublicationofourrespectivebooksthatitwouldbe wrong to assume that Fischer’s comments indicated that he hadanything resembling an actual plan in place. In 1997, immediatelybeforepublicationofTheClimb,Brometsenta letter toDeWaltandSt.Martin’sPresscomplaining thatDeWalthadeditedherquote inawaythatsignificantlychangeditsmeaning.Shepointedoutthathedoctoredher words in order to make it appear as though the relevantconversation between Bromet and Fischer had occurred several daysbefore the summit assault, when in fact it occurred more than threeweeksbeforethesummitassault.Thisisnotaminordiscrepancy.*

As Bromet stated in her letter toDeWalt and his editors, the editedversionofherquotethatappearsinTheClimbis

absolutely wrong! The distortion will mislead readers into a false conclusion concerningmanyofthemostimportantfactorsthatledtotheaccident.Becauseofthedistortion…thereadermaybemisledintobelievingthatBoukreev’sdescent[aheadofhisclients]wasafirmplan.…Asthisquoteiswritten,itrunstheriskofcomingacrossas(partof)acalculatedanddistortedanalysisoftheaccidentwhosesolepurposeistoabsolveAnatoliBoukreevoffaultby attempting to lay blame on others.… Too much credit was given to this quote inconstructing the events of the accident.… Scott never once mentioned this plan again.Moreover,Scottwasaverycommunicativeperson.IfitwereScott’s“plan”hewouldhave

talkeditoverwithNealandAnatoli.(InsubsequentconversationswithNeal,hetoldmethatScottcommunicatednosuchplan.)Ifeelthisquotationasstatedisgrosslymisleading.

As the squabble between DeWalt and me hardened into somethingresembling trench warfare, he desperately tried to explain away theclear, unambiguous meaning of the letter cited above—primarilythrough prodigious feats of obfuscation, and by intricately parsingBromet’squotes.Throughouttheongoingdispute,however,Bromethasunflinchinglystoodherground.“It’sridiculousforDeWalttosaythatheknowsmymindbetterthanIdo,”sheexplains.“TheletterIsenttohimin October 1997 accurately states how I feel, despite his attempts totwistmywordsandclaimthatitdoesn’t.”WhenBrometsteadfastlyrefusedtobackdownabouttheaccuracyofher letter, DeWalt attacked her credibility in the 1999 edition of hisbook.Whichisacurioustactic,becauseheconstructedhistheoryaboutFischer’s so-called plan entirely from his interpretation of Bromet’sstatements, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. IfDeWaltdoesn’t thinkBromet isbelievable, I’mnot surewhathe is leftwith.Boukreev’s extraordinary strength, courage, and experience werehighly valued by Fischer—nobody disputes this. Nor does anybodydispute that, in the end, Fischer’s confidence in Boukreev’s abilitiesturnedouttobewarranted:Anatolisavedtwolivesthatmostcertainlywould have been lost otherwise. But for DeWalt to insist that FischerplannedallalongforBoukreevtodescendfromthesummitaheadofhisclientsismanifestlynotsupportedbythefacts.AnditisoutrageousforDeWalt to further insist that I sought toassassinateAnatoli’s characterbecauseIdeclinedtomentionaplanthatdidnotexist.

The matter of whether or not Fischer gave Boukreev permission todescend ahead of his clients was obviously very important to Anatoliafter the fact. But the debate raging over this tangential question hasflaredbeyondallproportion,obscuringthelargerissue:theprudenceofguiding Everest without supplemental oxygen. And nobody—not evenDeWalt—haseverdisputedthecrucialfactsunderlyingthislargerissue:Anatolielectednottousesupplementaloxygenonsummitday,andafter

reaching the summit he went down alone many hours ahead of hisclients, defying the standard practices of professionalmountain guidestheworldover.WhathaslargelybeenlostinthebickeringoverwhetherBoukreev actedwith orwithout Fischer’s approval is that themomentAnatoli decided, early in the expedition, to guide without bottledoxygen, it probably preordained his subsequent decision to leave hisclients on the summit ridge and descend quickly. Having elected toclimbwithout gas, Anatoli had painted himself into a corner. Lackingbottled oxygen, his only reasonable choice was to get down fast onsummitday—whateverFischerdidordidn’tgivehimpermissiontodo.Thecruxofthematterwasn’tfatigue,moreover:itwasthecold.The

importance of bottled oxygen in warding off exhaustion, altitudesickness, and murky thinking at extreme altitudes is generallyunderstood.What is much less widely known is that oxygen plays anequallyimportant,ifnotgreater,roleinstavingoffthecripplingeffectsofcoldathighaltitude.BythetimeAnatolibeganhisdescent fromtheSouthSummitahead

ofeverybodyelseonMay10,he’dspentbetweenthreeandfourhoursabove28,700feetwithoutbreathingsupplementaloxygen.Formuchofthattimehewassittingandwaitinginabittersub-zerowind,growingincreasingly cold, as any climber would in his situation. As Anatolihimself explained to Men’s Journal, in a quote he approved beforepublication,

I stayed [on the summit] for about an hour.… It is very cold, naturally, it takes yourstrength.…MypositionwasthatIwouldnotbegoodifIstoodaroundfreezing,waiting.…Ifyouareimmobileatthataltitudeyoulosestrengthinthecold,andthenyouareunabletodoanything.

Becoming dangerously chilled, courting frostbite and hypothermia,Boukreevwascompelledtodescendnotbyfatigue,butbytheprofoundcold.For perspective on how the deadly windchill at high altitude is

exacerbatedwhen a climber isn’t using supplemental oxygen, considerwhat happened to Ed Viesturs thirteen days after the 1996 disaster,whenViesturs summittedwith the IMAX team.Viestursdeparted fromCamp Four for the summit early on May 23, some twenty or thirty

minutes aheadofhis teammates.He left camp ahead of everyone elsebecauselikeBoukreevhewasnotusinggas(ViesturswasstarringintheIMAX film that year instead of guiding), and he was concerned thiswould prevent him fromkeeping upwith the film crew—all ofwhomwereusingbottledoxygen.Viesturs was so strong, however, that nobody could come close to

matching his pace, even though he was breaking trail through thigh-deepsnow.BecauseheknewthatitwascrucialforDavidBreashearstoget footage of him during the summit push, every so often Viestursstoppedandwaitedaslongaspossibleforthefilmcrewtocatchuptohim.Butwheneverhestoppedmovingheimmediatelyfelttheeffectsofthedebilitatingcold—eventhoughMay23wasamuchwarmerdaythanMay10hadbeen.Afraidofgettingfrostbiteorworse,oneachoccasionhewas forced to resumehis ascentbeforehis teammateswereable toget close enough to film him. “Ed is at least as strong as Anatoli,”explainsBreashears,“yetwithoutgas,wheneverhestoppedtowait forushegotcold.”Asaresult,BreashearsendedupwithnoIMAXfootageofViestursaboveCampFour(the“summitday”footageofViestursthatappears in themoviewas actually shot at a later date). Thepoint I’mtryingtomakehere is thatBoukreevhadtokeepmovingforthesamereason Viesturs did: to keep from freezing. Without supplementaloxygen, nobody—not even the strongest climbers in the world—canloiteronthefrigidupperreachesofEverest.“I’msorry,”Breashearsinsists,“butitwasincrediblyirresponsiblefor

Anatoli to climbwithout gas. Nomatter how strong you are, you arerightatyourlimitwhenyouclimbEverestwithoutoxygen.Youaren’tinapositiontohelpyourclients.Anatoliisdissemblingwhenhesaysthereason hewent down is that Scott sent him down tomake tea. TherewereSherpaswaitingat theSouthCol tomake tea.TheonlyplaceanEverestguideshouldbe iseitherwithhisclientsorrightbehindthem,breathingbottledoxygen,readytoprovideassistance.”Make no mistake: there is a strong consensus among the most

respectedhigh-altitudeguides,aswellasthepre-eminentexpertsintheesotericfieldofhigh-altitudemedicine/physiology,thatitisexceedinglyriskyforaguidetoleadclientsonEverestwithoutusingbottledoxygen.Asithappens,whileresearchinghisbookDeWaltinstructedanassistant

to call PeterHackett,M.D., one of theworld’s foremost authorities onthedebilitatingeffectsofextremealtitude,inordertosolicitthedoctor’sprofessionalopinionabouttheoxygenissue.Dr.Hackett—whoreachedthe summit of Everest with a medical research expedition in 1981—repliedunequivocally that inhisview itwasdangerousand ill-advisedto guide Everestwithout using oxygen, even for someone as strong asBoukreev. Significantly, after seeking and receiving Hackett’s opinion,DeWalt deliberately made no mention of it in The Climb, and hascontinued to insist that not using bottled oxygen somehow madeBoukreevamorecapableguidein1996.On numerous occasions while promoting their book, Boukreev and

DeWalt asserted that Reinhold Messner—the most accomplished andrespectedmountaineerofthemodernera—endorsedBoukreev’sactionson Everest, including his decision not to use bottled oxygen. In aconversationwith Anatoli inNovember 1997, he toldme face-to-face,“MessnersaysIdidrightthingonEverest.”InTheClimb,referringtomycriticismsofhisbehavioronEverest,DeWaltquotesBoukreevassaying,

I felt fairly well maligned by the few voices that had captured the imagination of theAmerican press.Had it not been for the support of European colleagues like…ReinholdMessner,IwouldhavebeendepressedbytheAmericanperspectiveofwhatIhadtooffermyprofession.

Lamentably, like other assertions in The Climb, the Boukreev/DeWaltclaimaboutMessner’sendorsementhasturnedouttobeuntrue.In February 1998, during ameetingwithme inNewYork,Messner

stated into a tape recorder, without equivocation, that he thoughtAnatoliwaswrong todescendaheadofhisclients.Messner speculatedontherecordthathadAnatoliremainedwithhisclientstheoutcomeofthetragedymighthavebeenquitedifferent.Messnerdeclaredthat“Noone should guide Everest without using bottled oxygen,” and thatAnatoliwasmistaken ifhe thoughtMessnerendorsedAnatoli’s actionsonEverest.Messnerisn’ttheonlyrespectedmountaineerwhoseviewshavebeen

misrepresented by DeWalt in his efforts to discredit me. He has alsoquotedDavidBreashears,who,inaninterviewpublishedin1997inTheImproperBostonian,tookissuewithmyportrayalofSandyHillPittman,a

closefriendofhis.IadmireBreashears’sloyaltytoPittman.Breashearsisknownforspeakinghismindinasometimesbrutallyhonestfashion,andIadmirethatqualitytoo,evenwhenhiscriticismsaredirectedatme.ItturnsoutthatBreashearshasalsobeenveryfrankinhisassessmentsofDeWalt and The Climb. The following is an excerpt from an e-mailBreashearssentme,unsolicited,inJuly1998:

Inmy opinion [DeWalt] has no real credibility having been 10,000miles away from theevent.I’msureyouagreethatyoucouldneverhaveaccuratelywrittenabouthighaltitudewithouthavingbeenthere,despiteallyouryearsofclimbingexperience.ContrarytowhatDeWaltstatesregardingclimbingwithoutoxygen,mostexperiencedhigh-altitudeclimbersdisagreewith his conclusion…ALL evidence and all logic (oxygen= fuel= energy=warmth,strength,etc.)firmlydisputeDeWalt’sclaims.…Anatolidescendedallegedlytobein position to provide assistance. But he never did find his clients, theywere freezing todeathacrosstheCol.Itwasuptothemtostaggerintocampwiththeinformationsovitaltotheirrescue.…Anatoliwassittinginhistentunabletoassistanyone,untilinformedofthelostclimbers’position.Enough!It’sapityAnatoliisn’theretocontinuethedialogue.Istandbymyconvictionthathedescendedbecausehewascoldandwearyandcouldn’tpossiblyremain (relatively motionless) on the summit waiting for clients.… Finally, why thecontinueddebateaboutyourbook?Where’stheoutrageaboutthereal issues?…Youjusthadthegutstoputitallinwriting.

Many of us who were on Everest that May made mistakes. As Iindicatedearlier in thesepages,myownactionsmayhavecontributedtothedeathsoftwoofmyteammates.IhavenodoubtthatBoukreev’sintentions were good on summit day. I am absolutely certain that hemeant well. What disturbs me, though, was Anatoli’s refusal toacknowledgethepossibilitythathemadeevenasinglepoordecision.DeWalt has written that my criticisms of Boukreev in Into Thin Air

weremotivatedbymy“desire tokeep the spotlight fromsettlingonaquestion that began to loom in theweeks after the Everest tragedy of1996:DidKrakauer’spresenceontheAdventureConsultantsexpedition[as a writer for Outside magazine] contribute to the tragedy thatunfolded?” In truth, I remainquite troubledby thepossibility thatmypresence as a journalist, and Sandy Hill Pittman’s, may indeed havedirectly contributed to the disaster. Contrary to DeWalt’s cynicalassertion,however,Ihavenevertriedtosteerthedebateawayfromthis

topic. Indeed, I’veraisedthesubjectmyself innumerous interviews, tosaynothingof thisbook. IsuggestDeWaltgobackandreadthispage,whereIdevotealongpassagetothisverysubject.IhavenotshiedawayfromadmittingtheerrorsImadeonEverest,howeverpainfulithasbeento do so. I only wish that others had presented their versions of thecalamitywithequalcandor.EventhoughIhavewrittencriticallyaboutsomeofAnatoli’sactions,I

have always emphasized that he performed heroically when disasterstruckinthepredawnhoursofMay11.ThereisnoquestionthatAnatolisavedthelivesofSandyHillPittmanandCharlotteFox,atconsiderablepersonalrisk—Ihavesaidasmuchonmanyoccasions,inmanyplaces.IadmireAnatoli immensely for going out alone in the storm,when therest of us were lying helpless in our tents, and bringing in the lostclimbers. But some of the decisions he made earlier in the day andearlierintheexpeditionareneverthelesstroubling,andsimplycouldnotbe ignored by a journalist committed to writing a full and honestaccountofthedisaster.Asithappens,muchofwhatIwitnessedonEverestwastroubling,and

would have been troubling even if there had been no calamity. Iwassent to Nepal byOutside magazine specifically to write about guidedexpeditions on the world’s highest mountain. My assignment was toassess the qualifications of the guides and clients, and to provide thereading public with a discriminating, first hand look at the reality ofhowguidedEverest climbsareconducted. I alsobelievequite stronglythatIhadaduty—totheothersurvivors,tothegrievingfamilies,tothehistorical record, and tomy companionswho did not come home—toprovideafullreportofwhathappenedonEverestin1996,regardlessofhowthatreportwouldbereceived.Andthat’swhatIdid,relyingonmyextensive experience as a journalist and amountaineer to provide themostaccurate,honestaccountpossible.

The debate over what happened on Everest in 1996 took a terribleturnonChristmasDay,1997, sixweeksafterpublicationofTheClimb,when Anatoli Nikoliavich Boukreev was killed in an avalanche onAnnapurna, theworld’s tenth-highestmountain.His losswasmourned

around the world. Thirty-nine at the time of his death, he was amagnificentathletewhopossessedtremendouscourage.Byallaccountshewasaremarkable,verycomplicatedman.Boukreevhadbeenraisedinadirt-poorminingtowninthesouthernUralMountainsoftheSovietUnion.AccordingtoBritishjournalistPeterGillman,writingintheLondonMailonSunday,whenAnatoliwasaboyhisfather

hadekedout a livingmaking shoes andmendingwatches.Therewere five children, in acramped wooden house with no plumbing.… Boukreev was dreaming of escaping. Themountainsgavehimhischance.

Boukreev learned to climb as a nine-year-old, and his uncommonphysicalgiftsquicklycame to the fore.At sixteenheearnedacovetedslotat theSovietmountaineeringcamp in theTianShanmountainsofKazakhstan.Attwenty-fourhewasselectedtobecomeamemberoftheelite national climbing team, which brought him a financial stipend,greatprestige,andotherbenefitsbothtangibleandintangible.In1989he climbedKanchenjunga, theworld’s third highest peak, as part of aSoviet expedition, and upon returning to his home in Almaty,Kazakhstan, was honored as a Soviet Master of Sport by PresidentMikhailGorbachev.Due to the upheavals that accompanied the NewWorld Order, thisrosysituationwasnottolastlong,however.AsGillmanexplains,

TheSovietUnionwasbreakingup.TwoyearslaterGorbachevquit,andBoukreev—whohadrecently completed his own ascent of Everest—found his status and privileges vanishing.“Therewasnothing,”hetold[Linda]Wylie[hisAmericangirlfriend].“Nomoney—youwerein bread lines.” … Boukreev resolved not to succumb. If the communist order haddisappeared, hemust adapt to the newworld of private enterprise, using his assets of amountaineer’sskillsanddetermination.

InaremembranceofAnatolipostedontheInternetinearly1997,hisfriendFranDistefano-Arsentiev*recalled,

Thoseweredesperatetimes[forBoukreev],justtobeabletopayforfoodwasaluxury.…[T]heonlychanceaSovietclimberhadtogo to theHimalayawas tocompetewithin thesystemandwinthatprivilege.Havingthefreedomto justgototheHimalaya,whetheror

notyouarecompetentenoughasaclimber,wasneveranoption.Itwasadream.…BeforeBukabecamefamoustherewasatimewhennothingcameeasilyforhim.ButhepursuedhisdreamstenaciouslywithavigorunlikeanyoneIhaveeverknown.

Boukreev became something of a global nomad in pursuit of bothmountainsandmoneytomakeendsmeet.Inordertoscrapetogetheraliving,hehiredonasaguideintheHimalaya,Alaska,andKazakhstan;gaveslideshowsinAmericanclimbingshops;andoccasionallyresortedto common labor. But all the while he continued to tally anextraordinaryrecordofhigh-altitudeascents.Although he loved climbing, and loved being in the mountains,Boukreevneverpretendedtoenjoyguiding.InTheClimbhespokeverycandidlyaboutthis:

Iwishwithallmypowertherewereotheropportunitiesformetomakealiving.…Itistoolate for me to find another way to finance my personal objectives; yet it is with greatreservation that I work to bring inexperienced men and women into this world [ofdangeroushigh-altitudemountaineering].

So he continued to take novice climbers to the high peaks, even afterexperiencingthehorrorsandcontroversiesofthe1996disaster.Inthespringof1997,oneyearlater,BoukreevagreedtoleadateamofIndonesianArmyofficershopingtobecomethefirstmembersoftheirisland nation to climb Everest—despite the fact that none of theIndonesians had any priormountaineering experience, or, indeed, hadevenseensnowbefore.Toassisthimwithhisneophyteclients,Boukreevemployed two highly accomplished Russian mountaineers, VladimirBashkirov andEvgenyVinogradski, andApaSherpa,whohad climbedEverestseventimes.Moreover, in1997,unlike in ’96,everyoneontheteam relied on bottled oxygen for the summit assault, includingBoukreev—notwithstanding his insistence that itwas safer for him “toclimb without oxygen in order to avoid the sudden loss ofacclimatization that occurs when supplementary oxygen supplies aredepleted.”In1997,italsobearsnoting,AnatoliwasnevermorethanafewpacesfromhisIndonesianclientsonsummitday.The team departed the South Col for the top just aftermidnight onApril26.Aroundnoon,ApaSherpa, in the lead, arrivedat theHillary

Step,whereheencounteredthebodyofBruceHerrod*danglingfromanoldfixedrope.ClamberingoverthedeceasedBritishphotographer,Apa,Anatoli,andtherestoftheIndonesianteamlaboredslowlytowardthesummit.It was already 3:30 P.M. when the first Indonesian, AsmujionoPrajurit,followedBoukreevtothetop.Theystayedonthesummitonlytenminutesbeforeheadingdown,whereuponBoukreev compelled thetwo other Indonesians to turn around, even though one of them waswithin 100 feet of the top. The teammade it downonly as far as theBalcony thatnight,where theyenduredamiserablebivouacat27,600feet,butthankstoBoukreev’sleadershipandararenightwithoutwind,everyone descended safely to the South Col on April 27. “We werelucky,”Anatoliallowed.BoukreevandVinogradskipausedduringtheirdescenttoCampFourtocoverScottFischer’sbodywithrocksandsnowat27,200feet.“ThislastrespectwasforamanIfeelwasthebestandbrightestexpressionoftheAmericanpersona,”BoukreevmusedinTheClimb.“I thinkoftenofhisbrilliantsmileandpositivemanner.IamadifficultmanandIhopetorememberhimalwaysbylivingalittlemorebyhisexample.”Adaylater Boukreev traveled across the South Col to the edge of theKangshungFace,wherehelocatedthebodyofYasukoNamba,coveredherwithstonesasbesthecould,andcollectedsomeofherpossessionstogivetoherfamily.A month after climbing Everest with the Indonesians, BoukreevattemptedaspeedtraverseofLhotseandEverestwithabrilliantthirty-year-old Italian climber named SimoneMoro.* Boukreev andMoro setoutforthetopofLhotseonMay26.Thatsameday,eightmembersofaseparateRussianteam—includingBoukreev’sfriendVladimirBashkirov,who had helped guide the Indonesians up Everest—also started upLhotse.Noneofthetenclimberswasusingsupplementaloxygen.Moro reached the summit at 1 P.M. Boukreev arrived twenty-fiveminutes later, but he was feeling ill and started down after spendingonly a few minutes on top. Moro stayed on the summit for perhapsanother forty minutes, and then headed down himself. During hisdescent he encountered Bashkirov, who was also feeling sick butneverthelessstillpushingupward.LatethatafternoonBashkirovandthe

restoftheRussiansallreachedthesummit.NotlongafterthelastoftheRussianstoppedout,MoroandBoukreevarrived back at their tent and went to sleep. Upon waking the nextmorning, Moro turned on his radio and happened to overhear atransmission from some Italian friends who were in the process ofascending Lhotse. The Italians reported with alarm that, high on thepeak, they had encountered the body of a climber dressed in a greendown suit and yellow boots. “In thatmoment,”Moro says, “I realizedthatitcouldbeBashkirov.”HeimmediatelywokeBoukreev,whomadea radiocall to theRussian team.TheRussians reported thatBashkirovhadindeeddiedduringthenightfromanaltitude-relatedillnessonhiswaydownfromthesummit.AlthoughBoukreevhadlostyetonemorefriendtotheheights,hedidnotletitdampenhispassionforclimbingtheworld’shighestmountains.OnJuly7,1997, sixweeksafterBashkirovperished,Boukreevmadeasolo ascent of Broad Peak in Pakistan. And exactly oneweek later hecompletedaspeedascentofnearbyGasherbrumII.AlthoughMorosaysthatclimbingallfourteenofthe8,000-meterpeakswasn’tparticularlyimportant to Boukreev, he had now ascended eleven of the fourteen:onlyNangaParbat,HiddenPeak,andAnnapurnaIremained.LaterthatsummerAnatoliinvitedReinholdMessnertojoinhimintheTian Shan for some recreational climbing. During Messner’s visit,Boukreev asked the legendary Italian alpinist for advice about hisclimbingcareer.SincefirstvisitingtheHimalayain1989,Boukreevhadaccumulatedanamazingrecordofhigh-altitudeascents.Allbuttwoofthese climbs, however, had followed traditional, relatively oft-traveledroutes with few technical challenges. Messner pointed out that ifBoukreev wanted to be considered among the world’s truly greatmountaineers,hewouldneedtoshifthisfocustosteeper,verydifficult,previouslyunclimbedlines.Anatolitookthisadvicetoheart.Infact,evenbeforeconsultingwithMessner,BoukreevandMorohaddecidedtoattemptAnnapurnaIviaanotoriously difficult route on themountain’s immense south face thathad been climbed by a strong Anglo-American team in 1970. And toincrease the challenge, Boukreev and Moro decided to make theirattemptonAnnapurnainwinter.Itwouldbeanexceedinglyambitious

and dangerous undertaking, involving extreme technical climbing athighaltitudeinunimaginablewindandcold.Evenwhenascendedbyitseasiestaspects,Annapurna—26,454feethigh—isregardedasoneofthedeadliest mountains in the world: for every two climbers who havereacheditssummit,onehasdied.IfBoukreevandMoroweretosucceed,it would be one of the boldest ascents in the history of Himalayanmountaineering.InlateNovember1997,soonafterpublicationofTheClimb,Boukreev

andMorotraveledtoNepalandhelicopteredtoAnnapurnaBaseCamp,accompanied by a Kazakh cinematographer named Dimitri Sobolev. Ithadbeenanunusuallyearlywinter,however.Theywerehitbyfrequentstorms that dumped prodigious quantities of snow and sent giantavalanches thunderingdown their intended route.Asaconsequence,amonth into theexpedition theydecided toabandon theiroriginalplanand instead attempt a different route at the eastern margin ofAnnapurna’ssouthface.Itwasaroutethathadbeenattemptedseveraltimesbyaccomplishedclimbers,withoutsuccess.Thedifficultieswouldbe extreme—Boukreev’s team would have to ascend a formidablesatellite peak called the Fang on their way to the summit—but theavalanchedangerappearedtobesignificantlyloweronthisnewroute.Having erectedCampOne at 17,000 feet below the first of thenew

route’ssteepterrain,Boukreev,Moro,andSobolevembarkedfromtheirtentat sunriseonChristmasDay, intending toestablisha lineof fixedropesupabroadgully to a ridge that towered some2,700 feet abovetheircamp.Moro,inthelead,hadclimbedtowithintwohundredfeetoftheridgecrestbynoon.At12:27P.M.,ashestoppedtopullsomethingfromhisbackpack,heheardasharpboom.Whenhelookeduphesawan avalanche of massive ice blocks hurtling directly toward him. HemanagedtoscreamoutawarningtoBoukreevandSobolev,whowereascending thegully some700 feetbelow, justbefore thewallof snowandiceplowedhimfromhisstanceandcarriedhimdownthemountain.For a moment Moro tried to arrest his slide by clutching the fixed

rope,burningdeepgouges intohis fingersandpalms,but itwas tonoavail.Hetumbledapproximately2,600feetwiththecascading iceandwas knocked cold.When themass of frozen rubble came to rest on agentle slope slightly above Camp One, however, by chance Moro

happened to be on top of the avalanche debris. Upon regainingconsciousnesshelookedfranticallyforhiscompanions,butcouldfindnotraceofthem.Searchesbyairandgroundovertheensuingweekprovedfutile.BoukreevandSobolevwerepresumedtobedead.News of Anatoli’s death was greeted with shock and disbelief on

severalcontinents.Hetraveledprodigiouslyandhadfriendsaroundtheworld.Many,manypeopleweredevastatedbyhispassing,not leastofthem being the woman with whom he’d been sharing his life, LindaWylieofSantaFe,NewMexico.Anatoli’sdeathwasextremelyupsetting tome,aswell, forahostof

complicated reasons. In the wake of the accident on Annapuraa, thedebateoverwhathappenedonEverestin1996tookonadifferentlight.I pondered how things between Anatoli and me had come to such astate. Because both of uswere stubborn and proud and loath to backdown from a fight, our disagreement had escalated vastly out ofproportion, diminishing both of us in the process. And if I’m beinghonestwithmyself, I have to accept asmuch responsibility for this asBoukreev.SodoIwishIhadportrayedAnatolidifferentlyinwritingthisbook?

No, I don’t think so.Nothing I’ve learned since thepublicationof IntoThinAirorTheClimbleadsmetobelieveIgotthingswrong.WhatIdowish, perhaps, is that I’d been a little less strident in a notoriousexchange of letters between Anatoli and me that was posted on theInternetshortlyaftermyoriginalEverestarticlewaspublishedinOutsidemagazine in September 1996. This online spat established anunfortunate tone that intensified over the following months andthoroughlypolarizedthediscussion.AlthoughthecriticismsIleveledatBoukreevinmyOutsidearticleand

inmybookweremeasured,andbalancedbysincerepraise,Anatoliwasneverthelesshurtandoutragedby them.HeandDeWalt respondedbyattacking my character, and presenting some very creativeinterpretations of the facts. To defend my honesty, I was forced topresentsomedamagingmaterialthatIhadpreviouslywithheldtoavoidhurting Boukreev unnecessarily. Boukreev, DeWalt, and St. Martin’sPress responded by intensifying their ad hominem attacks onme, andthe tenor of the discussion only deteriorated over the period that

followed.Perhaps,asDeWaltwroteinTheClimb,there“isanadvantagetoanopenandongoingdebate”overwhathappenedonEverestin1996.It’scertainlyhelpedsellcopiesofhisbook—andmine,nodoubt.Butforallthebitternessthat’sflowed,I’mnotsuremuchoflastingimportancehasbeenilluminated.The dispute reached its nadir in early November 1997 at the Banff

MountainBookFestival.Boukreevwasapanelistataforumofeminentmountaineers. I haddeclinedan invitation toparticipate as apanelist,fearingthattheeventmightturnintoashoutingmatch,butImadethemistakeofattendingasamemberoftheaudience.WhenitwasAnatoli’sturn to speak, he had Linda Wylie (acting as his interpreter) read aprepared statement that beganwith a declaration thatmost ofwhat Ihad written about him was “bullshit.” The upshot was that I rose toAnatoli’sbaitandsome ill-advised,veryheatedwordswereexchangedacrossthecrowdedauditorium.I regrettedmyoutburst immediately.After the forumconcludedand

the crowddispersed Ihurriedoutside, searched forAnatoli, and foundhimwalkingwithWylie across the groundsof theBanffCentre. I toldthemthatIthoughtweneededtohaveafewwordstogetherinprivateandattempt toclear theair. InitiallyAnatolibalkedat thissuggestion,protesting that he was late to another Book Festival event. But Ipersisted,andeventuallyheagreedtograntmeafewminutes.Forthenext half hourhe andWylie and I stoodoutside in the coldCanadianmorningandspokefranklybutcalmlyaboutourdifferences.AtonepointAnatoliputhishandonmyshoulderandsaid,“Iamnot

angry with you, Jon, but you do not understand.” By the time thediscussionendedandwewentour separateways,wehadcome to theconclusionthatbothAnatoliandIneededtomakeanefforttomoderatethe tone of the debate.We concurred that there was no need for theatmosphere between us to be so emotionally charged andconfrontational.We agreed to disagree about certain points—primarilythewisdom of guiding Everest without bottled oxygen, andwhatwassaidbetweenBoukreevandFischerduringtheirfinalconversationatoptheHillaryStep—butbothofuscametorealizethatwesaweyetoeyeonalmosteverythingelseofimportance.Although Boukreev’s coauthor, Mr. DeWalt (who wasn’t present

duringtheaforementionedmeeting),continuedtofantheflamesofthedispute with gusto, I came away from my encounter with Anatoli inBanffsomewhathopefulofpatchingthingsupwithhim.PerhapsIwasbeing overly optimistic, but I foresaw an end to the imbroglio. Sevenweeks later,however,AnatoliwaskilledonAnnapurna, and I realizedthatI’dbegunmyconciliatoryeffortsmuchtoolate.

JonKrakauerAugust1999

*AmongBoukreev’sharshestcriticswereseveralSherpaswhoplayedkeyrolesinthedisaster.Ihavenotmentionedthisinprintuntilnow,andIdosopresentlyonlybecauseDeWaltfirstraisedthematterhimselfinthe1999editionofTheClimb.DeWalt’sneweditionrevealsthatin1998IwrotealettertoGalenRowell,thewell-knownmountaineer,inwhichIreportedthatmanySherpas“blamedtheentiretragedyonBoukreev.”DeWaltthenpointedoutthatRowell(duringatriptoEverestBaseCampin1998)had“foundnoSherpawhoblamedthetragedyonBoukreev,noranySherpawhoknewofanyonewhodid.”ButRowellneverspokewithLopsangJangbuorAngDorje(theheadclimbingSherpaonRobHall’steam).Onseparateoccasions,bothLopsangandAngDorjetoldme,inverystrongterms,thatthey(andvirtuallyalltheotherSherpasontheirrespectiveteams)didindeedblameBoukreevforthedisaster.Theirviewsaredocumentedinnotes,recordedinterviews,andcorrespondence.DeWalt,however,hasomittedacrucialdetailthatrendersthisentireissuemoot.HeneglectedtomentionthatmylettertoRowellincludedthesetwoimportantsentences:“Firstofall,letmesaythatIthinktheSherpasareabsolutelywrongtoblameAnatoli,whichiswhyIdidn’tmentiontheirpointofviewinmybook.Itseemedunfairandinflammatorytoevenbringitup.”DeWalt’sdecisiontoraisethisissueinhisbook—whennomentionofithadbeenmadeinmine—isthereforehardtofathom.

*Referringtothisparticularerrorinthe1999editionofhisbook,DeWaltwrote,“InallpaperbackeditionsofTheClimb,aphotocaptionwasdeletedtocorrectwhathadbeenanhonestandregrettablemistake.”Thespuriousphotocaptionhasindeedfinallybeenremoved.But,tellingly,neitherDeWaltnorhispublisherhasyetbotheredtocorrecttheerrorwhereitappearsinthemaintextofthe1999edition,onpage228.

*DeWaltwroteinthe1999editionofTheClimb,“Iwasnotconcernedaboutspecifyinganexactdate,becauseIfeltthatFischer’sstatementtoBrometwouldnothavebeenanylesssignificant

orrelevantifithadbeenmadeonMarch25inKathmanduoronApril2duringthetrektotheEverestBaseCamp.”ButDeWaltconvenientlyfailstoconsiderthatFischer’sopinionofBoukreevunderwentaprofoundandwell-documentedtransformationoverthelatterweeksoftheexpedition.ThenotoriousconversationbetweenBrometandFischeroccurredonoraroundApril15,barelyaweekafterFischer’steamarrivedatBaseCamp.Atthattime,Fischerstillhadnothingbutpraiseforhischiefguide.Threeweekslater,however,bythetimetheMountainMadnessteamlaunchedtheirsummitassault,FischerhadgrownnotablydisenchantedwithBoukreev’sguidingmethods,andwasfrequentlyangrywithhim(seepp.188–90ofIntoThinAir).TheactualdateofFischer’sconversationwithBromet—andDeWalt’sattemptinTheClimbtofudgethatdatebythreeweeks—isthereforeextremelyrelevant.Formanydaysimmediatelyprecedinghisteam’ssummitassault,Fischerhadcomplainedbitterlyandoftentohisclosestconfidantsthat,despitehisrepeatedadmonishmentstoBoukreev,hecouldn’tpersuadeBoukreevtostayclosetotheclients.ItthereforestrainsbelieftosuggestthatonMay10,uponreachingthesummitridge,FischerdecidedthathewantedBoukreevtodescendalone,aheadofeverybody.

*AresidentofNorwood,Colorado,FranDistefano-ArsentievmetBoukreevthroughherhusband,thenotedRussianclimberSergueiArsentiev.InMay1998,FranandSergueireachedthesummitofEveresttogetherviatheNortheastRidge,withoutsupplementaloxygen.FranthusbecamethefirstAmericanwomantoclimbEverestwithoutrelyingongas.Priortotoppingout,however,thecouplehadspentthreenightsabove27,000feetwithoutsupplementaloxygen,andtheywereforcedtospendafourthnightevenhigheronthepeakduringthedescent—thistimecompletelyexposedtotheelements,withoutgas,tent,orsleepingbags.Terribly,bothclimbersperishedbeforetheycouldreachthesafetyofthelowercamps.

*Herrodwasfoundupsidedown,suspendedfromtherope.HeappearedtohaveflippedoverwhilerappellingdowntheHillaryStepontheeveningofMay25,1996,andhadbeenunabletorighthimself—perhapsbecausehewastooexhausted,orperhapsbecausehehadbeenknockedunconscious.Inanycase,BoukreevandtheIndonesianslefthisbodyundisturbed.Amonthlater,onMay23,1997,PeteAthansremovedHerrodfromtheropewhileascendingtothesummitaspartofanexpeditionmakingafilmforthePBStelevisionprogram,NOVA.Beforecuttinghimfree,AthansrecoveredHerrod’scamera,whichcontainedhisfinalphotograph:aself-portraitatopEverest.

*AftermeetingBoukreevin1997,Morobecameoneofhisclosestfriends.“Ilovedandlove(likeafriend,ofcourse)AnatoliBoukreevsomuch,”Morotoldme,“thatafterImethimIchangedmylife,myprojects,mydreams.Probablyonlyhismotherandhisgirlfriend,Linda,lovedhimmore.”Moro,asithappens,disagreesstronglywithmyportrayalofBoukreevinthisbook.

“Youdidn’tunderstandwhoAnatolireallywas,”Moroexplained.“YouareAmerican;hewasRussian.Youwerenewto8,000-meterpeaks;hewasthebestofalltimeatthesealtitudes(nobodyelsehadclimbed21timestoasummitover8,000meters).Youareanormalalpinist;hewasafantasticathleteandsurvival’sanimal.Youareeconomicallysure;heknewhunger.…Inmyopinionyouarelikeamanwho,afterreadingabookaboutmedicine,pretendstoteachoneoftheworld’smostfamousandcapablesurgeonshowtobeadoctor.…WhenjudgingthedecisionsmadebyAnatoliin1996youmustrememberthis:noclientsonhisteamdied.”

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Armington,Stan.TrekkingintheNepalHimalaya.Oakland,CA:LonelyPlanet,1994.

Bass,Dick,andFrankWellswithRickRidgeway.SevenSummits.NewYork:WarnerBooks,1986.

Baume,LouisC.Sivalaya:Explorationsofthe8,000-MetrePeaksoftheHimalaya.Seattle:TheMountaineers,1979.

Cherry-Garrard,Apsley.TheWorstJourneyintheWorld.NewYork:Carroll&Graf,1989.

Dyrenfurth,G.O.TotheThirdPole.London:WernerLaurie,1955.

Fisher,JamesF.Sherpas:ReflectionsonChangeinHimalayanNepal.Berkeley:UniversityofCalifornia,1990.

Holzel,Tom,andAudreySalkeld.TheMysteryofMalloryandIrvine.NewYork:HenryHolt,1986.

Hornbein,ThomasF.Everest:TheWestRidge.SanFrancisco:TheSierraClub,1966.

Hunt,John.TheAscentofEverest.Seattle:TheMountaineers,1993.

Long,Jeff.TheAscent.NewYork:WilliamMorrow,1992.

Messner,Reinhold.TheCrystalHorizon:Everest—theFirstSoloAscent.Seattle:TheMountaineers,1989.

Morris,Jan.CoronationEverest:TheFirstAscentandtheScoopThatCrownedtheQueen.London:Boxtree,1993.

Roberts,David.MomentsofDoubt.Seattle:TheMountaineers,1986.

Shipton,Eric.TheSixMountain-TravelBooks.Seattle:TheMountaineers,1985.

Unsworth,Walt.Everest.London:GraftonBooks,1991.

Gratefulacknowledgmentismadetothefollowingforpermissiontoreprintpreviouslypublishedmaterial:

BÂTONWICKS PUBLICATIONS: Excerpts fromUpon That Mountain by Eric Shipton (Hodder,London,1943).ThistitleisnowcollectedintheomnibusEricShipton—TheSixMountainTravelBooks(Diadem,London,andtheMountaineers,Seattle,1995).ReprintedbypermissionofNickShiptonandBâtonWicksPublications,Macclesfield,Cheshire,England.

HAYNESPUBLISHING:ExcerptsfromEverestbyWaltUnsworth.PublishedbyOxfordIllustratedPress,animprintofHaynesPublishing,Sparkford,NrYeovil,Somerset,BA227JJ.Reprintedbypermissionoftheauthorandpublisher.

SIMONANDSCHUSTERANDA.P.WATTLTD:Sixlinesfrom“TheSecondComing”byWilliamButlerYeats,fromTheCollectedWorksofW.B.Yeats,Volume1:ThePoems,revisedandeditedbyRichardJ.Finneran.Copyright©1924byMacmillanPublishingCompany.Copyrightrenewed1952byBerthaGeorgieYeats.ReprintedbypermissionofSimonandSchusterandA.P.WattLtd.onbehalfofMichaelYeats.