HiTop Adventures

Experience Yosemite Like Never Before

2012-01-21T16:29:00.000-08:00

Watch this short (4 mins tops) spectacular video created by two guys, Sheldon and Colin, who dragged heavy, expensive, rented camera equipment to the top of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park, where they spent an entire evening. Then they made more trips to Yosemite before spending a few months editing this gorgeous video. It is breathtaking and beautiful and brought tears to my eyes.

Since it was loaded yesterday, this video by Project Yosemite has gotten over 100,000 hits. The photographers have since received back the money they paid to rent the camera equipment in return for sponsorship.

Turn up the sound.

If you love Yosemite. If you love the mountains. If you just love beautiful places and spectacular scenery, I guarantee you will enjoy this. And I'm not just saying that because Colin is my talented nephew.

Just click on this link: http://vimeo.com/35396305

Other Links:

Colin Delehanty Photography: http://www.colindelehanty.com/
Colin Delehanty on Vimeo: http://vimeo.com/barple

Carstensz Pyramid - My Number 7

2011-11-27T14:25:00.000-08:00

For photos, click here.

I recently returned home from climbing my 7th of the Seven Summits - Carstensz Pyramid. This was supposed to be a straightforward rock climb. It ended up being one of the most grueling adventures of my life and I will never ever do it again.

It was also a pretty darn cool experience and one I will never ever forget. Papua is about as primitive as it gets.

First, a little background: New Guinea is the second largest island in the world after Greenland. It is divided into two parts for political reasons. The separate and free state of Papua New Guinea takes the whole eastern part of the island. The western part belongs to Indonesia and is called Papua (Irian Jaya or Western New Guinea below). Below is a map of Indonesia.

Carstensz Pyramid (Puncak Jaya) is the highest mountain, not only of the New Guinea Island, but also of Oceana. It lies in the Snow Mountains of the Indonesian province, Papua.

When Dick Bass became the first to climb the Seven Summits in 1985, he climbed Kosciuszko (7310'/2228m), the highest mountain in Australia. But many view Australia as part of the larger continent of Oceana, or Australasia, which includes Indonesia and the higher-than-Kosciuszko mountain of Carstensz Pyramid (16,023'/4884m). So now, many Seven Summit climbers top them both.

There are two ways to reach Carstensz base camp - via helicopter or via foot. The helicopter option has been "iffy" in recent years, in that sometimes it just doesn't show up. But there's a mob boss named Frankie who apparently has an exclusive contract to hire helicopters, which he did for a group with Mountain Trip the week before we arrived. We met him in Nabire as they were flying out. And NO he isn't REALLY a mob boss.

We chose to hoof it. Now that I am home with a numb foot, sore knee, and body full of scrapes and bruises, I can honestly report that I had no idea what I was getting into. The one-day rock climb to the summit of Carstensz was fun. The 6-day trek to base camp and 4-day trek out was epic.

The "trek" option appealed to me because I am just as interested in experiencing the landscape and culture as I am in climbing the mountain. This part of the world fascinates me and I was curious to see it. But I admit after having done the trek, which winds up and down over difficult terrain through the jungle, I completely understand climbers who opt for the helicopter. In fact, if Frankie offered to fly us to and from the mountain at no extra cost, this might have been a tough decision for some of us. I am pretty sure all of us would have preferred to be flown OUT of the mountain.

There are roads to a gold mine (Freeport) close to the mountain. However, they are private and using the roads is strictly prohibited. We heard stories of climbers being captured and taken custody at the mine for a number of days.

There are also several "operator" options. The tough logistics of this climb require that you use a local operator. I decided to join a group directly with a local Indonesian company, rather than through a western guided expedition that hires a local operator, because the cost, while still high, is substantially cheaper ($9,000 compared with $18,500).

And whenever anything went wrong, I reminded myself that you get what you pay for.

Our expedition included six climbers - Bruce (from Utah and on Everest with me in 2009), George (Virginia), Brett (England), Ricky (Scotland), John (China), and me.
The original plan was to fly to Timika on the southern part of Papua (see lower red circle in map above). From Timika, we would fly to Ilaga, where we would begin our trek to base camp. However, shortly before our scheduled departure, an upcoming election in Ilaga caused fighting and killing, resulting in our changing our route to Sugapa.

To reach the mountain via the Sugapa route, we met in Bali, from where we took a series of flights overnight to Nabire on the western side of Papua (see left red circle on map).

It was in a restaurant in Nabire that we ran into a group of about twelve German climbers with Kari Kobler's expedition who had just returned from the trek. As we walked into the restaurant, we felt the eyes of the entire group of men looking at us, as if to say, "You are going to get crushed."

To my surprise, Gregor, my buddy from Vinson (see post below), was with this group! It was great running into him. He immediately said that the trek was harder than the climb. Then he told me, but really sort of asked me, "You're tough. Aren't you?"

I looked at the guys around me and thought, "Physically? Not really. Mentally? I must be."

From Nabire, we took a 50 minute flight to Sugapa. We were planning on leaving Nabire at 7:00 am but we were told that "someone" was preventing our flight from leaving until we paid more money. This was the first of many similar encounters and one reason why this mountain carries a hefty price tag.

We took off around 10 am and I don't know what, if anything, was decided or paid. In Sugapa, we met Denny, a popular Carstensz guide who was not our guide but there to help us get started. He and our trekking guide, Steve, spent the day selecting porters from Sugapa.

It seemed everyone in town - men, wives, women, kids, grandparents and uncles - showed up for the porter selection. This was the day I discovered that these people enjoy having their photos taken. What a nice change of pace from almost the entire rest of the world. When I raised my lens, people would jump in front of it and ask that I take their picture.

Our trek to base camp began with a motor cycle ride. So in other words, this was the first day of my being scared to death. My motorcycle driver was wearing a full helmet and he didn't have one for his passenger. For about two seconds, I considered asking him if I could wear his.

I saw the guys hold on to the teeny tiny bars on their seats. I have a little experience riding on the back of a motorcycle and what I learned, other than to always wear a helmet, is that you have to wrap your arms tightly around the driver and connect your hands. So that's what I did whenever I felt him step on the gas a little too much. And I occasionally reminded myself that my driver did need to breathe.

Apparently some people in Sugapa were disappointed at not making the "porter cut," so in retaliation, they staged what we frustratingly referred to as a roadblock, otherwise known as extortion.

A group of people would stand in our way, machetes in hand, and tell us we could not pass until we pay 100 rupiah, or a little over $100. Negotiations ensued with a gallery of spectators standing alongside who occasionally joined in the yelling and screaming, which is what it seemed like to us, since we had no idea what anyone was saying.

I have to admit it was pretty entertaining when all of a sudden a woman from the side would start yelling at the men doing the negotiating. Then she'd walk up to them and let them have it.

We passed the time taking photos while negotiations continued. Eventually our trekking guide, Steve, would hand over some money and we would be on our way. I never knew what Steve actually paid and I never asked (it was included in our $9,000 trip price). Due to nine or twelve roadblocks, it took all day for us to complete the three hour trek to Suanggama.

There are over 300 tribes in Papua. Most of the people we saw are from the Dani Tribe. Despite the fact that Danis were not discovered until 1938, they have become one of the best known tribes in New Guinea.

I thought about the early explorers in Nepal and their encounters with the indigenous people there. How did the Sherpas initially react to the strange westerners in their elaborate clothing? With the thousands of trekkers and climbers visiting the Himalaya every year, things are much different in Nepal today than they were then.

Below is a photo of Ricky with some of the porters in Suanggama.

Some of us slept inside our lead porter's (picture at top) hut in Suanggama and others stayed in tents to escape the cockroaches, rats scurrying along the walls (we think - we only saw the pellets and let our imaginations take over), and puppies living beneath the floor boards where we laid down our mats and sleeping bags.

From Suanggama, we began our trek through the rainforest. It was on the first day that I realized I would be the slowest of our group. As I tried to meet (or not be too far behind) the pace of the guys, I ended up pushing a little too hard. That, combined with not drinking enough fluids in the intense heat and humidity, just about did me in. I was dripping with sweat and when I stopped, I felt my heart continue to beat rapidly for longer than usual.

This was my wake-up call to stop, drink some water, wait for my heart rate to settle down, and then continue the trek on my own terms. I knew I could not and should not try to walk as fast as the guys, so my best bet was to move at my own pace and take care of myself so that I could reach camp in a decent mood after all the tents are up. Nobody likes a cranky trekker.

I also had other issues. My hands had deep cuts in them from not wearing gloves with my trekking poles and the back of my knee ached. For the rest of the trip, I had gross looking cuts on my hands, plastered with mud, and every day I limped around camp after the trek and in the morning before the trek. Once I started walking, the pain would eventually go away. I may have looked like a mess but I knew I would be able to make it.

So that was pretty much how the rest of the trek went. We would hit the trail around 8:30 am. If the guys reached camp at 1 pm, I would come stumbling in at 3 pm. The first two days were hot, wet and muddy, and the trail was sometimes difficult to follow as we made our way across slippery logs and rocks and climbed over muddy trees and branches. After that, the heat and humidity subsided a bit while we gained altitude. The terrain was up and down and up and down. Sometimes a simple step would turn into a foot stuck in the mud up to your knees, which is why we wore rain boots.

The problem with reaching camp last was I had more opportunity to get stuck walking in the pouring rain. More importantly, on sunny afternoons, I had less time to wash the mud off my clothes and dry them in the sun. Admittedly, I failed to take good care of my muddy clothes, regardless of how late I arrived at camp. As we continued, my bag grew heavier as I stuffed it with muddy and wet clothes. Not a recommended strategy.

I also got lost a few times and getting lost alone in the Papuan rainforest is not what I would call fun or adventurous. NOW, at home in my office sitting at my computer... it was adventurous. THEN... it was scary.

I just re-read some of the above and I sound pretty pathetic. So I will add that the guys did assure me that they also experienced challenges on this trek. Some of them got painful blisters on their feet and weird bug bites, both of which I managed to avoid.

Throughout the trek we wondered aloud how many days it would take to get to base camp. Our trekking guide had done the Ilaga trek three times but never this Sugapa trek. He told us one thing and another guide, named Brury, from another expedition told us something else. Over time, we trusted what Brury told us - it takes (and it took) six days to reach base camp from Sugapa.

Many of the porters who carried our gear brought along their wives and children. I was told each porter was paid about $100 per day. Their feet had never seen the soles of shoes in their lives. I watched in awe as they effortlessly moved along the trail carrying our bags, as well as their own. I brought some extra food and clothing, as well as a couple of cameras, so I knew my bag was a little heavier than the 17 kilos maximum. After one day of guilt I started giving my extra food to my porter, something I would regret by the time we reached base camp when it was clear I needed the food more than he did.

Each day the porters would cram beneath a huge tarp, build a fire and smoke cigarettes. Not surprisingly, there are no fire code regulations in Papua. One day I stood outside the entrance and coughed uncontrollably from all the smoke.

At camp 2 we made the mistake of setting up our tents next to the porter tarp. That night we listened to them talk until midnight. Then it was just two women who talked until 3 am. I think they were at opposite ends of the shelter because it was pretty high volume and ear plugs were not enough.

I had read that the porters often stage a strike just before moving to base camp. Thankfully our porters did not strike.

Every day I gave my porter some food, partly because I had too much, but also because I wanted to make him happy. One day he kept pointing to my hands and then his hands and then to my hands again. So I gave him a pair of gloves, which seemed to be what he wanted. I later learned I shouldn't give the porters gloves because wearing gloves will weaken their hands and make it harder for them once the gloves have been trashed and burned.

Another day my porter watched me put on sunscreen and gestured that he would like some as well. By then I had pretty much figured things out.

On day 6 of our trek, we reached base camp at about 14,000 feet. Base camp sits next to a beautiful aqua colored pond. There we met our climbing guide, Hatta. He had been at camp for several weeks, guiding other groups up Carstensz. The plan was for us to leave for the summit at 1:30 am. So we prepared our gear, ate dinner, and did our best to sleep (I did not sleep) before leaving camp for the mountain.

When we were all up, ready to go, we noticed our trekking guide, Steve, and our cook, Joko, also suited up for the climb. We were all a little surprised, as Steve moved slowly during the trek. We suspected that he had been sick and didn't want to tell us.

Hatta started walking to the mountain and I knew I would be lagging behind once again. This worried me because as in the trek, I would be alone unless I slowed down enough to climb with Steve and Joko. But Brett kindly offered to go with me. When we reached the mountain, we did lose the trail at one point but we were able to finally catch up to the guys when they reached the fixed line and began to climb up the rock.

Being one of the Seven Summits, Carstensz is a popular mountain to climb. So there are ropes fixed on most of the route. We clipped into the rope using an ascender. Often it would get stuck and you would have to bend down and pull it up along the rope. But having a fixed line generally keeps climbers moving and alleviates bottlenecks.

From a rock climbing perspective, it is about a 5.6, maybe 5.7 climb to the top. We wore alpine climbing boots and carried or wore gortex. The only time I felt nervous was along the ridge at the top where there are a couple of tricky moves, requiring you to reach or step across wide gaps of open air to move to the next section of rock. There was little about the rope that we were clipped into that made me feel safe. It looked old and frayed.

There is also an 80 foot gap with a cable extended across it called the Tyrolean Traverse. Brett and I watched as George clipped into the cable, hung upside down, head first, and made his way across the traverse as Hatta pulled the rope. Then I went, followed by Brett. I was surprised at how easy the traverse was, especially because as I pulled myself along the line, Hatta also pulled so hard that I sailed across in seconds.

Soon after that, on the morning of November 2, 2011, we reached the summit and took a series of photos. I started down behind the other guys but Brett stayed on top with Hatta, waiting for Steve and Joko. In retrospect, I should have also stayed with them because I ended up losing the guys. Once Brett decided to descend, he went ahead of Steve, Joko and Hatta and met me at the Tyrolean Traverse, where I had been waiting for almost an hour - no way I was going to cross that by myself.

The descent was an uneventful series of rappels that painfully reminded me that my hands were full of cuts and scrapes.

Once we were back at base camp, Brett said Joko and Steve had a series of banners with them on the summit, including one that he pulled out of his backpack that read, "Congratulations Megan... Brett... Ricky... etc. on Carstensz Pyramid..." I guess we were supposed to take a picture with this banner on the summit! We all thought that was funny and ended up posing behind the banner later at the airport.

With the climb finally done and behind us, it was time to begin the grueling trek out of base camp and back to Sugapa. This we would do in four, not six, days. Although we were descending in altitude, it was still a long tough trek out with two very long days in the middle. We would be walking the equivalent distance of four days in just two days during the trek out. My concern was that I would find myself alone at the end of the day, possibly at night, trying to find the trail using my headlamp. So on those two long days, I made sure somebody went with me.

During the trek in, Joko hiked with Steve and they always reached camp hours behind even me. But I knew that Joko was a pretty fast walker, faster than me anyway. So I asked him if he would walk with me. My thinking was that our trekking guide could walk alone. Seemed reasonable to me.

This ended up being a good plan on day 2 of the trek out, when we walked from camp 4 to camp 2 and lost daylight at around 5:30 pm. Walking in the jungle with a headlamp triples the time it would normally take in daylight. Every step becomes a big question mark. Is that solid ground or loose branches covering a big drop? Am I grabbing onto a rock or a leaf? I was very hesitant. Too hesitant. I'd sustained some uncomfortable injuries throughout the trek, but nothing earth shattering. A sprained ankle or twisted knee could substantially slow anyone down. I was paranoid. But we made it into camp around 7 pm. The guys had been there since 4 pm and mentioned how long their day was - 8 hours. I sat there and thought, "11 hours. Yikes."

The next day didn't go quite so well (as if the previous day did?). Joko and I got off to an early start - 7:30 am. You might expect it to be a faster hike out since we were going downhill most of the time. But it was almost harder to descend in the mud and wet rocks than it was to ascend. It ended up being 2pm by the time we reached camp 1 and we still had to go all the way to Suanggama (our Day 1 trek in).

The "trouble" began at around 4 pm. Joko and I descended onto the river and were searching for the trail when suddenly I noticed Joko disappear into the jungle. As I struggled to catch up to him, walking through terrain thick with branches and long stems with thorns that dug into my clothes, I thought, "This can't be right." I called after him as he continued on. Then Joko vanished.

This was not funny (no joko). I was standing in thick brush with no idea where to go. There wasn't a trail or Joko anywhere to be found. I stood there for twenty, maybe thirty, minutes yelling Joko's name. Why wasn’t he answering me? Was he hurt? I contemplated my next move, which would be to walk back down to the river and search for a trail.

Or cry hysterically.

Then Joko reappeared. I was relieved and happy to see him, but I was also mad and I screamed at him, "Do not leave me alone!" He looked at me with wild eyes, pointing to his head, and yelled something I didn't understand. We made our way back to the river where we searched again for the trail. I was tremendously relieved once we found it and got back on track.

About ten minutes later we ran into Steve. He'd passed us when we went on our little excursion. I was happy to see him and hoped he would walk the rest of the way to Suanggama with us. I asked Steve what Joko was trying to tell me when he pointed at his head. Steve talked to Joko and told me that Joko was having hallucinations.

Oh that's all? Joko went loco? How comforting in the middle of the Papuan rainforest.

Poor Joko felt terrible. He kept apologizing to me, blaming himself for what we now knew would happen - we would once again get stuck walking in the dark. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. If I had walked faster, we would have been at camp earlier. I was thankful to have Joko with me. My reaction was to put the past behind us and move on. Really. We had to move.

Joko nervously quickened his pace and had to frequently wait for me. We lost Steve within the first ten minutes. That was disappointing, as I felt much safer with both Steve and Joko, especially after the "loco" incident. It took us four hours to do what probably would have taken an hour and a half in daylight. We finally reached camp around 9 pm with the help of the guys shining their headlamps for us to follow. I was never so happy to see them. Steve arrived at 1 am.

From Suanggama, it was another night in the porter's hut and trek to Sugapa, including a helmet-free motorcycle ride, which by this time, after all that we'd been through, did not scare me one bit. In fact, I couldn't get on the back of that motorcycle fast enough.

We had all lost weight. The food during the trek severely lacked protein. But we were also burning calories like nobody's business. To this day I still weigh seven pounds less than I did before the trek.

I think it was on day 2 of the trek in when the guys started fantasizing about eating Whoppers. On every mountain climbing trip I have been on, there are multiple discussions about the food we miss most and nine times out of ten, that food is fast and fatty. The first thing we did when we arrived in Bali was go to Burger King. You could have heard a pin drop while we devoured our Whoppers.

After the climb, we reflected back on our trip. Yes, it was grueling and tough but was it really HARDER than Denali or Aconcagua or other mountains (not Everest, that was definitely the toughest for me), especially those that require us to actually CARRY our own gear? We had PORTERS. The altitude was not THAT extreme. This was a remote, primitive, fascinating and beautiful place with all the makings of a true adventure.

Now that it is over and I am safe at home, I couldn't imagine skipping the trek and taking a helicopter to base camp. While scenic and exciting, the helicopter option seems to miss 90% of the experience, good and bad. Despite all my scrapes and bruises, sore knee, swollen feet and ankles, and numb foot (that is still numb today and apparently will take weeks, maybe months, to heal), I am thrilled to have had this amazing experience. The group was fantastic, we were successful, the cost was manageable, and I got to see a little bit of Papua.

What was it about Carstensz that made it so tough but in a different, almost indescribable way?

I think George put it best when he asked, "Of all the mountains you've climbed, which one would you NEVER do again?"

It was unanimous. But it wasn't the mountain. It was the trek. You really REALLY only want to do it once.

This roadblock lasted over an hour and prevented us from leaving Sugapa until the next morning. One of the motorcycle riders turned on some music, which I thought fit the mood. Try to ignore the dirty lens that I forgot to clean.

Click Seven Summits for the latest statistics.

On Vinson

2011-01-03T05:28:00.000-08:00

To see photos, click on this link - Photos.

Antarctica. This was absolutely a trip worth taking. Where else can you be on a land mass twice the size of Australia and a mile deep in ice, with a mountain range on top? The weather could have been better up at high camp when we arrived on Dec 19th and waited a week before it calmed down enough for us to go for the summit on Dec 26th. But other than that, or perhaps because of that, it was a fantastic trip.

Here´s a brief summary.

After arriving in Punta Arenas, the southern-most city in Chile, we checked our gear and found a few items worthy of purchasing. For me, it was bigger and darker goggles that covered half my face (see above photo taken by Mike Horst). At the time, how was I to know my new, rainbow reflective, Darth-Vader-like goggles would only be used for shoveling and not for climbing?

Our trip to the coldest, windiest and driest continent on earth started out with luck on our side. On Dec 16th, as planned, we boarded the great Russian Ilyushin 76 Cargo Jet, full of roughly 80 passengers and gear, and flew five hours to the blue-ice runway at Union Glacier. The Soviet Union developed the jet cargo lifter in the 1960´s for military and civil service. With this magnificent machine came the Russian crew.

A blue-ice runway is a runway with no net annual snow accumulation so that the ice surface is capable of supporting aircraft landings using wheels instead of skis. This makes transferring materials to research stations simpler, since wheeled aircraft can carry much heavier loads than those which are ski-equipped.

Union Glacier, located about 680 miles from the South Pole, recently opened in November, 2010, after over four years of planning and research. More than twenty years ago, Adventure Network International (ANI) made history by establishing a blue-ice runway at Patriot Hills, located roughly 42 miles from Union Glacier. The new runway at Union Glacier has better flight reliability and is used by them to land passenger planes from South America.

As anticipated, Antarctica greeted us with a strong wind, which is why everyone wears down clothing and climbing boots on the plane. The temperatures reach a minimum of between -112 °F and -130 °F (-80 °C and -90 °C ) in the interior in winter and vary between -22 °F and 41 °F (-30 °C and +5 °C ) in summer.

Although windy, the weather was clear and within a few hours after arriving at Union Glacier, we boarded a Twin Otter (jokingly or fondly or seriously referred to as a "Twotter" by our clever co-pilot) for a one hour flight to an area close to base camp and then boarded another plane for a 5 minute flight to Vinson base camp (7000´/2100m). Both of these more wusy planes landed on skis.

The next day, Dec 17th, we packed our gear and moved up to low camp (9100´/2800m). Despite the moderate slopes, it was a tough day because we carried 30 to 35 pound packs and hauled sleds loaded with another 30 to 35 pounds of gear each. The climb up Vinson is often accurately described as similar to the lower part of Denali. We reached camp after about five hours.

We took a rest day on the following day. There are 24 hours of daylight on Antarctica this time of year, so sleep didn´t come easy for me at first. As on Everest, I came prepared with my BFF, Ambien.

We moved up to high camp (12,700´/3900m) on Dec 19th. This climb includes almost 3000 feet of fixed lines up a 45 degree slope while carrying heavy packs. Just as we started to ascend the fixed lines with another group from Mountain Trip, the Russian team, led by Alex Abramov, rushed ahead of us off the fixed line, hooked into the line directly above us, and then promptly stopped to take photos (and likely catch their collective breath). Some climbers may have been irritated but I think most of us were amused.

Michael Horst, our guide, had previously led a group of five clients, including my Everest 2009 teammate, Kyomi Takiguchi. The team also included our Everest 2009 guide, Hiro Kuraoka. They left enough food and fuel at high camp to last Michael, Gregor and me several days, so we were able to do a single move to high camp, rather than make a carry and then a move.

The slope was moderate at the top of the fixed lines but the wind slowly kicked in and it got much colder as we moved closer to camp.

Once we reached high camp, we were thinking this was going to be a short trip and that possibly we could be home for Christmas. From there, we only needed a day to reach the summit and back. But because the altitude in Antarctica is deceiving - 12,700 feet feels more like 14,413 feet - we decided to take a day to acclimatize before heading for the summit. Things were looking up.

Meanwhile, down at base camp, there´s this guy named Joey who broadcasts the weather forecast three times per day - at noon (sometimes), at 7pm, and then again at 9:30pm. The forecast he provides is for the current day and the following two days and it includes temperature and wind speeds at base camp, low camp, high camp, and the summit.

I was beginning to learn what "knots" meant. One knot equals 1.15 miles per hour.

On Dec 20th, our acclimatization day, the weather was breezy, maybe 15 knot winds, and cold, about -24 Celcius. In the Beaufort wind scale, this is described as "moderate breeze raises dust and loose paper; small branches are moved."

Joey´s forecast included deteriorating weather with 30 to 35 knot winds for the following two days at high camp and the summit. In the Beaufort wind scale, this translates to "moderate gale, whole trees in motion; inconvenience in walking against wind."

We knew we had enough good food (salmon, chicken and pasta) for a few days. After that we had enough Top Ramon and chicken bits to last several days. Our bottle of soy sauce, the only reason I can stomach Top Ramon, was nearly empty, so I mentally prepared myself to either eat Top Ramon anyway or take the soy sauce when Michael and Gregor weren't looking.

Most of the teams carried loads to high camp and then descended back to low camp. The photo above is of the Russians beginning their descent. That's Mount Shinn in the background. The three of us, a Japanese climber with two ALE guides, and an elderly astronomer (coincidentally from Palo Alto, close to me) with his ALE Sherpa guide, were the only climbers to remain at high camp.

Despite the deteriorating weather forecast, we still considered ourselves lucky to be able to make it to high camp in one move and be ready for an immediate ascent to the summit once the weather cleared.

Each day we huddled in our kitchen tent and listened to Joey report the forecast, anxiously waiting for news of that second day. The Dec 21st forecast for Dec 23rd called for increasing winds up to 40 knots at high camp. That was a bummer but we held out hope that we could go to the summit before Christmas.

And then on Dec 22nd, the Dec 24th forecast called for increasing winds up to 45 knots. In the Beaufort wind scale, this means "fresh gale breaks twigs off trees; generally impedes progress." It ended up being our windiest and coldest day, reaching -30 Celsius (please don't ask me about the conversion... because I have to look it up). Despite my -20F North Face down sleeping bag with all sorts of ways to close the top around my neck like a choker, I did wake up shivering a few times that week.

Joey??!!! Jo. EEE!!!!

Below is a picture of high camp. The blue and white striped tent is our kitchen tent. I know it looks calm but I do have some very frightening video to post as well. ; )

To make matters worse, the tent Gregor and I put up was nestled in the corner of two snow walls. While there was little snowfall during the storm, the strong winds moved snow into the two pockets of space between the snow walls and our tent. In the morning of Dec 24th, we woke to a nearly collapsing tent. The two of us crawled out, found shovels, and started digging. It was difficult to see anything as our goggles fogged up and the wind seemed to pick up new snow to fill the spaces we just cleared with our shovels. Out of desperation, we did what any good "client" would do. We woke up Michael.

I think the wind actually reached 50 knots because the Beaufort wind scale for this level more accurately reflects what seemed to be happening - "strong gale, slight structural damage occurs; chimney pots and slates removed."

I know you already know this but when you shovel, you are not supposed to hit the sides of the tent with the shovel because this can easily put a hole in the fly of the tent. Worse, it could penetrate the fly and hit the tent itself. So you shovel around the perimeter of the tent and then use your arms and hands to pull the snow off of the tent.

It seemed every time I pitched snow out with my shovel, a fresh batch would promptly blow in and cover my hard work. Needless to say, Gregor made more progress than I did. However, each of us were guilty of putting maybe a tiny dent into the fly of the tent.

Although Dec 24th was the worst day for weather, there was some good news - the forecast for Dec 26th was for 15 knot winds and clear skies. This news also made for a pretty decent Christmas at high camp.

But there was more. Michael thoughtfully gave Gregor and me gifts on Christmas morning. Gregor got gloves. I got (OMG) toilet paper. I'd spent the previous few days asking pretty much everyone at high camp if they had some squares to spare and from what Michael told me, Alex Abramov, leader of the Russian/Ukrainian team, gave him a roll before his team descended back to low camp. It was THE BEST Christmas present evahhhh.

Christmas was another windy day at camp, but slightly less than the day before. We continued to hear the wind throughout the night and if you asked any of us at 3am on Dec 26th whether we would be going for the summit that day, we would have said no. But oddly, the wind died down and we woke to a beautiful, patchy sunny and wind-less day. We left for the summit sometime after 9am that morning.

It is about a 4 mile / 3000 foot gain to reach the summit (16,049´/ 4892m) of Vinson from high camp. It is worth mentioning here that the first ascent of Vinson was performed by a combined group from the American Alpine Club and the National Science Foundation in 1966.

Summit day was spectacular but I have to admit, all that sitting around made me feel a little weak, despite our lengthy acclimatization at high camp. We slowly made progress toward the summit, stopping frequently to take photos and just enjoy the day. The Japanese climber and his two guides veered right and went the faster, more direct, slightly steeper route to the top. We took a longer route that brought us to the beautiful summit ridge, where we walked another 45 minutes to the top. The astronomer and his Sherpa took the same route but finished hours after we did. It didn't matter. They had all day and night. With just eight of us up there, it was awesome to have the mountain to ourselves. We didn't pay much attention to the time but we think we left sometime after 9am and reached the summit around 3pm.

From the summit, we could see neighboring mountains Shinn (15,311') and Gardner (15,049') and a multitude of other unexplored peaks that reached out as far as the eye could see.

After a lengthy stay at top, we headed back to high camp, where the climbers who spent the previous week at low camp were arriving. There was some discussion about possibly descending all the way to low camp, but we decided that would make for an unusually long and tough day. Why ruin it? So we left the next day, Dec 27th.

Descending the fixed lines with a heavy pack really tested my leg strength, which I concluded was not very good. I felt the effect whenever I stood up over the next few days.

When we reached base camp, a man was standing there taking several photos of us. He turned out to be Anatoli, a member of the Russian team who'd hurt himself at the beginning of the climb and had to stay at base camp for the entire two weeks! We started to take photos of him but he stopped us so that he could take his jacket off. Then he took off another layer, and another. Next thing I know all shirts were off on Antarctica. It looks sunny and warm but it is NOT!

Do you believe these guys? We later learned that Anatoli has climbed several mountains and set records for lifting the most weight on the summit. So, for example, on Aconcagua, a porter carried a heavy weight to the summit and when there, Anatoli lifted it above his head. Yes. You read me right.

We celebrated with a bottle of whiskey and the boys smoked cigarillos, which enticed Alex over to our camp, even though he told us he'd quit smoking. Alex and his group, including Lena, the first Ukrainian woman to reach the summit of Vinson, descended all the way down to base camp directly from the summit. They said they were inspired to descend as quickly as possible because they had vodka waiting for them at camp. That was a shocker.

The climbers from Mountain Trip and the other groups arrived at camp the next day. We were told that although Joey reported heavy winds at low camp for the week, the actual camp was wind protected. I was still glad we stayed at high camp and got to enjoy a beautiful and quiet summit day. There's also something about enduring those heavy winds, Top Ramon meals, toiletry bags, and mad shoveling that made reaching the summit even more special.

From Punta Arenas to Union Glacier

2010-12-16T05:00:00.001-08:00

Follow Our Climb - Alpine Ascents Cybercast

If you haven´t already checked, Brien Sheedy left a couple of updates on the Alpine Ascents cybercast. Gregor and I were sitting right there with Brien as he wrote some crazy story about how I insisted on going to the bar after a hard day of shopping. I´m not sure where that came from. (ooh, actually I see it hasn´t posted yet).

It´s been an unusually quick couple of days in that we are now waiting to be picked up by ALE and driven to our plane to fly to Union Glacier. Climbers sometimes wait several days before the weather is clear enough for this flight.

Yesterday we had a briefing by ALE and got a look at all the other Vinson climbers and South Pole skiiers. There´s a large group of Koreans who are jet skiing to the Pole. There´s a guy named Richard Park who is attempting to do the Seven Summits and both Poles in Seven months (Peaks and Poles). This is the first climb of his journey. Based on his accent, I think he´s from the UK.

It´s about a five hour flight to Union Glacier. We´re all dressed and ready for extremely cold weather. Gregor and I are hoping our luck with the weather continues but it´s more cautious optimism because we know it can change in the blink of an eye.

Check out the cybercasts from Alpine Ascents from now on and enjoy the adventure.

PS I just did spell check and remembered I am in Chile.

Vinson

2010-12-12T06:25:00.000-08:00

Follow Our Climb - Alpine Ascents Cybercast

Antarctica - Weather

Punta Arenas, Chile - Weather

Something I Have No Desire to Do in Antarctica

Tomorrow I am leaving for Antarctica to climb Mount Vinson. This will be my sixth of the 8 Seven Summits. If you're confused by the "8" in 8 Seven Summits, click here for an explanation.

And if you are perplexed by my sudden interest in climbing them, that's understandable because many people know that until recently, it was never a goal of mine. In fact, I always considered it a ridiculously costly pursuit. From a climbing perspective, there are plenty of beautiful and challenging mountains, free of "Seven Summit crowds," that don't carry the exorbitant price tag of a Vinson or an Everest. But after climbing Everest and having just two to go to make seven, I figured what the heck. My interest is in both traveling and climbing and from what I hear, a trip to Antarctica is a trip of a lifetime, so I'm very excited about this climb.

Are you into statistics? The only site I know of that tracks the number of climbers who have climbed the Seven is 7summits.com.

Our operator is Alpine Ascents, the owner of the photo up top and the guide company I joined in 2003 on Aconcagua. Surprisingly, there are just three of us on this adventure - a guide named Michael Horst, a German man named Gregor, and me. I am not tech savvy enough to be able to blog from the area, but if you want to follow our progress, Alpine Ascents does keep a cybercast that will provide updates. To follow, click here, and feel free to post comments on this blog post. It looks like we are Team 3.

I was told that the team just before ours consists of a group of Japanese climbers. So I checked out the names and smiled when I found two that I recognized from Everest 2009 - Hiro Kuraoka, an exceptionally strong and talented guide who takes fabulous photos (see my Everest 2009 photo gallery - all of the good ones are his), and Kiyomi Takiguchi. Kiyomi, Billi Bierling and I were the only women on our team of 28 on Everest.

Itinerary

Mount Vinson (16,067ft/4,897m), located 600 miles from the South Pole and 1,200 miles from the northern tip of the Antarctic Peninsula, is the highest peak on the Antarctic continent. Vinson is part of the Ellsworth Mountains, which rise majestically from the Ronne Ice Shelf.

Below is a map that I pilfered, along with the paragraph above, from the Alpine Ascents website. We're meeting in Punta Arenas on the southern tip of Chile. From there we will wait for good weather before flying south for five hours to the expansive Union Glacier (this camp replaces the Patriot Hills camp). There, we wait again for good weather before making the one hour and 15 minute flight to Vinson Base Camp on the Branscomb Glacier (7,000 feet).

From Vinson Base Camp, we load up our sleds and packs (about 30-35 lbs. for each) and establish two or three camps before making our final summit attempt.

In technical terms, the climb of Vinson is considered moderate, but cold temperatures (minus 20-30 degrees Fahrenheit) and strong winds increase the challenge. Climbers typically wait several days for good weather, which is why we allow three weeks for the 4-day climb. There is usually 24 hours of daylight and less than 18 inches of snow this time of year - summer.

From what I hear, the view from the summit promises to be beautiful, vast, spectacular, expansive, stunning and every word you can think of that means exceptionally awesome... much better than our view from the summit of Everest on May 23, 2009. Well, my rooftop in Suisun Valley has a better view than that.

I'm not thrilled about being gone for the holidays, but this is the climbing season in Antarctica.

So to my family, friends, blog readers, and Corptax colleagues and clients, I wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I hope you enjoy following our adventure. Come back next year for a trip summary and photos!

PS - I realize Santa lives at the North Pole but perhaps he'll guide his sleigh down south. "On Dancer! On Prancer! On Donner! On VINSON!!!!"

A Couple of Good Causes

2010-11-27T11:24:00.000-08:00

I want to point you to a couple of "climber" websites raising funds for important causes NOW:

First, Alan Arnette's website and blog. Why should you click on those links? Alan, who is an advocate for Alzheimer's research, is currently embarking on a campaign to climb the Seven Summits and at the same time, raise funds for Alzheimer's. His first climb is Vinson. That's a cool mountain because it is located in Antarctica. It's even cooler (actually it's freezing) because I will be there in a couple of weeks. So let's all read up on Antarctica and the climb of Vinson. And let's help Alan raise money for his charity. All donations go to Alzheimer's. Alan is spending his own money to fund his climbs.

Next important link - Friends of Humanity. Russell Brice is one of the co-founders of this charity. His lead Sherpa, Phurba Tashi, and others, are raising $55,000 to build a Cultural and Heritage Centre in the Khumjung Village of Nepal. Due to the precipitous increase in tourists and Western influence in Nepal, the local Sherpa people have become concerned that their history and culture are being diluted. The new Centre will help preserve their culture and customs. The agency for collecting funds on behalf of the Khumjung Cultural and Heritage Centre is Friends of Humanity. Please visit the website for more information and to make a donation. Send Russ an email at info@himex.com to let him know that you are making a contribution.

Thank you!

Lhakpa Gelu

2010-10-18T21:12:00.000-07:00

LHAKPA GELU DOT NET

My latest website creation is done - http://www.lhakpagelu.net/ (woo hoo!!!). Go there now.

Lhakpa Gelu has done some remarkable things in his life. Getting to the top of Everest 14 times and setting a speed record by going from Everest Base Camp to the summit in under 11 hours are just a couple. I think he would argue that his greatest accomplishment so far was watching his son, Ang Dawa, get a high school diploma.

Lhakpa Gelu is passionate about education. To that end, he started the Lhakpa Gelu Foundation, an organization that is raising funds to pay for three English teachers in LG's home town of Kharikola, located in the Khumbu Valley, the gateway to Mount Everest.

I first met LG in 2007 at LAX when he and Apa Sherpa (most summits of Everest - 20) were flying to Kathmandu from Salt Lake City. Our Everest team hired their company, World Records Expeditions and Treks, for our Everest 2007 expedition.

My impression of Lhakpa Gelu was not unlike what most people say of the Nepalese in general - sweet, happy, with sparkling eyes and a quiet voice. But the guy is an animal on the mountain and I'll leave it at that.

The great Lhakpa Gelu is one of the most well-liked and respected Sherpas in Nepal. Visit his website and read more about him.

The photo above is of me sandwiched between the two celebs, Apa and Lhakpa Gelu, at LAX. Some people like to have their photos taken with famous politicians and actors. I like to be photographed with these guys.

And the photo that is the banner of this blog? That is Lama Jangbu, Lhakpa Gelu's older brother who was our Sherpa on Everest in 2007.

FOX Everest

2010-09-03T18:00:00.000-07:00

When I am bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do, I create websites for people. I've only created three, so I think that's a good indication that I'm not bored often. The three I've created are my own, a website for my brother-in-law because his art is amazing and needs to be seen (Will Thoms Art), and one for my friend and co-climber on Everest in 2009, Lance Fox.

Lance is a veterinarian from Wisconsin who gives me free dog advice. So I designed a website and blog for him in one of my web design courses last semester. Actually I should add that while the site design was free, he did send me a care package with all sorts of goodies, including a styrofoam cheese wedge hat that I wear all the time.

While he was in Nepal, Lance didn't just climb Everest and drive Russell Brice nuts with all his blogging and videoing, he also laughed more than anyone on the team (I think he did.. well I know he laughed more than I did) and worked with our lead Sherpa, Phurba, to de-worm his yaks. If you've been trekking in Nepal, then you know how much the people in the Himalaya rely on yaks. You can learn more if you check out the website.

Lance is raising funds for a return trip to Nepal to continue his work de-worming the yaks. He is also a motivational speaker and is currently writing a book called, "No Place but UP!"

I had a blast creating his site and am already working on another for Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa. More on that later. And no I am not bored, I was just kidding about all that. I'm now very excited about helping LG get two sites up and running.

For now, visit Fox Everest and Lance's Blog. And many many thanks to John Black, Hiro Kuraoka and everyone who contributed photos to the site.

Cycling Alaska

2010-08-11T20:20:00.000-07:00

I recently heard on the radio that flossing everyday will add five years to your life. I'm perplexed. My dentist tells me it's important... but five years?

Before heading back to work fulltime after being an independent contractor and traveling like crazy for five years (another way to add years to your life, although climbing Everest twice probably wiped that out), I joined a weeklong Backroads bike trip in Alaska. It was a last-minute decision, booked a month before departure. I very very badly rode my bike just once within the last six months to prepare, so there was some saddle soreness happening, but still lots of fun bike riding.

If you are considering cycling in Alaska, I highly recommend it. Despite the 21 mile, 3,250 elevation gain in pouring rain on our first day, it was a beautiful place to ride many miles. We also had quite a group of strong, inspirational 60-somethings that could kick serious u-no-what up those hills.

I pledge to not let another six months go before my next ride. In fact, I've already ridden once since getting back and I'm signed up for the Tour of Napa.

This is more of a photo diary - for photos and details, click here.

Tough Stuff

2010-07-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

We all know that mountain climbing is a dangerous endeavor. Just about every mountain guide and avid climber I know has lost a friend on the mountain. Some have lost several friends, as well as family members.

My involvement in this sport is limited to one, maybe two, big trips per year, with the exception of 2005/2006, when I left my job at Clorox and traveled for a year. Since I began pursuing high altitude treks and climbs in 1999, I have never known anyone who has gotten hurt, let alone killed on any mountain... until recently.

In the past few months, three climbers whom I have come across over the years were killed on the mountains. I only knew each of them for a brief time, which is the way it goes on expeditions and climbs far away from home. We spend a good deal of time together in a short period and then go our separate ways, hoping to meet again but knowing we probably won't.

On February 15, 2010, Joe Bohlig, 52, fell from the crater wall on the top of Mount St. Helens. When he and his friend got to the top, Joe stepped back to pose for his 69th summit photo. Suddenly the cornice broke beneath him and he plunged 1,500 feet into the crater.

Joe's accident brings to mind a similar fatal misstep. Babu Chiri Sherpa climbed to the summit of Everest ten times and in 1999 became the first person to spend the night on the summit without using supplemental oxygen. Then on April 29, 2001, while on Camp 2 on Everest, he stepped out, apparently to take a photograph, when the ground beneath him broke and he fell to his death in a crevasse.

Mount St. Helens is not known as a difficult mountain to hike and deaths are rare. Camp 2 on the south side of Everest is so large and expansive that it almost resembles base camp. That these places seem safe makes them much more dangerous. These tragic accidents remind us to be on alert and keep up our guard always.

When I met Joe on Aconcagua in 2006, he talked incessantly about his love of climbing Mount St. Helens. Mountaineering was clearly a sport he enjoyed and Aconcagua was the start of higher and more international climbs for him. On and off the mountain, his eyes literally sparkled and I don't think he ever stopped smiling.

In an Oregon Live article, I read this about Joe:

Bohlig's sister, Catherine Munden of Lewiston, Idaho, said Tuesday evening that her brother, who worked for Weyerhaeuser, "was my best friend."

"He was just a great guy," she said.

She said Bohlig was an avid and experienced mountain climber who had just returned from scaling three mountains in Ecuador earlier this month. He also has climbed Argentina's Cerro Aconcagua, one of the tallest mountains in the Americas, without oxygen.

Bohlig had lost a son, Michael, who was 18 at the time, in an auto accident in Germany 14 years ago, but Munden said her brother "was always very positive. ..." "If he had to go, I mean, he went doing what he loved," she said. "He always knew that was a possibility. I think that we're all just grateful that it happened near home, not somewhere in a foreign country."

Click here to read more about Joe's passion for climbing and the accident that took his life.

On March 30, 2010, Heidi Kloos, 41, was killed close to her home in Colorado when an avalanche struck as she was skiing in to take a look at a new ice climbing route on Mt. Blady. Heidi was one of a handful of American women to become an American Alpine Guide Association (AMGA) certified alpine guide. If you don't know what that is, consider it the Harvard PHD of alpine guiding in the US.

In 2008, Heidi was my ice climbing instructor in Ouray, Colorado, where we spent just two days together. From what I could tell in that short time, she was an incredibly strong woman, in both sport and spirit. When she told me she would only attempt Everest in Nepal, not China, and without supplemental oxygen, I told her I admired her convictions but joked that I apparently didn't have any. She spent the next two days pointing out my convictions.

Heidi climbed for a living and loved it. The understatement of the year is that she was strong. I admired her immensely. She only seemed to care that I learned what I came there to learn and enjoyed doing it. I did.

When I told her I was done climbing and that she should have a turn on the ice, she seemed somewhat surprised but elated. I took photos of her scaling a wall in minutes that would have taken me hours if I had even dared to attempt it. She intentionally chose a circuitous and difficult route to show me techniques.

Then I told her she should find another color for her jacket because black does not photograph well. I got the expected look and chuckle.

What I love about most mountain guides, Heidi especially, is that they climb year round and have been everywhere multiple times, and yet they still are excited for those of us who finally reach the summit of Aconcagua or get a chance on Everest. Even though Heidi's climbing objectives were far more ambitious than mine and she could probably carry me up the Lhotse Face on her back, she still wanted me to reach my goal of climbing Everest with supplemental oxygen on whatever route I tried.

Here are some excerpts from an article in Rock and Ice Magazine:

“She was not so much about summitting,” said close friend Sherri Silvera. “She was completely about being in the mountains. It didn’t matter if you were a great climber; she had just as much fun with anyone who was pushing their physical limits."

Most recently, Kloos had been inspired by her work guiding disabled veterans on the slopes of Denali. The program is run by the Telluride Adaptive Sports Program in conjunction with Mountain Trip, for whom Kloos was a regular guide; she had been looking forward to returning to Denali with TASP this summer.

In addition to her love of mountains, Kloos was known as a strong horsewoman and lover of animals. “There wasn’t an animal that she couldn’t befriend, I think,” said Irene Kloos. “She just loved animals.”

Kloos’ brother Eddie passed away in a kayaking accident in 1996, and her fiancé, climber Dave Bridges, was killed in an avalanche in Tibet with Alex Lowe in 1999. Kloos’ father, longtime ski patroller at Snowmass Mountain, died in January 2010. Kloos leaves behind her mother, Irene Kloos of Arizona; her brother Andy Kloos and his wife, of Colorado Springs; her niece and nephew, Stephanie and Adam; and a cadre of friends, climbing partners, clients and pets.

A memorial scholarship fund is being established through Mountain Trip for the Telluride Adaptive Sports Program. Donations in memory of Heidi Kloos may be made to TASP (contact Mountain Trip, 866-886-8747 or 970-369-1153), as well as to Ouray Mountain Rescue (970-318-8872).

It was shocking and sad to hear that this seemingly invincible woman was struck down so quickly.

Read the whole article about Heidi here.

On April 26, 2010, László Várkonyi, Konyi for short, was climbing with his partner, Dávid Klein, on the north side of Everest. Their goal was to be the first Hungarians to summit Everest without using o's and this was Konyi's eighth trip to Everest. As they were ascending to the North Col during one of their acclimatization and carry climbs, a massive serac burst from above and tumbled on top of them and other climbers, dragging Konyi into a crevasse where his body was never recovered.

We shared Base Camp and Advanced Base Camp services with Konyi and David on the north side of Everest in 2007. Although Konyi and I spoke different languages, I could tell he had a keen sense of humor and was someone I would like to get to know better, if only we could communicate. When I gestured to him that I wanted to take an up-close photo of his eyes, I briefly looked down at my camera and when I looked back up, in an instant, this is what he looked like:

Once I got over the shock of his Greg Raymer glasses that until that moment he'd kept hidden, I implored Konyi to be serious. Well, then he looked like this:

I read the following in an article in Summit Post about Konyi:

He had climbed many 7000-metre and 8000-metre peaks; a humble man, he would gently reject the word “conquered”. He had visited Everest, the tallest peak on Earth, eight times. Now, following his eighth attempt, he remains there forever.

Konyi was the only Hungarian to have climbed to 8750 metres without using supplementary oxygen. He did not want to use the cylinders because he felt it was contrary to his view of what clean climbing should be.

In many ways Konyi was a lucky man, possessing some very rare genetic abilities: most notably he could survive several days in a row at 8600 metres, the so-called death zone. For instance two years ago, when his climbing partner, Dávid Klein turned back, he stayed alone at 8600 metres for two days, as he was certain he had a chance of summiting. He had exceptionally sensitive intuition when it came to judging changes in the weather, snow conditions, and the terrain, and eventually concluded that a safe return could not be guaranteed if he was to reach the peak.

Konyi is survived by his wife and two children. I encourage you to read this article - it also has some fantastic photos of Konyi.

These people were acquaintances of mine, climbers I'd met for a short period and then hadn't seen since. There's no way I could adequately describe who they really were and the effect they had on those close to them. I could only introduce you to them, encourage you to read more about them, and share with you my brief but memorable encounters with them.

Joe, Heidi and Konyi were extraordinary people who shared a passion for adventure that did not go unnoticed even by those of us who only knew them in passing.

My thoughts are with the families and friends of these climbers. I offer my sincere condolences.

Links:

Joe Bohlig - Oregon Live, TDN
Heidi Kloos - Rock and Ice
László Várkonyi (Konyi) - Summit Post

"The Mountain" by Ryan Delehanty

2010-03-23T15:44:00.000-07:00

My nephew, Ryan, created this very cool video using some of my photos and one taken by Hiro Kuraoka, who gave us so many great photos from the Everest 2009 expedition. The voice is Sir Edmund Hillary.

Post Everest...

2009-09-18T14:50:00.000-07:00

The past few months were spent adding to my post about our Summit Push (below). If you read it in June, you'd be surprised at how long it is now.

During our celebratory party in the White Pod on May 26th, Russ told me it would take about two months for this achievement to sink in. At the time, I wasn't sure what he meant.

When I returned home from Nepal in June, I was totally exhausted, much more than when I returned from Everest in 2007. I was eleven pounds underweight and spent the first two weeks on the couch, watching TV and going out for fast food a little too much. I was also cranky. My time on the couch turned into an every-other-day thing until I was finally able to behave like a normal human being. As an independent consultant, I avoided work for as long as I could. And I didn't start exercising again until mid July, about six weeks later.

What has surprised me the most is that for probably two months, all I could think about, 24-7, was my experience on Everest. It was my own little version of Post Traumatic Everest Disorder (or Post Everest Stress Disorder, but I am trying to avoid the word Stress). My mind was so full of emotions - good, bad, painful, angry, happy, sad - that I couldn't stop thinking and dreaming about each and every day I spent in Nepal. Clearly, climbing a mountain is not just about getting to the summit.

With an endeavor like Everest, emotions run as high as the mountain. Sometimes it takes a couple of months to physically and mentally recover and it will likely take longer to fully process everything. That's how it's been for me anyway, this time around. But this was an experience I wanted to have. I paid for it and trained for it and adjusted my life dramatically to make time for it. If my safe and successful vacation on Everest caused my mind to lock into my experiences so vividly, I can only imagine what it must be like for those returning after a harrowing experience. I can hardly begin to imagine what it must be like for those returning from war with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I am extremely grateful that I have had an opportunity to experience what so few people, particularly women, have done. If you told me just five years ago that I'd be climbing Mount Everest, I would have laughed in disbelief, but I also would have been intrigued. If you told me twenty years ago that I'd be climbing Everest, I would have laughed and then thrown up, because back then I expected to get married, have seven children, and live happily ever after in Suburbia. It would have been a little too soon for me to stomach that I'd be more successful going up a mountain than walking down an aisle.

Why do I bring that up? Because one enjoyable thing about this achievement is the emails I've received from old friends with whom I'd lost touch, some through Facebook which, as much as I despise it for kids, has been a great way for adults to re-connect. That my life has taken me to the summit of Everest and not to the parent-teacher conference has been kind of a shocker for those who knew me back when.

I'm finally realizing what Russ meant. My body and mind are strong again and my emotions have subsided significantly. Now what remains are memories - good, bad, painful, angry, happy, sad - of a tough and rewarding experience that I will keep with me for the rest of my life and share with others. It's hard to put into words what an Everest mountaineering expedition is like because it is its own little mini world, so far outside of our everyday world.

The experience of joining a two-month expedition, living in an unfamiliar yet spectacular location with people from different cultures and backgrounds, all working together toward a common goal that can be miserable and scary and hugely disappointing, but also extremely gratifying, is AMAZING. There are new memories, new lessons, new friendships. Together, we have pushed ourselves to the absolute limit. Now we're back home amongst family, friends and co-workers who have no idea what we went through. We're moving on with our lives until Discovery Channel airs ITS version of OUR experience. The weirdness of it all fascinates me.

I'll sign off with this:

Theodore Roosevelt said, "Believe you can and you're halfway there."

(I like that because of the word halfway.)

Final Everest Post - Thank You!!

2009-06-08T13:46:00.001-07:00

I am recovering from jetlag, weight loss, total exhaustion, a cut on my face thanks to my overzealous dog, and Everest euphoria as I write this.

Although I STILL have to hold the right side of my back when I cough, it's nice not to care anymore!

As promised, I am settling back into normal life, except that I'm eating a little more than usual. This past weekend I forced myself to Juan's Place (Mexican food) in Berkeley and Bouchon in Yountville with friends. It was torture. Next week, it's San Francisco for dinner at Parma. Darn.

This month I'm going to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, for the Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Not to compete - I don't do that. I'll be there supporting my brother, Dan.

Every morning I wake up thinking, "I cannot believe I stood on the summit of Mount Everest." It is a feeling like I've never had before and I hope it never ends.

This has been a long haul. Thanks to everyone who put up with me these past two years - family, friends, accomplices...

Many thanks to my parents, family and friends everywhere, Jim Love, Sally Meakin, Kelly Bobbitt, all those who sent emails and letters, wrote comments on this BLOG, people I know, some I've never met, friends of friends and family... I cannot express how much your support and encouragement has meant to me.

Thanks also to Russell Brice, his wild bunch of Kiwi guides and brave, hard-working Sherpas, and the FFC (you know who you are)! This was truly a Himalayan Experience.

To my 27 teammates (and Ellen) ... I hope we stay in touch always.

Namaste.

Megan

ps... You can never have too many Everest summit photos!

The Summit Push

2009-06-04T06:52:00.000-07:00

As I start to write this post, I am at Kathmandu Airport waiting for my flight. It seems most of the trekkers and climbers have already gone home because the airport is empty. I know this is WAY anti-climactic but the following is a brief summary of our summit push for anyone still reading. (I like that I said "brief" - that was when I started this post at the airport. It's not so brief anymore because I've been adding to it through August.)

Oh and I want to add one note! I realize there was a long time between posts on May 10 and May 25. When it was decided that we would have two summit teams, one leaving on May 17 and the other on May 19, we were asked to keep this information quiet. I did send an email to my family but unfortunately this blog had to remain out of the loop (sorry!).

To Camp 2
As I mentioned, we had two summit teams, each including 11 members, plus our Sherpas and guides.

On May 17, the first team left Base Camp (17,000') for their summit push. The second team (me!) left on May 19. Our prior climb included a night at Camp 1, but now that we were more acclimatized, we planned to climb directly to Camp 2.

Team 1 had left at 2am on the 17th. Because many of their members got stuck in the sun and did not reach Camp 2 until 1pm, we left at midnight. These dreadful early morning starts are never fun but climbing through the Icefall at night is safer than during the heat of the day, when the ice melts and moves. Climbing through the Western Cwm, the "bowl shaped valley" starting at the top of the Icefall and terminating at the Lhotse Face, is miserable in the sun.

Low in confidence after relentless and painful muscle tears in my chest and back, I positioned myself in the back of the line. As we left camp, Russ pat me on the shoulder and said, "You're strong," words he knew I probably wouldn't mind hearing.

Thankfully, for me anyway, this trip through the Icefall was a huge improvement. I was back on the drugs (Voveran, strong anti-inflammatory medication and my new BFF) and felt no pain as we wound through the Icefall maze. Once above the Icefall, which took about six hours after walking to the regular Base Camp and then getting lost trying to find the new route through the Icefall, we took our time. Our objective was not to set speed records, but to get through the Icefall quickly and safely and to Camp 2 before the sun became unbearable. The group trickled into Camp 2 (21,000') between 9:00am and 11:00am. I was there at 9:30am. It was a huge relief for me to have what I consider a normal day.

Well, that didn't last long..

The Lhotse Face
We rested a day at Camp 2 before heading up to Camp 3. This climb up the Lhotse Face would become, for me, the hardest ascent of the entire summit push. It was May 21, the day our first team was going for the summit. We left at 5am from Camp 2. The climb to Camp 3 includes a two hour (or faster) walk to the bottom of fixed ropes, followed by a steep climb up the Lhotse Face to Camp 3.

At the bottom of the fixed ropes, I got my first clue that this was probably not going to be a stellar day. My friend and would-be tent mate, Jim, mentioned that he was dizzy. He and others had been having stomach problems the past couple of days. I looked over and saw him on his hands and knees and within seconds he was flat on his back. Several of us rushed to help him and I spent most of the next hour massaging him before our Sherpas arrived with oxygen and brought him back down to Camp 2.

Just around the time Jim collapsed, a female climber approached - she also happened to be a nurse - just his luck! With our guides and a nurse there, and the Sherpas coming, he was in good hands.

The climber/nurse turned out to be Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner, one of four climbers in contention to be the first woman to reach the summit of all the 8000 meter peaks. You would never have known she was on her way down from the summit of Lhotse, which she climbed without oxygen. She looked like she was enjoying a gentle stroll on the mountain.

While I was relieved that Jim would be okay, it saddened me that he would not have a chance to go for the summit. Jim is a strong climber with a heart the size of Manhattan. We had become good friends, so it was bittersweet continuing to the summit without him. I hope he returns to Everest someday and reaches the top, but I know how difficult it is to find the time and finances for this endeavor.

We started up the fixed lines to begin the toughest part of our ascent to Camp 3.

My heart sunk once again when I saw Thomas, originally on Team 1, descending after trying to climb to Camp 3 for the third time of the summit push. He had a stomach bug or something that would cause him to vomit after a certain amount of exertion on the ropes. I knew his summit bid was over when I saw him shaking his head as he told me he couldn't continue. Thomas was strong throughout the expedition. It just shows how quickly and unexpectedly your summit dream can end on Everest.

After spending over an hour with Jim, we got a late start up the Lhotse Face. The climb up the fixed ropes to Camp 3 was grueling because we were all wearing down suits and it became EXTREMELY HOT. I was the last to head up and the last to reach camp, totally exhausted. Before leaving for Nepal, this was one of my concerns. My down suit does not have side zips, so cooling off on the hot Lhotse Face would be difficult. In fact, it was the most worn out I have ever been EVER!!! The heat, combined with the altitude, really affected me.

The only way I could get my legs moving was to count breaths between steps - step, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... step, 1, 2... My body wanted to stay put but my mind knew I had to get going. I had no choice. It was excruciating. When three RMI climbers, not wearing down suits, caught up to me and offered to help, I was so absorbed in my exhausted and over-heated self that to this day I feel bad for not being more friendly. Smiling, saying thanks and introducing myself would just use up valuable energy. I wanted to be mean and grumpy. Turned out they were guides and probably understood what I was going through more than I did.

Of the 218 deaths on Everest as of the end of 2008, 64 are attributable to falls. The Lhotse Face, where the climbing is steep and exposed, and where many climbers will ascend to their highest point without using supplemental oxygen, is where many of the falls occur. When your body is exhausted beyond belief and your mind feels like it's floating in space, it doesn't take much to inadvertently clip out of the line without first making sure your safety is secure. I tried to keep this thought in my head as I clipped out at every anchor.

I barely made it to the lower Camp 3, where all the other lucky teams were camped, when Woody, one of the guides, sat with me for an hour so I could rest and refuel before making the last bit of ascent to our Himex Camp 3, which took another hour at least. Some of my teammates were not far ahead, as it was a hot, tough day for many of us. Woody's patience and calm demeanor were about the best medicine up there and I am extremely grateful to him.

It was late, maybe 3pm, when I reached Camp 3 (24,000') with my down suit jacket draped over my harness, which was probably down to my knees because of all the weight I'd lost. I was wearing just a thin light green layer on top and no bra because of the tightness in my chest. The first time I climbed to Camp 3 it took just over 7 hours, which at the time I thought was slow compared with some of my teammates. This abysmal day, entered into my personal history books as the WORST DAY EVAHHH, was over. Finally.

To the South Col
But the body's ability to recover is amazing. Also, it helped that we started breathing supplemental oxygen here. By the next morning, my energy returned and we were all ready to ascend to Camp 4. This climb was more of a traverse, as we made our way up to the strip of limestone called the Yellow Band and then headed over the Geneva Spur.

Throughout both days we would run into the smiling faces of Team 1 members as they descended back to Camp 2 after their successful summit climb.

The climb to the South Col is awkward because it traverses the mountain to the left, so the terrain is slanted with the uphill side on the right. During much of the climb, my right foot was totally numb. This has happened to me before and there's not a lot I could do about it. It's actually poor circulation starting at my hip. I know from previous experience that it eventually goes away without any lasting effects, so I just trudged along uncomfortably. After less than six uneventful hours, we reached Camp 4 at the South Col (26,300'). What a dreary place! It was windy and cold and not a place I want to stay for very long.

Once you reach Camp 4, it's time to prepare for the final push to the summit by resting, drinking, eating and more resting. I shared a tent with one of our guides, Shinji. One thing I noticed about the Japanese climbers is they eat very well up there. Hiro brought us some hot Japanese sticky rice and Shinji added canned teriyaki chicken. They even had miso soup. Shinji and Hiro very kindly shared it with me and I decided to leave my boring granola bars and cheese sticks tucked away in my bag.

Woody stopped by to give us the plan. Alpine Ascents, RMI and other teams of climbers were up there. We planned to leave at 1am and let them go ahead of us. Teams are leaving earlier and earlier for the summit, so much so that the Singaporean Women's Team apparently left so early they were on the summit in the dark. What a waste.

To the Summit

At 11:30pm or so, we started preparing to leave.... and I was a basket case. For some reason, probably the fact that we were 26,000 feet high, I could not get my act together.

One of the Tigress cameramen peaked into our tent at about 12:30 and I frantically asked him not to film because I was so frazzled. As I struggled to pull on my harness, feeling the lens on me only made it worse. Clearly, I should have put on my harness and boots much earlier because the ability to do the simplest things is exponentially more difficulty in altitude. He very nicely found someone else to film.

I started talking to myself.

"Should I use the extender cord (for my battery operated foot warmers) or just hook the batteries on the back of my boots like I did in '07?"

"HOOK 'EM ON THE BACK, DUMMY, YOU HAVE NO TIME!!!"

At 12:45am, distracted because I discovered the two oxygen bottles provided to me for the summit climb were both empty, I was still fiddling with my harness. Phurba replaced my oxygen bottles in lightening speed, because he's Phurba, but I was lagging behind as I crawled out of our tent, put both bottles in my pack and strapped on my crampons, or croutons, as my sister calls them.

This was not how I envisioned summit day. I wanted a do-over.

I heard Woody on the radio telling Russ that Paul and I were just leaving camp. But I wasn't quite moving yet. Lakpa Nuru, my Sherpa, stood there patiently. At around 1:30am, I stood up and saw him point the way, "Go."

Panic.

As I started walking, I felt rushed, excited, nervous, and pissed at myself for being late! I thought of Tim Medvetz in 2006, leaving camp late and getting stuck behind a long line of climbers at the Second Step. He ended up turning around very close to the summit. Russ told him if he'd left on time he probably would have made it to the top.

The thought of squandering a summit because of something so stupid as leaving late, horrified me. This was my second attempt on Everest. I waited two years to return because of last year's cancellation. Sending my money to Himex eighteen months ago just about sent me into cardiac arrest. I could not believe I was shelling out that much cash, enough to buy a new BMW or build a few schools in Nepal, to climb a mountain. I was buying an opportunity to reach the summit, but it was up to me to make it happen. How completely awful to waste my money and time and dream because of a stupid error, especially after making it this far!

One of the biggest challenges on Everest is simply staying healthy. Many of us arrive on the mountain with "pre-existing conditions" - knee, leg, ankle, shoulder, eye injuries. We come prepared to deal with these issues. We get cortisone shots before we leave, bring whatever meds, wraps, etc... we think we need and hope it is enough. We also prepare for altitude, viruses, etc... But on Everest, anything can happen. It is the unexpected that makes this mountain tough.

Two months is a long time to live in such a harsh environment and many climbers leave the mountain before the summit push because of illnesses or injuries they can't control. This creates a considerable amount of tension for some climbers. ME. The fear (4-letter word of life) of losing control of my health, whether it kept me up at night or drove me forward, affected me throughout the entire expedition and I wish I would have handled it better. But an aborted summit due to an illness or injury is much easier to stomach than a stupid mistake.

So it was with a mixture of anxiety and determination that I continued. There's a long, flat but rocky area you have to walk through to get to the bottom of the ropes at the Col. I could see lights going uphill ahead. That could be intimidating but I knew to ignore it.

Guided by my headlamp, I walked in the direction Lakpa Nuru told me to go and thankfully, it was not long before I reached the fixed lines and caught up to a long line of climbers. They were stopping frequently. In fact, once I caught up, I got annoyed when we weren't moving. We all had our oxygen flow up to the 4-liter per minute max so I felt like a stuck Energizer Bunny having to wait at all.

Eventually we reached the reason for all the stops when we came across a climber. He was sitting down, clipped into the rope, and had an icicle running down from his nose. I asked him how he was doing and he blurted, "I'm waiting."

I later discovered he was Mike Farris. He'd climbed to the summit without support the previous day and was out all night after having trouble with his oxygen and somehow taking a wrong turn. Honestly, I'm not sure how anyone takes a wrong turn when there are fixed lines all the way to the summit, but anything can happen in altitude. Maybe he got lost at the Balcony where there's a break in the line. Don't know.

Farris received assistance from one or some of our guides, who called Phurba, who found him and brought him oxygen, helped him down and looked after him at the South Col. Farris was lucky. Had he attempted the summit on May 23rd, instead of on May 22nd, I'm not sure that anyone would have been there to help him the following day because of the deteriorating weather. Even with the assistance of our guides and Phurba, he suffered severe frostbite and hypothermia.

We continued up the steep slope until we reached what is called the Balcony (27,500'). Once at the Balcony, we changed oxygen, turned our oxygen flow down to 2-liters per minute, had a quick squirt of water and gel, and moved on.

Russ said to BE at the Balcony within four hours, six at the absolute latest: "If you aren't there in six hours, you have no business climbing Mount Everest." I wanted to be in business.

We were LEAVING the Balcony before four hours, so time was going fine. I was really worried about this with all the stopping, so it was a huge relief to make the first landmark in good time.

Russ gave us times so we could gauge how we are doing with oxygen. We each have a total of five oxygen bottles, three for summit day, and if you can't get to where you need to be within these times, then you are under risk of running out of oxygen, something I did not want to happen...again! Given the oxygen flows we were planning on using, the max he gave us to reach the summit was twelve hours. I had until 1:30pm.

From the Balcony, we moved up toward the South Summit.

Just above, and for some time below me, I recognized Mark Whetu, one of the Tigress cameramen, with a couple of Himex Sherpas, and I knew Purdue Paul was close by because I saw him at the Balcony. Other than that, I had no idea who was immediately above Mark but I hoped it was our Himex teammates.

Once I got over my late panicky start, my biggest concern became the weather. As night turned to daylight, I could see the clouds building around me. On the plus side, I couldn't see just how far we had to go (FAR!) and how steep, scary and heavily exposed the terrain was. But I couldn't help but wonder if Russ was going to turn us around. As fast as that thought would enter my mind, I would kick it out and focus on climbing. No way I was turning around unless the Big Boss said so and I hadn't heard anything yet.

I became increasingly agitated with my oxygen mask. When I looked downward or turned and took a breath, it would sometimes plug up and instead of oxygen I would get a big dose of nothing. Gasping for air, I would pull the mask away and take a deep breath.

We reached the South Summit (28,700'), where we switched oxygen again and called Russ to tell him, even though he already knew exactly where we were. Lakpa Nuru and several other Sherpas were wearing cameras for Tigress, the company filming for Discovery Channel. Russ was camped on Pumori, following our progress through the video.

The South Summit is a small dome of snow and ice where climbers can see the final slopes to the summit. Unfortunately, we couldn't see much.

As we continued our ascent over the knife-edge ridge of the Cornice Traverse, where climbers could normally see the 10,000 foot drop down the Kangshung Face on the right and the 8,000 foot drop down the Southwest face on the left, I would occasionally get a glimpse of where we were headed but for the most part, we were thick in the clouds. There appeared to be a long line-up of climbers but we kept moving. As long as we were moving, I was happy. The pace seemed fine to me.

I heard Russ on the radio asking, "Could someone tell me where Meeegan and Lakpa Nuru are? I can't see them." When I left camp I had two microphones clipped to my jacket - one for Tigress and one for the radio. I eventually buried them both in my pocket after finding them dangling from my jacket a few hundred times. So I grabbed Lakpa Nuru's microphone and told Russ where we were. Then Lakpa Nuru fixed his camera, which was iced over. It seemed everything was iced over, including my goggles, which made it very difficult to see, even after wiping them off.

The weather grew darker and more ominous. I thought about the book, Into Thin Air, and wondered if these were the types of conditions they were experiencing in 1996. Here I was with a large commercial expedition climbing in what looked like a storm. Could this be a mistake?

Once again, I knocked those thoughts out of my head and reminded myself that Into Thin Air was one man's account of an event that happened thirteen years ago. In it, Jon Krakauer describes the events that lead to the deaths of eight climbers, including three seasoned mountain guides. Basic safety measures were compromised by lead guides from competing guiding companies in an effort to help their clients reach the summit. It was a tragedy from which we can all learn.

Unfortunately, it gave some people the impression that all Everest climbers on guided expeditions are rich and incompetent.

There are incompetent climbers... on all mountains... on all types of expeditions, guided or otherwise. There are rich climbers, too.

I'm obviously a fan of guiding companies. I join one, maybe two expeditions a year. Without guided expeditions I would never have gone to the places I've been. I don't have a network of family and friends who climb mountains - most of them think I'm nuts - and it's hard to find climbers to coordinate schedules and commit to an international expedition. Mountain climbing's dangerous and I'm not an expert climber, so I'm happy to pay an expert, someone who climbs year-round and has made climbing his or her profession, to guide me. I like to try different companies or simply hire a local guide on my own. Over time, I have met many guides and climbers.

Ironically, I did not join a guided expedition on Everest in 2007. Our small team included just four climbers and 3 Sherpas. Julio and I sometimes wonder if we turned around prematurely at the Second Step. But it doesn't matter. Simply not knowing means something. The last thing either of us wanted was to put our lives in jeopardy and require assistance from other climbers. We made the right decision, even though at the time I admit I wasn't so sure!

I cringe when I hear people say you can buy your way to the top of Everest. Everest's Southeast and Northeast routes are not technically difficult for experienced climbers - it is the extreme altitude that makes it challenging and few climbers outside of professionals, high altitude mountain guides and Sherpas, have significant experience in extreme altitude. But anyone who has spent any time in altitude knows how unpredictable its effects are on the human body. Nobody is guaranteed success and it's always dangerous.

Even with elaborate base camps like ours and the Sherpas carrying enormous loads, setting up camps and fixing ropes for climbers, it takes a considerable amount of climbing, strength and endurance, as well as the ability to withstand extreme altitude, to even make it to summit day on Everest.

If something goes wrong, and something often goes wrong on big mountains, the guides and Sherpas are equipped to provide assistance if it is possible. Often, they are helping climbers outside the team who get themselves into trouble.

Much has changed since 1996. Weather forecasting has improved. Lessons have been learned. For starters, many of us use radios and the ropes are fixed before most climbers ascend.

Russ is in constant radio contact with his guides, clients and Sherpas and can see us through video. He knew, through talking with his guides and watching the weather, that despite the clouds, it was not very cold and frostbite was unlikely. Had I been climbing in the same conditions with our small team in 2007, I would have turned around.

We made it to the famous Hillary Step (28,750' or 28,900? I've noted various heights!), named after Sir Edmund Hillary, who, with Tenzing Norgay, became the first to reach the summit of Mount Everest in 1953.

Unlike in 1953, when two courageous explorers ventured into the unknown, Sherpas today fix ropes all the way to the summit to accommodate the hundreds of climbers who now occupy Mount Everest's slopes every year. With properly fixed ropes, climbers ascend and descend at a much faster rate, so there are fewer bottlenecks and many more climbers can safely reach the top (and the bottom). Fixing ropes is common on many of the popular mountains and routes and is especially helpful on the more exposed, steep and rocky sections, where the pace slows, like on the Hillary Step. Climbers wanting to avoid crowds and fixed lines must climb the less popular and/or more difficult mountains and routes.

This year, the Sherpas, including Phurba and I believe, Dorji, finished fixing the ropes on May 5th. David Tait, who climbed with the Sherpas to the summit on that day, wrote a detailed description in his Blog of the incredibly thorough and professional job the Sherpas do fixing the ropes. The Sherpas carry multiple loads of gear up the mountain, set up camps, fix ropes, climb to the summit with climbers, and then carry loads down when the expedition is over. And they do all this with smiles on their faces. Sometimes I just want to slap them.

On May 10, 1996, climbers reached the Hillary Step to discover that no fixed lines had been placed. They waited an hour while the guides installed ropes. These types of delays, while not significant, contributed to the nightmare that unfolded.

At the time we climbed the forty foot Hillary Step, I didn't know it was the Hillary Step. It just seemed like the terrain got rockier and steeper for a bit. My mind was so focused on climbing that I didn't think about where we were. I know... I can't believe I'm admitting that, but having seen the Second Step, please, there is no comparison.

Somewhere along the way, either just before or after the Hillary Step (my memory is a bit hazy), Lakpa Nuru practically threw me over a huge, slick boulder. As soon as we got up to the boulder, before I could yell "big rock," I felt a hand on my behind hoisting me up. It caught me off guard and I started to laugh. I was ridiculously clumsy and still laughing by my third attempt when I finally managed to swing my leg around the top.

It is at the top of the Hillary Step where climbers say you can smell the summit (if you know where you are - I obviously didn't smell anything).

"Summit!!"
Just over eight hours of climbing in increasing clouds and low visibility, Lakpa Nuru shouted, "Summit!!"

OMG. He was so excited! I turned around and asked, "Really?" I didn't expect it so soon. Our pace seemed slow. And I certainly didn't think I'd have that much energy so close to the summit. He yelled it again - he knows, he's been there four times before. I looked at my watch. It said 9:30am.

All I could see was a mound of snow with a bunch of down suits on top about seventy feet from me. No view. How sad. But at the time, I DIDN'T CARE!

Although this was not exactly the summit I always dreamed of, my adrenalin was pumping as Lakpa Nuru and I clipped out of the rope and walked around three climbers to join our Himex team at top (29,035').

I could not believe this was it. Two years of thinking about this climb, practically living my life around this climb.... and there I was! It was magical. I couldn't see a thing, other than my teammates' smiling faces or eyes or whatever I could see beneath the oxygen masks, goggles and balaclavas, as we congratulated each other. It was so weird and.... at the risk of sounding really really sappy... so wonderful.

We took photos - some of Lakpa Nuru and me, some of just him, several of just me. I was thrilled to be there with the people I'd spent the past two months getting to know. I looked at the Himex website that shows our summit times. Although I left last and late, it turned out I was right in line with the team. Alec, Hiro and Dorji left first, I assume at 1am, and kept their oxygen flows at 4-liters per minute, allowing them to move faster and pass another team to arrive at the summit more than two hours before I did. Take, Antoine and their Sherpas were about an hour behind Alec. The rest of our team arrived one behind the other on the summit, with nobody taking more than nine hours to reach the top.

We climbed together but because visibility was poor and we were bundled in big suits, oxygen masks and gear, I wasn't sure at the time who I was following. Because of my injuries, I climbed alone or with the small group of Japanese climbers for much of this expedition. I think because of this, it was very exciting for me to find us all on the summit together. It's hard to describe how good that felt and I'm getting a little teary eyed writing about it.

Once again, I called Russ to tell him what he already knew. I think I jokingly said something like, "Lakpa Nuru tells me we are on the summit," alluding to the fact that we could not see a thing and I basically had to take his word for it.

But I actually wondered why I wasn't more emotional. I was happy and relieved for sure, but there were no tears or breakdowns, just, "Okay, I'm here, 'bout time."

It's true that Everest, as well as mountain climbing in general, is both a mental and physical challenge. Most of us affected by the mental aspects of the climb understand that our fears and concerns are affecting us. It must be frustrating for those in charge to see their climbers get sick and lose confidence.

My mental state during the expedition, while strong in determination, was clearly weak in confidence and I knew it. Every time I recovered from one ailment, it seemed another would strike. I had seen and heard of several climbers leaving for home and even though I thought I could still make the summit, a part of me was concerned that I had become too weak. Although I knew from experience that my body performed pretty well in altitude, it didn't seem to matter. Never had I been so sick and injured during an expedition. My mind was constantly questioning my body. And this was Mount Everest. Totally mental.

So at Base Camp I asked Woody, one of the guides, if I could get another bottle of oxygen for our summit push. Each member gets five bottles for the entire expedition. Woody told me I didn't need it. Russ later pulled me aside and told me I didn't need it, that I was a strong climber, and that he wasn't happy that I even asked. In fact, he seemed downright pissed. His anger made things worse and I had trouble sleeping the following two nights before leaving for our summit push. I was totally mental.

Why did I ask for another bottle of oxygen? I was just considering options because I knew from this experience that a simple movement could suddenly cause immense pain in my back. The pain drained my energy and made an already difficult day much worse, like in the Khumbu Icefall during our acclimatization climb. I knew I would be fine as long as my muscle didn't flare up. But if it tore while up high, maybe turning up my oxygen to 4 liters per minute would help me push through the energy drain.

Turned out I felt okay during the most critical part of our expedition - summit day - possibly because I took three Voveran each day of the summit push. Monica, our team doctor, told me that Voveran makes Advil seem like candy.

I learned that my body could take a bigger ass whooping than I ever imagined and still climb. And now, post-Everest, I can't wait to get out there again.

After my struggles during the expedition, I expected that reaching the summit would be so dramatic that I would have an emotional outburst as the stress from the climb released from my body and mind. Instead, I think the stress is slowly being released over time because my mind is still processing the reality that I actually did this. I also know that while on the summit my mind was still focused on the task at hand. We had to descend. Back to that.

The Descent
Our stay at the top was short, maybe fifteen minutes. I wasn't interested in admiring the whiteout. Just below the summit, a Sherpa bent down and picked up a handful of rocks. I was elated because if he hadn't done that, I would have forgotten to grab some for myself. Lakpa Nuru and I both threw several small rocks into our pockets before continuing.

The descent back to the South Col went well, with just one short bottleneck at the Hillary Step. I struggled with my goggles and eventually went without. The sun was hiding, the wind was dying down and it stopped snowing as we got lower. Several of us met at the Balcony for a rest before making the final descent down to the Col.

During that stretch, the pace slowed considerably when we got behind two women. I learned from one of the women that her teammate, who appeared to be having a tough time as she was being assisted by a guide, was 60-years old and had finally reached the summit on this, her fourth attempt.

I mentioned that our team also had a 61 year-old woman, Kiyomi Takiguchi, reach the summit that day.

Lakpa Nuru wanted to pass them but I was content following along at a slow pace. I'm not sure why. It was like I wanted to savor the moment and enjoy the descent, rather than rush down. It's also dangerous to pass and I didn't want to deal with it. But after several of our team members went by, I finally agreed to go ahead and we carefully passed. That was definitely the right move because a slow descent is not necessarily a safe descent, especially when you're relying on supplemental oxygen.

Given the small number of American women on a summit climb of Everest on any given day, it wasn't too difficult to determine that the women were Kay LeClair (who is 60) and Lori Schneider (who is now the first person with Multiple Sclerosis to summit Everest). Very cool.

They were being passed by Megan Delehanty (who has acid reflux).

Lakpa Nuru never left my side until I was safely at my tent, despite my telling him to go ahead. When we arrived at camp, Phurba, as usual, was there to help. As I started to remove my harness, he was quickly unstrapping my crampons. When I crawled into the tent, I could tell something was wrong when I found Shinji lying down on his bag, not moving at all. He told me his eyes were bothering him. There wasn't much I could do, other than break out some snacks, boil water and get us hydrated, after I took a little rest of course.

For me, it was a rare opportunity to help someone other than myself and that felt pretty good. Especially with Shinji, who helped me numerous times, not just on the mountain, but with lending an ear and calming my nerves.

My experience with guides over the past ten years is that they are all technically competent. I realize I may have been lucky with that and I haven't been in too many situations where a guide's assistance was needed, which is good. What makes one guide stand out from another is his/her personality - professional, fun, friendly, easy going - and ability to actually "guide," rather than race to the top. And a guide who spends time getting to know the climbers while not climbing is much easier to approach when climbing.

Shinji is an exceptional guide. I felt bad for him because this was the first time I'd seen him in any kind of discomfort throughout the expedition. I also felt bad because now we would have to eat the food I brought, which was not nearly as good as his.

We stayed at the Col for the night, then descended to Camp 2 the next day. Shinji's condition improved over night but it was still bothering him. This descent down the Lhotse Face was much easier than my first descent. I felt stronger and more energetic, probably because I was coming down from THE SUMMIT!!! ... and I was still wearing my oxygen mask.

Back to Base Camp
From Camp 2, we started our descent to Base Camp at 4am, earlier than usual due to the weather forecast - a storm was approaching. I felt fine during the beginning of the descent but I could tell we were all getting increasingly sluggish as we got closer to Base Camp. Like a robot, I thoughtlessly followed Chris Macklin's footsteps, clipping in, clipping out...

It was actually very cool, as in groovy, in the Icefall. We were surrounded by clouds. The only sounds were of our croutons digging into the crunchy snow and ice. This heavenly peace was only occasionally interrupted by an outburst from Robby.

"Is that Base Camp!!? Wow!! It's deserted!!"

He was referring to the regular Base Camp, not ours, and he was right, it did look deserted because many climbers had left the mountain by then.

Everyone was cheering and banging pots and pans as we walked into Club Himex on a wet and snowy morning. Now my eyes were teary. What a reception! What an incredible team!

The first person I embraced was Russ, who was standing to the side, red-eyed and smiling and relieved to see us back safely. John Black welcomed me with a big bear hug. More hugs from everyone, including Jim and Thomas, who I was especially happy to see in good spirits. Haydn handed me a Sprite, which I drank furiously. These people had become like family to me. It was amazing how 28 climbers from all over the world could get along so well, but we did.

You frequently hear of climbers from other teams leaving Base Camp after their summit success but before all of their team members have descended safely. Not so with Himex. The cheering didn't stop until every Sherpa was back at camp. (The Sherpas would be going up again to finish cleaning up our camps - they are amazing!).

The following day, while our camp was being buried in several feet of snow, we celebrated in the White Pod. The champagne started pouring at 1pm and for some (ahem... Chris Dovell), it didn't stop pouring until the wee hours in the morning.

The next day, May 27, we carefully trekked over very slippery terrain to Pangboche, then to Namche Bazaar and Lukla. That was epic, but I'm running out of time.

Kathmandu
My plan was to stay in Nepal until my scheduled flight date of June 7. I wanted to spend time with my co-climbers, look up some of my Sherpa friends from 2007 - Phanden, Lopsang, Lhakpa Gelu, Apa, Lama Jangbu and Geljen - and just enjoy Nepal without the pressure of an upcoming climb. Plus, I was too wound up, nervous, sick and tired!... throughout the entire expedition to just enjoy being there, so I hoped to see our guides and Russ when they returned to Kathmandu after taking down camp. I even asked Billi if there were any good parties.

But the night before we flew to Kathmandu from Lukla, many of us got sick, either from food poisoning or a stomach bug, and more would get sick over the next few days. I didn't have the energy or the appetite to join two planned dinners. As the days went on and I sat on my hotel room bed, too fatigued to do anything, I decided it was time to go home. It was disappointing and as I write this, I want to go back to Kathmandu.

In Summary
The 61 days that I spent on this expedition were the toughest days of my life, physically and mentally.

Most painful - April 18 and 30; Saddest - April 19, May 7, 16, and 21; Toughest - May 21 (world record); Happiest - May 23.

If it were easy, it wouldn't be nearly as rewarding. This was an experience of a lifetime.

I've gotten a zillion comments from friends and family that my face is unusually red and puffy. My response: "Yes, it is. Thanks for not saying it looks normal." The cold dry air sometimes causes my face to turn red and the altitude sometimes causes my eyes to swell. It was like that for the next few days. I only had one thing on my mind - no matter how goofy I look, remove the goggles and oxygen mask so everyone, including me, could see how happy I am.
Russ sent me this certificate. I didn't know there was a certificate involved.

Back to BC - Hungry, Tired, Happy!

2009-05-25T01:16:00.000-07:00

This is a quick post to let you know that I reached the summit of Everest at 9:30am on May 23rd with my fabulous Sherpa, Lakpa Nuru, several teammates (I think there were 9 or 10 of us), along with their Sherpas and our guides.

We are now all back safely at base camp.

It was amazing.

More later...

Love,

Megan

Sounds Promising

2009-05-23T06:50:00.000-07:00

No this isn't Megan writing... but I wanted to share a promising posting from another Himex climber at www.foxeverest.com

"Out of 11 climbers on Summit Team 1, nine of us reached the top of the world on the morning of May 21, 2009. One of our Norwegian friends (Thomas) fell ill prior to ascending the Lhotse face and had to abandon his summit bid. He has recovered here in BC. My dear friend and terrific tentmate Stuart Carder elected to stop at the south summit of Everest, the second highest point on our planet. I admire his wisdom in making that decision but that is what smart mountaineering is about, listening to your gut. I cannot thank Stuart enough for lending me his shoulder prior to the start of our summit bid from the South Col (Camp 4 perched just under 8000 meters or 26,000') as climbing Everest involves a mixed bag of emotions. Nevertheless we shared the joy of both the South Summit and Summit, respectively.

As I type this dispatch the afternoon of May 23 here in Nepal, we have learned that all of Summit Team 2 have successfully summited today and are now back at Camp 4 resting. They still have 2 days to descend to BC so we will keep them in our prayers as the climb is obviously not over. Unfortunately the only person from Team 2 who could not make a summit bid was my friend Jim Holliday. Similar to Thomas, Jim was suddenly struck with illness prior to ascending the Lhotse face a second time. He has recovered completely here in BC which we are grateful for."

So it sounds like it will be another 2 days before we hear anything from Megan.

Kelly on behalf of Megan

Mothers Are The Best

2009-05-10T22:49:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with my MOM (and Dad). It's Mother's Day! At Everest Base Camp, many of us are thinking of our Mothers. As my sister, Paula, says, "If it isn't one thing, it's your Mother!"

MOM, please stop worrying about me! (I know it's what you do, no matter what)

My Dad is faithfully reading Billi's blog (along with my exceptional blog, so full of information and photos!). When I told him I haven't had the energy to spend time on the computer, he said I don't have to write anything, only a daily post that I'm doing okay. I will try to post more often and I'll let Billi know the pressure is on! (I've already told her).

So here's another post to say I'M DOING FINE!

We are resting at Everest Base Camp, reading books, watching movies, playing cards, eating constantly, playing Scalextric and drinking afternoon beers. Everyday is still a bad hair day but we are having fun.

The hard work acclimatizing is done and the waiting game has begun. We have climbed as high as we will go without oxygen. Now we are waiting for the "weather window," when we can go for our summit push. It will be several days, so patience is key right now. As I sit in the White Pod looking around, it doesn't appear that anyone is suffering from impatience.

One of our team members, David Tait (see his blog http://www.davidtait.com/) has already reached the summit. I shouted congrats to David through my tent at camp 3, not realizing I wouldn't see him again. By the time I got back to BC, he was already gone!

So now we are all here at BC, resting. This rest time is giving my muscle time to recover. I am definitely improving and as I told my parents, I don't write about the tough stuff so they will worry - it's just what happens up here. Climbers all over this mountain have colds and coughs, altitude sickness, and all sorts of maladies. Many have left for home. Despite the tough environment, it seems our team is getting healthier and stronger. ME included.

What I enjoy most about this group is the international mix. The only complaint I have is several of the guys are suddenly into doing "Arnold" impersonations. I'm not sure where this came from but I hear enough of that in California! Kind of strange hearing it at Everest Base Camp.

Eugene, the saucisson was magnificent! You didn't want me to share it, did you? (kidding)

I bought an Amazon Kindle before leaving. It is great for mountaineering expeditions or any kind of traveling. The battery lasts for weeks, it's light and can store thousands of books. Having said that, the Kindle store did not have Kitchen Confidential, the book I am currently reading (borrowed from another climber). I did read The Book Thief (enjoyed it -thanks to Molly's friends).

I can hear the Beach Boys playing. Someone needs to change the music. It is snowing like crazy outside.

Love to family - Mom, Dad, Burke, Sandy, Mark, Paula, Will, Ronan, Mickey, Liza, Becky, Jim, Seamus, Fintan, Emily, Anthony, Dominic, Lucy, Brian, MaryLee, Sean, Marisa, Ryan, Katya, Colin, Kevin, Sue, Ashley, Shannon, Caroline, Molly, Pete, Allie, Kelly, Katie, Dan, Alexis, Chloe, James, Helen and Peggy. Did I get everyone? Misspellings? I took a big risk. This was an altitude test. It felt good to just write your names. Miss you!

Megan

Back at Base Camp

2009-05-07T02:04:00.000-07:00

This morning I arrived back at base camp from our highest climb so far to camp 3.

The journey to camp 3 started with a climb through the Icefall. To minimize the dangers of climbing through the Khumbu Icefall, we climbed at night. With so many climbers, we broke into two groups - I was in the second, slower group.

We left early in the morning - it was just a few days ago and I am laughing at myself right now because it seems like a lifetime ago and I can't remember exactly what time we left. Let's say 2am.

I unfortunately had a reoccurrence of the muscle pull, this time in my chest and back, so ascending the Icefall became extremely painful after about 2 hours. From then on it seemed every step was painful. Climbing through the Icefall is difficult because you are going up in altitude, so air can be hard to come by, but it also has several short sections of clipping in on one side, then clipping in on the other, stepping over the rope, balancing over ladders. I can understand how someone might say it is 'fun' but I didn't think so. I hated it and wanted it to end five hours before it did. In fact, I arrived at camp 1 in tears. The right side of my body hurt so bad! It was another one of those 'I paid for this?' moments. I found my way to my tent and tried to lie down on my sleeping bag but it hurt to just do that! Getting to one side was also painful. Somebody get me outa here.

As soon as I got some food in me, I took another anti-inflammatory. These are strong anti-inflammatories I brought up just in case this happened. But I honestly, maybe naively, didn't think it would.

The next day we moved up to camp 2 at about 21k feet. This was an easy snow slope with just a few ladders so it went okay. I could easily use my left side only (now it is my right side that hurts, before at Lobuche it was my left and before that my right - this won't end until I am back in Kathmandu, I realize that now).

Camp 2 is well equipped with a kitchen and dining tent. We did not have this at the much smaller camp 1. The plan was to rest a day and then move up the Lhotse Face to camp 3 at roughly 24k ft and roughly 30 minutes to an hour above all the other camps. The Japanese climbers (all stronger, fitter and faster than I am - also older) wanted to stay another night at camp 2 and then move up. I opted to join them. So after two waves of team members moved up to camp 3, we finally went up. I actually climbed with a Sherpa named Bimbi while the Japanese raced up. As I was climbing up, and breathing very hard, I saw several of my teammates coming down. They were all shouting to me to just keep going... so I did. Himex, just to be diffcult, had its camp 3 about an hour above the other camp 3's. Great.

It was a tough day. We left at 5am and I got up there a little before 12:30. This is the highest we will go before using oxygen. The climb was tough because the air is so thin. But the climbing itself is not too icy and steep and I was able to use just the left side of my body to move up the fixed line. It would be steep for a while and then level off and maybe there would be a patch of tough icy and steep climbing but then that would be followed by steps and/or softer snow. There are lines fixed most if not the entire way.

Camp 3 consists of two shelves on a steep snow slope carved out by the Sherpas to place tents. I was exhausted. There is no other way to describe it. I've felt this way before on a mountain and I know I'll recover but man, was I ever beat. My hand went numb at some point. Then my eyesight got blurry. I've never had this happen before! Just when you think you know how to deal with altitude! So I drank a liter of hot tea and ate some food, followed by a one hour snooze, and I was fine. So I guess I dealt with the altitude.

Although I could nap when we first got there, that night it was difficult to sleep because I could not stop breathing hard! Eventually I did sleep but not much.

The next morning the Japanese climbers were up at 6am. I wasn't sure what was going on but was told to descend with a Sherpa. I got up and ready anyway. At 7am I watched the Japanese descend and waited while the two Sherpas took down tents. It gets windy up there so they take down a bunch of tents and store the other tents, sleeping bags, cooking gear, etc... in one tent. I offered to help them but every time I tried it was completely lame. It took me too long to do anything! Finally I found a task I could complete - pick the bag up and put it by the tent. Then I picked up the cooking gear and did the same thing. I think it made me happier than it made the Sherpas. Gave me something to do, which is good because we were there until 10am! Thankfully, it was not too cold in our down suits. There wasn't any wind.

Then down to camp 2 with the Sherpas.

Now it is today. I am at Everest Base Camp (Club Himex) typing on Russ' computer after a hearty lunch. It's 2:30pm. I arrived here with the Japanese climbers at around 11:30am. We left camp 2 this morning at 6am in a fierce wind. I actually thought (hoped) maybe we'd leave a little later because of the wind but I'm glad we didn't.

When we reached the bottom of the Icefall, we stopped to take off our crampons and have a drink and eat chocolate. It was while sitting at 'crampon point' that we heard a thunderous sound. I looked up and saw a huge ball of snow coming straight toward us. It was an avalanche. Since my camera was sitting right there (I've gotten very lazy about taking photos this expedition and my camera has to be readily available for me to even bother), I actually took 2 photos. Then we were in a snowy icy haze for a few seconds. We were well away from danger but I'm not sure about others. Of course we are hearing news constantly but it's hard to know what is true and what is not.

But I wanted to send a post immediately just to assure everyone that I am okay. In fact, I am off to find the shower. It's been about 10 days. Ew.

Sadly, a few of my new friends have left. I miss you all already! We all do!

I'm still here and am resting up for the summit push. No, I am not in my best form, but who is at 17k feet after putting their bodies through all of this?! And I cried..... more than once - at Lobuche and camp 1 because of this stupid muscle pull in my chest!!! So I bought the guides beers who witnessed my tears and who were very supportive. It made me feel better to cry. I know. I admit it! But the Croatian Women's Team would probably never cry. They're pretty tough looking.

To my friend from France, THANK you for the sausage! I will email you later.

Moving UP

2009-04-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

Hi!! As usual I have to be quick.

Days of resting are quickly turning into a week of climbing Mount Everest.

We have two teams moving up to camp 3. I am on the second team. Although I climbed Lobuche, I only did it once as opposed to most everyone else, but I do feel well enough acclimatized. That could change up high but I'm hoping for the best. I've been recovering from this annoying chest muscle tearing thing.... the good news is I've had a lot of time to recover and I am leaving tomorrow morning with 13 other climbers and Sherpas.

Oh, we did have a fantastic party in the white pod a few nights ago - didn't get to bed until 1am. I haven't done that in a while. It was fun watching the Sherpas sing and dance (and some of the guides and climbers).

Today we hiked to crampon point (where we put on our crampons before heading into the Icefall), about 25 minutes away at the regular Everest base camp. I saw Asian Trekking and was lucky to catch Apa Sherpa for some tea. I climbed Everest in 2007 with Apa and Lhakpa Gelu's company (WRET) that I'm told by Apa no longer exists. It was great fun seeing Apa again and meeting some of their climbers - Will Cross (a diabetic from Pittsburg who reached the top of Everest in 2006), Mogens Jensen (who I've actually met a few times - he climbed with Himex in 2005-2007, summited, and visited our camp 2 weeks ago). Apa looked the exact same as he did 2 years ago. He will be attempting his 19th summit (the most ever).

Our schedule is to climb through the Icefall to camp 1 tomorrow. Then to camp 2, where we will spend 2 nights. Then up the Lhotse Face to camp 3 for a night (that will be tough), followed by another night at camp 2. I will either be back at base camp on the 6th or 7th, depending on how acclimatized I feel. Right now I feel good... but we have MUCH higher to go!

The report on the mountain is that our first group is doing very well.

I'll write again in May.

Lobuche..Nobuche...Lobuche

2009-04-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

I realize it's been a REALLY long time since I last sent a post. This will be long.

Once again, I encourage you to visit some of the blogs of my team members. There are links in this blog and you can visit the himex site for more information. There are some dedicated, bordering on fanatical, bloggers in this group. Some notable blogs are Billi Bierling's (she is a journalist and is writing about the expedition in general - logistics and interesting info) and Lance Fox's.

My blog is just about little ol' me. We have an understanding here that bloggers write about themselves and the expedition in general and not about others (except for my endorsements of other blogs and other little tidbits).

Now I'll fill you in on my last week here.

As mentioned, our plan has been to climb Lobuche peak - roughly 6100 meters, 20,200 feet - twice to acclimatize. I was on my way when I last wrote. The problem with my plan in particular was the 2 nights before leaving I had a 3 hour coughing fit in my tent. The next morning I started feeling that familiar pain of a pulled muscle in my chest. It got worse as we practiced climbing and rappelling in the icefall. That night I couldn't watch the movie (we have movies here - it's crazy) because leaning back in the comfy lounge chair made me uncomfortable and instead I had to sit up. That's a waste of a good chair. The next morning when I set off toward Lobuche base camp I knew something was not right. The pain in my chest was worse and it made me feel fatigued.

Within about an hour of the walk down, I used my arms to pull up over a boulder. That was when a sword dug through my chest. The pain was so intense and unexpected, I burst into tears. From then on, every step hurt. There was that spiked golf ball residing in my chest again!

At Lobuche base camp, Monica gave me a strong anti-inflammatory and we both agreed I would not ascend Lobuche with the group the following day. I had no choice really. I ended up spending the next 4 nights at Lobuche base camp watching the three teams ascend, descend and return to Everest base camp. I admit I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, even though the massive pain subsided within a day after taking a very strong anti-inflammatory. Then Russ radio'd down to ask me how I was feeling and to see if I could go up with the trekkers the next day. The plan was for me to climb with the trekkers but stay at top to camp with the first group, returning for their second Lobuche climb. The difference this time was that we would camp for a night just below the summit!

So that's what I did. We went to camp 1 the first day and at 5:50 am the next morning we set off for the summit. I initially climbed with the trekkers but at some point I decided to move a little faster. The two Sherpas had to stay with the trekkers so I ended up climbing to the summit by myself. The weather was spectacular and the climb very tough in parts. Although I made a few mistakes (Nima, one of the Sherpas, was yelling at me from below to move way left because I'd gotten off track and could not find the ropes the Sherpas fixed for us), I enjoyed climbing alone and going at my own pace. Eventually I made it to our high camp, just below the summit. Phurba and the Sherpas were digging platforms and setting up tents. I was surprised to see them because my altimeter said I had about 800 feet to go. By 10:05 am I was standing on the summit. It was a huge relief for me to make it up there in good time.

I was such a knucklehead though. Rather than drop my backpack off at the camp, I wore it to the summit. When I reached the summit, I tried to radio Russ but could not get the radio to work. Then I realized I was alone and could not get a good summit photo. Didn't matter because after only 2 shots, my CF card was full. For someone so obsessed with photographing my adventures, I dropped the ball bigtime on Lobuche. The view was so amazing! See other blogs for photos.

When I returned to our high camp, Phurba checked my radio and told me I needed to turn up the volume. Duh.

The first group trickled in during the afternoon and everyone was very impressed with our camp. Phurba and the Sherpas did a spectacular job, as usual.

So my first attempt at Lobuche may have been aborted (Nobuche) but I did get to go up eventually and sleep at high camp.

We descended back to Lobuche base the next morning and returned to Everest base camp that afternoon, in time to share a couple of beers in the white pod.

I could write on and on about this whole coughing fit chest intercostal muscle tear thing - needing to recover but also needing to climb and acclimatize - but I feel as if everyone is sick of hearing about it! This is Everest (I know), it's an 8,000 meter peak (yes, got that), and I need to toughen up (whatever). The cold and cough are now gone. I just need the tightness in my chest to GO AWAY! How's that?

So let's move on.... I was thrilled to get back in time to call my parents and wish them a happy 61st wedding anniversary and my Mom a happy 83rd birthday! Sorry to wake you up but you are never home at night and I figured I could catch you in the morning.

The plan going forward is to start climbing Everest. I think Lobuche was a great peak to climb to prepare for Everest and avoid spending so much time in the Icefall with all the other climbers. For the most part, we had Lobuche to ourselves. But I know everyone is anxious to get onto the mountain we came here to climb.

The food here has been awesome. Really. I am not having an ounce of trouble with my appetite. I eat better here than I do at home. But I have lost a few pounds. It's amazing what altitude does!

Russ calls me Meeegan. He could call me whatever he wants because he's the guy in charge. What bugs me is that now some of the other climbers are calling me Meeegan!

So that's what's been going on this past week and why I haven't emailed. I was away for 6 nights.

Two people have now asked to use the computer and I'm running out of things to say.

I'll write again later when I have more news!

Club Himex

2009-04-17T04:22:00.000-07:00

Hopefully many of you have been checking in on others' blogs. There are some very sophisticated bloggers on this team, sending daily photos and videos, etc... I'm not so diligent - sorry for my obvious lack of photos. I'm lazy.

So if you've been reading the other blogs and seeing those photos, you know more about what is happening on this mountain than I do. You also know that we have a pretty nice camp here. We are not at Pumori. Instead we are a leisurely 20 minute walk up from the regular base camp, just off the trail. And it is pretty nice here at Club Himex with the white pod and blue cheese and crackers for the afternoon. I strolled up to the regular base camp yesterday and was thankful for our nice spacious camp. Despite what you've read, Everest is a place where one can catch up on sleep and read good books.

A couple of days ago I hiked up Kala Pattar with fellow climber, Jim. We both wanted to return to the place that launched our interests in mountain climbing. For me, it was 10 years ago and for Jim, 5. We took our time and completed the round trip in 5 hours. The views were clear and the weather beautiful, so I got lots of nice shots. Thank you, Big Jim for a wonderful day.

Today we practiced some ice climbing and rappelling. I didn't feel too good after coughing for hours last night and pulling the left muscle in my chest (or whatever that is that makes it hurt to cough and breathe hard). We were filmed and photographed. Some of the guys have been taking photos of the model release we had to sign for Billi - never signed a model release before! I haven't showered in a week, I'm feeling weak and I look like hell but I managed to smile for the camera. We actually had a fun time. Always nice when the sun is out and we're nice and warm.

Rather than acclimatize in the dreaded Icefall, we are climbing another mountain - Lobuche. We are going in groups and I am in the third group that consists of (1) the Japanese climbers and guides, (2) climbers who have been sick (me), and (3) climbers who joined us late. Group 3 includes our entire group of 6 women (3 Everest climbers, 1 Lhotse climber, filmer and doctor). So yesterday, Team Testosterone I left for Lobuche and today Team Testosterone II took off. Team Estrogen and the rest leave tomorrow. We will walk to our Lobuche base camp, climb to camp 1, climb to the summit and descend, and then walk back to Everest base camp the following day.

Then we will do it again but sleep on the 6,100 meter summit. The plan is to prepare for our first trip through the Icefall and ascent to Everest camp 2.

So that is the plan. I give myself a half hour to spill as much info as I can - this post is more like a twitter, all off the top of my head. Now I am going to return to the hot whiskey I was given as I walked into the computer room.

I'll send another post when I return from Lobuche. Also, I may not respond to comments but I do read them and I do appreciate them!

Cheers.

These Are The Days..

2009-04-12T04:17:00.000-07:00

These are the days when I ask myself, "Why can't I be a Club Med person?"

"What's wrong with golf? Or Hawaii?"

After a fabulous day yesterday, I woke up this morning feeling very nauseated. I slept soundly through the night, breathing through a balaclava to keep the cold dry air out and moisture in, and because of the cold, I probably had my tent zipped up a little too tight. I wasn't breathing enough oxygen. Combine this with extreme congestion and an inability to cough because of the pain in my chest when I do so... and you get nausea. Not fun.

Monika came by after noticing my absence at bfast. My oxygen stat is not bad - 88% - but my blood pressure is through the roof. I'm normally at the lower end of normal so it was interesting to see 110 over 70 turn to 170 over 110 in altitude! This is not unusual.

Russ came by and told me by tomorrow I'll be strong enough to go to the summit with the Sherpas. I asked him what time they would be leaving.

Today we had our Puja Ceremony. I wrote a little bit about the Puja in the link at right called, "Mount Everest." We all gathered around from about 10am to 11:30. I wasn't going to miss it, no matter how bad I felt.

Someone mentioned it is Easter Sunday! So Happy Easter everyone! Sorry I seem to keep writing about my woes up here but it really is not so bad. I'm being looked after and I know I'll feel fine tomorrow.

The most humorous part of the day was being interviewed by Kirsty of the film crew, who is also suffering from this cold. She very nicely asked me if I wouldn't mind being interviewed while I was feeling bad. I figured if she could do her job filming and interviewing (with a cold) then I could sit for 5 minutes and talk about how I was feeling.

Tomorrow I hope to join the trekkers on their hike to Kala Pattar. They are a great bunch, particularly Katie, who I roommed with during our trek, and I want to see them off (they are leaving). My home page on my website has a photo of Everest I took on Kala Pattar 10 years ago. It is so incredible to be back here.

Happy Easter! Love love love....

Megan

Everest Base Camp - We're Here!

2009-04-11T02:11:00.000-07:00

More importantly, I am here. It was not easy. I had stomach and back cramps, a fever, a cough, all from this wonderful cold I keep trying to forget about. I ruptured something in my chest from all the coughing so now it hurts to cough or breathe hard. Swell. Someone told me if I stop coughing it should heal in 2 days. Oh the joy of living in altitude!

Now for the good stuff. I actually am acclimatizing well and have a great appetite, which is always a concern of mine in altitude. The walk up here was beautiful. I followed Eugene from Lobuche base camp at a perfectly slow and steady pace. We got spectacular views of Everest and were rewarded by Sherpas serving hot tea along the way.

Himex has both a Lobuche and Everest base camp - we plan on climbing Lobuche as part of our training and acclimatizing for Everest. It is quite an operation with all these climbers.

What is it like here at base camp? Pretty darn big and organized. We each have our own 3-person tent, home for the next several weeks. There are 2 shower/toilet tents. We ladies have our own special place to pee, although I just go in my tent into my own pee bottle. Sorry if this is too much info for some of you but I am frequently asked how basic bodily functions are done up here.

Himex is well known for the White Pod, an enormous tent with a big screen tv and bar. We can order soft drinks or beer/wine. Pretty luxurious. We eat 3 huge meals a day. This morning we had bacon, beans (yes beans for bfast - loved them), eggs and toast. For lunch it was cole slaw, fries, tortillas and hammy spam. Some of you know how much I love spam but this is not so bad. Yesterday Eugene shared his French salami with the people fortunate to be sitting in the same tent with him... we combined that with a big plate of blue cheese. I thought I was in heaven. The simplest things can make you SO happy up here!

The temp has been freezing cold at night and 80 F during the day inside my tent. I generally am outside the tent, chatting with others in one of the dining tents or sitting in the white pod. Today I washed my hair and some clothes.

So that's life here at BC - we have all been ordered to rest rest rest and I am following orders. Since I've had this cold, I keep thinking what Mom would be telling me to do and that is rest rest rest. So don't worry, Mom, I am doing just that and I am feeling SO much better than just a few days ago.

Love and hugs to everyone back home. Miss you lots.

Megan

Dingboche

2009-04-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

I want to first thank my good friend, Kelly Bobbitt, for posting the map on my last post! I was surprised to see that this morning. It put a smile on my face! So thank you, Kelly! (he's a GPS mapping expert so I think the right guy is helping me here).

To recap over the past few days, from Namche we hiked up about 1,000 feet to Khumjung. It's a short walk uphill. We stayed at Phurba's lodge for 2 nights which was great for me because I could use a rest day to help recover from this cold. Phurba is Himex's larger-than-life Sherpa. He's been to the summit of Everest 14 times, and like many of the Nepalese, he has sparkling eyes and a smile that lights up a room. He also has 5 adorable children - I enjoyed watching some of the climbers playing football or keep-away with them.

Little sidenote, in Namche, some of the guys ran into Ed Viesturs and got a photo with him.

From Khumjung we made our way to Tengboche, where several of us visited the Monastery, noticing how some trekkers either don't notice or don't care to follow the instructions that clearly state NO video and NO flash photography. One woman was abruptly escorted out by a monk. Hello? Total knucklehead.

The walk from Tengboche was down and then up, resulting in just a few hundred feet of elevation gain. It took about 3 hours I think. I was not feeling well because of this cold that I keep trying to stay positive about- "if you're going to get a cold, better to get it now," "it will go away," "it happens...." While walking up the hill, all I could think was "this really sucks." I'll be positive later.

Yesterday we walked from Tengboche to Dingboche at about 14,100-200 feet. And today, THANKFULLY, we have another rest day. I cannot believe all the internet cafes! The price goes up with altitude. Today I'm washing clothes and me. Some are going on a hike. Others are simply sitting around. It's important to rest as we acclimatize and it is especially important to hydrate. I drink at least 2 liters of water per day and on same days a little more than 3. We drink throughout the day, not all at once, so water is absorbed.

This is an incredibly nice and interesting group of people from South Africa, Norway, Ireland, Japan, China, France, etc.... and I am frequently surprised when I walk into a room and someone offers me his chair! I wondered out loud whether I would get the same courtesy at the Hillary Step (a section of Everest we climb on summit day) and the consensus was that we can't tell who is a man and who is a woman up there! But I am already feeling close to several of the people, something I love about expedition climbing. We are all away from our families and lead different lives, but have similar interests and dreams. Hard to describe without sounding sappy but suffice to say, I am so far thrilled to be with this group.

I finally finally finally read John Wood's book, Leaving Microsoft to Change the World (I know, I suggested it in my link at right but I hadn't actually read it yet myself - bad), and I don't know if it's because of the altitude or because of the things his organization, Room to Read, is doing, but I felt myself tearing up through much of it. If more people with John's background and skills (he was a director at Microsoft) put their energy and resources into building schools and libraries in developing countries, the world would be a better place. Climbing Everest seems so small and petty!

My next book must be a mountaineering book so I could snap back into climbing mode.

Tomorrow we are off to Lobuche. Then to Base Camp where we will have plenty of rest days and where I hope to kick this cold. Two climbers, including me, have it, as well as Monika and another woman on the film crew. Hopefully, that will be it.

I know I keep saying this, but next post will be at BC. I'll try to post photos from there. Meanwhile, I'll let Kelly add whatever clever maps and images he has!!

Oh and the time difference from California is really 12 hours, 45 minutes. I can't keep track.

Greetings from Namche Bazaar

2009-04-01T21:05:00.001-07:00

Well, this is a surprise post! Namche looks the same as when I was here 10 years ago except that the lodges are nicer (our room has a private bath), warmer (I recall rooms with slits between the wooden planks where the cold air would seep in back then), and there are plenty of internet cafes!

We arrived in Namche yesterday after about a 2.5 hour (2 hr 15 min?) uphill walk from Mojo. The altitude here is about 11,400 feet. Seems everyone is doing okay. The flight from Lukla the day before went as planned. It was great to run into Val Pitkethly, my guide from Peru in 2002. I keep running into her because she and the nine trekkers she is guiding are on a similar schedule.

While rooming with Monica the doctor was great (we switched yesterday), catching her cold has not been all that great. So now I've already had two bouts of sickness. The strange thing about this cold is I feel better while walking and doing something than lying around. A couple of other people are also sick. It's really part of the deal here and while I'm a bit uncomfortable, I'm not too concerned (I know that probably shocks my family because I have been so paranoid about getting sick before leaving but this cold feels like a "real" cold and not something related to my inflamed esophagus from reflux - that is, thankfully, under control!).

And despite my cold, I still drink a beer a day.

The weather is spectacular - seems we are hitting a hot spell because prior to our arrival we heard it was pretty cold.

Which brings me to our arrival in Namche. When I reached the Alpine Lodge where we are staying, I went to take photos and Lance Fox said for me to wait so he could put his shirt back on. I jokingly encouraged him to keep it off, and then suggested maybe some of the other guys remove their shirts as well. Didn't have to pull too many legs for that one. Next thing I knew we had 6 guys lined up for a photo as I shouted "1-2-3- Flex!" I can't load it up here but if you go to Gilad's website (see the link to other blogs at right), you may find a shot I took with his camera. I'm pretty sure Lance has a shot loaded since he's on the internet daily. His website is http://www.foxeverest.com/. It was hilarious.

Enjoy!

Next post probably from base camp unless we see some more internet cafes like the one I'm sitting in now! This afternoon we are walking to Kumjung to stay in Phurba Tashi's lodge.

PS - The real time and date right now is 10:25 am on April 2.

Namaste!

2009-03-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Kathmandu on March 29 free of drama. That means my luggage also arrived and it didn't take long to find the other 9 Himex team members and guides flying into Kathmandu on the same plane.

The flights from SFO were mostly uneventful (and wonderful because I upgraded to BClass) except for a few things: Due to the fierce wind in Tokyo, our plane was wobbling like a weeble as we descended into Narita. About 10 seconds from the runway, the pilot suddenly thrusted the plane, and my lunch, upward. It took the entire 20 minute turnaround re-do time for me to recover from my nausea.

Someone told me that's a good sign - I've already had my bout with sickness, so the rest of the trip should go smoothly. I believe that.

The next flight was made cool by the fact that Ed Viesturs was sitting across from me. If you don't know who Ed Viesturs is, click on the link called "8000 Meter peaks." I was star struck but unable to muster the courage to say anything to him. Maybe later on the mountain I'll ask him to sign my copy of Outside magazine (he's on the cover).

From the airport, we drove through the crowded streets of Kathmandu, familiar to me now because not much has changed since my first visit here in 1999, and made our way to the Hotel Tibet. My fancy Suunto altimeter watch battery died the day we arrived. Come on! Luckily Russ said I can find everything I need in Kathmandu, and I was able to replace the battery.

So now I'm here in the hotel lobby using the computer. We had a dinner last night as most of our team members are now here. Alec Turner from Alaska apparently was delayed due to a volcano eruption??? Check out his blog at http://www.glacierboy.com/. Maybe he can fill you in on that. We hope to see him soon.

To avoid viruses and get over jetlag, I arranged to have my own room in Kathmandu but I was told I'm sharing with Monica, the team doctor. Apparently Hotel Tibet is booked.

I'm glad I arrived a few days early because we have a 12 hour, 15 minute time difference with San Francisco (I was wrong in my earlier post - it's not 12 hours 30 minutes). The jetlag can be extreme but so far I'm handling it really well, thanks to my best friend, Ambien.

Arriving early also makes it much easier to learn the names of ALL THESE PEOPLE a few at a time.

Speaking about my earlier post about Kathmandu, it seems I was wrong about everything. Usually when I'm here this time of year, it's been warm in the 80's, and everyone's wearing shorts and tshirts. Now it's more like the 60's with thunderstorms in the late afternoon/evening.

The exchange rate per Oanda, 84 rupees to the dollar, is obviously not the "working" exchange rate of 78 rupees to the dollar. Oh well, this is boring stuff.

So what's our agenda? Today we're sorting out our gear, preparing for our 6am flight to Lukla tomorrow morning. Last night Russ introduced his team and went through some of the logistics. Dick Coulthurst with Tigress Productions gave his best pitch to allow them to film us for Discovery Channel - it's entirely up to each individual.

The only difficulty I'm having so far is understanding the various accents. Despite all my traveling, I've never been very good at that!

I won't send a post again until we arrive at Base Camp around April 9.

I must go because people are waiting to use the computer!

The date and time is actually 3/30, 8:30 am.

Mrs. Behm's Math Class

2009-03-23T17:42:00.001-07:00

I arrive in Kathmandu, Nepal, this Friday. I'll try to send a post once in Kathmandu but that may be difficult because of the 16 to 20 hour power outages they are having there! From Kathmandu, we fly to Lukla, where our trek begins to Everest Base Camp (BC). Once at BC, I should be able to send posts. But in the meantime...

My sister, Molly, teaches 8th Grade Math and French in Petaluma, California. Last year her Math class completed an assignment: Describe the size of Everest using proportions. I thought these were really cute so I scanned a few of them.

I couldn't find the name on this first one:

By Dave:

By Avery:

By Drake:

By Megan:

By Max:

By Kendra:

Everest 2009 - Our Route, Discovery Channel & What I'll Be Wearing

2009-02-03T16:23:00.000-08:00

Click on the photos below for larger images with descriptions.

We just received information about our upcoming climb on Mount Everest and work is slow this week, so I am finally going to start filling everyone in on what is going on this year, specifically regarding the Himalayan Experience (Himex) team I joined over a year ago.

But first! The white area in the map above should say NEPAL.

Let's RECAP: Last spring, our expedition was cancelled because the Chinese closed the mountain so their climbers could carry the Olympic Torch to the summit in peace. We were going to yell and throw things at them but we never got the chance.

This past year the Chinese continued to put restrictions on other mountains, such as Cho Oyu. These restrictions make it very difficult for large international teams like Himex to climb in China. Although I have friends planning on climbing the north side of Everest because they have been told by the China Tibet Mountaineering Association that the mountain will be open, that can easily change, as it did last spring just two weeks before our arrival date. We don't want to risk another disappointing cancellation this coming spring.

So, Team Leader, Russell Brice, has been preparing himself and our team for a SOUTH side ascent in Nepal.

I prefer the north side because (1) I've been there before and this is the kind of endeavor where past experience helps, (2) climbing through the Khumbu Icefall in Nepal is like playing Russian Roulette - the Sherpas spend much more time in the Icefall, so the risks are higher for them, (3) I joined Himex because of Russell Brice and his NORTH side experience, and (4) the south side of Everest will likely see a larger number of climbers this season due to regular north side teams, like ours, switching to the Nepal side.

I'm not looking forward to performing a balancing act over steep crevasses on ladders, even though friends have told me it's "fun" (I don't think so but I hope I'm pleasantly surprised) and the Khumbu Icefall is beautiful (maybe true but it's still dangerous).

HOWEVER, the south side is intriguing because I have never been above base camp (BC) there before (other than Kala Pattar), so it will be new and exciting. I also know that Russell Brice is doing everything he can to make sure our experience in Nepal meets the same high standards that Himex provides in Tibet. Given the circumstances, we really have little choice but to climb the south side. And besides, I love Nepal! This is an unexpected opportunity for me to see TWO sides of this beautiful mountain.

We have a large team, of course. It includes last year's team plus new people for this year. The total number of climbers is 28 but that may include some who won't be joining us. There are only three women, including me, climbing Everest. The small percentage of women is not surprising. What I can tell so far is that there are some very experienced climbers and fit athletes on this team.

To accomodate our large team, and avoid having other teams throw stuff at us for being so large and on the wrong side of the mountain, Russ said our BC will not be located where the regular camp is. Our BC (and large communal tent - the White Pod!!) will be by Pumori, or Pumo Ri, located eight kilometers west of Mount Everest and about a one hour walk from the regular BC.

What else? Discovery Channel. Maybe. Maybe not. At first Russ said they would be filming us, as well as another south side team (International Mountain Guides - IMG), and then he said he wasn't sure. Something about costs and the exchange rate... Then he said that Discovery Channel (technically, Tigress Productions) will indeed be filming our climb. I've re-scheduled my facial.

Please visit my page called Room to read (or go directly to the website). I guarantee you will enjoy learning about this incredible organization. The founder, John Wood, is a friend from San Francisco. Like Greg Mortenson (Three Cups of Tea) and the Central Asia Institute, John and his team at Room to Read are doing something EXTRAORDINARY!

This is going to be very different from what I experienced in 2007. Many of you know it has been a challenge keeping my health and fitness up this past year, but right now I feel confident that I'll be ready. Please wish me luck because I will take whatever help and good vibes I can get!

That's all for now. Thanks for tuning in.

Oh! My outfit! This is sort of an inside joke but I'll be wearing a sky blue Feathered Friends down suit this spring that actually fits me (in 2007 I could pull my down suit a foot over my head), along with some tomato red Millet boots - somewhat patriotic colors, not very slimming. If anyone wants to buy a size small, red, Mountain Hardwear down suit, please contact me (only worn 5 days and has experience above 28,000 feet - good price).

The plane from San Francisco takes off on March 25.

(Sorry, you can't click on this photo for a bigger image.)

Room to Read

2009-02-03T12:20:00.000-08:00

“World Change Starts with Educated Children.”

In 1999, I met John Wood through mutual friends at the Thirsty Bear (brew pub) in San Francisco. We had both just returned from Nepal and could not stop talking about our experiences there. I went on and on about mountains and mountain men and John talked about how he and his father wanted to help children in countries like Nepal by providing books and building schools to improve their education (I felt really small).

So John started an organization, Books for Nepal, now called Room to Read.

Since then, Room to Read has built schools in Nepal, Cambodia, India, Laos, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, South Africa, Zambia and Bangladesh, and John published his autobiography, Leaving Microsoft to Change the World. All proceeds from the book go to Room to Read.

But as John says, there are still tons of millions of kids who need access to a better education. There is much to be done.

As with all charitable organizations, Room to Read operates through donations. If you are interested in helping, or you just want to learn about the incredible things Room to Read is doing, please visit:

http://www.roomtoread.org/

Want some cheese to go with your whine?

2009-01-28T15:55:00.000-08:00

I recently returned from climbing Nevado Juncal (20,163 ft.) in Chile.

Whenever I prepare for a mountain climbing expedition, there is always this lingering fear that something will go wrong. I don't necessarily mean the obviously scary stuff, like I will fall into a crevasse or get pulmonary edema. There are a zillion things, scattered along a spectrum of annoying to tragic, that can go awry.

The best way to sum up my trip to Nevado Juncal is to say that everything that could go wrong, short of being tragic, did go wrong. The trip fell on the annoying side of the spectrum, so I returned physically well and pleased I went, but whiney. If you don't like whining, skip this post and come back for an update of my upcoming trip to Mount Everest.

Whine #1: It started the day before Thanksgiving, about three weeks before my Santiago departure date. I went to swim laps before seeing my family for the long weekend. At around length 32, I started feeling a little strange, so I stopped swimming. The strange feeling slowly turned into nausea and within five minutes, I was vomitting in the women's room. The rest of the day was spent in bed hiding from my family while I shivered with a fever.

I was ill off and on until about a week ago (yes, well after returning from Chile), when I finally went to the doctor, who told me this whole time I'd likely been suffering from an unusually bad case of acid reflux, something I've been battling, apparently unsuccessfully, since last March. He proposed I get what is called an upper endoscopy. I could write a blog just about acid reflux, vocal cord dysfunction, nasal issues and anxiety... Lovely. I thought I had a virus, so I drank tons of orange juice. I should have just poured gasoline down my throat.

The week before leaving for Chile, after returning from a business trip to New York with no voice (my brother, Burke, told me I sounded like death), I looked into the prospect of cancelling the trip. It seemed unlikely that I would recover in time but even if I did, I certainly didn't have the strength or the desire to go mountain climbing. When you don't feel well, you want to be where you feel comfortable, especially during the holidays. But cancelling meant throwing my money away.

So I flew to Chile with the thought that I'd make the most of it, even though I secretly wished I was going to a health spa.

My flights went from San Francisco to Los Angeles (LAX), then from LAX to Santiago, Chile. If you ever fly internationally through LAX, leave plenty of time between flights to get to the Tom Bradley International Terminal. You have to walk outside, catch a shuttle, and then check-in and go through security.

Whine #2: I barely made the connecting flight after my seat was given away. It was an emotional day - I was tired, I didn't want to be there, and the LAX shuttle driver closed the door in my face without an explanation, so I had to wait 20 minutes for the next shuttle. Afraid I'd spend the long flight to Santiago in an awful middle seat, I frantically called my travel agent, who told me if I smile big and am nice, they might give me a business class seat. If I don't, they will give me another seat and take the person who was already there and put him in business class.

The folks at the LAN front desk gave me a window seat in an exit row - that was cool - but I found out they gave the gentleman who was already there a business class seat (whine #3). Lesson learned.

I arrived in Santiago but my luggage didn't (whine #4). Luggage for a mountain climbing trip is important, especially if you wear a size 5.5 plastic boot. There's not a huge market for small size mountaineering boots, so they're not always easy to find, especially to rent.

I've heard of people not getting their luggage before. In 2002, I climbed in Peru with a very strong female Danish climber who had to skip Tocllaraju, the highest peak, because she never got her luggage and precious boots, and she didn't feel comfortable with the rentals she was wearing (she was flying KLM - they are notorious for lost luggage).

Maybe I should have carried my boots on board. Panic.

After two sleepless nights (whine #5), wondering why I was away from my family for Christmas and New Year's and what I was going to do if my gear didn't arrive, LAN delivered my luggage to the hotel just in time to meet the team and head over to the mountain. You may notice every whine has some cheese.

The team included four climbers - Andres Zeger, 38, our Chilean guide (pictured above in his home in Santiago); Joel, 35, a Swiss computer programmer living temporarily in Buenos Aires; Mark, 52, an English oil drilling engineer living in Perth, Australia; and me, 26. ; )

One of the first things I learned about my fellow climbers, Joel and Mark, is that they had spent the previous week trekking and acclimatizing. Great. I was immediately intimidated (whine #6).

We drove two hours from Santiago, parked the car, unloaded our luggage for the mule driver who picked it all up, and hiked to base camp at around 9,000 feet. The hike was beautiful; the weather, sunny and warm.

The next day we carried a load to camp 1 at 12,300 feet, and the next day, Christmas day, we packed up our stuff to leave at base camp, and moved up to camp 1. This is a typical way to move up a mountain - climb high with a load one day, sleep low, and then move up to the higher camp. It allows climbers to carry gear (food, fuel, etc...) up the mountain and acclimatize.

The move to camp 1 was not steep, but the terrain was tricky and icy and we did not wear crampons. On Christmas day, carrying a heavy pack, I followed Joel's leap across a crevasse but lost my footing on the ice on the other side and slowly started sliding down toward the water. Andres scrambled like mad to grab me, but Mark quickly put his ski pole within my grasp so I could stop my slide.

So thanks to Mark, there was no water in my boot...yet. That was the first time I ever took a fall on a mountain because of my own poor footing (whine #7). Unfortunately, it wasn't the only time I fell on Nevado Juncal.

That night at camp 1, we celebrated Christmas with boxed wine (whine #8). I'm taking back that whine. It actually tasted pretty good and I thought it was thoughtful of Andres to pack the box.

Camp 1 for Nevado Juncal is at 12, 400 feet. It lies at the foot of a moraine, next to a glacier that looks something like the Khumbu icefall. In fact, the glacier goes all the way down to 10,000 feet, which is unusually low.

After our move to camp 1, we did a carry to camp 2, at 15,400 feet. The beginning of the climb was hard dirt and rocks but the terrain quickly turned into what a Brazilian climber called "mucho penitentes."

Penitentes, also called spiked ice, are common on high-altitude glaciers in the Andes where the air is dry and the sun's rays can turn ice into water vapor without melting it first - a process called sublimation. Some parts of the snow sublimate faster than others, so depressions develop. The curved surfaces then concentrate sunlight and speed up sublimation in the depressions, leaving the higher points behind as forests of towering spikes.

I have navigated through penitentes before during two trips on Aconcagua, but the penitentes on Nevado Juncal made everything I'd previously seen on Aconcagua look like popsicles. On Juncal, the penitentes were humongous-er, steep in areas, and seemed to go on and on. I sounded like Rod 4-letter-word Blagojevich on my way up but as far as I know it wasn't bleeping recorded (so I can still run for public office).

It was a tough day. We were carrying heavy packs up varied terrain from dirt to snow to ice to penitentes. Finding a rhythm was nearly impossible.

Normally while ascending a mountain in high altitude, climbers do what's called the rest step - the front leg moves forward in a relaxed motion while the rear leg remains vertical and the knee locked. This rests the weight on the skeleton and so relieves the leg muscles of exertion. It allows a mountain climber to ascend at his/her maximum but steady pace. If the terrain is smooth, it is relatively easy to ascend. But when it is varied with large steps, as we encountered on Nevado Juncal, the climbing is much more strenuous.

Good technique while walking up a mountain, with or without crampons, on varied terrain like hard dirt, snow, scree, ice, etc... will conserve energy and enable climbers to ascend for long lengths of time. As the terrain changes, the technique also changes. Because I only go mountain climbing once or twice a year, it takes a conscious effort for me to get back into the groove. I know that if I don't, I might use too much energy and fail. I felt pretty clumsy at first because it has been an embarrassingly long time since I last went mountain climbing.

I know what you're thinking: "SHE'S going to Everest?" or even more, "She's BEEN on Everest?" The answer is YES. SHE freely admits that every time she is on a mountain she has to reacquaint herself with technique because she knows how important it is (I feel like I'm on Facebook). But it usually comes back quickly, sort of like riding a bike... a mountain bike on a steep mountain in the pouring rain with gigantic slippery rocks and mud.

Andres and Joel made it to camp 2 first. Four Spanish climbers were there as well. When I reached them, I asked Andres to give it to me straight. Was I in any condition to climb this mountain?

Andres responded that my five hour, 10 minute ascent was fine, not too far behind them and very close to the time the Spaniards took of five hours. In fact, I ascended faster than they did because they left from a higher camp (about one hour climb above us) and acclimatized before coming to Juncal. That should have made me feel better and more confident, and it did, but I couldn't help but think that Andres, Joel and the Spaniards did not feel nearly as wiped out as I did (whine #8).

Mark came up after six hours of climbing. It seemed to me that he was also in line with a timely ascent, but Andres didn't give him the same reassurance he'd given me.

We descended back to camp 1 with the plan to spend the next day resting and the following day moving up to camp 2.

My feet felt wet during the entire descent, like I was sloshing in water. But I never stopped. When I removed my boots at camp 1, I poured out about a cup of water from each boot. I had never experienced that before! (whine #9)

Sometimes on mountain climbing trips I have funky dreams. I'm not sure if this is a symptom of being in altitude or just being in a strange environment. One night I dreamed that Barack Obama was my boyfriend. I woke up laughing. I like Barack, but I don't care how cool our new President is, he and his job remind me of STRESS. Why couldn't I dream about Ashton Kutcher or Denzel Washington? (whine #10)

After a rest day, the plan was to get up at 4am, pack and move up to camp 2. Early the next morning, I felt fine as I was fumbling around for my things, trying to pack quickly - that's been a struggle for me so I now do the opposite and pack too fast.

At some point I turned my leg a little and felt a twinge in my knee area. It ended up being in my upper calf muscle. I was a little concerned (everyone told me I was strangely quiet during breakfast) because I didn't know how it would feel once I stood up and started walking with a pack on my back. So once we did start walking, I immediately let Mark go ahead of me, which shocked him. And then I fell behind, which shocked everyone except me.

Every step hurt. Five hours of pain wasn't something I looked forward to and injuring my leg even more was not a risk I was willing to take. The purpose of this trip was to prepare for Everest, not physical therapy. I told the guys I am sorry but there needs to be a change of plan because I'm not going up. Inside, I also knew I just didn't have the energy (waaaahhh #11).

When I got home and told my brother, Dan, about my muscle, his response was, “stretch much?” No. Stupid, I know. But I was not in the proper condition for this climb. Pulling my leg muscle, something I've never done before on any climb, was a nice way of making me stop at the most convenient time for everyone. Looking back, knowing what I know now, it was a blessing in disguise.

Since Mark was unsure about his ability to move up the mountain, he decided to stay at camp 1 with me (thank you!). We began scrambling through our packs, moving things around, so Andres and Joel could continue up and Mark and I could go back down to camp 1.

The first thing Mark and I noticed after we set up camp was that the cards were nowhere to be found - Andres must have taken them up with him. We also had no books. They were all at base camp. We were looking forward to eating some sausage, until we realized that all of it was up at camp 2 (all whines #12).

But we made the most of it with endless conversation, fiddling over obscure details in our digital cameras and talking about our lives, books and magazines we read, food we loved (food is a popular topic on mountains; people seem to enjoy talking about the food they crave; I'm no exception, but I tend to crave disgustingly-bad-for-you fast-food while I'm on a mountain) and countries we visited. We decided we would both become rich and famous writers because of all our great book ideas. It didn't matter that neither of us are actually writers.

Andres and Joel returned to camp two days later after a successful summit. The summit they reached is actually called an "international" summit because it is not the "true" summit. The true summit involves much more technical and dangerous climbing, which explains why it has only been reached by six climbers. Most climbers climb the international summit.

So we headed down the mountain, back to base camp and then to the car. My muscle pain had subsided (it was oddly on and off over the next few days) and the descent went okay, except that I fell again - whatever, I'm a pro at that by now. It was New Year's Eve and after a week of no showers, we were looking forward to getting back to the hotel, cleaning up and spending the evening celebrating.

Except when we reached the car, it didn't start (whine #13). We waited in the hot sun from noon to 4:30pm, wondering if we were going to spend the New Year dirty and hungry in our tents, when suddenly Andres figured out the problem and started his car. It was a two-hour drive to Santiago.

That day, Andres mentioned that December is not a good month to climb Nevado Juncal because of the mucho penitentes. November is much better (final whine).

Things started to change the closer we got to midnight. In my last post I probably jinxed myself by mentioning that 2008 was a bad year. Somehow throughout this whole experience I just knew once we got to 2009, things were going to look up.

That night we all went to Andres’ house in Santiago, where his wife made a wonderful shellfish and rice meal and we drank champagne with pineapple icecream, a Chilean New Year ritual. Andres’ brother and friend also joined us while we watched fireworks coming from four different locations in Santiago. The night was warm and relaxing. We didn’t make it back to our hotel until 4am.

Despite my whining, there were several wonderful moments on this mountain. I just left them out because this post is already really really long. But it does deserve mentioning that Andres Zeger was an excellent guide and Joel and Mark were great climbing companions.

I always want to reach the summit and am disappointed when I don't. But it is the tough trips that teach me the most (and please, don't think for a minute that I don't appreciate that I can even attempt this stuff). The purpose of this climb was to prepare for Everest, which right now is my ultimate goal. Juncal was probably the best preparation I could hope for, partly because I didn't reach the summit. My weaknesses were glaringly obvious.

Mickey Rooney said, "You always pass failure on the way to success."

I wouldn't necessarily call Everest 2007 (no summit), Everest 2008 (cancelled) and Nevado Juncal 2008 (no summit) failures, but I will say that SOMEBODY is ready for success.

Next post will be an Everest 2009 update!

Nevado Juncal, Chile

2008-12-18T12:30:00.000-08:00

No, I did not take this photo. Isn't it nice, though? I'm going there.

After three weeks of probably the worst cold I've had in a long time, I am leaving for Chile to climb Nevado Juncal, a 20,163 foot mountain, 50 miles south of Aconcagua. We will ascend the heavily glaciated north side.

It seems every time I leave for a mountain in the winter (in CA), I catch a cold either before leaving or as I am arriving. Argh!! So far it has not kept me from the summit. My fingers are crossed.

But I am anxious to snap on my croutons, as my sister calls them, and head to the mountains. It's been a long time. I had high hopes of spending the summer rock climbing and then going to either Ecuador to climb Antisana or Nepal to climb Manaslu in the fall, until all that was thwarted by an annoying health issue. Rather than enjoy the great outdoors, I sat on my tush for four months.

2008 was a bad bad year (I know - it's not over yet) for me, anyway, and I will be happy to ring in the New Year on a beautiful mountain in a remote area of Chile, even if I'm left at base camp with my camera and a good book.

Little sidenote - The highest peak in Chile is Ojos Del Salado (22,572'), the second highest peak in the western hemisphere (Aconcagua in Argentina is the highest) and the world's largest volcano.

These photos were pilfered from my friend, Rodrigo Mujica. I'm climbing the mountain with his company, Aventuras Patagonicas.

I will have my own images in January, so come back then!

Rodrigo told me the summit is behind the peak in this photo, about 1,000 feet higher.

Everest 2008 - NOT

2008-03-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

Click on any photo for a larger image with description.
So what just happened? OMG. A migraine headache, some sleepless nights and plenty of emails and phone calls, that's what. I feel like that guy, you know, to the right.

I was going to return to the north side with Himalayan Experience, aka Himex (yes, that is the team that was filmed on Discovery Channel but we were not going to be filmed this year). But just two weeks prior to departure, the Chinese closed Everest to climbers this season because of the Olympic torch carrying event. BTW was that even shown on television during the Olympics?

The first notice sent to expedition leaders looked like this:

I know it's too small to read so I'll make it easier. That notice combined with subsequent communication can be summed up as follows:

March 10, 2008

Dear Clients:

You cannot climb Mount Everest in Tibet this year.
Sorry.
Go find another mountain to climb.

China Tibet Mountaineering Association

One team member, David Tait, who has already reached the summit from the north twice with Himex and who would be climbing without using supplemental oxygen this year, opted to climb from the south (Nepal) with a Swiss team. Unfortunately, his attempt was soon aborted.

The rest of our team decided to postpone to 2009. It is very disappointing (I cried, I admit it, and then I got over it) but there are just too many uncertainties. This endeavor is riddled with uncertainties as it is. In the meantime, I will do some other climbing and post photos, of course. Did you think I wouldn't?

Many thanks to Russell Brice, whose leadership allowed us to make a difficult decision as a team.
I'm now looking forward to joining his 2009 Everest team and all that comes with that - another year of training, wondering if the mountain will be closed again next year, worrying about breaking a bone or pulling a muscle, continuing to work as a contractor to allow time for Everest (and once again putting off regular employment), wondering if I should risk skiing anyway, opting for a run over a movie, opting for water over wine, whining about that, booking hotels for business travel based on gym quality, and pigging out on donuts, ice cream and beer next Feb/March to gain weight.

Incidentally, that diet is fine before leaving for Everest, when you know you will soon lose more weight than that gained. Kind of a bummer when the Chinese close the mountain after you've put on the pounds and developed a taste for everything sugary.

Update

If you are curious about events on Everest this season, the Chinese team did reach the summit with the Olympic torch via the north side on May 8.

While I was shopping for a new dress, watching American Idol and squinting at spreadsheets, climbers on the Nepal side of Everest were finally allowed to ascend the mountain after having to stay at or below Base Camp from May 1 until the Chinese reached the summit. Several climbers summited Everest beginning May 20. Lucky dawgs.

In attempting a mountain like Everest, some of the biggest challenges happen before boarding the plane to Kathmandu, if you get that far, so it's important, and sometimes difficult, to stay positive and focused.

The support that I have received since returning from Everest last season has been overwhelming. My parents and sister were waiting for me at SFO without even a phone call. I heard from people I hadn’t seen in years. I was asked to show slides to various organizations. I felt like a rock star.

I thought, “Do they know I didn’t summit?”

Thank you to so many people for your support, contributions, enthusiasm, and encouragement! I know I'm no Gerlinde Kaltenbrunner and that my vacation on Everest is not the most important thing going on in the world, but it sure does stir up a lot of interest!

This endeavor has shown me that I am surrounded by people who love a good adventure. Thank you. Thank you.

THANK YOU!!

Next year...

Everest 2007

2007-10-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

In mid-January of 2007, I received an email from Julio Bird, a cardiologist from Wisconsin whom I met in 2005 while climbing Denali. He asked if I would be interested in joining a small, unguided, but fully supported expedition to the north side of Mount Everest. We would be leaving at the end of March and the cost was $16,000. That didn't leave me much time but I replied, "um...okay?"

The expedition would be organized by World Records Expeditions and Treks (WRET), a company started by Julio's Sherpa friends, Lhakpa Gelu and Apa. Lhakpa Gelu holds the world speed record on Everest, having ascended from Base Camp on the south side to the summit in just 10 hours, 56 minutes. Apa has the most summits of Everest, at that time 16, but since this last 2008 season has reached 18. Apa and Lhakpa Gelu would not be on our expedition because they were going to climb on the south side as part of a Super Sherpa team. They're big show-offs. : )
Our team consisted of four climbers (Julio, Gene, Con and me), three Sherpas (Phanden, Lama Jangbu and Lopsang), two cooks (Nima and Kami) - one at Base Camp (BC) and another at Advanced Base Camp (ABC) - and a Tibetan kitchen boy named Tamting (I don't know how to spell his name). Julio and Gene had both previously reached the summit of Everest from the south side. Con works as a professional mountain and rock guide.

To acclimatize, we planned to ascend to camp 2. However, the fierce wind limited our ascent to the north col. This was not enough.

On May 15, we attempted to summit from below 8,000 meters, which proved to be too low on the mountain and too long a summit day, especially since we were not properly acclimatized. In retrospect, our camp location may not have made a difference but our lack of acclimatization likely did.

Gene and Phanden turned around before the First Step.

The rest of us continued to the Second Step (8,600m / 28,230ft), where Julio determined he and I would run out of oxygen before making it back to High Camp if we did indeed reach the summit. That was a risk neither of us were willing to take. It didn't make sense to climb the most difficult and dangerous section if we weren't going to reach the summit, so after spending 30 minutes enjoying the amazing view from the northeast ridge, Julio and I turned around with Lama Jangbu.

Con, a professional mountain guide and stronger climber, continued to the summit with Lopsang and summited around 10:30 to 11am.

After our summit attempt, Con and Julio stayed at Camp 3 with Phanden, and they descended back to ABC the next morning.

Gene descended to the North Col with Lama Jangbu. I began my descent to the North Col about an hour or two later. Lopsang and Lama Jangbu carried huge loads of gear to ABC, where we all met the following day.

What an experience! Although not reaching the summit was disappointing, it always is, I was thrilled to get the chance to climb Everest and go as high as I did. Joining a small, unguided expedition, making our own decisions, right or wrong, gave me an appreciation of what it takes.

Everest is more about fitness and physiology than climbing ability but the physiology part is significant. If your body can't take the altitude, you can't climb. It doesn't matter how fit or talented a climber you are.

Everyone experiences different symptoms in altitude. Some climbers get headaches, nausea, lack of appetite, have trouble sleeping, etc... and others get more severe forms of altitude sickness, like pulmonary or cerebral edema. Experience in high altitude is the only way you'll know how your body behaves and what remedies work.

But that can always change.

Thankfully, I didn't experience anything new on Everest - I got the same controllable headache, only a few nights of cheynes-stokes (gasping for air while sleeping, scared the hell out of me the first and only other time I got it in 1999), and a loss of appetite.

The challenge for me was dealing with my loss of appetite in altitude for such an extended period of time. A day or two on other climbs has had little effect on my performance. Three to four weeks of low appetite while at BC and ABC is another story.

Everest is also about weather and I realize we were pretty lucky with that. We didn't have a forecasting system, so we relied on information provided by those who did. Our Sirdar (lead Sherpa), Phanden, heard from Russell Brice's camp that May 15 would be a good day to climb.

Back at BC, I wanted to go up again. My body was shot but my mind felt confident I could reach the summit. The rather impatient "Return to Everest" wheels had already started turning. I am so addicted.

Many thanks to our magnificent Sherpas - Phanden, Lama Jangbu and Lopsang - our cooks - Nima and Kami - and Tamting! I will never forget seeing Lopsang carry and drag down about five loads full of gear following his first summit of Everest!

I also want to thank Julio, whose email got me off my couch and on the greatest adventure of my life. He is the first and only Puerto Rican to summit Mount Everest (from the south side in 2002) and is not only brilliant but also a lot of fun to have around camp!

Until I received Julio's email, I had no expectation that I'd ever attempt Everest. It's ridiculously costly in terms of money and time. I also imagined my body eating itself the way Jon Krakauer so vividly describes in Into Thin Air.

When I left for Kathmandu in March, I was so nervous I almost cried at the airport. What on freakin' earth was I doing?! It was overwhelming to think I was going back to Nepal, not as a trekker, but as an Everest climber.

But now that I've been there, I want to go back.

To ease my family's minds, as well as enhance my summit chances and have a completely different experience, I decided to join a guided expedition on the north side.

Gulp.