Base camp may 8

stone pebble sculpture

Happily, Cam returned from camp one with most of the gear he set out to retrieve. We enjoyed our last meals at base camp, including a chocolate cake. I did some rearranging of the rocks on the vast field around the slender stream. It was a rest day, rest and packing.

Kaiser roles made in a tent

stone sculpture

JT in the lunch tent

Cam returns

fried potatoes, Yak cheese and some kind of donut

May 3, boots and crampons

One of the side effects of diamox is that you cannot taste the fizz of carbonated drinks, diamox is taken to avoid altitude sickness, I wish I had some ginger ale to test that theory, and a mirror to see how my beard is doing. They say my eyebrows have grown outlandish, I keep them to remind me of Jay. If I had boots and crampons, I could go up, instead I must return down the slab and across the boulders to advanced base camp to retrieve them, hoping perhaps to journey up to camp two later in the day to one of the (rumored) unoccupied tents. But by afternoon it is snowing again, the slabs are treacherous, I would have died, except that I also retrieved my black diamond expedition mittens, which saved my hands frozen in their gloves and precariously continue up the slab to the tent. The tedium of a climbing expedition is enormous, hours of slow and labored walking, often demanding keen attention; you are alone and one slip is all it takes, like Ismael at the mast head contemplating the expanse of the ocean, musing on the verities of life, but one slip and like Icarus, fallen into the sea, unobserved by the young maid doing the dishes by the window.

in the tent

ridge to camp 2

the boulder field

Lost and glimmering sheets of ice may 4

Goodbye to camp one, elevation 18,900 feet, into the ice and snow everything on my back, except for a tent, maybe goodbye to everyone, walking like a snail, too slow, leaving too late, but once your mind is made up, you cannot stay another minute, and conditions will probably just get worse, 14 hours in a tent and chicken curry for breakfast.

boulder field in snow

Lost and found may 5

After 5 nights and 6 days on the mountain I am back at basecamp. When I woke up two days ago at camp 1,  buried in snow I knew there was no chance of climbing this mountain this year, with more cold wind and snow on the way.

I wrote my last farewell in case I didn’t make it down the icy snowy slabs, packed up camp one: encased myself in goretex, put on the boots and crampons and began the laboriously slow process of descent, not leaving until 1:00. JT and Rob were pinned down at camp two, not able to ascend or descend, I found out later. I made the treacherous descent down the slabs, rappelling on the icy fixed lines until they ended, then sliding and scraping the final 200 feet. I put on approach shies for the long delicate tedious walk through the boulder field. I could barely see from one cairn to the next, the entire mountain was in a cloud. My hope was to get to Rob’s beyond the boulderfield, or somehow find shelter in the collapsed tent at advanced base camp, or make it to the meadows where we had left a tent. Rob’s tent was gone, they had taken it up with them,  I could not find the advanced base camp because of the snow. So I set out for the meadows. It was very foggy and getting late, soon it would be dark. The fog cleared for a brief moment and I could see the ridge, an began the long walk down. Amazingly my feet were not cold even though my shoes were soaked. I prayed I would find the cairn that marked the turn off the ridge, which I did, I came to the cairn we called the tree because it was a large rock wrapped in a ribbon with a twig sticking out. I was on the steep slalom down, confident I would soon be at the meadows. But the fog grew into a snowstorm and I could not see the trail, footprints, or cairns. It was dark and I tried the headlamp which was almost useless in the blowing snow. I backtracked hoping to find a sign of the trail, and then just started walking off the ridge in the direction where I thought the meadows tent might be. I was lost, alone in a snowstorm at night in the Himalayas. I walked and found no tent, gradually the storm cleared and  I started a zig zag walk along the moraine looking for the meadow. After walking for an hour I started looking for places to camp. I found a relatively flat place next to a large rock. This was it. Every move could mean life or death, and I really wanted to accomplish my goal of returning with 10 fingers and 10 toes. Carefully and methodically. I made my preparations. Dry socks, feet inside inner climbing boot, clearing  of the snow (it was becoming very cold under a bright moon). Pumping up the sleeping pad, putting on the large down jacket, laying out the sleeping bag, getting in the bag with all layers on except the hard shell gortex which were draped over the bag. Then lighting the stove and melting snow, boiling water first for the water bottle that went in to the bottom of the bag, then to hydrate the dinner that would provide energy to shiver all night. I was encased in down, I prayed that skies would stay clear. I didn't know if people survived this kind of thing at this altitude. I wondered if those cries I thought were Himalayan wolves or jackals. I wondered if my last memory would be a Himalayan boulder field buried in snow, lit by cold moonlight. I had to stay very still in one position so as not to roll off the pad or disturb the architecture of sleeping layers; I even slept a little and woke to see a brightening sky. It was morning I was alive! a little lost but had survived the Himalayan night, it was not snowing, in a few hours the snow would reach my rock. It was a bright morning. I slowly defrosted everything, packed up and headed toward the ridge. What a gift. I was alive and happy about it. I found the trail (had walked right past the turnoff for the meadow) and decided to walk up to advanced base camp and retrieve my climbing tools and ice screws. Nima was there looking very concerned. He gave me lots of hot tang and almonds. I guess no one knew where I was and no one dared to venture out because of the snowstorm. So slowly I walked down to base camp, stopping to marvel at every rock and lichen, collecting bits of the mountain. .Rob and JT made it down from camp 2 after the storm cleared, but no one of us made it to the top. Now there is gear to be retrieved and packing to be done

a mosaic of lichens and stones, a path disappearing into the mists moving over the mountain like ghosts, I walk so slowly collecting bits of white and yellow stone, like in a dream,Chris passes by, my friend who brought me here, then Ram, the server, with a thermos of hot orange tang, like an angel, here, drink this, then takes my 60 pound pack, light as a feather and disappears down the trail as the yellow tents of heaven appear among the scattered white stones, I walk on flat stones across the river into the endless mist...

the lichen

the soup

the trail into the sky

the cairn

the tree

the ocean

campsite

 

There was an avalanche which blocked a river about 200kilometers northwest of the capital of Nepal (Katmandu). The flooding that  followed has brought tragedy. Many are killed, more are missing.

May 2 the yellow tower in the hall of the mountain king

One allure of the mountain, like the ocean, or the big city, is the possibility of touching the infinite. The suburb can be terrifying because of its finitude, it's sense of too much planning, of human utopia. The ridge to the yellow tower was marked by a maze of fixed lines most of which were braided nylon, anchored by sketchy old pins. Which line would offer a safe anchor in case of a slip, maybe better to go line less and not test those dubious anchors, better to rely on your own feet than the contrivances, though well intentioned, of others. Climbing on rock, trusting those feet up the tower, thousands of feet of air below, is to finally touch the mountain. Camp two, 19,600 feet.
I am sitting in the tent at camp one holding my feet to keep them warm. It is snowing, i wonder if this is a good meditation pose. Today started out sunny--even warm.Mark and Nima and I climbed to camp two. This is where the serious rock climbing happens. The route has fixed lines all the way up, but i chose not to pull on them, instead i soloed the easier pitches and rigged up a trailing belay using a jumar for the harder climbing on the yellow tower, and it was hard especially wearing gloves at 19,000 feet. I cannot forget to breathe.

 It was a beautiful day of climbing, it took 6 hours to get up and back to camp 1. mark is done with the mountain and went down with Nima. he was tired of being cold. the worst part is night which is very long and even if you are slightly warm in your four layers of clothing and down jacket inside your bag, the cold icy frost is always an inch away, and it takes so long for morning and then even longer for the sun to hit the tent. I want to sleep on my own couch next to a warm fireplace. I plan to join Mark in a few days whether I get this done or not. The trek back to Lukla is at lightening speed so we wanted to leave a day or two early to look around the villages a bit. But now i remain alone like a monk in the snow listening to the subtle roaring of the mountain.

the fixed lines

the ice forest

the tent

the rappel

May 1 walk that slab

Nima is our Sherpa guide, but we don't always agree about strategy. I want to go up and stay up, he likes to go up and down. I am happy to climb alone, he likes to go with us. On the mountain there are many Sherpas, who are friendly to everyone, willing to help, unlike their climber clients who hardly have time to say hello. But the Sherpas greet you like you are a friend on the mountain, and they know better than most that everyone will eventually need a friend. Another trip up the slab carrying a load, Mark and I watched the snow melt in the pot and shared yet another freeze dried dinner.
Last night I slept in my feathered friends expedition parka inside my 20 below feathered friends sleeping bag. I am about 18,000 feet on a five foot wide ledge on the side of the mountain buried in snow. My boots are 1500 below at advanced base camp. Below my ledge are 200 feet of slabs which can be easily climbed in approach shoes when they are dry. Treacherous if they are wed or snowing or icy. Yesterday we reached about 19,500 feet but now both climbing partner and Sherpa are sitting in the breakfast tent at base camp, everything I have here I carried up myself. Nima  was very helpful getting mark down yesterday. I have fuel for the stove and food and plenty of snow to melt. But only approach shoes and sneakers to walk in. Maybe I will stay in the tent all day, but if i climb the ridge i think i can send this post.

The sun finally melted the snow enough to head down to advanced base camp and pick up my boots crampons, technical ice tool, expedition mittens and more food. it was a leisurely walk down, I found the fixed line down the slabs and even entertained the thought of joining Rob and JT at camp 2 after I returned. But once i started hiking back the foggy clouds moved in, then it started snowing again. By this time I reached the slabs it was foggy snow whiteout. But I had no choice but to go up. Soon my gloves were completely soaked, then frozen white with snow. Things were getting desperate, one of my goals, after all was to return with all fingers and toes, and not to fall down a huge slabs of rock. I found a small ledge and took my pack off, found my expedition mittens I had just picked up and got them on my freezing hands. my hands were now both warm and dry. I slowly made my way up the slap, past the many ledges to the tent, and now have the feet in sleeping bag. This will be my fourth night on the mountain. The evenings entertainment will soon commence; the melting of the snow and the hydration of a freeze dried dinner. i am in the deep solitude of the rock and lichens and tiny deep burgundy plants sometimes a bend of yellow path among the black boulders a distant cairn marking the way, disappearing then reappearing in the misty clouds

Ama Dablam from camp 1

must be me

in the boulder field

looking down the long ridge