The Ridge was exposed, but the terrain
was snow and ice and not much rock.
I liked that better. Again, I was in the
“zone.” Not the “Death Zone,” although
I was, but in the groove of climbing.
I believed that I was more than halfway
to the summit, and I began to think that
I was really climbing Everest. On every
climb I have ever been on I get weepy
as I get close to the summit. It’s pure joy
that creates those moments and this
was no different. While everyone was
moving one step at a time, I was getting
teary-eyed as I thought about the summit.
In those moments it’s a flash of emotion
and memories. The months of training,
picturing my wife and children, my
mother and deceased father, my sisters,
the dogs that covered so many miles
with me over the years, my time at the
gym and on the bike with my friends,
all of the other mountains that I have
climbed. What an incredible feeling of joy.
People ask why I climb mountains and
I suppose that it’s that feeling that keeps
me coming back for more.
We continued on, and as earlier the
climb was very steep. Intermittently
we would get to a small flat area and
then it would return to the original
steepness. I had no idea of the time,
but I also didn’t know the altitude.
My watch would have given me that
information had I had it on. I did have
my In Reach on and sending a location
out to my loved ones every 30 minutes.
It has altitude and GPS location
information, but I was not able to use it
because I had heavy mitts that I was not
willing to remove. I didn’t know it at the
time, but my wife and others were
watching my In Reach posts to track my
ascent of the summit. Because they had
no verbal information, they would get
worried if I didn’t change position every
30 minutes or if I appeared to be down
climbing prior to reaching the summit.
I would learn later, after speaking with
my wife, that when I had a short decent
from the South summit to the Hillary Step,
the GPS showed me coming down.
My wife thought that I had abandoned
the summit. I had my family on pins
and needles.
Pega was in front and then Dawa behind.
We continued up in the still darkness.
Every once in a while I would get a glimpse
of a few headlamps ahead and above.
They would appear and disappear as the
terrain offered a glimpse of the next
peak. The South East Ridge is a spine
on the side of Everest. If you look at an
aerial view you would think it crazy and
dangerous to climb here, but in the dark
it seemed safer.
I turned around at one point to see
the traffic behind us. We had separated
ourselves from the next group by about
100 feet. In the sky behind, the clouds were
breaking up and a red-brown moon was
peeking through. Way in the distance the
clouds below us were flashing white
with lightning. A little bit of nighttime
light was giving the South Summit an
outline. I was getting closer and the feeling
of success was getting stronger. I still
was not ready to commit to that feeling.
Call it superstition or just plain common
sense. Things could still go wrong.
Almost immediately things did go
wrong for someone. A dead body was
on the ridge, face down. It was still dark.
I couldn’t tell how long it had been
there. Another hundred yards ahead
there was another body on the fixed
lines. This one was at an anchor. Every
climber had to brush past this person to
unclip and clip back on to the fixed line
above the anchor. I would learn later
that both had died the day before and,
combined with the others that I saw
being lowered down the mountain
early in the evening, it would make 11
lives lost by the end of the climbing
season the following week.
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