The North Face of Mount Everest

  Mount Everest, China
Monday, September 11, 2006

After a long journey to Rongpu Temple via car, tractor, and work truck, I caught my first glimpse of Mt. Everest, Mother Goddess of the World, which towered above all other mountains, as it should. Rongpu Temple was the furthest people could drive, with a gate and sign saying "No vehicles except elderly, sick, or children," or something to that effect. It should have included "except Chinese" also as most of them drove to base camp. "They don't look sick," said John, an American in the crew that had given me a lift, as another vehicle passed us by while we walked to base camp.

After a day at base camp, I began my hike south towards Everest. But first, I was accosted by three members of the Tibet Mountaineering Association who blocked me until I payed a highly questionable fee (in addition to the entry fee and the trekking fee), that my guide book and others had warned me about. Soon, I was on my way, however, with all the bureaucracy behind me and nothing but rock, ice, and snow in front of me--the entire Everest Range and Rongpu glacier.

A few hours later, I reached the "small creek" described in guidebooks. To reach Advanced Base Camp, the creek needed to be forded. Since rain, sleet, and snow had fallen for the last several weeks, the small creek was now a raging torrent. I safely stored all my gear inside my waterproof backpack and looked for a safe place to cross.

I found one place that looked good. I extended my trekking pole and began to ford the river, placing my feet between rocks as the torrent moved underneath my feet...not too deep. I reached a rock in the middle of the torrent as icy glacial water streamed by me on all sides; my legs and boots were soaked. I looked at the next step, a five foot drop to a small rock with a waterfall behind it. Perhaps the rock was unstable or covered in slippery algae. Even if it was stable, I would need to jump the waterfall with a full pack. Abort.

Instead, I decided to go to Camp 1. Yes, Camp 1 is before the Advanced Base Camp. It is also higher in elevation, if that makes sense. I pitched my tent as an afternoon storm gathered, putting large rocks around the tent stakes to secure it.

In the morning, the weather had cleared and I hiked to Camp 2, located high on the East Rongpu Glacier at almost 6,000 meters. The glacier creaked and groaned, and rocks fell from the nearby mountains. Behind me, clouds had ominously gathered. I remembered John Krakauer's thoughts in Into Thin Air while he was on Everest and decided to return back to Camp 1: those who don't pay attention to the weather could easily die out here.

Sure enough, a blizzard ensued, covering the mountains with snow. I awoke in the morning to a white landscape and decided to hike to Advanced Base Camp. The day before, I found out that the raging torrent began under the East Rongpu Glacier, so I could easily circumvent the rapids by hiking upstream. Walking was slow as the rocks were covered in snow. The trail, however, was spectacular, perched high above the massive Rongpu Glacier, with views of the tallest mountains on earth surrounding me. The land below me was alive, with rocks falling and the glacier continually moving. Everest was still around the corner, out of view.

In the afternoon, I reached Advanced Base Camp, continued walking, and found a rock perched high above the glacier, with a direct view of Everest, towering two miles above my head, even at over 18,000 feet. I sat on the rock, admiring the view of the North Face, The North Face.



On the way back, I greeted a Spaniard from the Bilbao Bizkaia Kutxa (BBK) Team, who were attempting to climb Mt. Everest from one of the most difficult routes. This year, only thirty climbers had successfully climbed from the north side. Sixteen people had died, ten of them from the northern side, which is far less traveled, with more technical and dangerous routes. The North Face routes, however, are the most dangerous, with fatality rates over 50 percent, depending on the route.

The Spaniards had chosen to take the Hornbein Couloir Route, with a fatality rate of 180 percent, one of the most difficult ascents in the world, to say the least. This means more people have died than have summited and survived. Three climbers were in the Spanish group. I wished them luck. They would all need it.

I returned to base camp that evening, as another storm approached.

Tomorrow, I would look for a ride to Nepal.