The fundraising has gone well, but still we are short of our target. I wanted to let you all know that you can help us still. Tshirts ($25) and rocks ($40) are still available for purchase here:

https://thewildefoundation.sagefundraisingonline.com/everest-for-clean-water1

Tshirt= water for life for 1 person
1 Rock= water for life for 2 people

Additionally, I have 3 oxygen bottles (empty) from the climb. Two have been signed by the entire team, including the first mother-son summitters of Everest. The signed bottles are to be auctioned off on Ebay, as soon as we are fully registered.

Thank you to all who have contributed thus far. Your contributions have meant a great deal and we will reach our goal.

I hope that those who have been following this story will contribute to the cause and help us fund the next project in Uganda.

Best,Jamie

I have just arrived in Base Camp, having summited Everest North Side safely on the 23rd at 5:30 a.m. I am currently suffering an eye infection from the cold, and really cannot see anything, so please forgive the short post. I promise to send the summit photo of my team mate Steve and me sitting happily next to the Buddah statue on top of the world.

I cannot tell you all how much I appreciated all the support. It was the craziest weather season, causing a very short window and thus a night time summit (we climbed early to avoid the lines on the second step— the strategy which really allowed us to succeed).

I will need a day or two to get my thoughts together and reflect on this wonderful achievement as well as recover enough to be able to function properly. In any case— job done and I cant wait to get home.

All the best from 5200 meters, Rongbuk, Tibet.
Jamie

After a few minutes, the response came back, “Yes, go ahead Dickey.”

“Alex, Nima and I are safe at Camp III, over.”

Noel came on, “Hey, great work Big Nuts. Get some water and a short rest and keep moving to ABC.”

I sat in the tent reflecting, and what kept going through my head over and over was how fast it all went. The goal reached, box ticked, seven summits all but over. I cried several times on the way down, hyperventilating from the emotion. I had learned that my head is my biggest obstacle and Noel and Steve helped me through this lesson.

After 20 minutes in the high camp, I had soup and crackers and was ready to descend again. Nima was pushing me out of the tent and putting my crampons on. He wanted down quickly.

As we left Camp III, I looked back up at the summit. It reminded me of the classic photo out of Messner’s book The Crystal Horizon (a recount of his ascent without O2). The photo he took from Camp III could have been from this exact spot where my tent stood. We left camp and were quickly down on the flat traverse when we started to run into people coming from Camp II on the beginning of their summit push.

Everyone was asking about what happened. It was a great feeling. The adrenalin was coursing through my veins as every climber congratulated me on the way to Camp II. On the traverse I saw Laval and Mark, who were both extremely excited for me. Laval ended up continuing without oxygen all the way, becoming the first Canadian to reach the top of the world without supplemental oxygen.

They explained that Gavin was not far behind. When I saw him, I screamed, “Mr Big! Summit at all costs!” This had been the motto of our friends Eric and Scott on Cho Oyu. It was a constant joke throughout the whole journey.

Further along, I ran into the second team from 7 Summits Club. Everyone was happy. No one greeted me like Lena, though. Before the trip to the summit, I had discussed with her my fears, and she responded, “As soon as you start walking, you need to think of good things, like home or mama. Don’t worry so much. You will find your mental strength on the day, when you start.” I said to her in Russian, “I found my strength Lena. First time. I found it!” She hugged me as I cried and told me how happy she was for me.

It was less than two hours from Camp III to Camp II. I was struggling with the loose rocks and steep terrain, as my legs were really tired. Jamie McGuiness appeared at the top of Camp II. He had lots of questions as usual. I was wobbly and stumbled a bit. He laughed and said, “Don’t go falling off the mountain here.”

The stop in Camp II was short. I did not take off my crampons and I refused to go into the tent. I drank a little water and took in the sun. The day was perfectly still and clear. After three people passed, reminding me to put on my glasses, I pulled out my glacier glasses and set them on my head. After 5 minutes rest, we started to move again.

At the bottom of Camp II, Nima yelled at me and pointed to a tent, where a hand extended a mug filled with tea. Nikolai had been waiting for us boiling water. I knelt before the tent and he looked directly in my eyes and said, “Dickey, you did it!”

I responded with enthusiasm, “YES!!!!!!”

Nikolai is from the old school of Russian mountaineering, a legend among the climbing community. He was truly excited for my summit. I felt it when he leaned out in his purple fleece and gave me a Russian Bear Hug.

He asked if I wanted to come in and rest for a few minutes. I politely refused stating my orders to get to ABC asap. He nodded, understandingly.

The trip from Camp II to the North Col is the quickest part of the descent to ABC. Once on the snow slope, you can expect to be at the North Col in one hour. We Sherpa rapelled the whole way. I had to force Nima to slow down so I could enjoy the last moments on the upper part of the mountain.

The crowds ascending were huge. People were still congratulating me and most could not believe that I was so far down the mountain so fast. About mid-way down the snow slope I ran into Dan Mazur and the Summit Climb second team. Peter Kinloch, the Scott who died on the 26th, was a part of the group going up. Dan, climbing without oxygen to Camp II, congratulated me and told me that I have unfinished business and he expects to see me on Cho Oyu in the following year.

We again continued down. I was out of oxygen again, and began to feel dizzy, as this time the bottle went empty before I realized it and changed it out. I was amazed that I had 1 ½ bottles left to descend to ABC from roughly 7350 meters. We descended most of the snow slope unclipped but far enough away from the precipice where it was flat and less risk.

When we reached the North Col, the Romeros were packing to descend to ABC. I had caught up with the superstars which climbed to the top 24 hours before I had. I was so jazzed, that they laughed at me. “You have too much energy,” said Paul.

Jordan added, “Congratulations man. Great stuff!”

It felt great to be back at the North Col. A few meters down from the Americans were our tents. Alex was there waiting for me. He approached me and said, “James, you don’t know how happy I am for you. You finished your crrrrazy idea.” He hugged me and handed me the Satellite phone. “Now, call family.”

I could only remember my number in Raleigh, and when I called no one was home of course. I left a message and again broke down emotionally. The sherpas and kitchen boys were all staring at me as I wept next to Nima, trying to drink the juice that Dorje had prepared for me.

I began to remove my boots and down, in an attempt to dry my feet off and change into cooler equipment for the descent to ABC. It was lucky that this day was calm. My stuff was spread out on the glacier like a yard sale. The conditions were so different than the last time we sat in this place.

I pulled on my Gore-Tex and changed out my socks. I managed to have another bowl of soup, working hard to rehydrate myself before descending further. Alex asked Nima to take my extra clothes down, which he more than willingly did.

Descending the North Col, I again realized that the dream was coming to an end and there would be two tedious days left before base camp. By 17:00, I reached crampon point. Dawa was there with hot tea and cookies. The boys removed my crampons and harness and carried Nima’s bag to ABC. We were there before 6 PM.

At ABC, I was walking easily into camp. I was still using my supplemental oxygen and I felt very awake. ABC was empty though. All the residents were higher on the mountain either returning from the summit or on the push. Doctor Igor was there though and very happy to see me.

“James, the team from 2005. The circle is now closing. Where is Karo, you will be home soon.” I always had a hard time understanding his English. I understood though what he wanted to say. “Congratulations. I am so happy for you. How is your health?”

I explained to him that there was nothing to worry about. “Get soup and have beer. After I control blood pressure.” It was 130 over 85 from what I remember. “Do you have dexamethazone? Do you want to drink tablets?” I shook my head and told him I just wanted to sleep.

Chris was there to greet me as well. He was so good to remain with the team, though his summit bid ended at the North Col. He carried my gear to my tent for me and made sure I had food before I went to sleep.

At 7:00 PM, I crawled into my tent exhausted. A voice rang out, “James, radio!” It was Noel and Steve calling from the North Col.

“Hey big nuts. How about getting some beer chilled for your team mates. We will be there around 9.” I told him I would get the boys to wake me when he and Steve reached crampon point. I shut my eyes and everything went black. It was the deepest sleep of my life.

The next call came around midnight, but I was so gone that I heard nothing. During the night, I saw colors like no other dream with random items flashing through my head with no relevance whatsoever to the climb or my life. Candy canes, horses, cars… random. In the morning when I woke, I noticed the blackness within my brain. Emerging from the darkness of my deep slumber, the light of day was terribly bright. It was like being reborn.

I made my way to the breakfast table when Noel told me the sequence of events that caused the slow retreat from the summit. Andre had frozen his eyes and needed to be short roped down the 2nd Step. Steve had broken a few ribs having fallen a couple of times during the descent.

When I saw Steve, he was obviously in pain. It was a great reunion to be with the two guys that made the summit a possibility for me. They were both relatively healthy. I was happy that the two guys who had been so key in helping me keep my head together were alive and safe in ABC with me.

The change took only a few minutes, but I had a scare when I dropped one of the batteries in the snow. I had clearly lost dexterity and again, I was getting cold. We pushed ahead though. Along the flat section between the 2nd and 3rd Steps, our progress was very fast.

Just before the 3rd Step my headlamp went out for the 3rd time and my goggles had fogged and iced up completely. Visibility was nil and I was stumbling all over the place. I pulled off to the side of the track and started to complain. Steve Berry was right behind me. I yelled to him, trying to overcome the noise of the wind, “My goggles are iced and I can’t see shit. Steve go past me. You will make it if you get past me.”

Steve looked at me and screamed back, “You will too, if you just take off your goggles. Look at me! I am not wearing anything!”

I removed my goggles, reluctantly, remembering the story of my friend, Lorenzo, who spent a cold night on the summit ridge working to unfreeze his eyes. I did not want the same happening to me.

It was at that moment when we caught a glimpse of Lohtse and the South Col. The South side summit push had begun, and the lights from the headlamps were like cars in a traffic jam, hundreds lined up on their way to the top.

Again, the blue, purple, and grey monsters of Lohtse and Makalu were in clear view. South of them, beyond in Nepal, we could see the monsoon storm gathering strength. Large thunderheads bulged upward into the sky. The shapes resembled anvils which would light up randomly like out of some science fiction movie. It reminded me of Flash Gordon and the swirling orange clouds filled with lightning.

My mind was all over the place. It was hard to stay focused on any one thought. The altitude was beginning to affect my ability to think in ways I had never experienced before. I could swear that I was hallucinating as the monsoon clouds in the distance and the display of shooting stars felt like a fireworks show after a heavy dose of psychadelics.

As we approached the 3rd step, another body appeared out of the dark. A corpse lay at the bottom of the 3rd Step. The ropes practically passed right over the huge body which was curled up in the fetal position; the face not visible at all. We were ready to begin up the 3rd Step but the rope was stretched straight making it impossible for the people already on the 3rd Step to continue. We had to release the pressure from the ropes to make any progress.

I got onto the step eventually and about half-way up I placed my foot on a large boulder. When I put weight on it, it came loose and was clearly going to roll down. I held my foot on it, trying to alert the others behind me that the boulder was about to come loose. I was terrified it would crush my left shin, which was still supporting me as I held the boulder in place with my right foot.

I made a quick move to my left, pushing the boulder away from me with my right foot. It rolled away past Nima and the others luckily not injuring anyone. My heart was racing as I sat the in the dark listening to it fall away thousands of feet down the north wall of Everest. The sound went on for almost 30 seconds and reminded me again of the precipice that lay beyond my view in the dark.

On top of the 3rd Step, the snow pyramid comes into plain view and there at the bottom lay my team mate from the 2005 expedition. The last time I saw him was in early May 2005. Marco was a very nice, gentle man from Slovenia, with whom I spent a lot of time. We walked up and down the East Rongbuk together at least 3 times, and I can still remember the fun we had playing the rocks game- guessing home many stones you had in your hands. There he was frozen in a position with an expression as if he had been frightened by something, shortly before freezing.

When you see the corpses of people you don’t know, it seems as if they are part of the landscape or nature, but having known Marco so well, it was not the same. I wanted to sit down next to him and share polish Kielbasa as we had during our acclimatization hikes.

There were flashes coming from behind the mountain. Noel looked at me, looking at Marco, and said, “Hey big nuts, that’s the summit!” I started to break down emotionally. I got on one knee and wept. “Get up, Dickey. We still have at least a half an hour to go and we’re not there yet!”

I pulled it together and had my O2 screwed up to a flow rate of 4 liters. We were moving up the snow slope incredibly slowly. Noel had really taken his foot off the gas in an attempt to get us to the summit later and later. It was now 4:30 Chinese time and the sun would not be rising for another 2 hours. We only had 45 minutes to one hour of steady climbing to go to reach the top. We would hit the top well before sunrise.

My headlamp extinguished for the last time, meaning I would complete the climb in the dark. Footing in the scree proved difficult in the dark. The snow on the slope was firm. I had expected it to be a difficult climb, but it was much more simple than climbing the scree.

Vadim stopped us, complaining of eye issues. He had frozen his right eye going up. He asked Mingma and Noel what he should do. They decided together that he and his Sherpa should descend together. I began to notice a loss of peripheral vision. It was surely the same issue, just nearly as bad.

When we reached the top of the snow slope, we could see the last part of the ridge with two figures on the summit taking photos. I kneeled again, sobbing with joy. The tears were not helping my right eye. I had lost all of my peripheral vision in my right eye and was trying to keep it closed. It was like looking through milk.

Many people lose hours of their memory, many hallucinate, and some even imagine people in their presence, who are not even there. I don’t remember the next 15 minutes to the top. The dihedral and the last switchback are gone from my memory, most likely lost from the emotional charge and low levels of oxygen.

I do remember the last 5 meters to the top. A sastrugi prevented us from going direct from our position on the ridge to the summit. We walked around this wave of ice and the prayer flags and the Buddha statue came into clear view. We arrived at the top, and I asked, “Do we actually need to put our foot on the very top?” Noel said no, but when we were clipped into the safety lines fixed on top, I lost my fear and stood next to Buddha on top of the world with my friends, Steve and Noel.

It was really hard to imagine, that in the dark we had ascended to the highest point on the planet. I continued in and out of my emotional outbursts. Michael came over and we all started hugging. Northern Ireland, England, Russia, Nepal and the USA all huddled closely just below the summit, our safeties becoming badly tangled. We all began to celebrate.

While standing on the summit, I began to wonder why all the orange and yellow down suits were so short. The brown faces of the sherpas were lit with bright white teeth as they laughed, celebrating the accomplishment. I still wondered why the sherpas were so small and midget-like. I had begun to think that this was clearly some sort of psychedelic reaction.

There on the summit I kept seeing dancing midgets in orange-yellow down suits yelling in Nepali and throwing prayer papers into the wind. Colorful sheets of paper dancing around the summit in the wind, when I finally realized that I was a good meter above the rest, making everyone seem short.

We sat down and I tried to retrieve my camera. As soon as I pulled it out of the inside of my jacket, I realized it had frozen solid. I would not be able to take one summit photo. I did not want to have my mittens off for too long so I put the camera back in my pocket. The others had similar problems, but luckily three cameras out of the 10 people worked.

After approximately 20 minutes on top of the world, my feet began to go numb, and I said to Noel, “I am outta here.” He replied, “Go with Nima as fast as you can. Don’t wait for anyone.” With that message, I was off the summit and in front of the 3rd step again in 10 minutes. The sky began to get lighter as sunrise approached. The shooting stars began to vanish replaced by a view of Makalu and Lohtse that was truly the most beautiful sunrise I have ever experienced.

Above the 3rd step, I sat with Marco for a few minutes and gather the stones which I promised to bring with me for the charity Global H2O. Nima stared at me, probably wondering why I was putting rocks in my pocket.

We descended the 3rd step going a different route down, which was much easier. With the wind blowing from left to right now, I bean to lose peripheral vision in my left eye. Nima looked at me and said, “Let me change your carabinier out at the anchors. It will be faster.” He was great and we moved extremely fast.

Sooner than expected we were at the top of the 2nd step again. It was now just past 7:00 Chinese time. The north face was in plain view and it was now time to deal with my worst fear and greatest apprehension, fear of descent down a 25 meter rock face above a graveyard of corpses and a 10,000 foot drop.

Nima hopped over the edge and stood on a boulder next to the ladder, one meter below the top of the step. He explained that I should descend without a cam, backwards down the step. We would not rappel, no figure 8.

I was told to take an arm wrap and back down over the edge to the ladder slowly. The issue was I was hanging my rear end out over the 10,000 foot abyss, trying to blindly find footing on the first rungs of the ladder with nothing else keeping me from falling except the friction of the 5 ropes I had wrapped around my right arm.

I moved over the edge with incredible trepidation, but resolved to not think about the altitude, the height or the corpses which lay below. Nima grabbed my left heel and placed the giant Millet Boot on the highest rung. He then took my right foot which I raised over the edge and placed it on the next rung. I started to feel confident that with the help of this great Sherpa I would come through the descent of the Second Step alive.

Within 10 minutes we were at the bottom of the Second Step, making our way to the Mushroom Rock. When we arrived there, Nima checked my oxygen, which was now almost empty. We took a rest at the Mushroom Rock and I changed out my bottle with a fresh one. Nima was drinking water and filling his pack with empty O2 bottles which littered the rest area. I did not mind, as Nima would earn up to $100 per bottle he brought off Everest. He deserved it.

We had been climbing for over 9 hours now and I had had nothing to drink or eat. I brought out my bottle and the water inside was starting to freeze. I had ½ liter and the two energy gel packs. I had no appetite for the chocolate. Again I took the time to pee. This time I was able to see all that I had missed in the night from the same spot.

Makalu is truly a beautiful site from the ridge of Everest. I wanted to look at it in the morning light for hours, but knew that I still was not safe and had the crowds to pass which were still ascending.

When we got to Green Boots, I began to pass the first groups. I couldn’t believe that these people were so slow and still ascending. It seemed a bit ridiculous that this was the group of Germans in the Gronell boots who were blocking the way out of the high camp.

Passing on the ridge is tricky, as there is just one fixed rope and the path is terribly narrow and riddled with loose rocks and bad footing. With every person we passed, I would hold the rope in front of the person, remove my safety, clip it behind the ascending climber, and release the rope from my hands. The ascending climber would generally stop and force me, the descending climber, to unclip from the fixed lines.

Several times along the way, I felt unsteady and stumbled, but nothing really tragic happened. On the steep sections, I would Sherpa rappel down. With safety clipped to the lines, I would wrap the fixed line around my forearm in front of my body and lean on the rope, facing downhill, walking quickly down, using the friction as a brake.

At the first step, I passed a climber, whose face I will never forget. It was the only face I remember, because it was maskless. An Austrian in his mid 20s, he was ascending without oxygen. Dressed in a blue and yellow down suit, with hair tangled in knots in the Velcro of his hood, he looked ghost like, moving terribly slowly up the traverse towards the 2nd step.

We later met in Kathmandu, where I heard that he had taken 5 naps on his way up, having to turn around before the 3rd step, because he had no more water. He had hallucinated badly on his return to the North Col, dehydrated, no oxygen, unable to find the rest of his team in the monsoon snow. Eventually he fell into an empty, unoccupied tent, and fell asleep with his legs hanging out of the entrance. He eventually suffered from frostbite on his toes.

There were at least 50 people we had to pass on the way down. The absolute last person coming up, we passed just before the exit cracks. He asked me if there was still time to summit. I explained to him that he was terribly late and had at least 5 hours to the top but realistically more like 9. He thanked me and continued on, as did we.

I have done my best to recall everything, though from time to time I remember key details, which cause me to update this piece. For that I also apologize. In general, this story is complete, though I intend to write one more blog about the return and what I have learned.

I would like to remind everyone, that this blog was created to support Global H2O. Orginally it was meant to be a closed blog with a $20 subscription fee. If you have enjoyed the story and writing, I would kindly ask that you consider making this donation to the charity here:

http://www.globalh2o.org/donate

All the best to you all…
Jamie
———————————————–

The call came at 19:00. Noel was talking to Mingma explaining that we should leave at 21:30. Mingma understood 21:30 Nepali time, though Noel was speaking about Chinese time. We wanted to get a good head start on the crowd that had gathered at 8300 meters, and the confusion between Chinese and Nepali time was becoming a problem.

Typically expeditions on the north side run on Chinese time, but Nepali sherpas rarely switch over to the Chinese time zone. Understandably, they are reluctant because the time zone in China is based on business hours in Beijing, over 5000 kilometers away!

Mingma came back with a proposal for 10:00 Chinese time, which Noel agreed to. Our tactic would be to get out ahead of the crowds and then move slower than planned to the summit on a flow rate of 3 Liters; good news and bad in the same sentence. The news was good because we would be ahead of any bottlenecks. The bad news was that we would consciously move slower, hoping to summit at sunrise with a long climb to the top of the world.

When 21:30 came, the chatter on the radio began, Mingma and his Sherpa team were in motion. I was already packed and ready to go. The only thing left to do was to switch out my O2 cylinder with a fresh one, put on my crampons and go.

At 22:00, the Russians in our team were not ready. Noel was livid and the tones were elevated as the element of surprise and first movement was lost. My cylinder was changed out first.

When you connect your regulator to the cylinder, the regulator most be open to 4 liters to keep the seals from being damaged. The first oxygen is released from the tank until the regulator is screwed tight and the flow is closed. The noise is loud and easy to recognize.

The entire camp knew that someone was getting ready to move. The rest of the camp would soon be in a rush to prepare to leave as well. Almost immediately a symphony of oxygen bottles went off, every one of our team was changing to the new O2 and the entire camp seemed to jump to life.

I was waiting outside the tent at least 15 minutes while we waited for the 3 Russians to leave their tents. Noel was yelling over the radio to get Andre moving. In the mean time, two people and the entire German team had jumped in front of the 7 Summits team. The first two were well out of camp already and the Germans, recognizable by their Gronell boots, were standing on the fixed ropes, putting on their crampons and blocked the route out of the high camp.

This was frustrating Noel, as we were looking to be late out of camp. I said to Noel, “I am outta here, OK?” He responded, “Three liters and go fast! We will catch up.” I moved up behind the Germans, who were still working to get ready, and said politely, “Get the fuck off the ropes!” and pushed through with Nima right behind me.

Almost immediately I heard Noel’s wonderful Irish accent, “What the fuck are youse boys doin’? Put your fuckin crampons on next to the fuckin fixed lines!” I knew he was right behind me, and would overtake me quickly.

We moved ahead at an uncomfortable pace. I remember feeling really uncertain as we were moving so fast thanks to our late start. When we arrived at the exit cracks (elevation 8500 meters), I was feeling good again, though the first obstacle was a bit startling.

I had heard about five points along the way, which were the key challenges; The Exit Cracks, The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Steps, and The Dihedral. The Exit Cracks are the gateway to the ridge at 8500 meters. They are nothing more than a rocky scramble up 20 meters of fairly steep terrain. At sea level, they would not cause any issues, but at 8500 meters with all the equipment, it was quite difficult and made me wonder what was yet to come.

Noel settled into a good easy pace when we hit the ridge above the exit cracks. The moon was ¾ full and the stars were bright. It was a beautifully clear night, with a serious breeze out of the North. The wind was blowing right to left and was chilling when we stopped moving.

Every so often the way along the ridge would open up on the south side given us great views of a blue/ purple Makalu and a grey Lohtse. The majority of the way along the ridge was a couple of meters below the top of the ridge on the north side. We had clear views to Cho Oyu, Pumori, Kala Pattar and Chiang Tse. It was the first time the I realized that we could see over Chiang Tse (7500 meters) down to Base Camp, 28 kilometers away. Although it was evident that this was my altitude record, I did not worry as I was feeling in great form and everything was comfortable.

It was just before the 1st step when my headlamp went out. The new batteries lasted maybe 90 minutes. I let it go for a while, climbing the 1st step with nothing more than the light of the moon illuminating my way up the steep rocks. This made the second obstacle of the climb extremely difficult, and my language reflected my frustration with the situation.

In my pack, I had extra batteries (2 sets), extra mittens, a balaclava, my glacier glasses and an extra pair of dark goggles, 1 liter of water, 2 energy gel packs, 2 snickers bars, and most importantly the oxygen which was fueling my ascent and keeping me from frostbite. The worry I had before the climb was that 1 liter of water would not be enough, not that the headlamp would go out.

At the top of the 1st step Nima and I worked together to change batteries, as his lamp went out as well. In order to do this, I had to remove my mittens. I realized that my idiot loops were not on my wrists, so I corrected that first to avoid losing them in the wind. It was cold! My fingers went numb quickly, although I had light gloves on underneath my mittens. Within 5 minutes, they were changed out.

Everyone behind me had caught up and Noel had made 100 meters of progress. We moved quickly along the ridge and eventually caught Noel, who had slowed to allow us to catch up without actually stopping.

The first body appeared on the left side of the trail. Green Boots, as he is called, was a climber from India who died the killer storm which hit in 1996. His body lay inside a nook in the ridge, where he probably stopped to get out of the wind. Positioned as if he were asleep, his face is covered with snow and his green boots are visible. This was the spot where David Sharp died in 2006, when a group of climbers stepped over him on their way to the summit. We were there now, and it was clearly the death zone.

Shortly after Green Boots, comes the Mushroom Rock, where place for 10-15 climbers can take a break and change oxygen before the key to the summit, The 2nd Step. This is a common turn around point for people moving too slowly or people who don’t feel so well. It is a point during the climb which every climber should take a few minutes to gain composure and to contemplate whether to continue on.

We were in the area on the south side of the Mushroom Rock, and people were moving furiously to eat quickly, drink and stay warm. Mingma called out to the sherpas to change out the oxygen. I still had 120 bar in my bottle, which meant 3 hours at the 3 liter rate we were climbing at.

Noel disagreed with the move, but the bottles were changed out before his objection. It meant we would leave bottles 40% full at the mushroom rock, which we would pick up on descent. We had two full bottles for the ascent and descent to the summit (12 hours at the 3 Liter flow rate). This was clearly enough for us, but Noel, arguably, wanted to be 100% sure.

We sat at Mushroom Rock for what seemed to be an eternity. It was one of only three times when I felt cold. My feet were numb and I had to urinate. I turned away from the wind, toward the Kangshung Face. I was unroped about to pee over the side of a 2000 meter drop. There was no way to tell if we were on solid ground or standing on a cornice.

I started to unzip my down pants and realized how much I hate having to pee through down. It is impossible to keep from peeing on yourself because the down is simply too thick. The only good thing was that it was below minus 20 celcius, which caused the drops to freeze almost instantly against my suit. I don’t know why I concerned myself with this…I mean we were about to cross onto the highest piece of terrain in the world, and I was worried about little bit of urine on my down suit.

I finished my business quickly leaving a permanent yellow stain in the ice just behind the Mushroom Rock. I found myself just behind Noel traversing the mountain, still thinking about how cold my extremities were. The path narrowed dramatically and the drop off the north side became evident to me.

Within a few minutes, I noticed the ladders of the 2nd step. I looked back and the team was on my heels. The path was too narrow to turn around now, and I knew that I had to go up the 2nd Step now. I had promised myself that I would evaluate my condition before climbing up above the gateway to the summit, but all the excitement at Mushroom Rock kept me from thinking about any of my fears.

Just below the first bit of rock on the 2nd Step lay the corpse of Thomas Weber, a team member of the 2006 7 summits expedition. He had raised funds to climb Everest, with a genetic eye dysfunction. At altitude or in lowered atmospheric pressure, Thomas was sure to lose sight, which he did and eventually died. There was a lot of controversy around his death, which led to the restructuring of the 7 Summits programs. Alex Abramov did not want any more death in his teams on Everest. Thomas was still there though, a reminder again that we were in the death zone.

Although Green Boots was the first body we saw, Thomas’ body was in a strange position at the bottom of the step. It did not look like a body really. The down suit and ropes looked like 3 pillows tied together hanging on the precipice.

When I started up the second step, my headlamp faded again. Noel could hear me swearing, and once we reached the bottom of the big ladder I said, “How the fuck am I going to descend this? I will be shitting myself when we come down!”

I began up the ladder, step by step to the very top. I don’t remember any fear at that point as I was very focused on foot placement and moving the jumar up the lines. At the top of the ladder, there is still a half-meter to go, where you are pulling on the fixed lines and still stepping up over the top of the ladder. I felt light-headed and almost peed in my pants. Apparently this is a common feeling when your oxygen consumption exceeds your intake. I had overexerted myself and felt the lack of O2 to my core.

It is strange to think back about the ladder. The material felt very malleable and weak. Some of the rungs were bent. I had never climbed over the top of a ladder before. My fear of heights kept me off of wobbly structures.

It reminded me of the days at Kappa Alpha Order at NC State. As non-initiates, we were forced to climb a tree behind the house to the very top, before we were initiated. I avoided climbing until the absolute last day, and reluctantly went up the tree. As I got higher up, the boys kept yelling, “Higher, higher.” I would have come down, but proof that you had climbed it came from the message on the “plaque” at the top of this giant tree, which read “Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke!” I couldn’t believe it, but well it was like everything else I had learned at KA.

During our wait, numbers and dates were thrown around wildly. Many people were grim with news of an early end to the season. The 25th of May seemed to be the date that most agreed would be the beginning of the monsoon. It was unsettling as every bit of news seemed designed to put doubt in my head as to the safety of the climb.

Abramov and Hanna were very consequent in the decision to send the teams to IBC on the 16th and ABC on the 17th. We made our way up the East Rongbuk one last time, increasing our speed, allowing for as much rest as possible. When we arrived at ABC, the plan was to spend a rest day and begin heading up the Col.

The teams were not finalized until we arrived in ABC, and when we arrived all was clear except for one minor surprise- Stravko would be on the 2nd team with Michael replacing him on the first. This came as a surprise as Michael had suffered Achilles issues the last weeks. Stravko was extremely irritated and argued extensively with Alex and Noel.

I admit that I was extremely nervous being a part of the first team, because I never considered myself one of the strongest. I was worried that my position in the team was more deserved by someone like Stravko, who really wanted it.

Would I be strong enough on The Day of Days? Would it be like 2005? How would I manage my fear of heights? How would my body handle to lowest atmospheric pressure on the planet? The wind? (I probably on weigh 60 kilos now). Would I be fast enough? How would the crowds look on summit day? I had many questions; all throwing into doubt my overall readiness for the top of the world.

It was decided and we were off to the Col though. Our target summit was to be on the 22nd. As we headed up the Col, the questions and doubts really worked into me. The team was moving faster than I could. It upset me to be holding everyone up and on two distinct occasions, I was ready to give up. I jumped off the fixed ropes and argued with Noel that Stravko had more of a right to be on the team because I was moving so slowly.

“Get your fingers out of your hole and get back onto the fixed lines.” Noel’s two fingers were curled and pointed to his rear end. The team continued ahead and I continued climbing at the back of the line, wishing to be off the mountain.

I arrived at the North Col 20 minutes behind the rest of the team, with serious doubts of my ability to continue. When I arrived, the Romeros had just left on their summit push. The wind was howling and tents were being destroyed left and right.

My gear was stowed in the tent nearest the pee holes and toilet, directly against the upper part of the schrund on the North Col. This was good because it meant that the wind would not play as much with my tent. Steve and Pasang were in a tent directly on the lip of the lower part of the schrund, and thus more exposed to the high winds.

I left the tent after a short snooze, hearing loud cries and a lot of excitement. A tent had just been split in half and the contents lifted into the sky. The tent rose 10 meters off the Col and flew over the back side (west) of the Col. A down suit was still floating, fully inflated from the wind, slamming into one of our tents. Nima, my Sherpani climbing partner, grabbed it before it had a second chance at flight.

The owner of the gear was completely distraught. His expedition was clearly over, thanks to an open tent caught by a blast of Everest North Side winds. It could happen to anyone, and again I felt a twinge of fear creep over me.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, thanks to the howling winds, I crawled out of the tent in time for breakfast. We had a few centimeters of fresh snow. Steve and Pasang nearly lost the fly of their tent — shredded from the high winds. It was clear to me that we would not be ascending into the gale as setting the tents would be impossible. The summit push would have to wait another day.

During the morning, an older Italian, Luigi, came down from 7700 meters. He had spent the night wrapped in his broken tent there and was suffering from hypothermia. This was his 4th attempt of Everest and he mentioned that his 71-year old body could not take another season on this mountain. The sherpas were all convinced that he had come here to die. His resolve to get down proved this wrong.

While in our dining tent, Karina, the Brazlian friend of the Romeros arrived for the first time to the North Col. She had been climbing the south side on a Lohtse permit, when her partner quit and went home. She joined the Romeros on the North to continue her climb. She lacked gear, Sherpa support and oxygen, so The North Col was the end of the line for her.

At dinner, she had mentioned that the tent she was in “seemed to want to fly” and that she was terrified of the wind. I explained that I would be happy to stay in the same tent, if she really felt nervous. When I saw the tent, it became apparent why the tent wanted to fly. Her neighbors had unstaked the upwind side of her tent and tied directly to it. I spent at least 45 minutes reestablishing the foundation of the tent.

We were all talking about the push now. I was particularly upset with the crowd that had appeared. Our delay had allowed 40 additional people to catch up with us. I explained to Noel that I would not be going if I saw more than 50 people in front of us. I was scratching for excuses. Weather, people what else would I need for a valid excuse to tell everyone that I would not risk my neck?

The night I spent in the Romero’s tent was the windiest night I spent on Everest. Karina was terrified. Again the freight train would gather energy higher on the mountain, rumbling down and blasting the tents every 10 minutes. The warning was good enough to allow me to estimate each blast’s strength before it reached us— almost like watching for the big waves while surfing.

I had explained to her my thoughts about it all. She mentioned something that sat really well with me. “Suffering is only temporary; Glory is forever.” I was worried about suffering —

The next morning, I was up and out quickly. We strapped on the Os and started for the higher camps around mid-day. I realized that the faster we left the North Col, the more likely I would be to continue.

We started moving after the crowds had already left for camp II. I could count at least 50 bodies we would have to pass along the fixed lines. As we would be climbing on oxygen, we would be moving considerably faster than the rest. Alex had mentioned 2x as fast, but I was doubtful.

We left quickly and it amazed me the changes on the saddle of the Col. What was a smoothe and easy walk in 2005 had turned into a crevasse-pocked Col. The walk out of camp took us down 20 meters through several gaping crevasses, then up the snow slopes to 7550 meters.

The climb is steady and easy but also difficult mentally as you can see all the way to camp II. We moved quickly, passing multiple groups at a time. I felt as if I was spending more time off the fixed ropes than on. On the steeper sections I refused to pass. We did not stop once during the climb, except for me. I paused at the beginning of the rocks for a bit of water, which put me 15 minutes behind the rest of the team.

Still feeling the weakest link on the team, I was a bit stressed when we arrived in Camp II. Noel asked if he could spend the night in my tent with Nima and me. Afterwards, I had realized that it was his tactic to settle me down and get me focused for the next section to camp III. It was certainly a great move by a great guide.

I managed to doze off for about an hour when I was awakened by Nima, who had made soup with smoked chicken. The sun was going down and things began to get cold. The food was surprisingly good and we managed to drink tea and eat a full meal, while waiting for the night to come. I felt much more relaxed than I did in 2005. There was no wind and I was a part of a team going for the summit instead of a solo climber chasing Russia’s best mountaineers.

Soon after dinner, we began to get ready for bed. I had planned to sleep in my down and with my boots on. I had dried my socks thoroughly in the afternoon sun, so everything felt dry and warm before the sun set.

During the night, I woke several times. The place where we were sleeping was not even and definitely uncomfortable, but all in all, I felt strong and ready. There was no doubt in my mind at this point that I would be going for the summit in 24 hours and it felt great that all of the hard work had led up to this point.

Although I was not fully in my sleeping bag, I was warm, as I was in my down jacket and pants. The Oxygen made everything much more comfortable. We were sleeping on ½ liter flow, which was enough to warm your hands and keep the Cheynes Stokes to a minimum.

We were settling in when the sun had disappeared. It was quite dark, when we heard one of the last teams coming into Camp II. They complained that our tent was in their camping place. One of the voices approached our tent and hit the tent with a ski pole. Noel screamed, “What the f##k do ya think you’re doing?” I was sure there would be a fight, but we kept quiet and the boys gathered their gear and moved on.

When morning came, we were moving quickly after the breakfast porridge and tea. My stomach was killing me. It was obvious that the food we were eating was not being absorbed. I crawled out onto the terrace of the camp spot. It was a spectacular view of Pumori & Cho Oyu, and I needed to do some heavy work before leaving. One of the best pit stops I have ever had!

Leaving Camp II, I was heading up into my altitude record territory. I felt good as I knew I would beat my personal altitude record.

The way to Camp III is steep at first through the rocks, similar to the approach to Camp II. After an hour of steep, rocky terrain, the route turns right and traverses the mountain about 500 meters. We were moving quickly but steadily, and there was never a time during this day when I felt out of breath.

At the end of the traverse, Camp III comes into view and again I decided to take a break and fell behind the rest of the team. Camp III is not as exposed as Camp II, with the wind being blocked to the west by the West Ridge of Everest and to the East by the shoulder of the Northeast ridge.

The camp is littered with destroyed tents and they were spread out wide in the cul de sac of Camp III. The summit ridge lay 200 meters above us and the sun was intense as I walked into Camp III. I was again 10 minutes behind the team, as I had a break that the others decided not to take. Nima was waiting for me in front of the tent, while the other sherpas were still working away at the camp sites.

I walked up a bit to speak to Noel and saw Team Romero who had just returned from their successful summit. All three of them looked great. None of them had their O2 masks on, and Paul was recounting the stories of the climb. It was very exciting.

We began to discuss the strategy as the other teams and masses of people began to walk into Camp III. It was clear that our summit day would be crowded on the ridge and Noel had a plan to leave early on a lower flow rate. The radio chatter was going between Noel and Alex. Alex listened and agreed to Noel’s plan. I felt better that we would be leaving early, very early, for the summit. We were to be ready at 9:30 Chinese time according to Noel, but Mingma (our sirdar) convinced him to push back to 10:00.

I couldn’t sleep. We were at the highest camp in the world and the summit attempt would begin in less than 6 hours! These were the longest hours of the expedition. I sat there in the tent with Nima. The cookers were going full steam, and I only had my thoughts of what was to come to keep me company. 50 days of preparation on Everest was boiling down to the next 24 hours. It felt great as I knew that I had a great guide and that I felt really strong. It was again just a matter of waiting.

The acclimatization period is over. The team is recovered from the challenges of adapting the body to 23000 feet and above. Before our rest many were suffering coughs, colds, bronchitis, general fatigue and some even had niggling injuries.

We descended to Shegar for some much needed rest and oxygen. Many of us took antibiotics to clear the system of any remaining issues before returning to Base Camp. The time in Shegar was much needed. Beds, fresh linens, hot water and a change of cuisine. Unfortunately we were chased back to Base Camp for the party Alex organized for the 9th, Russian Victory Day.

We returned to a very stressed out Alex, who had invited all of Base Camp to join. Beer, whiskey, cold cuts, dahlbaht… 40 scraggly-looking men and 5 women showed up for the party. Old Russian war songs eventually turned into a disco… The party went strong from 5-10 PM, with Dan Mazur, Jamie McGuiness, and Alex Abramov the most notable expedition leaders blazing the alcohol trail. There was also the 13 year old American and his family and an ex-international rugby player from the England squad… Interesting group.

The morning and afternoon of the 10th was needless to say meant for rest. Thank God the weather was not letting up, because all team members needed it.

Today we found out that the weather window called for the 15th will be a short window. The decision to not go now was made based on the following facts:

1. The ropes to the top are not laid yet
2. The entire group of unorganized expeditions will follow the Chinese up as they fix the ropes
3. There will be fewer people when the second window occurs and it will be mainly 7 Summits Club, Summit Climb, and Jamie McGuiness teams going then
4. The second window will be longer and the trail will be very well established

So the waiting game begins. We will most likely not move from Base Camp for at least 5 days. This is good and bad. The time begins to work on the brain. When you are idle on the mountain waiting, you are not expending much physical energy and strength, but it takes enormous staying power to keep from packing it in. Luckily this time we spend at BC rather than ABC, like we did in 2005.

What will we do during this time? Many will walk to the old Tillman camp to stay fit. Many are watching movies. Some are reading books. We are doing everything to keep our minds occupied and away from the higher altitudes as we wait for the monsoon to develop and push the fierce winds from Everest’s peak.

In any case, I am here still, safe, recovering, and missing home.

I would like to extend one last offer to the group to order a rock from Everest, to support Global H2O. This cause is more important to me than any summit, and I hope you all will go to our site and place an order for a branded T shirt or a rock from the North Face of Everest. (https://thewildefoundation.sagefundraisingonline.com/everest-for-clean-water).

Best,
Jamie

Its been a rough week on Everest for us. We completed our acclimatisation but it was cut short thanks to the first wave of the monsoon. The snowfall at 7000 meters was over 30 CM and it continued to dump as we made our way back to ABC. We spent a total of a week above 6000 meters. I must say that this latest acclimatisation run took its toll on all of us.

I am not really sure what to say but the team is a mixed bag. There are folks with some experience and there are many without. There are some strong folks and some which are suffering dramatically; either from infections, altitude, or fatigue.

I still remain among the stronger folks in the team and believe that I am in the first summit group, however my batteries are at an all time low. The weather and compressed time schedule has me really in need of a massive rest. I am hoping the next few days in Shegar will recharge me, as we are looking at May 15 as the weather window. If not, I am sorry to say that I may have to give it a miss…

I am trying to recover as best as possible before the weather…

As for whats been going on, well we have ascended to the North Col (7000 meters), where we spent the night in a small snow storm… Although we did not climb to the North Col 2x and further to Camp II, we are fairly well acclimatised. I wish I had more news. Its been a long week and I hope to have more to write when I get some more energy.

Hope this finds you all well.

Best,
Jamie

As they toiled up the final snowfield to the summit, Mallory was afraid of an anticlimax, but then he was suffused with an uplifting awareness that even this most arduous stretch was part of the whole experience. ‘The dream stretched to the very end.’ Once again Mallory had invoked the dream to describe his aims and goals. He ended with a passage using the construct of the dream.

‘One must conquer, achieve, get to the top: one must know the end to be convinced that one can win the end- to know there’s no dream that mustn’t be dared… Is this the summit, crowning the day? How cool, how quiet! We’re not exultant: but delighted, joyful: soberly astonished… Have we vanquished an enemy? None but ourselves…’

Quote from The Alpine Journal on Mallory’s ascent of Mont Blanc.

Having returned from ABC, I am reminded of the dream constantly that I have had the past 10 years and that Everest is part of this dream. The cold, the bitterness and biting winds that ravage the north side along the dusty moraines has me constantly thinking and asking the question, “Why am I here?”

It is not only the lack of comfort but my fear of heights and the reminder of the dangers of avalanche that keep this question fresh in my mind.

“They use aversion therapy to get people over phobias. So, if you’re scared of flying they make you fly and sort of force you out of your phobia. If you’re scared of heights they put you in front of big drops.

Does it work?

I don’t know, but I am hoping I can get my fear of sleeping with supermodels treated.”

The Beckoning Silence, Joe Simpson

This may seem a bit obtuse, but over the years I have been trying to deal with these phobias; heights, avalanches… Sitting in base camp we received word yesterday that a Hungarian team was hit by an ice-fall avalanche on the North Col. One man was injured, the other is dead.

I had chosen the north side because of its relative avalanche-free nature, reducing the equation of fear to just heights. The north side is said to be less deadly because of its lack of avalanche though the climb is considered more technical and a longer summit day, with much more exposure to steep drops.

“Why am I here?” The dream stretched…to conquer myself…to know the end.

I have been here before, and I knew my boundaries, which helped me to turn around safely. I am here again chasing the dream, trying to push my personal boundaries again and return home safely.

Doubts enter every climber’s mind during the course of the climb. It is the internal dialogue that keeps one going. The nagging cough, fatigue, lack of breath, the cold dry air of the night, the wind! These things work on the climber trying to induce the apathy to make the dream seem not worth fighting for. The internal dialogue that goes on, on a day-to-day basis is that which keeps one progressing towards the ultimate goal.

My condition currently is average. I have developed a hacking cough which has stripped my throat raw. I feel weak, thanks to the long days out and the low levels of oxygen. The standard afternoon headache comes when the dust builds in my respiratory system. Most of these things I am treating with pharmaceuticals and they are standard ailments from which everyone is suffering.

It seems sadistic to continue (and I don’t intend my description of my current health as whining, rather just a status update), but my head keeps telling me that I am stronger than the rest. The mountain is beating many and the exodus from Base Camp back to Kathmandu has already begun. In base camp, we have already had one member quit, with seven planning to leave soon— from 17 to 9 team members. Other teams have had folks leave as well with typical issues and ailments; altitude sickness, hemorrhaged retinae, apathy. It is empty here this year and the shrinking crowd keeps me focused as there will not likely be any traffic jam at the second step. 

The journey over the next few days will take us back to ABC along the moraines of the East Rongbuk Glacier. The trek to ABC is 25 kilometers at an average altitude of 5800 meters (just under 20,000 feet).

The views along the way vary. From the Yak camp just above BC, the views of Pumori, Everest and the Main Rongbuk Glacier are spectacular. The blue green jags of ice lying at the feet of these two great mountains capture the imagination as you watch the rivers of glacial melt wander between pools and moraine.

The East Rongbuk Glacier, which used to join the main Rongbuk, now ends well above the Yak camp and the tributaries of glaciers from other mountains have receded back to dramatic ice falls higher up the neighboring valleys.

Climbing up the steep moraines is sometimes frustrating as many times one must descend back to the ice and glacial melt to progress further up the valley. The East Rongbuk starts very dull and monotonous, ending with dramatic views of hanging ice from the shoulder of Chang Tse, the peak of Lahkba Ri, the first glimpse of Makalu through the Lahkba Ri-La, and finally ending with the turn up to ABC amid the shark fin ice flows of the East Rongbuk and a view of Everest’s black-rock north face and the ice wall of the North Col.

ABC normally stretches the length of the shoulder of Chang Tse, rising up through the moraine over 150 vertical meters. This year, the camp is very empty. Many expeditions which traditionally take place on the north side, have moved to Nepal, thanks to rising fees, trouble with permits, and general bureaucratic issues with the Chinese government. The Godfather of the north side, Russell Brice, has moved his HIMEX team to the south, taking the largest share of typically north-side climbers to the south.

Sitting in ABC again, reminded me of the 12+ days we spent in 2005, waiting for a weather window. It also reminded me of the patience that saved myself from attempting an early ascent with my Slovene climbing partners (one of which died just below the summit pyramid).

I had forgotten how bitterly cold it is to sleep at 6500 meters, and how hard it is to get a lung-full of oxygen. I found myself sitting up through the night praying for the sun to rise and warm my little yellow tent. The crack of the glacier moving coupled with the howling winds made it impossible to relax and fall asleep.

The sound of the wind could be heard as it gathered energy high up the north face and rumbled down becoming louder and louder, like a freight train passing through a station without stopping. With the tent shaking violently from the change in air pressure, I would be awakened by the bowing and bending shape of the walls and ceiling of this tiny, light weight structure, protecting me from the elements.

When morning came, I was disappointed to find that this shelter of mine was placed to close to the walls of the glacier. While this protected me from excessive wind, it created a shadow, which did not allow me the comfort of the warming sunrise. So, I had to motivate myself out of the Dark Star sleeping bag and into the -15 degree celcius morning. Needless to say, I got dressed VERY quickly.

The North Col, a 500 meter ice wall, is the key climb to gain access to the Northeast ridge. Its hanging cornices, bergschrunds and fissures in the ice are intimidating when observed from just above ABC. It is on this wall where the fixed lines to the summit start, and is probably the only place on the north side where avalanche is a real risk.

Our next trip up the mountain, which begins tomorrow, will bring us back from BC to ABC, with two trips up the North Col (possibly 3 nights sleeping at 7000 meters) and one trip to 7800 meters to visit but not stay at Camp II. It is the ultimate test for those who want to attempt the summit. Failure to reach an altitude of 25,000 feet or 7500 meters means that you will not be permitted to ascend higher. These are the new rules of the 7 Summits Club, and I expect it will cut the team down dramatically.

While I have been to this altitude without oxygen before, there is no guarantee that I will make it again. All the training in the world cannot dictate how one’s body reacts to the high altitude. Simply said, this is partly luck, partly desire, and partly preparation. There are the uncontrollable factors of health and physiological adaptation.

My friend Tony reminded me of a famous quote, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.”

I am here. I am strong. I am ready to combat my fears. I am ready to stretch the boundaries again to try to reach my dream. I hope that the opportunity presents itself, because I know I sure as hell am prepared. It is time to climb.

——————————–

I will be offline for almost a week and a half on the upper part of the mountain. In the mean time, this is the last call for orders for Everest Stones for the charity Global H2O (www.globalh2o.org). I hope everyone will think of ways to contribute to this cause. I hope to return from this last run with positive news that I will be on the summit push in May.

All the best from Everest Base Camp,

Jamie

The team arrived yesterday at Everest Base Camp (5200 meters). All of us were dizzy from the gain of over 1000 meters from Shegar. However, we were welcomed with a great lunch, and then got busy finding our gear and unpacking for the move up to ABC in a few weeks.

For some out there, Everest Base Camp is something very hard to comprehend. 5200 meters is higher than Mont Blanc, and the barometric pressure (oxygen level) is about 60% of that where most of us normally reside. Nights at base camp are warm in the group tents, and people think that with all the luxury provided on such an expedition that this is an easy undertaking. The truth is that we must all head back to our tents and sleep in sub zero temperatures for the next 40 days! 

The one great thing going for us is that we have Alex and his guides looking out for us. We have a good level of comfort. The food is well prepared and the corners are not cut here. There are two doctors with us and we are all being monitored closely. The program is well structured and the first rule here is all about safety.

So what is base camp like to live in? Well, currently there are 100 people waiting and acclimatising. There is a LOT of gossip going around. The big talk this year is of the boy who wants to climb Everest. Some think it is a publicity stunt, some who know the family think it is pressure from the parents to pick up where they left off, and some really dont give a damn. I am firmly in the third group.

During our time in base camp, we will go for short walks, eat, read books, watch movies and avoid getting ill. There will be much speculation as to what teams have the best acclimatisation schedule, when the weather window will come, and which team is strongest.

Our base camp is pretty well up the Rongbuk, just below the morraine dam. This keeps us isolated well from both the fierce Everest wind as well as rumors. It also is a shorter walk up to IBC, which is a great benefit…

 In any case all is well and we are all settling in. I am sure that everyone in the team wants to thanks their friends and family for allowing them the opportunity to pursue this great dream. We are all thinking of you.

 Best regards from Everest Base Camp, Tibet, China,

Jamie (on behalf of the 7 Summits Club Team)

Let’s hydrate the world!

James Wilde
Managing Director & Founder
Global H2OAbout the Foundation