Nepal Expedition 2001
I've separated out much of the material relating to the trip to Nepal I made in 2001 as there was too much stuff and it was threatening to swamp the climbing section. While reorganising things I added many more photos.
Here is the full essay I wrote about the trip: you will find the photographs in the section gallery.
Beyond the Clouds
There were several inauspicious omens in the time before I began my trip to Nepal. Just a week after receiving my grant from the Irvine Travel Fund, Crown Prince Dipendra of Nepal shot most of his family with a machine gun. For a few days there was panic on the streets of Kathmandu as the county is currently rather unstable due to a recent resurgence in popularity for the militant Maoist faction in the county, especially in the Mustang and Dolpo regions. However the revolution didn't happen and after a week or so the situation calmed down.
As the weeks and months passed the plans we had made became finalised and the arrangements were put in place. l spent three weeks in the French Alps to help my training. The weather was generally good although the remains of some previous heavy snowfall made conditions interesting for the first week or so. l climbed several worthwhile routes including, with Huw Jenkins, the classic Frendo Spur on the Aiguille du Midi, and returned via Fontainebleau where we spent a few days bouldering.
Our strategy was to use Camp 1 as an advanced base camp; from Camp 1 we
would fix ropes up the technically difficult section of the mountain to
the point where our route joins the north-east ridge. We would bypass
the usual site of Camp 2 as it is notoriously avalanche prone and go
straight to Camp 3, on the ridge. After a rest we would make an
alpine-style summit bid from Camp 1. I was to fly out first, on
September 11, and the others would appear over the next week. My fellow
climbers were: Steve Janssen, a self-employed builder from Adelaide and
a keen extreme skier, Gary Lotter, manager of the Londolozi luxury
private game reserve in eastern South Africa, Johnny Jensen, an officer
in the Danish army who has seen service in the Gulf and the
former Yugoslavia and Anna Svavarsdottir, among other things an
Icelandic raft guide who has spent a lot of time in Nepal.
The various unpleasant events of September 11 didn't affect my journey very much except that everyone at Heathrow looked rather worried. We took off 30 minutes late and the flight was uneventful. In other ways everything went according to plan and a little over a week later we were united in Kathmandu. I had seen the major sights of the city: the Buddhist stupas at Boudha and Swayambhunath, with its semi-tame monkeys, and the city's Durbar square. l had ventured onto the hills around the valley rim, notably Jamacho, where I was bitten by leeches, The monsoon grew weaker every day. We had packed our equipment into barrels and duffel bags and these were ready to begin their journey, different to ours, which involved a helicopter flight to Syangboche and a yak ride to base camp.
Early on the morning of Sunday September 23 we drove to the airport and
boarded a small Twin Otter plane for the flight to Lukla. There was a
little turbulence as we flew and as we landed the clouds were beginning
to draw in, and the landing was spectacular. The sheer mountainside we
appeared to be about to hit suddenly revealed a tiny runway tilted at a
crazy angle, and then we were down.
The walk to base camp took 9 days, three of which were acclimatisation
days on which we went for short walks. The hills up to Namche Bazar and
Tengboche were a bit of a slog but we didn't walk for very many hours
each day, and by and large arrived fit and strong at Base Camp. One of
the acclimatisation days was rather epic; I walked up the hillside
above Tengboche on a ridge that eventually leads to Kang Tega and
reached a set of prayer flags at about 4500m.
I stayed near these for
some time waiting for a break in the clouds so that I could
take a photograph. The weather never changed and I tried to find
another way down as the top section of the ridge had
been rather steep and grassy. Unfortunately the
way I chose didn't lead back to Tengboche and wasn't passable anyway.
After one rather spectacular slip and on appearing at a large cliff
blocking the gully I had to turn back and retrace my steps up one or
two hundred vertical metres to the prayer flags. I came down roughly
the way I had gone up and returned to the lodge, rather later and more
disheveled than l had intended and extremely thirsty, having run out of
water on the incorrect descent.
Along the trail there had been rumours of a Korean expedition on the mountain having lost a climber. At Dughla this was confirmed to us; we saw them walking out. Our Sherpa spoke to their cook and discovered that a girl with the expedition had developed severe AMS at Base Camp. The Koreans told her to go down but didn't accompany her and she got lost somewhere on the mazy glacial moraine between base camp and Gorak Shep. Eventually she died, though whether of oedema or exposure we never found out. The Koreans had reached the ridge by the time anyone found her, but then abandoned their expedition.
Base Camp had largely been set up for us by Ming-ma, one of our
Sherpas, who had travelled with the yaks. Two yak loads hadn't arrived
but they were apparently due tomorrow. We settled in that afternoon and
the following day walked to Camp 1 with three tents and a large cache
of altitude rations, stoves and chocolate. Having put the tents up we
returned to Base Camp for a bit of acclimatisation. In the end we got
several days to acclimatise as there was a problem with the yaks and
Ming-ma and Dolma had to go back to Syangboche, near Namche Bazar, and
get the missing gear to Base Camp. This took 48 hours by which time it
had begun to snow very heavily. Fortunately this didn't last very long
but it did mean that we had a lot of powder to contend with on the
mountain.
On 6 October we left for Camp 1 in the afternoon. The walk felt worse than last time due to the thick powder on the rocks. On the way we saw a huge powder avalanche scour the western cwm of Everest, on the other side of the valley. We arrived to find that the yeti, or possibly ravens, had stolen five of our seven boxes of Mars bars and that the tents had been flattened by snow; all three had broken poles and torn canvas, which had to be repaired in a makeshift fashion using bamboo from the way marker poles and duct tape before we could settle down to a cold and cheerless night.
The following day saw Gary and Purna above Camp 1 fixing ropes up the ridge. They made good progress and fixed 400 metres by 3pm. At Camp 1 I felt quite sick and tired, but this improved rather suddenly in the early evening so l decided against descending to Base Camp.
The following day I was due to fix rope with Johnny. As I felt better
than the previous day I decided to stick to this plan. As I was getting
ready the heel bale on one of my crampons broke and I had to borrow one
of Gary's. We jumarred up the ropes that Gary had fixed previously and
reached the high point in about 3 hours.
I took the lead as I was more
experienced than Johnny. Progress in the fresh snow was very slow; each
step had to be kicked several times to give it a firm base and allow it
to take weight. I moved up to the crest of the ridge and then climbed
up it, moving below a couple of icy cornices. After I had run out a
full rope length Johnny moved up to join me. At one point I reached a
cornice directly above a steep fluting and had to make a frightening
climb over the cornice. Above this I traversed right into a fluting and
climbed further up. The snow was deteriorating even from its previous
poor condition, and I was running low on snow stakes. I moved around a
large serac and tried to continue but the rope drag was too great. I
placed a snow stake, meaning to bring Johnny up to join me, but
realised it was the last one I had. We had to return to camp, feeling
rather disappointed with our progress. I had forgotten to apply sun
cream during the climb and although most of my face had escaped serious
burning the tip and underside of my nose and the area immediately below
my lower lip were extremely badly burnt, and took about two weeks to
heal completely. The tip of my tongue was also burnt due to having
panted for breath so much in the dry air.
I felt quite low that night but got a good night's rest at Base Camp and was more cheerful the next day, despite being in more pain from my sunburn. I had certainly had enough of fixing ropes though. I felt there was no way I could be as fast as Purna and Gary without someone with whom I could share the leading, as Johnny had not been up to any the previous day.
Purna and Gary were on the mountain again and going well, but soon
after having climbed a short section of WI3 they ran up against a very
dangerous section of very steep snow with crevasses to one side and no
worthwhile protection. They called in on the radio and explained the
situation and Steve told them to come back: a good decision. I spent
much of the day bouldering on the endless rocks around Base Camp.
The following day a group of Sherpas from the Iranian women's expedition went up onto the mountain to fix ropes but made no further progress also claiming that the section was impossible. It looked as though we had failed too.
Their leader seemed rather non-plussed by this. Having
arrived only the previous day it seemed that they might fail in their
expedition having never set foot above Base Camp. The Sherpas returned
with their leader the following day and, while Johnny and I went for a
walk to Everest Base Camp, dug a trench a metre deep, 1.5 metres across
and about 5 metres long past the difficult section, an impressive piece
of manual labour at altitude. Very quickly they had reached the site of
Camp 2, which the Iranians were planning to use. This meant we still
had time to climb the mountain, but in order to do so we needed to
co-operate with the Iranian expedition. The arrangement we made with
them was that we would fix ropes above Camp 2 the following day and
their Sherpas would fix the remaining ropes to Camp 3 the day after
that.
Accordingly the next day Gary and Purna went onto the mountain to fix ropes. They made about 300 metres of progress and returned having run out of rope. The Iranians' Sherpas were at Camp 1 and preparing to leave for Base Camp. We questioned them: "When will you start tomorrow morning?"
"We'll be here at 7am."
About an hour later they reached Base Camp, where their story changed. They would not be climbing the next day but would have a rest day instead. We were furious they had previously agreed to the arrangement we had suggested.
l had a row with Gary that evening and everyone was in a grim mood. In order to get back to Lukla on time we now had to follow the Iranians' Sherpas up the ropes, on the day they were finally fixed, to the col, set up Camp 3 there and get a few hours' rest and then climb to the summit overnight. It was a rather hopeful scenario with no room for any more acclimatisation, but it was the only chance we had left. Steve, whose main goal had been the first ski descent of the mountain, decided that with so little acclimatisation he couldn't trust himself not to make a potentially fatal mistake, and withdrew from the attempt. It was a brave decision. He lent me his crampons, which was a considerable improvement on the makeshift repairs I had had to make to mine.
We returned to Camp 1 and set off for Camp 2 to dump some gear needed
for Camp 3. As we were jumarring over the steep ice pitch Johnny
decided to abandon the climb too, feeling that some of the route was
too technical for him given the altitude. We returned to Camp 1.
The following day we began jumarring again, about an hour behind the Iranians' Sherpas. We reached Camp 2 quickly, in about 2 hours as opposed to the 3 hours it had taken me the first time l came up the fixed ropes. We had got fitter and the snow on the route had been trampled into a good hard path.
The Sherpas were working above us, already fixing ropes. We couldn't see them as they were hidden in the tortured snow and ice landscape but Steve, who was watching from Base Camp through a 30x telescope, told us they had moved a long way beyond the high point Purna and Gary had reached two days earlier. This sounded promising. However he came back on the radio some time later to tell us that they had stopped by a large crevasse crossed by a snow bridge. They made some attempts for five or ten minutes and then began to return.
As they made their way back towards Camp 2, where we were waiting, five
of the Spaniards appeared from below. They had arrived over the
previous week, not all at the same time, and had been using our ropes
without showing any inclination to contribute rope or effort
themselves, so we weren't particularly thrilled with them, but they
seemed to be in high spirits all the same. They began to set up a large
single-skin tent.
Since the Sherpas had failed to reach the col we had no option but to accept defeat and return to Camp 1. However we still had 500m of rope on the mountain and wanted it back. The Iranians' Sherpas asked us to leave it, saying that they would bring it down for us when they had replaced it with ropes of their own. This seemed fair enough so we agreed and abseiled back to Camp 1. I packed as much as l could fit in my rucksack and set off for Base Camp. Purna arrived some time later and he was very angry. The Sherpas, on arrival at Camp 1, had gone back on their word once again and refused to bring down any of our rope.
The next morning Purna set off from Base Camp to retrieve our ropes. The Iranians' Sherpas were already on the mountain, under orders to have another look at the obstacle they had failed to pass the previous day. Purna jumarred as far as Camp 2 and checked that there were still quantities of rope there. Since there was enough to abseil on he removed our ropes as he returned and also replaced our karabiners and maillons on the snow stakes with loops of inexpensive cord.
The head Sherpa, when he returned, seemed very angry and
had a long argument with Steve. We
explained the deals we had made and pointed out that all of them had
been broken, and that care had been taken to ensure that the Sherpas
were not in any real danger, and eventually they went back to their
tent. The next day it seemed as if they had never been angry at all -
they were talking with Purna again!
The Sherpas had accompanied various successful Iranian expeditions in Nepal over the last few years and to the Iranians they seemed almost like gods. By this year they were almost entirely running the expedition, so much so that the actual Iranians had very little control. We began to suspect that they had been planning all along to make us leave our ropes behind and then to sell them in Kathmandu later on; possibly they had played the same trick on other expeditions before, so it came as something of a shock when Purna actually bothered to go back for our ropes.
Eventually we reached some understanding with the Iranians, though we agreed to differ on our opinion of their Sherpas. The following day we packed up camp and left at about 10am. The walk to Lukla took three days and the weather was glorious all the way except for some afternoon clouds.
We had reached the Khumbu Resort lodge in Lukla (and I had gone to sleep early) when word reached us that five Iranians had died on the mountain. There was no more information for the time being but we were all both sorry for the Iranians and relieved we had left when we did.
On returning to Kathmandu Gary had an e-mail from a friend in South Africa asking about the Spaniard who had died on Pumori. By now we were becoming incredulous - surely the mountain couldn't have claimed so many people? Eventually we found out that no Iranians had been on the mountain and all were safe - three later summited - but that five Spaniards, probably the ones we met and chatted with at Camp 2, had been swept away in an avalanche between camps 1 and 2. No bodies had been recovered but death certificates were issued while I was still in Kathmandu.
We had seen various avalanches on the mountain - lots to the north-east of our route, close to where the Koreans had been climbing, and lots on the huge south face where no climbers had been (but which is breached by a hard Czech route) but only two had been close to our line.
I spent another week in Kathmandu during which I planned a trip to the Terai, crashed a motorbike, re-planned my trip, caught food poisoning and had to cancel the trip altogether. It was the time of Dasain and even Thamel was oddly quiet. Many of the shops were closed and a great deal of the population of the city had gone to visit family in the countryside. During the various festivities I saw military marches, marching bands, numerous animals awaiting sacrifice and numerous bloodstains where the sacrifices had been daubed over cars and motorbikes and other objects to bring them good luck. One night I chanced to be in Durbar Square as the Kumari, the living goddess of Kathmandu, was being carried from the Kumari Chowk to the old Royal Palace. It is rare for westerners to be able to see her.
Eventually, due to becoming ill again, I brought forward my return flight and returned to England on October 26. Despite not reaching the summit the expedition was in many ways a success. I reached a new personal altitude record. The expedition taught me a lot about this style of climbing and about how I cope with prolonged periods at high altitude. I learned a lot about what we didn't get right and what we ought to do differently on future expeditions (for a similar route I would favour a much more lightweight approach with a few other dedicated climbers and a minimum of fixed ropes, using easy trekking peaks such as Imja Tse for acclimatisation). The parts of the trip not spent climbing were also extremely enjoyable; trekking forces a slow enough pace to provide a great insight into the life and culture of the Sherpa people, and living in Kathmandu for a couple of weeks meant that I had enough time to get used to its manic bustle and see the different aspects of life there - the industriousness of the Newar traders, the extreme poverty of the street children, the wealth of the royal family and the utter tranquility I found at Boudha.
I sometimes still think about the Spaniards. Between 10 Spaniards, 10 Iranians, five of us and six Sherpas on the mountain, five died. That's 16% of people on the route, higher than the proportion of casualties on Everest during the 1996 disaster. All the deaths were caused by a single big avalanche triggered by debris from the seracs hanging above the top of the ridge. These can fall at any time of day or night as they extend too far over the face - they're totally unpredictable. Obviously everyone knows the risks of mountaineering and accepts them when they go to climb, and I know that statistically it was a particularly bad season on Pumori, but still being so close to people who die on a mountain has made me think about why I climb. I will continue to go to the mountains because I love them, I love the open spaces they form and I love to climb; but my appreciation of life and of death is keener than it was before.