Dave Hahn

The slopes that lead to the North Col are some of the most changeable on our climbing route. Changtse and Everest squeeze the prevailing west winds in a Venturi effect through the North Col. It is rare that there is not air moving through the Col, and in such a locale, it is usually pushing moisture or blowing snow onto the lee slopes.

We climb that lee slope, which can be radically different from year to year. Basically, it is an active section of glacier. When climbing the ropes, if you have a little mental energy left for curiosity, you can look around and piece together how the route went a few years back. But it can be confusing to see pieces of not-too-old fixed line coming out of the middle of an eighty foot ice wall.

"Normal folks don't live this high in the world for good reason..."

The route in 1994, when we were last here, was twice as difficult as this year's route. It all depends on how the glacier cracks up. There are a few neat spots to the climb where you go down onto a plug in a crevasse, but for the most part, a "skilled climber" wouldn't really need a rope on this year's route. That being said, I myself am one of those skilled climbers who certainly doesn't mind the rope on the one 100 foot section of 65 degree angled ice. And not many skilled climbers are bothered to have the rope when they are coming down whupped and brain dead in a big wind. Most folks just clip a carabiner on for going down and give it an "arm-rap." That, naturally, is an arm rappel. A good way to move fast with moderate security and a good chance for burning weird patterns in your Gore-Tex, pile sweater and skin.

You can fly on the descent if your brain and body are working well. It doesn't usually make a lot of good sense to fly on the ascent. Steady work is more impressive. It is usually a rookie who brags to you about how fast they reached the North Col. The question you politely don't ask them is why they didn't carry a more appropriate load. At home it is fun as anything to "blow it out" on occasion. Use all your strength in a day, see how the body is aging, teach the youngsters a lesson... all that "no pain, no gain" rot. See what your limits are. Then eat a nice big dinner (Mexican sounds good to me now) have a hot shower, boast on the phone a bit and go to bed. Eight hours at sea level ought to do it. Wake up a tad stiff, and it is a pleasant reminder of what a stud-bolt you were just yesterday.

Do that at twenty-three thousand feet and you may well be doing your bragging on the flight to Bangkok. You just don't normally run your tank dry here. It is not a simple thing to recover at ABC or even at basecamp. Normal folks don't live this high in the world for good reason. You learn to save that "blow it out" energy for when things go drastically wrong. And if a good chunk of time goes by without such a test, count your lucky stars.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, up the ropes; foot, foot, jumar, ice axe. When you top the last moderately steep sixty foot rise, always a bit tricky because it gets a lot of new snow blown into the steps, you can look forward to a few hundred feet of almost level traversing. The rope is still a good friend here as there is now quite a bit of exposure to your left.

Sometimes it is a little tough getting your legs and lungs into the normal walking rhythm again, but you figure it out. You are not yet on the height of the land when you start seeing tent after tent parked alongside of ragged crevasses. The choice spots are the ones with major serac walls just to the west, protecting from the big winds. These are close quarters, tent after tent, inches from the path. As is our established style now... none of these tents are for the IMG American Expedition. Keep walking, out past the last Japanese tents and then you will see our camp anchored fast to the North Col.

— Dave Hahn, International Mountain Guides' Expedition Leader

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