Dave Hahn

Down at last! Forgive our silence, but only Pasang, our base camp cook was here for the past nine or ten days. He's only about 4 feet tall, and we keep the computer at about 4.5 feet for safe-keeping, hence, no North Side Dispatches. Here is one.

All are well; all are safe. We made tries for the top on the 25th, 26th, and 27th of May. All 11 climbers (seven members and four climbing Sherpas) gave it a go, and six made the summit. Yesterday, the last team made it safely down to ABC as the rest of us did "down-carries" of gear from the upper mountain. Our Yaks will go to ABC tomorrow and return to BC the next day with a pile of equipment and a bunch of happy climbers ready for some 17,000 foot Chinese beer.

"Deaths. There were four. None of these made much sense to us..."

Death. There were four, as far as we know. On our route, mixed among our best days. Some were people we knew, drank tea with and argued and chatted with. Some we didn't know. None of these deaths made much sense to us. We've talked over what we knew of these people and their problems a great deal, and we've reached few conclusions.

The "facts" won't be coming out here. Not that we have any big secrets that can't be told, but just a team conviction that these incidents do not represent the mountaineering that we love. Let time pass. The families of these climbers are most likely still learning of their loss, and it is hoped that they will learn from best friends and team-members, not from a dispatch writer whose goal is to entertain.

Last night at ABC was a special time for us. We sat intact, all in one place, after having passed each other in crazy places and circumstances for a week. Out of context, it would have been hilarious to hear this group of humans (in their prime?) describing, and boasting of, the most bizarre bodily afflictions.

"Happy without worry for the first time in months. Not merely because of our safety, but also because of our accomplishments..."

The conversation would, from time to time, be conducted in a language of rough coughing and hideous hawking with all trying desperately to get out the last wheeze and get in a first normal breath. High altitude does that to a throat. Bottled Oxygen does that too. Cold, cold temps will do it. Over-exertion for days on end will chip-in. Dehydration as a way of life will not make the old wind-pipe any better. By last night, most of our muscles were aching, our joints were beyond ibuprofen, our brains were swirling, trying to remember "Was that just this morning?"... "Did all that happen yesterday?" But we were happy. Happy without worry for the first time in months. Not merely because of our safety, but certainly also because of our accomplishments.

Craig John, Lhakpa Rita Sherpa, and Danuru Sherpa had made the top on the 25th. The attempt on the 26th didn't get us past 28,000 feet, but didn't get any of our team hurt. On the 27th, Panuru Sherpa and Bob Sloezen climbed Mount Everest to the top for a third time each. Richard Alpert found himself in fast company that day, but stayed with the old pros to be the last team of the season up Everest.

I've walked and coughed all day to get to base camp, seems like I've been walking and coughing for weeks now. Time to get Yaks and trucks and jeeps moving again. Tomorrow, while the others are finishing up the loads at ABC and knocking down tents, I'll be trying to bring you up to date on our summit adventures.

Man, this mountain is big... I know, I know, there are other big ones out there, sure there may be harder or more worthy ones, I just don't want to hear about them for a few days. This one was all I could handle and all I could hope for for a suitably long time. Everest "did it" again. Now, to ride that high for a bit, perhaps all the way until that straight blade shave at the hotel back in Kathmandu.

— Dave Hahn, International Mountain Guides' Expedition Leader

DISPATCHES

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