We had our Puja yesterday. That is when we put the packing and planning on hold and get down to some serious begging. The Puja is a ceremony designed to get some good credit with the gods, seeing as how we are now going to get up to our eyeballs in this thing. Really, it is for the Sherpas and their brand of mountain Buddhism. We try to show our respect for them and their beliefs by allowing the ceremony, by participating in it, and by making the proper offerings to the local monastery.

It is not without significance to our climbing team though, whatever our beliefs happen to be. We know that we may not be in the same place together again for months. In those months, well... lots of living is going to take place. The Puja is a time for each of us to look the other in the eye, smear some tsampa flour on the faces of those we care about (i.e., everybody) and drink some mid-morning toasts to good luck and due care.

Our puja was conducted by a couple of high lamas from the Rongbuk Monastery which is a few miles down-valley. We try to stack the odds in our favor by making sure the guys have a good time and go home with their pockets full. (Try putting packages of Turkey Jerky in the offering plate back home) The Sherpas put a fair bit of preparation into the ceremony, building an altar, stocking it with booze and goodies and getting a mast rigged with long strings of prayer flags. The small fire that they got going was of particular significance, they burn pleasant smelling juniper branches as a way of sending up the message that we mean well and want some help. The ceremony went on for some time, with the Lamas chanting their prayers and working simple and beautiful bells and hand drums. Eric and Dawa, our Sirdar, needed to be in on some of the more important parts of the offering and blessing.

The mast of flags went up and we got to the part we all love, throwing rice and tsampa in the air until our fine synthetic clothes were good and dirty. This drove our flock of chuffs (blackbirds) into an ecstasy of swooping, diving and hovering for more. Then the booze gets passed around, and of course it would simply be impolite to not drink some Everest Whiskey or some Pabst Blue Ribbon (the local favorite) or some Rakshi or perhaps all three if you forget you are standing at 17,000' in the land of cheap (but infrequent) dates. I took the opportunity amid the happy confusion to slip a little sweet smelling sagebrush from Taos, New Mexico onto the fire. Some of the guys smuggled their ice axes or crampons on to the blessing pile. I noticed Phinjo Sherpa, our oldest, most experienced and most humble climber, working a few extra prayers in, throwing extra offerings on the sly. Looking around from Sherpas to climbers to lamas, to the 29,000' summit of Everest invading the southern sky, it would be hard to be cynical. The smoke swirled among gifted and strong athletes and leaders capable of great things... but Everest is simply Everest, a mountain that doesn't care much for our qualifications and past accomplishments and future dreams. We may not all be good Buddhists, but we welcomed the opportunity to come together as a team and be reminded that life is precious and fragile.

If it seems that we have been preparing and asking permission and seeking blessing and tying up loose ends for weeks now, then I haven't given an accurate picture of things. It has been more like months and years and lifetimes of preparation that have gotten us to this place and time. A lot is on the line now. Time to produce.

Conrad, Thom, Jake and Tap were packed and walking toward the mountain this morning. The rest of us worked to figure out just what Yak loads we wanted to go at this particular time. The Yak drivers then came in and hefted the bundles, pointed at their 42 Yaks and said, "You must be joking." This is a normal part of the delicate negotiations, and to tell the truth, we really don't know if that is what they were saying. We then go over and heft the same bundles and say, "My Yak at home can lift this, no sweat." The Yakkers lift again and say (a little louder this time), "Surely you jest." And we lift again and say, "Check out these nifty colored duffel bags, these Yaks will love carrying them." It goes on and on and on.

We are not exactly unsympathetic. We know that it is a time of year when the Yaks are not at their biggest and strongest, but we also know that we have worked conscientiously for the past days to make loads that don't exceed the specified limits (55lbs to the Yak side). It took a long time to get things worked out; it took longer still to get the Yaks in place and loaded up. By then, six of our Sherpa team were ready to roll as well. So after noon, the big mob set out for what we call Intermediate Camp. A place half-way to Advanced Base Camp. There at about 19,500', Conrad and the guys would meet up with the Yaks, drivers and Sherpas, and together they'd build a camp for the night. Tomorrow, the yak teams would head up to ABC at 21,000' under the supervision of our Sherpa team while the climbers took an acclimatization day at Intermediate Camp on the East Fork of the Rongbuk Glacier.

Perhaps, that is where I'll catch up with them. Should have gone today, but I dragged my feet packing until I'd had entirely too long to look at the turbulent sky over the mountain and get psyched out. I'll get an early start tomorrow... perhaps Jochen and Lee will walk with me part of the way. Eric and Andy Politz are day-hiking out of Base Camp each day now, biding their time and attending to all sorts of expedition chores while they position themselves to accompany our second wave of Yaks with the last of the climbing Sherpas.

—Dave Hahn, Climber

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