Rum Doodle is a mountain of 40,000-and-one-half feet. Everest, by contrast, doesn't get much over 29,000 feet. The Ascent of Rum Doodle is a British work of fiction that parodies a mountaineering expedition of old. It would be good reading for climbers tending to take themselves and their missions too seriously. There is that tendency among us after a big trip where life and death have gotten close together. Nice, cold, quart-sized beers on the roof of the team bus heading down from the border can take the edge off a little, but the process of re-entry requires further steps as well. Reading old British humor can be too tedious on those first, brain-dead days back in Kathmandu so, luckily, there is an alternative.

The Rum Doodle bar in Kathmandu has become a tradition for teams returning to Earth. The wall behind the bar is not filled with beer ads and whiskey bottles like in bars back home though. The decor can be intoxicating, nonetheless; four locked, glass cases hanging behind the bartenders, full of scribbling. And those cases contain the Mount Everest summit register. Sip your beer, get your eyes used to the light, focus on a particular scribble and, yes indeed that would be Sir Edmund Hillary. That one, sure enough, is Reinhold Messner; Larry Nielson, first American without oxygen; Pete Athans, Ed Viesturs, Pete Athans, Ed Viesturs, Pete Athans again; Gary Ball and a few Rob Halls. Lots of signatures and autographs on those walls... but not enough, to my way of thinking.

I know that some people get nervous at the idea of more and more people having succeeded on Everest. I guess the world was simpler and easier to keep track of 30 years back when just a handful of folks had been to the top. Oh well... there are still exclusive clubs to take comfort in... those who walked on the moon, those who climbed the old Mount St. Helens, those who rafted an unaltered Colorado River... but the world is not a simple place and Everest climbing is not a sacred or select thing anymore. There must be more than a thousand people who've gotten up now.

					"I hope you still aren't asking 'Why?' or 'Why again?' as you read this. If the adventure of it all has not been a persuasive argument, the final one might just have to be George Mallory's 'Because...'"

Many have signed the walls of the Rum Doodle to commemorate the event, but I'd be happier if even more people could get on the lists.

For one, I find it a fun tradition, they give you a free dinner and even an occasional beer when you show up to sign. Those are good things at a trip's end. Secondly, more people climbing Everest gives me more people to compare notes with on some of the more moving and significant times and places of my life. Lastly, I wish, as we all do, that there were more signatures on those boards to replace the bodies stranded high on the hill. Too many good people have made the summit without surviving the descent to the Rum Doodle and the rest of life's easy and good times. Right now I find myself missing those people and wishing I had a picture or two of them laughing and reaching up with a marker to "John Hancock" with the lucky folks in the bar.

Not that I'm unhappy with the photos I did take away from this most recent evening at the Rum Doodle, though. It was a great night for our team of friends, reunited as we were with Graham Hoyland and others who'd had to leave the climb early. With the Sherpas and a few good friends of the team, we were over 30 people at the dinner table, ordering relentlessly and repeatedly as our appetites returned, finally. I'm sure I could have still crammed in about two more desserts and the odd peppersteak with some of those vegetable things when the announcement came that we were to head in for our signing party.

The signing has taken on a formality that detracts slightly from the fun and good cheer of unwinding. Due, I suppose, to some attempt at fraud and/or vandalism, the barkeeps and building managers guard access to the autograph zone as if it were full of Picassos and Rembrandts. In fact, these days, you don't get near that turf with a Sharpie in your hand if Liz Hawley hasn't been convinced of your summit-worthiness and given a call to confirm it all for the bar staff.

We had the green light for signing on our night out, so we figured to take maximum advantage of it. Graham had never signed in for his '93 summit. Ang Pasang and Ang Tsering (Kami) had both summited twice without recording their victories so it wasn't going to be just me and Conrad signing in for our team and that was a relief to me. Personally, I felt very much in debt to the entire team for my summit opportunity on May 17. Could be that you think that this is just one of those things said politely in the guise of modesty after such a day. I assure you that it is not polite, just true. There were Andy and Thom passing up summit possibilities to finish the search we had begun. There were Dawa and Ang Pasang carrying rope and oxygen so I could concentrate on carrying a camera. There were Tap and Jake, electing to turn around to avoid a dangerous descent in the dark, only to end up doing that very thing by coming out later to see that we got down safe. There was Eric, going through the hell that leaders face when they've no option left but to trust in the decision-making, skill and luck of their protegés.

					"...back at High Camp, when every swallow of a dry and cracking throat brought pain, when the prospect of simply getting out of the tent for a pit-stop meant hard labor, supreme discomfort, the fear of falling..."

And there, of course, was Conrad, the partner who'd remained the steady hand he'd always been on the weird and extended Antarctic peaks we'd climbed together, preparing, as it turned out, for this day with those ridiculously cold ones.

Much as I enjoy climbing with Conrad, and as much as I value his friendship, I still didn't want to sign the big board with him alone. Something in me won't allow my name to be chained to Conrad Anker's. I first knew of him as partner to Mugs Stump, a climber and guide of legendary strength and accomplishment. Mugs was one of my idols when I began guiding, I even tried to get my hair long and tangled like his, but that was as close as I could get to being like him. He was too damn good. Conrad was his partner and, these days, Conrad is partner to Alex Lowe. I can't even get my hair close to looking like Alex's so it would make me nervous to have people making much fuss over the fact that Conrad and I summited Everest together. We did, it is true, but he climbed the heck out of the thing, I merely persisted up and then persisted down trying not to cause more problems for myself, my partners, my friends and family.

This should not, for a moment, be taken to mean that I'm not proud of my persistence or my five minutes on the summit with Conrad. I'm proud as heck, no doubt about it, and my pride will last right up until I step out on some damn glacier again. One has to be full of pride to scribble one's name up with Hillary and Messner, (on a previously blank spot though...certainly not over the top of those great names.) Lots of room for others to get on the board, perhaps even time for another signature or two in my own hand before I've finished. I hope you still aren't asking "Why?" or "Why again?" as you read this. If the adventure of it all has not been a persuasive argument, the final one might just have to be George Mallory's "Because..."

These past weeks have been about as full as life can get, and that is without fine food, music, fast cars, clean clothes, LazyBoy recliners, hot dates, and all the other things that normally might make life interesting. It is fun now, brimming with confidence and optimism, to anticipate that all of those good things are just around the corner. It was necessary, back at High Camp, when every swallow of a dry and cracking throat brought pain, when the prospect of simply getting out of the tent for a pit-stop meant hard labor, supreme discomfort, the fear of falling, to remember that the rest of life could be quite easy if that were a desirable goal. I doubt that any of us will lose ourselves forever in ease and lethargy now. It will be nice to try a little of it though. But, of course, there is a book for the team to get written, there are movies to get made... Tap and I both have Denali trips to guide... none of it is downhill, come to think of it. And none of it is dull, either. For that, I'm grateful.

Also grateful to those who have followed the trip on Mountain Zone. We were never able to go online and see the site for ourselves, but many great messages were forwarded to the team during our climb. I asked the Zoners not to forward any irritable e-mails, so if you were mad as hell at us for some reason, we never knew it. Just as well. We did try to get responses back to people who were nice and/or curious about expedition life, but we are all pretty pathetic typists, so please forgive us if we didn't answer your particular message. If you wrote in to encourage us or give a pat on the back, thanks. Those pats made some hard days endurable and even enjoyable. See you on the next trip.

Best Regards,

—Dave Hahn, Climber

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