Last light on everest
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Apparently I was being too subtle.
“I’d love to have a picture of that. It’s not that late now. I think there’s still time.” It sounded convincing to me.
“You mean you want to climb it tonight?” They looked at me like I’d grown a third eye on my forehead.
“It’s on the way.” Except for the 500 meter climb almost straight up, that was basically true.
“Yeah but we don’t have warm clothes or a flashlight. We don’t even have any water left!”
Given the groups reluctance to make the climb, I decided to do the only reasonable thing: to go on up alone. At least I thought it was reasonable until I started the actual climb. Maybe it was the low oxygen levels, but the slope hadn’t appeared as steep from the bottom. I guess there was a reason people stuck to the normal path. Still, as long as I didn’t trip that wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately the second problem was unavoidable. I was tired and once again being in an atmosphere with only 50% the normal oxygen levels was taking its toll.
The truth is that every few minutes I had to stop and catch my breath. Each time I told myself it didn’t make any sense to continue; it was getting to dark, cold and I had no water, but each time I stood up I started walking up the mountain and not down it. Part of the problem may have been that last year when preparing for the Ironman a little part of me got addicted to finding my limits and it had been six months since I’d truly tested them. Whatever the reason, I slowly kept crawling my way up. The solitude was a strange contrast from the bustle of basecamp, but the glow the last rays of the setting sun on the high peaks was not a sight I’ll soon forget.
It took hours, but after countless times stopping and starting I finally scrambled over the last bit of broken rock that make up the peak of the mountain. There were countless prayer flags and other mementos marking the end of what for so many people would mark the end of their life’s greatest adventure. I sat there, enjoy a 360 degree view of what looked like the whole world alone, enjoying a glory that seemed to have been made, at that moment, just for me. Then I realized it was too amazing not to share so I took out my almost forgotten camera and made a little video for you:
The ease of descending was a shocking contrast to the monumental struggle each step had been on the way up. At moments I was even able to jog slightly, although the rocky terrain made going too fast a bad idea. If I sprained my ankle I’m sure someone would have eventually found me, although the me they would have found might have been frozen solid. I kept the pace quick but careful and kept going, but even the top of Mt. Everest had lost sight of the sun. The fading twilight was sufficient at first, but I soon found myself staring intently at the ground, pushing my eyes to try and pick out any detail that might keep me from taking a very long tumble. Toward the bottom I lost the trail altogether and had to use the flash on my camera to try and see what I was doing.
This little trick of using the flash to see the path had one unintended consequence. My friends back at the lodge had begun to worry. They knew that if I hurt myself things could turn bad quickly. To their great credit they were outside looking for me when they saw a flashing light in the distance and wondered if it was a distress signal. The immediately started to prepare a search party, but fortunately I was now only twenty minutes away. I made my way down the last stretch of mountain with only a couple of small slips and walked the last few hundred meters that led to the lodge. As I stumbled up to the door I saw people walking around in the darkness. It was my search party. They found me thirsty and cold, but unharmed. I had been a fool. They told me as much and I knew they were right. Still it was day I’ll never forget and the perfect climax of an incredible journey.
“I’d love to have a picture of that. It’s not that late now. I think there’s still time.” It sounded convincing to me.
“You mean you want to climb it tonight?” They looked at me like I’d grown a third eye on my forehead.
“It’s on the way.” Except for the 500 meter climb almost straight up, that was basically true.
“Yeah but we don’t have warm clothes or a flashlight. We don’t even have any water left!”
Given the groups reluctance to make the climb, I decided to do the only reasonable thing: to go on up alone. At least I thought it was reasonable until I started the actual climb. Maybe it was the low oxygen levels, but the slope hadn’t appeared as steep from the bottom. I guess there was a reason people stuck to the normal path. Still, as long as I didn’t trip that wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately the second problem was unavoidable. I was tired and once again being in an atmosphere with only 50% the normal oxygen levels was taking its toll.
The truth is that every few minutes I had to stop and catch my breath. Each time I told myself it didn’t make any sense to continue; it was getting to dark, cold and I had no water, but each time I stood up I started walking up the mountain and not down it. Part of the problem may have been that last year when preparing for the Ironman a little part of me got addicted to finding my limits and it had been six months since I’d truly tested them. Whatever the reason, I slowly kept crawling my way up. The solitude was a strange contrast from the bustle of basecamp, but the glow the last rays of the setting sun on the high peaks was not a sight I’ll soon forget.
It took hours, but after countless times stopping and starting I finally scrambled over the last bit of broken rock that make up the peak of the mountain. There were countless prayer flags and other mementos marking the end of what for so many people would mark the end of their life’s greatest adventure. I sat there, enjoy a 360 degree view of what looked like the whole world alone, enjoying a glory that seemed to have been made, at that moment, just for me. Then I realized it was too amazing not to share so I took out my almost forgotten camera and made a little video for you:
The ease of descending was a shocking contrast to the monumental struggle each step had been on the way up. At moments I was even able to jog slightly, although the rocky terrain made going too fast a bad idea. If I sprained my ankle I’m sure someone would have eventually found me, although the me they would have found might have been frozen solid. I kept the pace quick but careful and kept going, but even the top of Mt. Everest had lost sight of the sun. The fading twilight was sufficient at first, but I soon found myself staring intently at the ground, pushing my eyes to try and pick out any detail that might keep me from taking a very long tumble. Toward the bottom I lost the trail altogether and had to use the flash on my camera to try and see what I was doing.
This little trick of using the flash to see the path had one unintended consequence. My friends back at the lodge had begun to worry. They knew that if I hurt myself things could turn bad quickly. To their great credit they were outside looking for me when they saw a flashing light in the distance and wondered if it was a distress signal. The immediately started to prepare a search party, but fortunately I was now only twenty minutes away. I made my way down the last stretch of mountain with only a couple of small slips and walked the last few hundred meters that led to the lodge. As I stumbled up to the door I saw people walking around in the darkness. It was my search party. They found me thirsty and cold, but unharmed. I had been a fool. They told me as much and I knew they were right. Still it was day I’ll never forget and the perfect climax of an incredible journey.
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