Seven Summits (20 page)

“Hold on, Jim. We'll get you out.”

Even with the smaller blocks moved the big one still pinned States, so Marts—disregarding his own safety—started hacking at it with his ice axe. In a few minutes States was out, and miraculously, other than a few bruises, he seemed uninjured. He was shaken, though, and told the others he was heading back to camp. As he left he passed one of the Sherpas, a young kid who looked under twenty, standing over the hole created by the shifting block, chanting a mantra and tossing sacred rice blessed by a lama.

The Sherpa kid's composure helped settle States's nerves, and on the way down States, knowing the physical work would bring his pulse closer to normal, forced himself to stop and adjust ropes and arrange ladders. Back at camp he decided to take up his teammates’ earlier suggestion to take a couple of days off. While he recuperated he found, to his own surprise, that despite his earlier premonitions he now felt better about the expedition, and concluded that whatever had prompted his dark forebodings was now behind him, and that the rest of the climb would go safely.

While States rested, the others pushed the route higher, estimating they would reach the top of the Icefall in two or three days. Meanwhile Roach and Nielson waved a white flag and agreed to a truce, at least while the expedition lasted.

The days now became routine. The climbers would get to bed early so they could rise at three in the morning to breakfast and get away by four. The weather clouded in the afternoons and occasionally snowed lightly, but it cleared at night so that when the climbers left in the predawn the stars were brilliant through the vacuum-black sky, and the train of headlamps as they climbed above base camp made an eerie procession between the dim ice towers. The Sherpas, each freighting an eight-foot ladder section, would bring up the rear, chanting their Buddhist mantras and adding a kind of background hymn to the silent tension that came from knowing at any moment the ice blocks could explode in convulsing upheaval.

This ever-present threat of death in the Icefall made it like a frozen outdoor cathedral of some brimstone religion, a place that when witnessed at first dawn to the choral chanting of Sherpas had an unmatched siren call of beauty mixed with danger. It was a place that set a cutting edge to your senses so that at day's end, after you were returned to the safe harbor of base camp, you were left with a vague yearning, a kind of strange addiction cousin to whatever it is that lures men and women to take physical risk of their lives.

While the lead climbers worked on the Icefall, Frank had kept busy. One day he had hiked across the glacier to Kala Patar, a hilltop vantage with a commanding view of Everest. Then another day States had coached him up the side of a serac near base camp, to improve his ice axe and crampon technique. He kept busy reading, and was entertained by the assortment of trekkers who each day wandered into base camp. There was Bill Grant, the Scotsman who was on his fifth expedition looking for the yeti, the abominable snowman, and then the two Americans who rode in claiming the first bicycle ascent to the base of Everest. Another day an American visited camp who said he was a writer, working on a biography of Ingrid Bergman.

The writer triggered memories in Frank of the movie business he had given up to go climbing. For the first time since starting the Seven Summits he felt melancholic. Would he come to regret his decision, he wondered.

Later that afternoon he was rescued from his melancholy when he heard at the edge of camp that familiar Tarzan call, and stepping out of the dining tent he saw Dick approaching, wearing jogging shorts over long john underwear, a Snowbird visor hat, and a wide Texas grin.

“We secured all the loose ends in Katmandu,” Dick said as he bear-hugged Frank. “We got the ABC permit, Gerhard is in a good mood, and I’m ready to climb this mother.”

The full team was now in base camp and Sonam, the lead Sherpa, said next morning they would have the puja ceremony at the foot of the base camp altar, a stone pedestal the Sherpas had built on the highest point in camp and from which they had strung long lines of colored prayer flags. Here they kept a few boughs of juniper smoldering and whenever they left camp to go into the Icefall they paused to breathe the smoke. Like the chanting of mantras, this was thought to cleanse the soul of wrongdoing, or as one Sherpa put it, “to make sure you have good luck in the Icefall.”

After breakfast the Sherpas gathered around the altar while one of them, chanting from a prayer book, reached in a sack and tossed handfuls of sacred rice in the air. After performing other ceremonious acts, they made an offering to the goddess of Everest of several glasses of chang, the local rice beer, a bottle of Remy Martin, and another of Johnnie Walker Red. When the ceremony was finished the Sherpas passed around the bottles, and when the liquor was polished off they proclaimed that the expedition could get fully underway.

Two days later the lead climbers established camp 1, at the top of the Icefall. It had taken nine days and while some sections were undeniably dangerous, especially the Interconnect, there was general agreement the route was a good one and the Sherpas could now begin carrying through it the hundreds of loads of food and equipment needed to provision the upper mountain. Gerry Roach and Peter Jamieson left to occupy camp 1 and begin the push into the Western Cwm (pronounced “Coom”), an enormous ice valley formed in part by the huge southwest face of Everest.

It was now April 19, and team leader Phil Ershler estimated they could be in position to make the first summit bid by the end of the month. It was time to think about selecting summit teams.

Ershler had been scrutinizing everyone's performance, earmarking those who had been working the hardest and therefore most deserved a position on the first summit team. He had also been wrestling with what to do about the Sherpas. He had listened carefully to Gerry Roach tell about the 1976 expedition when the Sherpas had refused to carry more oxygen to the high camps after the first summit attempt; Roach felt the problem stemmed from the Sherpas’ feeling of being nothing more than hired hands. Sonam had also warned Ershler that if the Sherpas felt they were only beasts of burden, with no real hand in the climbing, they might quit early. It seemed critical to Ershler to devise a plan which included the Sherpas. And besides, all self-interest aside, he was fond of these warm-hearted, good-natured mountain people and felt they deserved a chance for success on this peak as much as the sahibs who had hired them.

He also had to consider Frank and Dick. Ershler recalled that when they had that New Year's team meeting in Snowbird, Frank had said at the time he and Dick wanted to be equals with other team members, and “all we expect is an equal chance at the summit.” The team agreed without a single dissent. Now Ershler had to weigh how those terms might translate to a summit strategy. (Frank later told Dick that as soon as that meeting was over he regretted not being more specific in defining what an equal chance should be.) Ershler's view—shared by the other lead climbers—was that while Frank and Dick had paid for the expedition (other than personal airfare, which each member had covered for himself), they, the lead climbers, had contributed their share organizing the food and equipment, and more importantly had risked their lives to build the route through the Icefall. Given that no one had actually been hired to be Frank and Dick's guides, and as Frank had said, everyone was equal with an equal chance, Ershler felt he was on solid ground choosing from among the lead climbers the first summit teams. He called a meeting to announce his choices.

“I think the first team should be made up of those who have worked hardest getting through the Icefall,” he said. “And I think those three guys are Gerry Roach, Peter Jamieson, and Larry Nielson. In addition, I think there should be one Sherpa on the first team, and I will get together with Sonam later to determine who that will be. Then the second team will be Gary Neptune, Jim States, myself, and another Sherpa. The third team will then be Dick Bass, Frank Wells, and Ed Hixson (the team doctor).

For a moment everyone was quiet, then Frank raised his hand.

“I respect the tough position you're in, Phil, and of course I respect your decision. But I have two comments. First, I think you should include yourself in the first team. You've earned it if anyone has. My second point: I don't think it's fair to exclude yourself from the first team, and either Dick or me from the second team, so a Sherpa can get a first shot. I realize your concern for the Sherpas, and for demonstrating to them how much we all appreciate their wonderful and valuable contribution here, but I can't help but weigh against that the work and expense Dick and I have put into making this thing possible, and I think one of us at least has earned a place on that second team.”

“I’d like to comment on that too,” Dick said. “I agree with my partner here that we've earned a spot on that second team, but I’d like to add further I’m perfectly happy on a third team because I feel confident I’m going to make it no matter where I fall in line. So I’d be happy to give that second-team spot to Frank here, although I sure wish we could climb the mother together so we could get that movie footage of us up there on the roof of the world arm-in-arm, in pure jubilation.”

“Goddamnit Dick, if you weren't so unselfish sometimes you'd be easier to deal with,” Frank said. “You should really be on that second team because you've got a much better shot at it than me. But my whole reason for wanting to be on that second team is that if I don't make it the first time I can come down and try again, and if that doesn't work, try a third time.”

“Frank, there's no way you'll have it in you after one attempt to go back up and make another,” Ershler argued.

“While you guys have been up in the Icefall,” Frank countered, “I’ve been down here reading this mountaineering history of Everest, and in it there are plenty of examples of guys who have had a second shot and made it.”

“But Frank, those are world-class climbers,” Ershler said. “I was with you last year for three months on the other side of this mountain, and I hate to be blunt, but you ain't world-class.”

“I know I’m not world-class, but I nevertheless feel I’ve earned a right to a second-team position.”

Ershler then turned to Gary Neptune and said, “Gary, you're most likely to be the leader of the second team. What do you think?”

Neptune had been quiet, as was his style. He was a person who preferred to listen and not make waves. Two years before he had been on Ama Dablam, the sword-shaped summit near Everest, and after the first team made the summit, he didn't argue for another bid after the others wanted to go home. He simply climbed the peak solo.

Now he was uncomfortably on the spot. He was hesitant to state his true feelings—he didn't want to hurt or embarrass Frank—but he saw no way out. He hadn't forgotten his experience with Frank two months before on Aconcagua, when he had watched terrified as Frank awkwardly made the traverse of that steep snow slope leading to the Canaleta. Dick had been okay—Neptune hadn't minded going to the top of Aconcagua with him, and he wouldn't hesitate to do the same on Everest—but Frank was another matter.

“I don't know, Frank,” Neptune said. “You weren't too strong on Aconcagua. You might be more acclimatized if you waited until the third attempt.”

“That doesn't make sense. There's plenty of time to acclimatize.”

“Well, I’m just not sure how you'll do.”

“Gary, are you saying you wouldn't want to have me on your team?”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Neptune said in a self-effacing tone, “I guess the answer is yes. I wouldn't be comfortable climbing with you.

Frank knew there was nothing more to say, and the meeting adjourned.

Frank held no grudge against Neptune, and decided if he couldn't get on the second team he would just live with his third-team position and do all he could to increase his chances of success there. He felt there were two ways to do that. One, to get as much oxygen as possible higher on the mountain. If any single thing would make it easier for him to climb Everest he felt it was that. Second, he began to lobby with Ershler for the establishment of an additional camp above the South Col—a camp 5 at around 27,500 feet—so he would have less distance to climb on his summit day. It was similar to his request on Aconcagua, when he had asked me the day before our summit climb to go with him and overnight at that higher camp that was closer to the top.

Ershler had his hands full figuring which loads needed to go through the Icefall first, what climbers should be positioned where in order to always have a fresh pair in the lead, and how the Sherpas would best fit into the climbing strategy. He listened politely to Frank's requests, but his patience was wearing thin. Although he didn't tell Frank, he felt it was a waste of time making decisions about how much oxygen should go to the South Col, or when to put in a camp 5, because he doubted Frank would ever get high enough on the mountain to make use of those supplies, anyway. In fact, he wasn't even sure Frank would be able to get through the Icefall in one day, and if he couldn't do that, he couldn't get to camp 1.

That gave Ershler an idea. Next day he would insist Frank and Dick go with him through the Icefall; that way, when Frank saw for himself he couldn't make it, maybe he would stay off Ershler's back.

“You two have been sitting idle in base camp here too long,” Ershler said to Frank and Dick. “What do you say in the morning you go with me through the Icefall. Get some exercise.”

Despite their promise to their families to go through the Icefall only once, Frank and Dick felt it would be important for them to go along with Ershler. The next morning leaving camp Frank and Dick paused at the Sherpa altar to breathe juniper smoke. It wasn't that Frank and Dick had developed a belief in Buddhism, but rather they and everyone else on the team observed these rituals out of a combination of courtesy for the Sherpas and a sense that, as Frank put it, “It can't hurt.”

There were two Sherpas with them who chanted mantras as they entered the shadowy frozen towers at the base of the Icefall. As Ershler had anticipated, he and Dick soon pulled ahead, leaving Frank with the Sherpas.