This Week on Everest

When someone who doesn’t know anything about mountaineering finds out what I do (which is pretty much everyone), the first thing that pops into their mind is often Mount Everest. Maybe because it’s been the topic of so many books and films, maybe because it’s an iconic world wonder the likes of the poles or the Amazon River, or maybe because it’s the only major peak they can name. But I’m very often asked “do you want to climb Mount Everest some day?”

That’s a complicated answer, and that’s the first thing I say (usually after a sigh). Then, despite their obvious lack of interest and regret for bringing up what they thought would be an excited, quick answer, I settle into a well-rehearsed, semi-melancholy, spiel.

Mount Everest will always be attractive to anyone with an interest in climbing, for the same reasons people ask me if I would ever want to climb it. For the foreseeable future, it will be the tallest mountain in the world, which by itself is enough to make it your life’s goal. And for many people, that’s the whole story. People want to climb to the top of our planet, and who could blame them? I certainly couldn’t.

But most people for whom the thinking stops there, aren’t “climbers” in the sense that they climb mountains beyond Everest for enjoyment. The appeal of the Big E is in the glory of climbing the tallest mountain in the world. So they pay exorbitant amounts of money to a guide service to help them fill a blog with stories about overcoming strife and suffering for a goal and, if they’re lucky, a photo of them with their hands raised over their head, mouth enveloped in bottled oxygen, and Sherpa guides close at hand, on top of the world.

And – I say this with total honesty – good for them! I know the self-fulfillment and euphoria that you’re filled with for summiting any mountain, and I believe that’s something everyone should experience at some point in their life, whether they hike or drive up an auto road. I can’t hardly begin to imagine how many times that feeling is multiplied on top of Everest. Everyone should be able to experience that euphoria, and if this is how they choose to do it, that’s fine. They climbed it, they pushed themselves to the top, and anyone should be proud of that. I would be.

But I’m a climber – or at least I like to think of myself that way – and for me, the summit is not the only goal. The top by any means isn’t good enough for me. I do it for the climb, for the adventure, and for the experience, start to finish. If I’m going to climb a mountain, I’m going to climb a mountain. It’s going to be me vs. that mountain; not me, some climbing Sherpas, some more experienced guides, and an easy route, vs. that mountain. I suppose I’m a purist in that way. I’ve always been a proponent of the Ed Viesturs philosophy: if I’m going to climb a mountain that’s 29,000 feet using oxygen that effectively makes it a 16,000 foot peak, why not just climb a 16,000 foot peak? If I’m going to climb a mountain that doesn’t naturally have ropes and ladders from bottom to top, I want to be a part of the team that puts them there. If a mountain takes certain technical knowledge and education to climb it safely, I want to learn it rather than be led all the way by an expensive guide. I want my successes to be a result of what I do.

What makes Everest difficult and sets it apart is its elevation. The North and South Col routes that are most often climbed are not technically challenging as far as mountaineering goes. There’s no NEI4 ice climbing, there are ladders to get you over the brief rock steps, and Sherpa from a team that you might not even be a part of have strung rope from bottom to top. As far as the climbing itself goes, it doesn’t even have much on a peak like Mount Rainier.

Its difficulty lies in the fact that it extends over 29,000 feet into the atmosphere, an elevation at which human life can not last. With or without the use of bottled oxygen, it’s a grueling physical climb and mental battle. But for those of us who climb because we like technical challenges, it doesn’t fit.

Regardless, that alone isn’t enough to make me not want to climb it. I like climbing things and you can’t climb any higher than the summit of Everest, so why not?

Well, Mount Everest is filling up. It’s attractiveness and relative technical ease are turning it into something that most other major peaks are not: a tourist destination. In the last few decades, there has been a steady increase in the number of people and guide services there. It’s been over commercialized to the point where, on the first good summit day of the season, a conga line develops stretching from high camp all the way to the summit. A massive string of people, many of them inexperienced, clipped into the same line, stepping in each others steps, standing around for their chance to make it through a bottleneck like the Hillary Step and eventually get on top. A mindless conveyor belt of people.

That’s not my idea of climbing Everest. Not in that conga line, and maybe not even by that route. I’m fascinated by stories of heroic climbs on Everest’s West Ridge, or tales of the fabled Fantasy Ridge or unclimbed East Face. Routes that hail from the days of mountaineering tradition, and bold, difficult assaults up uncharted and unknown faces of rock and ice.

After the events of this week, Everest, the Himalaya, and possibly mountaineering in general, could be in the throes of change. The massive avalanche that swept into the Khumbu Icefall, killing 16 Sherpa and causing the deadliest single day in the history of the mountain, has the potential to have a major impact on how Everest is climbed in the future.

This season is over. Alan Arnette has a great analysis of why on his blog, but whether by order of Nepal’s Tourism Department, by threats from Sherpa, by respect from Western guides, or by the danger of the icefall, there will be little to no climbing Mount Everest’s South Col in 2014. But 2015 will be pivotal in the history of the mountain.

It’s unfortunate that it had to happen as the result of a tragedy like last weeks. The Sherpa are the backbone of Mount Everest, an honest and traditional people who are highly respected and loved by their Western co-workers. But 16 of their dead has forced them to reexamine their situation, demanding more from their government, potentially forcing prices to climb Everest up even further and creating changes in the safety on the mountain. Similarly, the amount of death has impacted guides, many of whom are already questioning a return to Everest next year based on the political environment of Nepal and on safety. The serac that fell has long been seen as a major objective risk, on top of the already incredibly dangerous Khumbu Icefall, and what happened is even forcing many to think about the effect global warming has had on the mountain, and if it’s loosened other potential avalanche hazards.

Along with simply having fewer parties on the mountain next spring, guides will be forced to look deeper at who they bring to Everest and the experience they have. It’s nearly impossible to imagine an Everest without the Sherpa but who knows what their position will be at this time next year. Who knows what base camp itself will look like at this time next year. Will it be a smaller group of more experienced (or maybe just richer) climbers? Could it be a gradual return to more technical alpinism? Will there be any change at all?

Where Everest goes from here is impossible to say at this point, but for me to climb it, or any mountain for that matter, it would not be in a conga line where any technical skill I have would go to waste as I waddle behind and in front of hundreds of others. It would not be with bottled oxygen. I would not rely entirely on guides or Sherpa. It would be with my own ropes and skills. It will be me vs. the mountain. I don’t know what route that would be, or at what point in the future that might be an option, but I’m willing to wait.