When you're fit, acclimatized, and mentally ready to climb Everest, waiting for
good weather can be excruciating. As the hours and days pass, we hear the glacier
slowly melting beneath our tents. The creaks and groans of shifting blocks of
freezing and thawing ice have been replaced by the drips of small streams and
the sounds of large rocks tumbling down melting icehills. Time feels like it
has come to a standstill upon the Khumbu Glacier, and all that we have to
mark its passing are the subtle changes in our ever-melting surroundings.
Members of other expeditions come by to pass the time and read our already
outdated magazines.
Last night, we joined Henry Todd, John Tinker, and other expedition leaders in a
memorial gathering for Mal Duff. Stories flowed around the human circle we formed
around a chorten with burning juniper and dried yak dung. As the clouds above
Pumori turned orange from the setting sun, Henry Todd announced that at that
very moment, Mal's friends and family members were gathering at a church in
Edinburgh. Ours was a small gathering of those who had been his
climbing companions and friends over the years. He was certainly an
Everest legend, and we
stood in the cold thin air to share in the loss of a great Everester,
as the winds over the Lhotse-Nuptse ridge blew plume clouds into
circles in the sky. All will remember Mal in their staggered Everest attempts
this year.
Today, one helicopter flew into Base Camp to lift out the Sherpa who died on
the Lhotse Face this last week. His Malaysian team members carried him down
to Base Camp from a crevasse at Camp II and through the Icefall so he could
be lifted out to Kathmandu to his waiting wife and children. As the daylight
wanes and the winds continue to blow, we are all reminded of the power of
Everest and its ability to take the lives of even the most experienced
climbers here.