Mt Everest—going for the summit

Today is the day we all have been waiting for. We had reached Camp 4 at South Col six hours back and since then have been trying to rest and hydrate as much as possible. Though at that altitude our bodies are decaying each moment, our stomach rejects food and we shiver in the minus 300C air. We are breathing bottled oxygen at a steady rate. The hurricane wind buffets our tents and we can barely hear ourselves through the roar. Around 9 pm, we start getting ready. We don our gear and then exit to wear the crampons. Immediately the cold wind hits us to the very core of our soul. This is inhumanly difficult but our resolve keeps us upright. We dare not expose any part of our fingers so we work with gloves and mittens on. Metal hits metal, breathing is laborious, the sky is clear and the stars are out. No one is sure how long the window will stay. Even at a jaunty pace, it could take us more than 10 hours to reach the summit.


We finally head off towards the ice field in a line using fresh oxygen bottles. Around half an hour later, we hit the slopes and go up the fixed rope. Many are already above us and some of them are slow so we overtake them and continue. The snow dust bites into our face and plasters our ski goggles. We focus on each step as if nothing else existed outside and truly at that point, nothing else matters. One step at a time, gasp, push, pull; another step; we build up rhythm and keep going. Five hours later, we are at the ice shelf around 8300m, where we rest briefly and clip into a new oxygen bottle, dumping the one we had been using until now for the return trip. From this point, with each step, we commit ourselves deeper into the possibilities of death. There’s no turning back. The steep exposed ridge seems endless. Far ahead, we can see some headlamps that shine like stars. We look down at our own step and simply keep climbing like robots without thoughts, without feelings.
Slowly the eastern horizon begins to light up as twilight seems imminent. We pause and watch, and pray for the sun to shine and ease our misery to some extent. As the sun begins to rise, painting the sky in pink and orange, we can only wonder at nature’s beauty, forgetting our miseries, and gape at the unfolding world of ice. Suddenly the world comes alive as we begin to see the neighbouring peaks and glaciers. We seem to be caught in a frozen planet where no one else lived. To our back and below, Lhotse looks small. We cross the South Summit and feel tired beyond imagination yet the summit fever is on and there’s no stopping now.

Rounding off another ridge, we get into the rock gully and into the famous Hillary Steps, which we know is the last hurdle before summit. The lose rock slabs with gaping drop to our left keeps us riveted. The path is narrow while there are so many climbers. There’s a bit of a jam as those ahead climb slowly. We rest and rub our hands to generate some warmth. Scaling the vertical rock wall, even if using fixed ropes, saps all our energy and we rest for a while above Hillary Steps and then continue. Now only a long gradual ridge walk remains. We can already see other climbers at the summit, but we don’t rush, we cannot rush, here life slows down to bare minimum. Every action is aimed at staying alive and advancing.


Finally, the summit dome rises above us and we see the top of the world. We let go off the fixed rope and one by one, digging our ice axes deep into the hard snow, step on the summit of Everest after an epic battle lasting over 10 hours. Life for each one of us would never be the same again.