Wrong Place Wrong Time
Namaste,
In an earlier post I likened going through the Icefall to a game of Snakes &
Ladders. Some might now say it’s more akin to a game of Russian Roulette,
but that’s perhaps rather too extreme. Either way, it’s proved a risky place
to be this year.More than a few have now left the fray rather than face the
dragon’s lair. However, the problem is not so much the Icefall per se,
rather a huge hanging serac (ice cliff) high on the western shoulder of
Everest - a massive wall that encloses the Icefall to it’s left. The serac
has become unstable, with great chunks periodically breaking away in a
monstrous avalanche of snow and ice which crashes down across the Icefall.
Early on there had been concern expressed by some that the route through the
Icefall strayed to far to the left, and into this dangerous zone. It seems
those concerns were well founded.
On 7th May our team headed up into the Icefall for what we hoped would be
the last time.A small weather window had opened and we were on a summit
push. A summit day of 10th May looked good. We were making steady progress
when, at about 4am, we heard the distinctive ‘crack’ from the western
shoulder that has previously heralded an avalanche. The thunderous roar that
followed only confirmed our fears, and we knew that we were very much in the
wrong place at the wrong time. It was also pitch black and we couldn’t see a
damn thing. I was with Phil, Valerie and Pasang Tendi, and Joe, Pam and Dawa
were a short way behind. We sheltered as best we could behind some biggish
blocks of ice and waited for the inevitable. Would we be swept down the
Icefall and buried? Would it simply just go over our heads? We didn’t know.
The icy blast from the shockwave - forced ahead by the sheer velocity and
momentum of the avalanche - slammed into us with a surprising amount of
power. It was as if we had suddenly opened a door and stepped out into the
most ferocious of blizzards.It took your breath away, literally, but we
tried hard not to suck in too much of the suffocating mixture of cold air
and snow. Half a minute or so later it was over. The whirlwind had stopped
and all was calm and silent again, save our own coughing and spluttering.
The main avalanche had missed us. We had survived.
The seven of us, now resembling snowmen, continued upwards, a little shaken
but generally none the worse for our ordeal. We topped out of the Icefall
just as the sun began to rise and we were bathed in some much needed
warmth. After briefly stopping at Camp 1, we began the long slog up the
Western Cwm to Camp 2. A short while later we passed by the Indian Team who
were descending, as were a Dutch/Canadian woman, Bernice, and her sherpa,
Lhakpa. Bernice had previously visited us at Base Camp, so Valerie and I
stopped and had a quick chat. She wished us well for our possible summit
attempt and continued her descent towards the Icefall, whilst we pushed on
up the Cwm. Not long after our arrival at Camp 2 we learnt that another,
much larger, avalanche had come down off of the west shoulder and that
Bernice, her climbing partner Walter, and Lhakpa had been caught in
it’s path. Bernice and Walter were swept into a crevasse where they remained
lodged upside down, but remarkably uninjured. They were quickly rescued by
members of the Indian Team, who had themselves been partially caught in the
avalanche. Tragically, Lhakpa was swept away and couldn’t be found,
seemingly buried amongst the debris.
It soon became obvious that the May 10th summit day was starting to look
marginal at best. The weather updates being relayed to us were not very
favorable, with high winds forecast for higher up on the mountain. We were
also being warned that a storm front was heading our way. All in all it was
clear that the small weather window we had been chasing had now well and
truly closed. We decided to wait one more day, but on 9th May we made our
second tactical retreat from Camp 2. As we nervously made our way back down
through the Icefall we could clearly see the area devastated by the
avalanche. The route had become a jumbled mess, and twisted remnants of
ladders were dangling beside the new. A single boot and a rucksack lay
forlornly in the debris strewn below. We moved as quickly as possible,
conscious of the danger that still lurked ominously above, and finally
arrived into Base Camp just as the forewarned storm began to roll in.
Our thoughts and deepest sympathies are with Lhakpa’s family and friends.