Chapter Five

An Angry Goddess

The brief window of summit weather turned erratic again. Other expeditions with their own schedules and concerns, or perhaps wanting to escape what was clearly the Sodoc expedition’s bad karma, set out for the summit now in bursts, depending on opportunity. They moved from high camp to higher camp as the weather dictated, clogging the choke points and making it difficult for the Sodoc expedition to properly plan its own assault on the peak. When the two next biggest expeditions set out, the Sodoc team was crestfallen.

“I can’t say we sabotaged any of the other teams,” a source confided. I know those accusations have been made. True, there were thefts of oxygen bottles, but we had some stolen from us. Someone was up to something, but it wasn’t us. As far as I knew, the plan was to manage the other expeditions.” No one had ever seen anything like it, certainly not on Everest. But still, there is only so much that can be done. Climbers at crucial points cannot be bodily moved aside. It just isn’t done. Those other expeditions and lines of climbers were potentially a serious problem for Derek, who was under enormous pressure to produce.”

This was a problem not appreciated in Manhattan. The men in suits were accustomed to telling reporters in the field to get the story and deliver the product on schedule—no matter what. They did not know—or perhaps did not care—about the special difficulties an Everest expedition encounters. Derek’s strain and worry were obvious as he became increasingly short-tempered and erratic in his decisions.

Reggie was also under increasing pressure to get Derek to the top. There had been some foolish talk about the Sodoc expedition being the first to summit that year. This was not realistic—especially since so many climbers had left while the expedition was still in Kathmandu. From the flurry of reports and special coverage, you’d have thought no one had ever climbed Everest before.

“SNS international headquarters was devastated when the first team summited and it wasn’t theirs. They’d managed to convince themselves that Derek would be the first on top that year. That’s how out of touch they were,” a source says. “There were nasty sat phone conversations with Derek and Reggie about it, I can tell you. Marketing had its plans and Derek was being pressured to conform.”

When the other climbers began to summit, the natural consequence was that some of the steam was released from the storyline. They’d been covering it hard for weeks, and it wasn’t possible to sustain that level. New York demanded a summit climb before public interest waned entirely. Ratings were very important.

Derek was told to get to the top ASAP—preferably during East Coast prime time. The sheer logistics of such an effort were daunting. The weather and the existence of so many other climbers made the task even more difficult.

But before the Sodoc expedition was ready to set out, two of the major expeditions had summited. The positive consequence was that some of the traffic on the ascent route eased. Another advantage of their going first was that they had also cleared the way to the top, fixing line from the Ice Flow to the summit. This meant that the following expeditions could reach the top in a much shorter period of time than the early ones had.

The storyline had been for Derek and his bride to summit together. Certainly that had been the publicity to this point, and expectations were high. Plus, Tarja had insisted from day one. But now, with so much water under the bridge, the two were estranged, and on Everest, at least, it was clear that the lovebirds weren’t climbing the mountain together. While Derek sought solace in the arms of his producer, orgasmic cries from his wife’s tent during visits from Peer could be heard by anyone within earshot. Only a porn star with the name Sally the Screamer had louder sex.

“Derek’s embarrassment was acute,” a pal said. “You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. Here he was, coming off a serious drug binge, and there was Tarja putting on quite a show. To be frank, though, we all wanted some of that.”

As push-off day approached, Reggie orchestrated a meeting between Derek and Tarja in an attempt to bring the rancor to an end. Doc was there to keep order. The meeting was grim, according to a little bird who was there and told me all.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two,” Reggie began. “But we need to get this worked out.”

Tarja shot Derek an unpleasant look. “If he can manage to keep it buttoned for a few days, I’m willing to do my part.” It was only natural; Tarja had the most to lose if this didn’t happen.

Derek had been morose, staring toward the back of the tent. “Why don’t you put a sock in it when you screw, okay? The whole camp can hear you.”

“Jealous? Peer’s a stud. He was always the best.”

“Knock it off, you two!” Reggie said. “This is no place for such childishness. A climber died up there yesterday. Had you heard? This is dangerous business. Either you work together—or, Tarja, you’re off the attempt.”

She glared at Reggie. “If I get dropped, I’ll turn this publicity stunt into a charade. Do you hear me, hubby dear? I’m climbing. That’s all there is to it.”

Derek refused to give in—until Reggie finally suggested a solution. “Derek, you and Tarja pretend to make up, all right? This is business, and it’s in both your interests to climb the bloody thing. No one off the mountain knows what’s going on, and if someone posts something, surely SNS can bury the story.”

“I’m not climbing with Peer—and that’s final!” Derek shouted.

“He has to summit. You know that,” Reggie said. “I’ve specific instructions from New York.”

Derek was soon on the satellite phone with New York, but Peer was important to the company’s plans to market in Europe. SNS was engaged in a significant European expansion, and Peer was an important part of that. Derek disconnected without comment.

It was agreed that Tarja would stop seeing Peer and, in exchange, would still summit with her husband. Everyone would pretend that nothing had happened. Since SNS essentially controlled the storyline on the mountain, they believed they could get away with it.

Tarja was clearly interested in pursuing her independent career. Summiting was as important to her as it was to Derek, so she agreed. Plus, she’d already made her point. However, there remained a fly in the ointment—a Norwegian fly.

In the end, a compromise was reached at Doc’s suggestion. The summit team was divided in two. Derek and his wife were on Team One; Peer and Scott Devlon comprised Team Two, which would depart just ten minutes later. The teams would be presented to the world as a single unit, when in fact they would be distinct. Very reluctantly, Derek agreed—with the understanding that he would never have to deal with Peer.

The final night in Base Camp was awkward. Derek and Tarja were still not talking to one another. Crystal was behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary was up. The Sherpa held a special service at the mound. Tsongba, their new leader, had to meet with them again to convince some of those still reluctant to simply do the job they’d been paid for.

And so, with great fanfare, the happy couple set out to conquer the highest point on earth. Derek was now going to play his own version of King of the Mountain. With the latest technology, long-range weather forecasts, the most experienced guides, and surrounded by stalwart friends, how could he fail?

But the Sherpa, only marginally persuaded by Tsongba, looked on with stoic faces and a solemn manner. Things were going badly because Derek was being punished for having sex with the Sherpa woman. It was one thing for her to have sex with them, but it was quite another to bend over for a Westerner. Her behavior had shamed not only her husband and her clan, but the expedition, as well.

There was also the matter of the defrocked goddess. There were those among the Sherpa who now accepted that they were being punished for that great dishonor. The shaman had warned them not to climb, and they’d allowed themselves to be persuaded with double wages. More than one now believed that they’d done the wrong thing.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to climb with any of them. They’re good men, but they were very unhappy,” a source said. “When you are dealing with superstitious natives, it’s always best to stay the hell away. They were clearly agitated. I know both Reggie and that Tsongba laid into that bunch to get them moving up the mountain.”

Ahead of the Sodoc expedition was the Nepalese team, including those most adamant in their anger toward Derek. Girija was quoted in a magazine saying, “My guides and climbers did not like the idea that we would be clearing the way for Mr. Sodoc. I told them we cleared the path for ourselves and should not concern ourselves with who followed. As it was, we were very sick. I wasn’t certain we could even make it to the top.”

Asked about reports that a trailing Sherpa loosened ropes and supports, he denied them. “No one wanted to see anyone die—not by our hand, at least. Death was up to the mountain, and it needed no help from us—no matter how well-deserved.”

The two Sodoc teams climbed to Advanced Base Camp that first day. The departure was covered live by SNS during a special half-hour report following the evening news. The great theater was watched by millions around the globe. Tarja was her beaming best, waving gaily at those remaining in camp, who clapped as they set out, then granting a misty, come-hither smile to the camera lens. Derek, resplendent in his orange high-altitude climbing suit, played his role, smiling warmly, waving jauntily, and placing his arm across her shoulders to pose for the cameras.

Everyone on the expedition knew what was really going on, but the world only knew what the network allowed them to see.

As well as everything had gone until now, even with the more frequent problems and intermittent benign weather, events now began to go very wrong—and you didn’t have to be a Sherpa to see it. The climbers couldn’t help but feel that more terrible things were yet to happen, and bad things on Everest invariably meant death.

Two of the major expeditions had already summited and departed. Three others were planning to make their attempt at the same time. Money was discreetly handed out to some of the lesser expeditions to persuade them to delay their climb, and at least one of the remaining large expeditions is reported to have been secretly paid to wait until after Derek’s summit attempt.

But the Nepalese team moved up, and so did one from Austria, as did some of the smaller expeditions who’d refused payment. The inevitable result was that the chokepoints up the mountain became crowded once again.

Team One consisted of Reggie, Rusty Landon—who was filming Derek and Tarja—Tsongba, and two experienced climbing Sherpa, one of whom carried equipment for Rusty. Crystal remained at Advanced Base Camp to download Rusty’s feeds and to provide uplinks to New York. It was hoped— indeed, was expected—that there would be an abundance of live shots from Everest.

All the climbers were given radios so that they could speak one to another as well as to communicate with Advanced Base Camp. All the filming was done by Rusty.

“It was actually a lean operation, made possible by digital technology. Tarja objected, wanting at least two cameras so she’d get plenty of face time, but Derek stuck with Rusty,” a knowledgeable source says.

That first night at Advanced Base Camp, Reggie took Scott Devlon aside and told him his responsibilities. “You’re here to help your friend Derek summit,” he said. “If all goes well, continue with him to the top. What matters first is his safety. After that, extend any assistance you can. I know I can rely on you because you’re his friend. I know he is depending on you. We need someone to go with Peer so it isn’t apparent what is really going on.” Reggie looked at Scott intently. “Derek’s distracted right now and under enormous pressure. I don’t trust his judgment. I’m counting on you.”

Scott nodded solemnly. “You can count on me,” he said. Why he later forgot his promise, he’s never explained.

That night, at Advanced Base Camp, Derek and Tarja had an ugly argument. It began in their tent, which they’d agreed to share. Their voices became louder and louder until everyone could hear them through the nylon and over the wind. Finally, Tarja stormed out of the tent, followed a moment later by a red-faced Derek.

The climbers were not yet on oxygen, so all the fighting left the pair coughing and hacking, but it was soon clear that there would be no mutual summit for the briefly happily-married couple. Reggie met with Scott and Peer and told them that Tarja would be returning to Base Camp the next morning.

It should be understood that none of the other Western climbers cared about any of this. By this time they were all consumed with summit fever themselves. Like an epidemic, it had swept over the expedition. It is a difficult phenomenon to describe adequately. It is called a “fever” because those taken with it behave much as does a man finding himself in the grip of hot fever. Every thought—every moment—is taken up with a preoccupation of what has consumed him.

The infected climbers talked among themselves of nothing but getting to the top of the world. Every climber wanted nothing so much as to summit Everest. The fever consumed them all. All the long days from Kathmandu to the foothills of Nepal, up the side of the enormous mountain, was meant for this time. They all paid lip service to the idea of helping Derek, but in their hearts they all wanted the same thing—to climb that damn mountain.

At this point, all the climbers suffered the effects of altitude— even with the acclimatization they’d undergone. No one feels well on Everest, not even the Sherpa. There was not a Westerner on the expedition who hadn’t experienced a bout of diarrhea along the trek or at Base Camp. At high altitude, everyone suffers from headaches. It’s like a sixteen-penny nail being driven through your head. And everyone coughs. You cough until you think your lungs are going to come out. Some coughed until they spit up blood. Others, like Derek, coughed until they broke a rib.

That night at Advanced Base Camp was clear and cold. An incessant wind beat against the tent with a constant drubbing sound that made it difficult to rest and sleep. No one was consuming oxygen from the valuable containers that had been moved up, so everyone experienced a sensation of suffocation. Climbers awakened from shallow sleep certain they were going to die. The chronic shortness of breath also created a pervasive anxiety that permeated every decision a climber made. To climb Everest is to experience a sort of misery unknown anywhere else.

In the morning, the sun rose to a bright, clear, bitterly cold day. At very high altitude, climbers resemble the Pillsbury doughboy in their jumpsuits. They waddle about awkwardly, unable to move freely, as much a prisoner of their attire as anything else. In any other place, it would be amusing; here it was just one more reminder of their bizarre existence.

“You need to go back down,” Calvin reportedly told Derek. “You’re not in shape for the big push. I think one of your ribs is cracked. You need to return to Base Camp to recuperate.”

Derek was hearing none of that. “That’s not possible. It has to be now. We have a window, and I must take advantage of it.”

“Listen to me, Derek. I mean it. You can’t climb because the weather allows it or because New York has given you a deadline or because your father wants it. This is your life I’m talking about. You can’t always be lucky. You’re in no condition to climb. I just spent the night in the tent with you. I know.”

Derek grinned. “Not to worry. I’m in the best of hands.”

A few minutes later, a resigned Doc Cal administered a round of drugs. All the climbers had been on baby aspirin since arriving at Base Camp. Once they moved up, Doc had given them Diamox. This forced the kidneys to excrete bicarbonate that re-acidified the blood. The effect was to balance the effects of hyperventilation and to act as a respiratory stimulant, especially at night. But the effects were not predictable or consistent, and the higher the climbers went, the less effective the drug would be.

Every climber was now given a supply of Decadron, as well. This was a potent steroid used to treat brain swelling. It was, however, significantly different from Diamox. Whereas Diamox treated the problems associated with acclimatization, Decadron treated the symptoms caused by hypoxia, like taking a pill for pain while doing nothing about the underlying cause. It effectively removes the symptoms of AMS for a few hours and, for that reason, was invaluable. It is carried only to be used in an emergency. Calvin provided an extra supply to Derek, adding a cautionary word not to use it excessively.

When Reggie called a team meeting, the climbers stood about with their backs to the wind, like cattle in the storm. The intrepid Rusty hoisted a shoulder camera and busied himself recording preparations.

Derek was distracted and clearly unhappy. Peer was distant, even sullen. Tarja remained angry and hostile. And Scott, Derek’s good friend, was excited. The summit bug had bitten him well and deep. It was, essentially, going to be “to hell with Derek.”

The plan called for Calvin to remain at Advanced Base Camp to await the return of the two teams from the summit. He would then move up to Camp Four to meet them and provide such medical care as was required.

This was a wise decision and typical of the care he gave. It was distressingly common for climbers descending the mountain to be in need of medical help. Climbers often exhausted themselves attaining the summit and found themselves without reserves of strength or the stamina to get back down. Frostbite was common, and climbers were susceptible to injuries of every kind.

In their childlike state above Camp Four, judgment became impaired. More deaths occur on the descent than occur on the climb. Climbers wander off cliffs and fall to their deaths. Some find themselves unable to negotiate Hillary Step and die on the line. But most of all, climbers become exhausted. Moving is hard, stopping is easy. They sit down to rest for just a few moments and then later lie down to sleep—a sleep from which they never awaken.

Frostbite, HACE, dementia, and exhaustion were the Four Horsemen of every summit attempt. Calvin intended to be in position to save lives at Camp Four.

That morning, the Sherpa distributed breakfast tea to everyone. Once outside their tent, each climber buttoned up their high-altitude jumpsuits and rigged their gear. Derek was the only climber with an orange suit. New York had insisted on this so that viewers would always know him from the other climbers. Reggie wore a blue jumpsuit and about his neck was a red scarf knitted by his wife in New Zealand and given to him the previous Christmas. Tarja, naturally, was dressed in crimson.

At Advanced Base Camp, Crystal and Tarja exchanged ugly words and called each other vulgar names. Absurd as it seems in retrospect, Tarja took this moment to vent about Crystal’s affair with her husband, while Crystal accused Tarja of doing Peer. It was nasty and utterly out of place. Derek tried to put a stop to it but realized soon enough that the pair wouldn’t listen to him. Reggie stood aside and simply grimaced, while the others stayed out of it as well.

“You had to see it to believe it. Everyone was about to climb Everest, and these two bitches were at it!” a pal said. “But they soon ran out of steam since neither of them could breathe after a few minutes. They just stood there, glaring at each other and sucking deep breaths.”

Returning to work, Crystal attempted to interview Derek before their departure.

“Derek,” she said, “let’s get a shot with the mountain behind you. Come on.”

“How many times do we have to do that one?” he complained. “If I’m sick of standing still for it, the viewers must be really sick of seeing it.”

“It’s the killer shot, trust me.”

Rusty maneuvered the camera and then signaled that he was ready. “How do you feel as you set out, Derek?” Crystal asked.

“How the hell do you think I feel? Like shit!”

“Derek, we’re recording. I’m not making conversation here. Try the answer again, please.”

Derek drew several deep breaths and said, “I’m excited.” He glanced toward the mountain behind him. “You can’t help . . . Ah, shit! What am I saying?”

And so it went. His concentration lagged and he stammered repeatedly. They were at it for ten minutes but never got the shot she was after. Finally, Crystal terminated the interview. Derek was simply distracted—on a day when he needed every ounce of his concentration to be on the task ahead of him. His marital and other problems were clearly taking a toll on his normally confident disposition.

Some thought they detected fear as he set off, but that could not have been the case. Here was a man who had faced death a thousand times before, a man who went out of his way to embrace danger. No, if he knew fear, that was later—much later—when the possibility of his ultimate fate was a reality.

A knowledgeable Sherpa later spoke of the departure. “The men with them were the best we had. They were fearless, willing to go when no one else would. One told me that the white man, Derek, was trembling. Something was very wrong. He thought that witch, Tarja, had put a curse on him. They talked about coming back, but if they had, no one would ever have hired them again.”

A few moments after Crystal gave up on the interview, Derek set out with his team, neglecting to wave back at the camera. Ten minutes later, the second team stepped off.

Below, the clouds filled the canyons, sweeping in a billowing mass toward distant Nepal. The sky above was layered with a thin veneer of gray clouds. It was as if the expedition was cut off from the world and existed in its own barren, mountain kingdom.

Tarja had been told to return to Advanced Base Camp but had given no indication of her intentions, though it was assumed that she would. Now, to everyone’s surprise, she set out with Team One. A few yards from the camp, the team stopped and Reggie confronted her.

“Tarja, go back. I told you last night,” he said.

“It was agreed we’d summit together. Now get out of my way.”

“Things have changed. You know that. Go back before you get hurt—now!”

“Are you threatening me?” she demanded.

“Of course not. But you aren’t welcome. Go back. Please.”

Derek stepped up. “Go back down, Tarja. Do as you’re told, for once.”

“Go to hell, Derek. If you’d kept it in your zipper, none of this would be happening. Now I’m going to summit. Period.” She set off, and a few minutes later Team One resumed its climb.

Tarja was clearly determined to summit, no matter what her husband told her. After that, no words were exchanged between the Team One climbers and the Nordic beauty. Reggie led the way and set a brutal pace, perhaps hoping that the woman would drop out. In the end, all struggled to one degree or another as they moved toward Camp Three, and Tarja doggedly maintained the pace.

Climbing from Advanced Base Camp to Camp Three, the ice was uncommonly slick, and the way was treacherous. The climbers carefully planted their crampons to keep from falling on a long patch of blue ice. The stiff wind made the climb even more difficult in these conditions, as the climbers were forced to brace themselves against it. Most of all, however, the wind kept them cold—even as they moved steadily up the side of the mountain.

Along this route, slipping would be deadly. Every hundred feet or so, it was necessary for each climber to remove their clip from the line and re-connect it above the anchor. In their numbed state and robotic mindset, it was possible to miss the line entirely and falsely believe that they were securely connected. Every season someone made this mistake and paid the price.

This is a different kind of climbing for the twenty-first century. Since time immemorial—certainly since the conquest of the Matterhorn and the invention of Alpine style climbing— it has been the practice of climbers to connect one to the other. Should a climber fall, others in a more secure position would be able to save him from death. But the system was not foolproof. Sometimes it was possible for a single climber to fall, pulling the others with him, taking the entire line to their deaths.

For this reason, climbers always make certain of the capability of the other climbers—because their lives depend on it. This is the reason climbers have always shared a close friendship and camaraderie one with the other. Climbers who do not normally get along—even climbers who are otherwise antagonists—are brothers on the mountain. Everyone’s life depends on the ability of the other.

However, this is not the case on Everest. Since climbers are not roped to each other, there is no real need for any one climber to be satisfied with the abilities of the others. And because of the line, climbers of acceptable physical ability— but with very limited climbing skills—routinely tackle the giant. The result is that climbers don’t trust each other; the bond between climbers simply doesn’t exist. Because the expert climbs beside the newcomer, the kind of kinship that is historically commonplace among mountaineers is eliminated.

Today, the Sherpa string line from Base Camp along the entire route the climbers follow, all the way to the highest point on earth. Should they fall, in most cases, they will not die. Only a gross mistake, such as failing to connect to the line, can cause them to fall to their deaths, though in recent years the crowding has been such that literally a hundred climbers are attached to a relatively short stretch of line. Should a few of those take a tumble, they could potentially bring down everyone. It is only a question of time.

In fact, it is said that even a reasonably fit man or woman could climb Everest, since it takes no great technical skill. As a result, reasonably fit climbers with no special skills flock to Everest. There is a full measure of contempt from skilled climbers when they encounter the comfortably rich amateurs with whom they will climb. It is easy to understand why so many climbers pass by other fallen climbers in need of their help.

The line has brought a greater measure of security to Everest climbing. Avalanches, which cannot be controlled, the crossing of chasms, exhaustion, and the various diseases of high altitude kill climbers on Everest.

As the teams moved up the sheet of ice and frozen snow they came upon recurring reminders of their peril. Between Camp Two and Camp Three they passed several bodies frozen to the ice, some of them dating back more than two decades. Some were as recent as the previous season.

One of the peculiarities of climbing Everest is this lack of reaction to the bodies of dead climbers. Encountering a body anywhere else on earth, nearly anyone would be shocked. They would be concerned about what had happened. There would be a desire that the body be treated with respect. In most cases, whatever you had planned would be placed on hold while you saw to the dead body.

These bodies litter the summit approaches like so much confetti and are taken just as casually. Climbers turn aside their gazes and move steadily beyond the dead—and often the dying—oblivious that this could be their fate in a few short hours.

There is no respect for the dead on Everest. People remain where they die, and on the windswept stretches of the mountain bodies can remain visible for decades. At the sheltered camps, a layer of snow and ice builds up each year. The result is that new tents are erected atop the bodies of the dead. It has been said that you can climb from Base Camp to the summit on the bodies of the dead.

The reality is that with an oxygen-starved brain and a determination to climb the mountain, no living climber has a moment of compassion for the fallen. There is, in fact, no consideration that it could be themselves lying there. There is no thought for the families of the dead. No recovery of personal effects. No effort even to attempt to identify the dead. They are simply passed without consideration, without a prayer. Only on Everest are the dead considered a natural part of the terrain.

“They disrespect the dead,” a Sherpa says. “The ghosts of those who died are still there because their body has not been treated with respect; the proper prayers have not been said. At night, we Sherpa hear them wailing their anguish. When we tell the Westerners about it so they will be better, they laugh. They tell us we are superstitious, that it is only the wind.”

Who can say?

Peer is widely regarded as the greatest mountain climber in the world. In Europe, he is a household name. His smiling face appears from time to time on the cover of every major magazine. We can only speculate about what was on his mind as they set out. He should have been climbing Everest with the best, within a cocoon of security only the truly expert can provide. Instead, he was plodding his way up the mountain with a pair of squabbling spouses, serving as point man on an expedition that was little more than a publicity stunt.

After him, the most expert climber was Derek or, more likely, Reggie. However, none of these were as good as the Sherpa, who are born climbers. They set about their task with grim determination. They’d seen tough times before and would see this through, the gods willing.

The two teams made steady, exhausting progress above Advanced Base Camp. Derek was clearly struggling and often stopped to hold his side.

The way of climbing is well established—except for the Sherpa who are the most fit. This was, after all, their domain. Each climber places his left foot in front of him, then his right foot. He then stops to breathe three or four breaths, and then repeats the process: left foot, right foot, breath. And so it continues without rest, without stopping, until the next camp is reached.

Along the way, lungs burn with an icy fire. Each climber must force himself to drink, since it’s easy to become dehydrated. No one has an appetite. Above Base Camp, climbers lose weight steadily. Above Advanced Base Camp, the body is consuming itself. In the Death Zone that begins just above Camp Four, the body is positively devouring itself.

The climbers might hear an occasional word from one of the other climbers, but primarily all they hear is their own heavy breathing or the coughing of another climber. None of them wasteany effort on speech. It is tedious, inglorious labor.

From below, the climb was being monitored by telescope. In his bright orange high-altitude climbing suit, Derek was easily spotted in even the most deadly of places. He was, that day —they say of him—a fearless climber.