Light presses through my eyelids. When I open them, I can’t understand why I see the couloir until I realize that I am looking through a basketball-sized hole in the ceiling of the tent. My sleeping bag is half open and I am fully dressed. Both ends of the tent are open, and Dwayne and I are covered in spindrift.
Dwayne is staring up at the ceiling when he feels my eyes on him. He takes a long time to clear his throat before he says, “What?”
I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. I cough.
“What, is right.”
“Nice skylight feature we’ve got here,” he says.
“Yeah, the place has an airy feel to it.”
He moves to prop himself up on one elbow, and the stiff coating of spindrift cracks and slides off his sleeping bag. He glances back up at the hole in the ceiling, “How’d you do that, anyway?”
“Best I can figure is I must have cross-threaded the new canister onto the stove and the fuel leaked out.”
With no food, water, fuel or oxygen, we have nothing more to do before we leave other than dig through the ruins to find replacements for the hats and gloves we lost in the fire. The radio, left for dead, surfaces in the search. We both look at it for a long moment, recalling that it went silent after our last transmission to the team, just below what we thought was the summit. The aerial is missing. Then Dwayne reaches into his pocket and plucks from it the aerial; a rabbit from a hat. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger and says, “I thought we could use this. I found it lying on top of the snow on my way down.” He goes to hand it to me and then draws back, pauses. “Don’t lose it again, eh?”
I thread the aerial onto the radio, turn it on, push the transmit button and croak, “Hello. Is anyone out there?”
Nothing seems to amaze us anymore—until Jim answers. “Sharon! Where are you? Is Dwayne with you?” It’s a miracle to hear Jim’s voice—light years away. Dwayne and I grin at each other. I feel elation, but then I realize that Jim may as well as be on another planet and somehow we’ve got to get there.
“We’re together at Camp Six, or what’s left of it.” I say.
“What do you mean by what’s left of it?”
“The stove blew up last night.”
“You guys okay?”
“Alive, it seems.”
“Let me talk to Dwayne.”
As I pass the radio to Dwayne I notice that his face is still swollen—all the hollows filled in. “Hi, Jim,” he says.
“Oh my God,” Jim’s voice cracks, “we’re so relieved to hear from you guys! How are you?”
“Glad to be alive.” Dwayne glances at me. “But not looking so good. Woody lost her eyebrows and eyelashes in the fire and she’s got soot on her face.” He hands me the radio and falls back, exhausted.
“Yeah, I’m a real doll,” I say.
“Why didn’t we hear from you guys last night?”
“We lost the aerial but found it again this morning,” I say.
“Think you can make it down?”
Good question, I think, and hand the radio to Dwayne.
“We’re pretty wrecked but we’re going to give it a try,” he says.
I don’t even know if I can stand up yet, let alone climb down. A piercing ache thrums in my head. Each pulse killing another brain cell.
“Help is on its way,” Jim says. “Laurie left Camp Five about an hour ago to see if he could get up there.” I feel my heart jump. We couldn’t have hoped for a better person to meet us.
“That’s great news. We’re going to need it.” Dwayne holds his hand up to examine. “I frostbit my fingers and we’re out of O’s.”
Barry says, “I think there’s a full bottle where the ropes end.”
“Okay,” Jim says, “save your energy to get down safe. Let us know when you’re leaving Five.”
We move slowly as we pull ourselves together for one more push. We find neck tubes for our heads and mismatched spare mitts and gloves. First, exhaustion lays us back down and shuts our eyes, then hope prods us to sit back up again. Hours evaporate as we ready ourselves to descend.
I sit bent over my legs, panting and spent from tightening my crampons.
Dwayne stands at the door of the tent looking down at me and says, “You up for this?”
My head drops to rest on my knees. After a few deep empty breaths, I look up at him again and he offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. Stars fill my vision. I sway and teeter. “What’s our choice?” I say as I exhale. “Let’s do this.”
Dwayne moves in slow motion as if floating. He turns around, daggers his axe in and steps down. I think to myself, This is going to happen. Just a thousand more moves like this and we’ll be with Laurie. As I turn to start down, I say to myself, Don’t blow it now, not after we’ve come this far.
Two days before, it was as if the mountain was enraged and trying to shake us off, but it now feels like it is releasing us. I am relieved to find I can still move, focus and function well enough to climb down. It is only when we reach the base of the couloir, where it fans out onto the wind-strafed North Face, that I stop to bring my head up and look for any sign of Laurie. I squint through scratched goggles. There! A patch of yellow wavers against the black of the cliff band like a mirage, then disappears behind sheets of spindrift. I wonder if I’m hallucinating again. I rest my head on the top of my ice axe and look down through my feet, watching the distance grow between Dwayne and me. Then he stops, looks across the face and his pace quickens. He must see it too. This time, I see the yellow patch wave. Hope hurries me to where Laurie stands waiting, laughing and crying.
“Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you guys!” he says, wrapping his arms around both of us. We linger in his embrace for a long minute. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. You pulled it off. You really did it!”
I am too tired to feel any emotion.
“You’re going to be okay now,” Laurie says as he helps us clip into a cluster of old ropes. We shrug out of our packs, lean against the rock wall and slide down to sit. Tied to the same point is our rope, which stretches down and across the face toward the west shoulder, leading the way home. Laurie pulls out a big thermos and pours a cup of tea for us to share. “I won’t make you talk now. Keep drinking and rest while I get Jim on the radio.”
When Jim answers, Laurie keeps his eyes on us and tilts his head like a proud father.
“I’ve got Dwayne and Sharon with me now.”
“Wonderful! How are they?”
Laurie hands us the radio. “I’ll let them tell you.” He films us with his video camera as we talk to Jim. We perk up by the minute as we sip on tea, talk to Jim and draw deep breaths of oxygen from the tank we share.
Soon, Laurie presses us to get moving. We slide an oxygen bottle each into our packs, slip on masks and saddle up. Dwayne starts down first, facing away from us, his skeletal form halting momentarily between each step as he wobbles, leans against his inside pole and then recovers enough to take another step.
When we reach Camp Five a couple of hours later, Dan is waiting for us. He ushers Dwayne, Laurie and me into the tent and tends to us, making sure we drink and fuel up for the next leg. Both Dwayne and I fall asleep and have to be woken by Laurie, who urges us to get up and keep moving.
We thought we would get as far as Camp Four today, but when we reach it Dwayne keeps going. As we lose altitude, bit by bit my balance improves and my vision and my mind grow sharper. We move faster. I have no idea how long our day has been, but by the time we meet Albi, Kevin and Barry at the bottom of the ropes at Camp Two, we have descended close to three thousand metres in the past twenty-four hours.
The boys push us into a tent lined with layers of insulated mats and extra sleeping bags, where they bring us food and drinks. We are more tired than anything and sleep into the next day.
The sound of a zipper wakes us. Albi’s face appears in our tent door. “Wakey, wakey! How are you children feeling this morning?” I blink and look at him dumbly. “You’re looking better but you’ve still got a dirty face, Woody. Better clean up for those photos.”
I sit up and rub my face. “Ouch,” I cry.
“Hmmm, methinks you’ve got a bit of frostbite on the side of both cheeks, old girl, or war paint perhaps. Maybe there was a gap between your balaclava and goggles?”
“Let me see,” says Dwayne. I turn my face to him. “Yep, but it’s nothing cosmetic surgery can’t fix.”
Albi laughs. “Good to hear you’re back with us on the same planet, Dwayno. If you let me come in, I’ll give you these cups of tea. Think you’ve got enough brain cells left for a chat?”
He wriggles in and lies down between us while we sip our tea. I snuggle up to him and rest my head on his shoulder while he strokes my head. So warm and kind, I think, and now we’ve paved the way for his turn. He plies us with questions about what to expect from Camp Five to the summit. Dwayne and I doze off and when we wake again, Albi is on his way up to Camp Four with Kevin, James and Chris in support.
A few hours later, we see Barry off. As I hold him, I whisper into his ear, “Thank you. It’s a much gentler world up there now. Everything’s in place for you to pull this off.”
Dwayne hugs Barry, then pushes him back to grip his shoulders and says, “Thanks for everything, brother. You’ve got this one in the bag, man. And you deserve it.”
As Albi and Barry head up the mountain, Dwayne and I continue our descent. When we reach the edge of the glacier, Colleen stands waiting for us with tears in her eyes. My heart lifts as I see her—a teeny thing with wiry springs of black curly hair pushing out from beneath her toque. I have been waiting for this moment, the first of our homecoming, to feel relief and joy, finally safe.
As Colleen and Dwayne linger in quiet embrace, I realize our mission is over and I feel a strange sense of loss. When Colleen hugs me, tells me how proud she is of us and weeps, I don’t—can’t. What’s wrong with me? Colleen and I are friends and have shared many chapters. We held vigil on Makalu for Dwayne and Carlos and greeted them on their return just like this. I know I should feel something. But I’ve shut down my emotions to get through, get up and get down. I’ve been in overdrive for days now, and I’m still on guard. Am I just tired?
Partway down, the radio crackles. We stop and sit down to listen. First Chris, and then James and Kevin, too spent to go on, turn back from their way to Camp Four, which leaves Barry and Albi unsupported. Then the radio conversation between Jim, Barry and Albi begins.
“You know the agreement we made,” Jim says to Albi. “It’s off.”
“But everything is in place, Jim,” he says. “The weather is perfect. The camp is there. All we’ll need to carry is our personal gear, a tent, oxygen and a stove.”
Jim says, “If no one but you and Barry can get to Five, then you’ll have no one to back you up if something happens. Having backup is what we all agreed upon as a team.”
Barry comes on. “Hey, Jim. It’s a completely different world up here than it was three days ago. It’s as calm as it can be. Albi and I are feeling strong and we’re ready to go for the top.”
“That’s not the deal we made. There’s no one to support you. Don’t you get it? Dwayne and Woody barely got off alive.” Jim’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, I know, Jim, but right now it’s about the safest mountain I’ve ever been on! We’ve got fixed ropes most of the way up it, and camps in place. You’ve gotta let us go for it!”
Albi shouts, “Jim, think about it, man! You can’t pull the pin now!”
“No,” I say to Dwayne and Colleen, “this can’t be happening.”
Dwayne speaks into the radio. “Barry, Albi, remember what we said, everything’s in place. You’ve got to go for it!”
“I need time to think about this, Jimmy,” Barry says. “Sorry, but I’m feeling the pull. Do you know how hard this is for me? Over and out.”
That evening at Camp One, Dwayne, Colleen and I walk up the hill for the radio exchange. The call is already underway when we turn the radio on.
Barry’s voice breaks. “I’m not happy about this, Jim. I’ve decided to come down because I love you, brother, and I’m going to stand by my word.”
I can tell Jim is crying. “You don’t know how hard—this is for me to do. I love you too, brother.”
“This can’t happen,” I say, and I push the transmit button.
Dwayne lays his hand over the radio and pushes it down. “It’s done. They’re fucked.”
I want to feel grateful for how the team has helped Dwayne and me—and for what we have all accomplished. Against all odds we made it to the top through sheer bloody-mindedness, their noble efforts and talent, and have been granted safe exit from the highest point on earth. But instead, guilt and despair weigh on me for our teammates who are being denied their own summit bid.
Dwayne spits, “Fuck! I can’t believe this! What the fuck? Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shrugs Colleen’s arm off his shoulder. “I gotta deal with this.” And he strides off. I have never witnessed such vehemence in him before.
I sleep alone for the first night in a long time, and I wish Jane was here. I wake in the night in a panic, half out of my sleeping bag and with my head pressed up against the door of the tent. I have to get up, get out, keep moving, get down from here! It takes a few minutes to shift from this dream to where I am now. I lie awake, telling myself I’m safe but still, I am not able to relax. Despite my exhausted state, I sleep poorly.
The next morning, I step out of the mess tent after breakfast to see Carlos across the meadow, dismantling the last of the American team’s tents. Instinct draws me to him—someone who knows me, knows that harsh world above, knows what I have been through. He meets my eyes for a long minute as if to get a good read before he walks over. We embrace, and it is a warm and soothing comfort. Tears stream down my cheeks.
“Congratulations, I knew you could do it,” he says. “I’d like to hear all about it, if you’re willing to tell me. How about we walk to Basecamp together?”
“I’d like that.”
As I begin recounting the story of the last few days to Carlos, I feel as though I’m finally coming down and everything will be okay. Talking to him is so familiar—so comforting. He is interested in every detail: what kept us going, the rock climbing through the Yellow Band, the sound of the clock in my head, my magical thinking that we would beat the darkness, and the loneliest feeling I’ve ever experienced at the top. He listens intently. But when I get to my dilemma at the bottom of the ropes, over whether to wait for Dwayne or move on, he tells me what I already know but don’t want to hear: “You never abandon your partner on a mountain. Never.” And I crash. I will wrestle with that decision for years.
As we near Basecamp, I see Jane bounding up the trail to greet me. I know by the look she gives Carlos that I will be giving her a full report by day’s end.
Homecoming at Basecamp is anticlimactic. Everyone is subdued because of Barry and Albi’s defeat. My focus on their disappointment and the part I played in it dampens any sense of accomplishment I might feel. There’s nothing left to do now but remove the ropes and the camps and pack up. Yet my mind and body lag days behind: I am shell-shocked and exhausted, still trying to catch up with all that has happened between ramping up for the summit and this letdown. Yet when Albi and Barry return a few days later, they appear to be excited about a victory party. They’ve moved on, and I haven’t.
Laurie can tell something is up with me, and late that afternoon he seeks me out for a walk to the memorial cairns. On our way, he tells me I should feel proud of what I’ve accomplished.
I say, “I do feel proud of what we’ve accomplished, but I’m not sure how Barry and Albi see it.”
“Well, get over what others think,” he says. “Believe me, I know. All kinds of shit was going down when I came back from Everest in ’82: the grief over the deaths, the conflicts, some of the team members’ resentment toward the leader or me being the one to reach the summit. I had to rise above it all to serve a higher purpose. Now it’s your turn.”
“What’s the higher purpose?”
He laughs. “Well, for starters, quit feeling sorry for yourself! That doesn’t do anyone any good. People want to hear about the courage, endurance and teamwork that will inspire their own stories. Your world is about to change, Sharon, and I want to make sure you’re ready for it. The media will ply you with questions. Let’s talk about that.”
When we get to the memorial cairns, we stand quietly with our own thoughts. On our way back, Laurie pretends he is an interviewer and fires questions at me. He laughs when I stumble over my answers and says, “Ask them to rephrase the question, or you repeat it in your own words to give yourself time to think.” Once again Laurie makes me feel I have something to rise to.
That night, the Spaniards and the half-dozen remaining Americans join us to celebrate our victory. Someone on our team got a sponsor to donate a case of White Horse whisky, and the amber elixir softens the edges. A boom box blares tunes in the background. We dance, laugh and chat late into the night.
The party and the anticipation of the trucks arriving in the next few days help to improve everyone’s mood. One afternoon while I am lying in my tent reading, Barry comes by. “Hey Woody, Albi and I have been talking about going to Nanga Parbat next year. It’s the highest vertical face in the world. Wanna come?” I marvel at the way these men can move on so quickly.