Sunday, 20 April 2014 – Everest Base Camp, Nepal
We have another discussion about the Sherpa situation at breakfast. We know we can’t climb the mountain without them, and rumours of a possible strike are growing stronger. Many Sherpas have gone home to be with their families, including those from Russell Brice’s Himex team, who are camping just a short distance away. Although these particular Sherpas intend to return after a few days, there are others who may not.
Under the circumstances no reputable western operator will force their Sherpas to climb if they don’t want to. But we need enough of them to stay for rope fixing to the summit to be practical. We also need the Icefall Doctors to keep the ever-changing route through the Khumbu Icefall open, a job that now looks more dangerous.
Ricardo’s enthusiasm is extraordinary, but there are times when it’s a little unrealistic. I took my hat off to him on Friday for volunteering at the medical tent and doing some useful work there. It’s something I would never have thought of doing myself.
‘What can we do to help the Sherpas?’ he says at breakfast. ‘I’m happy to do some extra load carrying, or if anything needs to be done on the Lhotse Face I can help fix rope.’
I tell him what happened last year when western climbers interfered with rope fixing on the Lhotse Face. After Ueli Steck and Simone Moro had their little disagreement with Sherpas high on the mountain, the latter downed tools and returned to Camp 2. Thinking that he was being helpful, Ueli Steck picked up the rope and fixed the next hundred metres of line. This did not go down well. The two Europeans were confronted by an angry Sherpa mob, and they fled down to Base Camp in fear of their lives.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Sherpas fix the ropes, Ricardo,’ I say. ‘Or help with carrying loads. It’s best to wait and see what happens.’
But I have cause to thank Ricardo. He seems to be the member of the team most adept at seeking out 3G and Wi-Fi (although Edita challenges him in this regard). After breakfast he and I head out to Gorak Shep to have another go at sending my blog post.
We amble along the moraine, arriving in just over an hour. Expeditions are a chance to escape the stresses and absurdities of modern life, but with the Sherpa politics developing at Base Camp it doesn’t seem that way at the moment. Ricardo doesn’t help by spending much of the walk talking about politics and religion.
We reach Gorak Shep at 10.30. Ricardo heads straight to a smaller teahouse called the Yeti. It is tucked away behind the others, and I would never have found it on my own. The place is quieter than the more visible teahouses, and the Wi-Fi is pretty quick. We pay 800 rupees for an hour (about $8 US). I send my post, then check messages on various channels, including Hotmail, Gmail, Twitter, Facebook and my WordPress blog. I was expecting to be bombarded with messages of concern, but only four people made any reference to the avalanche. This goes to show that most of my friends have no idea where I am. I expect most of those who do know I’m climbing a mountain called Lhotse don’t know how close to Everest it is. Or they know where I am, but they don’t give a toss. Yes, that’s probably it.
After an hour of surfing I leave Ricardo where he is and head back to camp. Although I give myself plenty of time to amble back, the trail is clogged up with snail-paced trekkers. I have no option but to race past them at Kevin’s pace again.
Back at camp the plot thickens. Our Sherpas have been summoned to an emergency meeting with all the other Sherpas at Base Camp. They are going to discuss what to do next in the wake of the avalanche. Expedition leaders and operators are not invited, but his business depends on the outcome, so Phil goes to the meeting and lurks at a discreet distance with his friend Russell Brice.
All appears peaceful at Base Camp, but beneath the surface things are stirring
When he returns he describes the atmosphere as intimidating. One Indian climber tried to argue with them and was nearly lynched. Westerners who tried to take photographs were singled out for abuse. Phil says the ringleaders were Pasang Tenzing of Jagged Globe, and another Sherpa he didn’t recognise who was wearing a purple beanie.
Dorje later confirms that the Sherpa leaders produced a list of demands for the government, including a petition which all Sherpas were asked to sign.
The demands were:
The first three demands are reasonable. Phil tells me the second two had already been met before the expedition, though the Sherpa leaders appeared to be unaware of it.
It’s the fourth demand that is controversial, and could have strong repercussions. Operators would face big losses, and the sacrifices the rest of us have made to be here – in time, energy, work and family commitments, not to mention huge amounts of money – would all be for very little. It will have an impact on the Sherpa and tourist economy in future years. There were many bad headlines about Sherpa mob rule after last year’s fight at Camp 2. If they go on strike then this reputation will become firmer.
Our own Sherpas were present at the meeting but did not sign the petition. Even so, Phil is downcast when we meet for happy hour.
‘That guy Pasang Tenzing is up to his old tricks again. He’s trying to get all the Sherpas from other teams to go home, just like he did on Manaslu.’
It’s news to me that Sherpas threatened to strike after the avalanche on Manaslu in 2012. On that occasion eleven people died. Phil says there were protests, and a few teams had to end their expeditions because of it, but there was no blanket strike.
Kevin, Mel and Edita were all on Manaslu two years ago. Mel even witnessed Pasang Tenzing agitating for Sherpas to leave.
‘You remember him, Mel?’ Phil says.
Mel laughs. He puts his palms together, mimicking Pasang’s style.
This year the loss of life has been borne by the Sherpa community. But Edita points out that on Manaslu the fatalities were mainly westerners. Only one Sherpa was among the dead, yet still there was a small core of Sherpas agitating for everybody to go home.
The mood around the table is subdued. Then Jay, who has been silent for most of the session, suddenly pipes up.
‘Heck, even if the Sherpas do go home, we’ll be all right. We got Ricardo. He said this morning he was going to fix ropes on the Lhotse Face.’
We roar with laughter.
Unwittingly, Ian also helps to lighten the mood this happy hour. He is our industrial-quantity drinker, but he is now on antibiotics for a cough. This means he is unable to drink for a few days. Most evenings he is the person who finishes his red wine first. He takes our order and goes to the kitchen tent to ask Da Pasang for the next round, but not tonight. When Da Pasang brings in a tray with the second batch of drinks, he refuses to believe that no glass is for Ian. He keeps putting a glass in front of him, and Ian keeps waving him away. If I didn’t know Da Pasang better, I would suspect he was making fun of him.
‘No, Da Pasang, thank you. It’s OK,’ Ian says with his usual politeness. ‘I don’t want one today.’
He does want one, but he can’t, and it’s killing him. Meanwhile I am crying with laughter.
‘Ian, I promise I didn’t ask Da Pasang to do that,’ I say.
But I might have done if I’d thought of it.