Everest 2007 - Confessions of a Non-Summiter

Confessions of a Non-Summiter

This is a scroll-athon, hopefully not a snooze-athon. Believe it or not, I left out a lot. It's called Confessions of a Non-Summiter because I feel like I've been in therapy with myself since returning from Everest. 

"Hi, my name is Megan and I turned around at the Second Step, 240 meters below the summit of Mount Everest, on a beautiful sunny morning." 

"Hi, Megan!" 

With mountain climbing, when you summit, everything that goes right or wrong on a mountain is quickly forgotten. But when you don't summit, you think about how you felt at every moment, every altitude, analyzing every detail and every decision, to understand why so you can decide whether you should go back and if you do go back, you don't make the same mistakes.

There are plenty of things that can go wrong on a mountain. Luckily for us, nothing really went wrong. The weather was probably the best it could be and nobody got sick or hurt. We just made some mistakes and didn't summit. For me, it was a tremendous learning experience.

There's a wide spectrum of climbers and climbing outfitters on Everest. Some climb without oxygen and Sherpas and some with one or the other or both, plus a guide or two. The price depends on the needs of the climber. Then there's food and camps, what kind and how many. Food is ten times more important on Everest than on any other mountain I've been on because of the extensive time spent on Everest. Low appetite is a very real problem in altitude for some people - me.

The analysis goes on and on. This is what we can control. But even a fully supported, multi-guided expedition promising lamb shank and artichokes can't guarantee a summit. You still have to get your body up - and down - the mountain and at any moment the weather, an illness, a twisted knee...might steal your summit dreams, or worse, put your life in danger.

As I write this I wonder why I do it (oh brother, don't we all?). It must be the challenge and the adventure, as that's been my motivation to climb any mountain. But Everest offers much more than any other mountain I've been on - more altitude, more danger, more time, more cost, more attention, more stress....way more. Regardless, I look forward to the stories I get to tell when I return home.

Late last January I received an email from Julio, a cardiologist from Wisconsin whom I met in 2005 while climbing Denali. He asked if I would be interested in joining a small, unguided but fully supported expedition to the north side of Mount Everest. The price - $16,000. It would be run by World Records Expeditions & Treks, a company started by his friends, Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa and Apa Sherpa. 

Lhakpa Gelu holds the world speed record on Everest, having ascended from base camp on the south side to the summit in just 10 hours, 56 minutes. Apa has the most summits of Everest, at that time 16, but since this last 2007 season has reached 17.

Apa and Lhakpa Gelu would not be running the expedition because they were going to climb on the south side as part of a Super Sherpa team (show-offs). I was assured our Sherpas would be of similar caliber and I knew the other climbers, also from climbing Denali. Two of them, including Julio, had already summited Everest from the south side. The other works as a professional mountain guide. It seemed like pretty good company to me.

I had just made a decision not to continue interviewing for a job back east that I had been pursuing the past month. Even though it was my decision, it was tough to realize the end of that opportunity and to prepare for square one of whatever was up next. Julio's email took my mind off of that joy.

My initial reaction was an overly enthusiastic YES !! I'd been climbing mountains for a while but the thought of attempting something like Everest was out of this world. I always considered it too expensive an endeavor to even consider but the idea of joining a small group of climbers without paying the exorbitant price ($16k is a lot of money, but not for climbing Everest) was intriguing.

Then I thought about the knee I hurt skiing the year before that was not completely healed. I would need to get in better shape and buy 8000 meter boots - not so easy with my small feet - and a down suit. This was Everest. I'd be leaving in two months. Was I crazy? Should I go for it?

My friend and fellow climber, Bill, said I was crazy NOT to go for it. "A guy climbed it blind. A guy climbed it with no legs. You're gonna let a wimpy knee stop you?" Good point but I think both those guys had a few Sherpas helping them.

I had been considering climbing Cho Oyu (26,906 feet / 8201 meters) with a guided expedition and a price very similar to this Everest expedition.

Ama Dablam has also been on my mind because it is the most spectacular mountain I've ever seen. The highest I'd been before was to the summit of Aconcagua at 22,841 feet (6962 meters). The logical next step for me was to try Cho Oyu (26,906 feet / 8201 meters), learn to use oxygen and see how my body would perform in extreme altitude.

This expedition was an opportunity for me to do that on Everest, rather than Cho Oyu, with climbers I knew.

Friends and family were very supportive and I got the impression they all expected me to climb Everest someday and summit. Mountain guides and climbers that I climbed with in the past told me I was perfectly capable of climbing Everest. Everyone had more confidence in my ability than I did!

I had become a bit "obsessed" with mountain climbing over the years but I am not one to have this illusion that just because some people with very little climbing experience reach the summit of Everest, that means that I would be okay. Altitude and weather are weird, scary, and unpredictable. Everest is all about altitude and weather.

Cirque du Everest
Everest is also in the spotlight and that makes me wary. Anyone who has climbed high on a mountain knows there are plenty of opportunities to make mistakes up there. There are also circumstances beyond our control.

Being properly prepared for a climb is obviously extremely important but does not exempt anyone from illness, unlucky events or human error. This is part of climbing.

The other unfortunate part is that when something goes wrong, some people, usually people who weren't there, jump to conclusions and tend to focus on the human error, or blame element, without proper validation or regard to how comments and speculation can affect families back home. They're not aware of the times when mistakes were made but luck prevailed, or help arrived, and it was a non-event, filed and forgotten.

I'm getting bored with the claim that Everest has become a circus, so I titled this section Cirque du Everest to at least give it a little more pizzazz...because it is sort of a circus, but not just on the mountain.

People should keep an open mind when reading about current events on Everest, or on any mountain for that matter, especially if they are controversial or tragic, because the reality is seldom what is written by the Everest paparazzi. The only people who know what happened up there are the climbers themselves, but even that's difficult because it's a little weird to recall events about a climb up high, so it takes some time and thought. I know I felt that way when I returned to ABC and started writing about our ascent and descent. I can hardly imagine what it would have been like had something gone wrong. And something goes wrong a lot, with all types of climbers - small unguided teams like ours, guided expeditions, solo climbers....EVERYONE.

When it comes to mountain climbing, withholding judgment is a wise choice. Too many people, including elite climbers who I think should know better, are quick to pass judgment. Sometimes the wrong people are targeted as villains (or heroes) while the real villains (or heroes) go by unnoticed. This is the circus that is Everest.

The drama created by the media, and bought into by many, is sad but not surprising. It seems there are tragedies and controversies every year on Everest. Of course, in my self-absorbed mind, this year's tragedy was that I didn't reach the top!

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News
I took the easy way out and decided to let my doctor decide whether I should join the expedition. The plan was to get an MRI of my knee and if my doctor recommended I not go to Everest, then I wouldn’t go.

It would take a couple of weeks to get insurance approval, schedule the MRI and then have my doctor call me with the results. So in the meantime, I started training like I was going because time was running out. My doctor finally called with the MRI results - some soft tissue from chondromalacia, a break down of cartilage, but no tears or otherwise obvious signs for him to recommend I not go.

I asked him for advice on training. His response was to stay away from hills and hard surfaces when running. Treadmill’s okay without the incline. Bike riding is preferable. Avoid stairs. Oh, and don’t go hiking up and down hills, especially with a heavy pack. Gulp.

I was going to Everest and my training would not include hiking up and down hills. That meant bike riding up and down hills. My brother, Dan, does insane things like ironman so I rode with him once a week. At the top of a hill, where he would be waiting patiently, I'd say I'm going to stop to rest and he'd reply "no you're not, you're climbing Everest." He kicked my butt which was what I needed.

On Our Way
On March 28, I flew to LAX on the way to Kathmandu and met my co-climbers, along with Lhakpa Gelu and Apa, who both now live in Salt Lake City, Utah.

The other climbers on this expedition included Julio, 57, who summited Everest from the south side in 2002; Gene, 61, from Colorado, a retired restaurant owner and food broker and 2004 Everest summiter (also south side); and Con, 35, British and living in Colorado as a professional rock and mountain guide.

They all greeted me with shaved heads. It made me think maybe I should have cut my hair even shorter. I'm not kidding. Let the self-analysis begin.

The rest of our team included three climbing Sherpas - Phanden, 35, a 3-time Everest summiter; Lama Jangbu (Lhakpa Gelu's older brother), 42, a 10-time Everest summiter; and Lopsang (Lama Jangbu's nephew), 22. We had two cooks - Nima, 38, our advanced base camp cook, and Kami, 24, our base camp cook - and a Tibetan kitchen boy named Tamting.

Our expedition was attempting the north (Tibet) side because Julio and Gene had already summited from the south (Nepal) side.

The north side is considered to be more technically challenging than the south side (I'm not sure why unless it is the Second Step) but it does not have the icefall danger. Avalanches and movements in the Khumbu Icefall on the south side are responsible for the majority of fatalities on the mountain. The Sherpas, who spend much more time than climbers carrying loads up and down the mountain, and consequently more time in the icefall, prefer the north side because of the south's icefall danger. Because of this, I prefer the north side as well, especially after seeing Phanden's face when we heard that the first fatality on the mountain this year was a Sherpa on the south side. On April 26, Dawa Sherpa, 40, fell into a crevasse after being hit by a block of ice while ascending to camp 3.

After checking our gear and buying additional food and miscellaneous items in Kathmandu, we headed to Tibet. From Kathmandu, Everest base camp (aka Chinese base camp) for the north side can be reached by car. This is very different from the south side, which involves a short flight to Lukla followed by a weeklong trek to base camp. I’ve done that trek before so was happy not to repeat it. Not that I didn’t enjoy it (it's lovely, fun, cultural and touristy) - it’s just always more fun to see something different. 

I also thought a car ride would be easier. It wasn’t. Rather than walking out in the open air, we piled into an old jeep and drove over asphalt, dirt and rivers, staying overnight in three towns, each with its own unique flavor of nice and nasty. The roads got progressively worse the closer we got to base camp. I squeezed into the middle of the back seat most of the way, enjoying the view of the back of Lama Jangbu’s head. We slowly gained altitude and acclimatized along the way until we reached base camp at about 17,000 feet.

Base Camp
Base camp on the north side of Everest reminds me of a drive-in theater with a huge Paramount logo showing on the screen. It's flat like a parking lot and the view of Everest is always present and absolutely spectacular. It is nothing like base camp on the south side which is rocky, much smaller and has no view of Everest.

Our Sherpas had already set up our camp just below a hill, close to the trail to advanced base camp. The Chinese were there to practice carrying the Olympic torch up the mountain so the first thing I saw was their huge camp. They had 100 climbers, 17 would ultimately reach the summit.

I saw the Himalayan Experience (Himex) "pleasure dome," a big white dome tent with the words white pod on top. Later, Julio and I stood outside the famous pod, peering in like little kids locked out of Disneyland. It was heated with lounge chairs and tables and someone was in there working on a computer. It looked like an ad for Dockers. I heard there was a big screen TV inside but I refuse to believe that. 

There were several other camps of various shapes and sizes. Some had large signs - Seven Summit Club and the like. We didn't have a sign. Nobody knew who the heck we were. Actually, we didn't know who we were. There seemed to be several names floating around but I think our permit name ended up as "USA Quomolongma Expedition 2007." 

Base camp (BC) became home for five days so we could acclimatize before moving up to advanced base camp (ABC) at 21,000 feet (6400 meters). We had three Hungarians sharing our permit and BC/ABC services - David, Konyi and Tomas (who was just climbing to the North Col). David and Konyi are very experienced climbers who have climbed several big mountains without oxygen. This would be their fourth attempt at being the first Hungarians to reach the summit of Mount Everest without using supplemental oxygen (they would ultimately make it above 8000 meters but did not summit this year). 

While eating at BC, David and Konyi talked about their previous failed attempts on Everest. Julio asked them, "What do you call climbers on Everest who use oxygen?" The answer, "summiters." He can say that since he summited before but I don't think David and Konyi thought it was funny. That made the rest of us laugh.

To acclimatize, we took various hikes either down the road about an hour to a temporary Tibetan village, set up by Tibetans offering hotel rooms (Hotel de California, since 1993) and selling food and items to climbers and tourists, or up the trail toward ABC. 

One day, we ran into a bunch of climbers from the Seven Summit Club team. This was a pretty big team. For whatever reason, this one guy went on and on about how he waited nine years to finally attempt Everest and that he recently climbed Cho Oyu. He said he would never climb with a guided expedition because they boil your water and tell you when to climb. He wanted to climb on his own (with a big team, apparently) and would never let anyone boil his water! He seemed quite proud of himself. 

Please. I was tempted to ask him if he was using supplemental oxygen because he surely didn't need more hot air. Personally, I thought he needed to get over his big bad self and just climb the mountain his way while others climbed theirs. When the egos pop up on Everest, or on any mountain really, it makes my skin crawl. There is so much judgment going on in mountain climbing it's not even funny.

Note to Megan - Next year, join a guided expedition. They boil your water!

BC was special because it had a shower tent! The weather usually stayed warm in the morning until sometime in the afternoon, when the wind would pick up and clouds roll in. So laundry was done and showers were taken in the morning. The shower tent had a scooper and a tub of hot water, heated by Kami, and it remained surprisingly warm throughout the shower.

We usually retired to our tents after dinner when it started to get cold. Our camp didn't have a heated tent - the thought seems absurd to me but I understand its benefits! I would pass the time listening to a book on my ipod nano. It's much lighter carrying an ipod than a book, and it's easier to snuggle in your sleeping bag, close your eyes and listen, than turn pages in a book, trying to read with the headlamp. It also helped me sleep. 

Most camps, including ours, had generators so recharging batteries was not a problem. I listened to the complete biography of Jim Morrison. I can't reveal where I got it but I will say I checked out about 20 books on CD and it didn't cost a dime.

I ran into the Himex climbers, American "biker" Tim Medvetz with a Kiwi cameraman named Mark, and Mogens Jensen from Denmark with a Kiwi guide named Woody. They were featured in last season's Discovery Channel documentary and since they didn't summit in 2006, they were being filmed again this season. What can I say? They seemed like nice guys and I was happy to hear they all reached the summit.

We also visited the Rongbuk Monastery, founded in 1902 in an area of meditation huts that had been in use by monks and hermits for over 400 years (I totally copy this stuff off the internet). It is located below the Tibetan village and by the foot of the Rongbuk Glacier at 5,100 meters.

"It's Your Decision"
There was always plenty of joking around going on at camp. I hate to climb any mountain without a healthy dose of good humor. With Julio and Phanden around, that was easy. 

Most of us watched the Discovery Channel docudrama, Everest: Beyond the Limit, before coming to the north side. As I mentioned, we ran into the featured climbers and we frequently referred to segments of the documentary while at camp. For whatever reason, perhaps the altitude, one thing that made us laugh was Russell Brice's constant use of the phrase, "it's your decision." When Tim the biker said he was going down to BC to recover from bronchitis, Russ, speaking with a thick New Zealand accent, said, "it's your decision." When Brett the fireman turned around at 24,000 feet, Russ again said, "it's your decision." When I excused myself to walk down to our toilet tent, Julio, mimicking Russ's accent but with ten times the drama, said, "it's your decision." That went on for weeks and never lost its steam.

Another one was mere mortals. "We're just mere mortals." I may be mistaken but I think that was uttered by a few people - Russell, Mogens and Terry. Watch it. You'll see what I mean. Maybe it will pop up again this season.

The Caveman
Just above the Rongbuk Monastery is another monastery where a Holy Lama has lived the past fifteen years. Our Sherpas referred to him as the Lama but we all also called him the Caveman because he lives in a dark cave.

They visited him for a blessing and asked for a "reading" of how they would do on the mountain. During their first visit, the Lama rolled his dice three times and said something like they will be fine but have stomach problems. I think this not-so-great reading prompted our Sherpas to return later for a better reading but this time, we all went. Once I got past the Lama's tooth decay, I saw a happy smiling man who captured the respect of our Sherpas and many others who visited him.

While we were there, Gene decided to pay the Lama for a reading. Julio and I looked at each other: "it's his decision." The Lama had to roll his dice six times to get a "good" roll. That's not good. The Lama then looked in his manuscript for a reading. Phanden told Gene that based on the manuscript, the Lama says to pray everyday. That's really not good. 

Lama Jangbu said it was neither good nor bad which meant it was bad because he always said that when he didn't want to alarm us. I tried to make Gene feel better by saying that anyone climbing Everest should pray everyday but it didn't help. According to Gene's Blog, the reading had a profound effect on him and was one of the reasons he would end up turning around at the first step on summit day.

The Lama and two Tibetan women paid us a visit at our BC camp. Kami, our cook, gave them food and water. They were walking to different camps because one of the women recently lost an earring and was so upset and embarrassed that she wore a scarf covering her head and part of her face. The Lama wanted to cheer her up. Julio picked up on this and offered the woman a headlamp he no longer needed. She lit up like a little kid on Christmas. 

The Sherpas are very superstitious. I was told to pay attention to my dreams. A dream with a white horse is not a good sign. Sometimes altitude makes us have strange dreams. I told Phanden and Lama Jangu about a very weird and vivid dream I had one night. I was in the back of a truck, on Everest, which was just a big dirty mountain with no snow, and I noticed a baby, also in the truck. As I went to pick up the baby, it turned into something else, like a statue of a heavy laughing buddha, and I couldn't lift it. The mountain suddenly developed arms that swooped me up and lifted me so high I got scared and woke up. 

Lama Jangbu said my dream was neither good nor bad and so we all knew what that meant.

Julio said I was being punished for trying to take something away from the Mother Goddess. Or, maybe the mountain found a kindred spirit in me and was accepting me and lifting me in celebration. I said I probably woke up before the mountain could hurl me into a crevasse. I could hear Phanden saying "Om mane padme hungri" - May the flower of the lotus smile upon us, or give us light, which means may we be spared trouble. That would become our mantra throughout the expedition.

Altitude and Extra Strength Excedrin
Most people suffered from some form of altitude related sickness while at BC and ABC. It seemed everyone was getting headaches, including me. Fortunately, I'd already discovered a remedy for my altitude, or dehydration, headaches, from past experience in the mountains - Extra Strength Excedrin. 

Somebody tell Bristol-Myers Squibb they should sponsor me because here I go: Excedrin contains 250 mg acetaminophen, 250 mg aspirin, and 65 mg caffeine. At BC I woke up every night at midnight with a terrible sinus headache. With two Excedrin it was gone within 10 minutes. Then I'd get the same headache the next morning and once again, two Excedrin, gone in 10 minutes. 

I was bragging about my Excedrin to everyone. I started giving it away until the headaches kept coming and I got nervous about running out! Even Julio, our resident doctor with access to any drug available, wanted my Excedrin. His headaches were in the back of his head - still worked. 

The Sherpas wanted Excedrin (yes, even Sherpas deal with altitude). I started counting them. 15 left - that's 7 and a half headaches. When would the headaches stop? I would have to conserve. So I tried taking just one. Didn't work. 

I tried what one Hungarian climber told me he did - "immersing myself in the pain." That sounded poetic but painful and why? I later saw that same Hungarian, David, breathing over a tub of hot water with a towel draped over his head and I guessed he was immersing himself in the idea of getting rid of his headache. 

Eventually, my headaches did stop but not until we climbed to the North Col from ABC. After that, I never got another headache. Good thing because I only had a few Excedrin left. Next year I'm bringing the whole bottle.

And I will drink more water.

Another common ailment was Cheynes-Stokes breathing. I'm not going to pretend to be able to describe what this is medically, that's Julio's job, so I'll just summarize a description I found on the internet:
Persistent increased breathing results in a reduction of carbon dioxide in the blood. The build-up of carbon dioxide in the blood is the key signal to the brain that it is time to breathe, so if it is low, the drive to breathe is blunted. As long as you are awake it isn't much trouble to consciously breathe. But at night, periodic breathing consists of cycles of normal breathing which gradually slows, breath-holding, and a brief recovery period of accelerated breathing. 

I always thought that while you sleep your breathing naturally slows down. But in the high altitude, your breathing may slow too much for the decrease in oxygen, causing you to suddenly wake up gasping for a breath. That's what it feels like to me anyway. 

It scares the bejeebers out of anyone if they don't expect it. 

Before Everest, I experienced it only once eight years ago and that was enough. While at ABC, I met an Irish climber named Steve who told me he was worried about his health because he was waking up at night from not breathing. His climbing partner went home and his Sherpa wasn't experiencing the same symptoms, so he had nobody to talk to. I calmed his nerves but was surprised he'd never heard of Cheynes-Stokes before. For me, taking one Diamox before going to sleep generally helps with this problem.

There was plenty of discussion around camp about the merits of using viagra to combat altitude sickness. I'm not sold on that one but I did find the conversations humorous, especially when I was told to try it even when I wasn't experiencing altitude problems. Good one.

Everyone experiences different symptoms in altitude. Some climbers get headaches, nausea, lack of appetite, etc... So far, I have never had a case of dizziness or nausea in the mountains. This is funny to me because I get terrible motion sickness at sea level and have left my mark on the sides (if I'm quick enough) of many sailboats in San Francisco Bay. High on a mountain is a completely different place. 

Some climbers develop more severe forms of altitude sickness. Those who suffer from pulmonary or cerebral edema should probably pick another sport or simply climb lower mountains. Experience in high altitude is the only way you'll know how your body behaves and what remedies work. Everest is more a test of fitness and physiology than climbing ability but the physiology part is significant. If your body can't take the altitude, you can't climb. It doesn't matter how fit or talented a climber you are.

I knew from past experience what to expect in altitude up to 23,000 feet but anything above that was new territory. Of course, at any time someone who normally feels okay in altitude could develop new altitude related symptoms but so far that hasn't happened with me (this is where I knock on wood). 

There were plenty of climbers who bailed after reaching ABC or the North Col because of altitude related symptoms they couldn't control. Thankfully, I didn't experience anything new on Everest - I got the same controllable headache, only a few nights of Cheynes-Stokes, and a loss of appetite. 

The challenge for me was dealing with my loss of appetite in altitude for such an extended period of time. A day or two on other climbs had little effect on my performance. Four weeks of low appetite while at BC and ABC is another story.

BC to ABC to BC to ABC
After five days at base camp (BC - 17,000 feet), we headed up to advanced base camp (ABC - 21,000 feet). ABC is established because loads of supplies, food and gear can be carried up by yak. The distance between BC and ABC is about 14 miles and a 4,000 foot elevation gain. Julio and Phanden arranged for 28 yaks to carry our gear. We were promptly charged an additional $900 by the Chinese Liaison Officer. Not fair!!

The majority of climbers take two days to reach ABC the first time. The hike seemed very easy at first but on the second day as ABC got closer and the altitude higher, it became quite grueling. I made things worse by wearing my Nikon D200 camera around my neck the entire way. It's heavy and my neck ached for a week but I got some nice shots. Over time, we were spread out over the trail.

As I approached ABC and started seeing tents, it was such a huge relief. I could definitely feel the altitude and my stride was veeeeryyy sloooow.

ABC reminded me of BC on the south side - camps squeezed into every possible space. I just walked on, hoping someone from my team would see me and hail me over. Unfortunately, that wouldn't happen for a while - our camp was way the hell up there, or so it seemed.

It took us two days to build platforms and put up tents. We eventually had a pretty nice camp. Life at ABC got more and more cozy as time went on and additional teams arrived. We stayed at ABC for two weeks, an incredibly long time to live at 21,000 feet which is higher than the 20,320 foot summit of Denali!

The Puja Ceremony
Once camp is established, the next order of business at ABC is the Puja ceremony.

During the Puja, the Sherpas ask and pray to the gods for permission to climb Mount Everest and for a blessing for a safe and successful expedition. Until the Puja is held, no one from the expedition is allowed to climb, for fear of angering the gods.

As a Buddhist religious ceremony, the Puja is presided over by a Lama, a Buddhist holy man. We were fortunate to have a Lama on our team, Lama Jangbu, so he performed our Puja. During the Puja, the flag pole is raised upon the chorten and prayer flags strung across the camp.

Prayer flags can be seen all throughout camp and Buddhist Tibet. They are said to purify the air and pacify the gods, as they flutter in the wind and release the prayers written upon them to the heavens. The five colors of the prayer flags--red, green, yellow, blue and white--are symbolic of the earth's five elements: fire, wood, earth, water and iron.

Acclimatization
Right after our Puja, we headed up toward the North Col which is at 23,000 feet (7,000 meters). We didn't climb the entire way, just enough to get some exercise and improve our acclimatization. Merely walking out of ABC causes the heart to pound.

A few days later we ascended all the way to the North Col and then descended back to ABC. A few days after that, we ascended to the Col again and slept there for the night.

It was cold, especially since our tents were 2 or 3 season tents (not 4 season) with open vents like it was summer in Yosemite or something. Fun. I hardly slept. We considered climbing higher the next day but Lama Jangbu said the wind was too strong so instead we descended back to ABC.

It turned out we never went back up again. Some climbers ascend to C2 and if possible, C3, as part of their acclimatization. Looking back, we should have at least ascended to C2 but the weather took a bad spell and we were looking at mid-May to try for the summit. It became time to descend to BC before we got a chance to climb up to C2.

Sherpas
Who are these incredible people with larger-than-life strength and spirit? The Sherpas are an ethnic group. They are direct descendants of people of the eastern Tibetan region who migrated across the Himalayas in the 16th century. These travelers brought with them their language, religion, and customs.

About 3,000 of Nepal's more than 10,000 Sherpas reside in the Khumbu valley, the gateway to the southern side of Everest in Nepal. Our Sherpas speak Nepalese and their own Sherpa language, which resembles a dialect of Tibetan. They taught us how to say hello to the Tibetan yak herders - Tashi Delek (ta-sheed-a-lay). They also don't pronounce the word Tibetan the way westerners do with the accent on the second syllable. Instead, the accent is on the first syllable.

In Tibetan, Sherpa means "People from the East." The term 'sherpa' (spelling with a lower case first letter) is also used to refer to local people, typically men, employed as porters or guides for mountaineering expeditions in the Himalayas, although I've heard the term used in other countries as well. They are highly regarded as experts in mountaineering and their local terrain, as well as having good physical endurance and resilience to high altitude conditions. However, a sherpa is not necessarily a member of the Sherpa ethnic group and not all Sherpas are climbers.

Traditionally, although not very strictly followed, the names of Sherpa men often reflect the day of the week on which they were born:

Sunday (Ngima), Monday (Dawa), Tuesday (Mingma), Wednesday (Lhakpa), Thursday (Phurba), Friday (Pasang), and Saturday (Pemba).

Phanden told me they are sometimes given another name, such as Gelu for Lhakpa Gelu. Phanden was named by his grandfather and he was not given another name. He was born on a Wednesday and wanted to change his name to Lhakpa but he couldn't. He said other names starting with the same first letter, like Lopsang instead of Lhakpa, also are used for that day of the week (Wednesday).

Our Sherpas are from a village in the Solo Khumbu named Karikoula. They knew all the other Sherpas on the mountain who were from their same village and we often had visits from those Sherpas and their climbers. They constantly communicated with each other and knew what was going on with other teams. Phanden's brother, Mingma, was a Sherpa for the French team. I refer to them and all of the Sherpas on the mountain as "Sherpas" with a capital 'S' because they are members of the ethnic group and they are sherpas.

As the World Turns at ABC
ABC is full of duh-rama! When you squeeze a bunch of summit crazed climbers for a month at 21,000 feet, there's bound to be some gossip. There was plenty of talk around camp about what other teams were doing. I'm going to mention a few things we talked about. Being a small team, we could talk about ourselves for just so long.

Arun and Manny
We were camped next to a team from Arun Trekking. After just a couple of days at ABC we noticed our toilet (a barrel buried in the ground) was already nearly full. I thought we had some people with 'issues" but it turned out some of the Arun climbers and Sherpas were using our toilet. Phanden told me using another team's toilet could result in a $1000 fine. I'm not sure if that's true but he told them to stop using it and they did.

Later, Con told us he met one of Arun Trek's climbers, a guy named Manny, at the North Col. I had met Manny when we first arrived at ABC and he told me he was a Chilean living in Canada (and he arrived March 15 and had excellent pulse/ox readings while acclimatizing on the south side with his girlfriend who got sick and had to descend and eventually fly home...).

Evidently, Manny and another Russian climber found themselves at the Col a little late and without provisions as the weather deteriorated, so they sacked out in Con's tent. Manny told Con that where he climbs, climbers help each other out and so they expected it would be okay if they stayed in Con's tent. At least that's what they told Con.

That would have been okay with Con, except when Con found him, Manny was standing there on his cell phone and didn't properly close the tent and put away Con's belongings. Manny blamed that on the Russian climber. There was a harmless confrontation until Manny threw down his gloves and threatened to hit Con, who just laughed (because Manny is half Con's size). The two eventually ended on good terms.

I was curious to know what happened with Manny and found the following on the DCXP website:
Manwell - a.k.a. Manni the Canadian, on base services from Arun treks - with his own Sherpa - summited today (17th May) with borrowed crampons (from DCXP) after his first pair were stolen and while he ran out of oxygen at the second step on the way down and his Sherpa adandoned him, worse was to come - in fact when he got back to 8300m high camp his tent, stove, extra oxygen was all cleaned out and his faithless Sherpa no where to been seen….. cavet emptor - buyer beware…..

Luck was on his side and DCXP Sirdir Namgia Sherpa swooped in - the same Sherpa who assisted the Kazaky climbers a couple of weeks ago - (who did not pay for oxygen used - or give any tips or thanks to the Sherpas who saved them - or thanks to the Chinese tent they used….) Namgia Sherpa was there again for the Canadian - gave him 2 bottles of oxygen and is now descending the mountain with Manni - last heard they were just below high camp at 8200m 12noon Nepali time. If there is an award for best and fairest Sherpa it would have to go to Namgia so far. Duncan Chessell.

I found a website about Manny but could not find any comments from him about all this. All I heard was a tape recording of him on the summit commenting about how he was very low on oxygen. Another climber/guide told me that Manny "borrowed" the tent at C3, sort of like when he "borrowed" Con's tent, sleeping bag and equipment at the North Col. So "his tent" was not really stolen. Some climbers don't bring their own stuff so they don't have to carry loads up the mountain or pay Sherpas to do so. Instead, they borrow from climbers who are currently not using their tents and equipment.

You often hear about thefts on the north side. Our only experience with robbery was when our toilet went missing. I was told that the barrel, almost full, was taken by Tibetan yak herders, emptied, cleaned out, and used to transport items down the mountain. Eew.

The Kazakhs
The Kazaky climbers were quite the buzz at ABC for some time. Like most news out of Everest, what we hear and what actually happens are not the same. I'll give you the ABC scuttlebutt first.

We heard there were two climbers from Kazakhstan who ascended to the summit from the north without oxygen. Then, as incredible as this may seem, they descended down the south side to see the Hillary Step. After reaching the Hillary Step, they ascended back to the summit and down the north side to camp at 8,300 meters.

The next morning they awoke and couldn't move so they called down to ABC for help. A Sherpa ascended and provided them oxygen, saving their lives. We were stunned. Turns out they did not descend down to the Hillary Step - not sure how that rumor was started!

Here's something I found on Outside Blog:
The two climbers were from Kazakhstan, Vasily Pivtzo, 27, and Maxud Zhumaev, 26, who were part of the Arun Trekking group. They had been acclimatizing at ABC and stocking camps at the North Col and above. Seeing the HimEx sherpas preparing to fix the route, and inspired by a spell of stable, if chilly, weather, they decided to make a shot for the top. 

They left their camp at 7,900 meters about 10 p.m. on the 29th, and climbed through the night, huddling for a short while in a tent they discovered at 8,300 meters, the standard high-camp location, wrapping themselves in shreds of other tents they found lying on the rocks nearby. The sherpas passed them while in the camp, and knowing that the fixed line would now be installed ahead of them, the Kazakhs pushed on. 

They topped out around 3:30 pm, after 18 hours of continuous climbing without oxygen, but well enough to spend the next 30 minutes on the summit, taking photos and celebrating their achievement. 

The descent, however, proved more problematic, since they had no water, food, or fuel by the time they were dropping off the northeast ridge. 'We getting very cold and low energy,' Maxud told me, 'and frostbite now on feet.' They took refuge again in the tent, but while they had basic shelter they were still without oxygen, or any other supplies. Around 3 a.m., they radioed down to Abramov, since he spoke Russian.

Abramov didn't have anyone up high, so he went to Brice's camp. Brice's sherpas were all the way back in ABC by now, so couldn't provide much assistance. But Brice knew the Chinese, on Everest in force this year to test drive the Olympic torch, had sherpas now positioned close to the climbers. He and Abramov, who had now woken up Dawa Sherpa to inform him of the situation (the Kazakhs had told Dawa they were only stocking high camps, not making their summit bid), and they all went to the Chinese for help. 

Finally, by midday, help had reached the Kazakhs, who had in fact managed to stumble down to the camp at 7,9, though now suffering badly. Pivtzov was placed in a Gamov back and both en were treated for frostbite, hypothermia, and dehydration.

This would have been their 11th 8,000 meter peak without the help of Sherpas or supplementary oxygen. They are obviously very strong climbers. Had they been less anxious and waited until they were properly prepared, they might have achieved an oxygen and Sherpa free climb. As it was, they had to use another team's support and Vasily did use oxygen high on the mountain. Maxut apparently made it down without using supplemental oxygen - his ascent was recorded as such in the Himalayan Database.

The Philippine Women's Team
The Philippine women's team paid us a visit one day. They are Janet, Noelle and Corina - I don't recall who is who in the photo at right, but I do remember one, I think in the middle, had a baby just a few months before coming to Everest!

They didn't have as large a camp as we did because they didn't plan on spending much time on the north side. Their plan was to be the first women to traverse the mountain. They would climb from the north and descend down the south side.

They would accomplish their goal on May 16, and also become the first Filipino women to summit Everest.

When I met them they had just come back to BC from ABC, to rest up before their summit push. One of them had a case of pulmonary edema at the North Col so I really didn't expect her to continue the climb and I was happily surprised, and a little jealous (hate them), that they all made it (despise them). They worked hard to achieve their goal, fund raising and climbing. Congratulations! (really really want to be them).

Being a Chick
At night and early in the mornings we could hear some Sherpas and/or climbers singing. That was really sweet for a day or two but after a while it was a little much.

There's also a constant sound of people clearing their throats. While I didn't experience the khumbu cough, I did have a condition similar to post nasal drip and sometimes I would have to dig down deep and cough up a little. Lovely. I'm such a chick sometimes.

Speaking of being a chick, there are only a handful of women up there, which I already knew from reviewing the climbing statistics. Maybe ten percent of Everest climbers are women.

Mountaineering has become more popular with women but it's still heavily male dominated. This can be uncomfortable for some women, although I think most who find themselves high on a mountain are already used to the discomforts of outdoor life. Something I often hear on mountains: "Altitude and modesty are inversely related. As altitude goes up, modesty comes down." Very true.

Another truth is that altitude does not recognize a women's menstrual calendar. Some things rhyme with crampons, come in small packages and do not weigh much, but if left behind can make for a very uncomfortable expedition. I've been surprised before on a mountain, three times in five weeks, and was ill-prepared. And I have heard story after story from other women. Thankfully, I had no surprises on Everest; but if there were, I was ready.

It seemed the guys knew who all the women on Everest were - which team, how many, how old, how young, how cute, how married, what they're wearing, country of origin, country where living, accent.  I'd say from listening to those conversations that the Colombians win for having the best looking gals. Darn!

Being one of a few women up there can be intimidating, particularly because you know, from hearing the guys talk about other women, that you are being watched. I paid particular attention to my color choices, mixing and matching various outfits. In all seriousness, most men treat women as equals, as long as they see you can climb, but that's probably true of anyone. After living in this highly masculine, ego saturated, and testosterone filled environment for two months, I wondered why we ever had to leave.

Betsy
If I'm going to discuss what we heard and talked about while on the mountain, I would be remiss to skip Betsy, especially being a woman myself. Word around camp was that the Himex team had a "biker woman" (we never got a name while on the mountain) who could not put on her crampons. I cringed. My teammates laughed. Okay, I laughed, too. How could anyone even think about climbing this mountain without knowing how to put on crampons?!

Last week, middle of August, I decided to find out more. The Discovery Channel was filming the Himex team for their second installment of Everest: Beyond the Limit (which I discovered they were originally going to call Everest: No Experience Required) and climber/writer, Greg Child, wrote this in the Discovery Channel Blog about their climb:

Betsy raised everyone's eyebrows when she tried to attach her crampons to her boots upside down. "I'm not a climber," she later admitted, qualifying that 10 years ago she wore crampons on a trekking peak in Nepal, but that guides and Sherpas had looked after her climbing needs.

I'm sure lots of readers will think I am picking on Betsy, but I'll just repeat Russell's professional opinion: "Everest isn't the place to learn how to climb. Betsy misrepresented her mountaineering experience to me."

Rats. It was true. I looked for more information.

Betsy, personal trainer, talented writer and photographer (nice photos on her website), wrote an article about her experience on Everest. In it she admits not only that she couldn't put on her crampons and harness but that she was taking catnaps every five feet during her acclimatization climb from C1 to C2. She also says she was treated badly by some team members.

Russell Brice, team leader, told her she could not join the summit team and later, in a rage, kicked her bag. She continued with some not-so-glowing remarks about Brice. Oh, and she only had to pay half price to join the expedition. Half price?!

Then I found a couple of websites making it appear like a huge issue of harassment. I had a completely different reaction. Are those websites for real? Or was this a set-up for publicity? The whole thing just seemed so odd. Then I found out that the website writers are known for their...hmmmm... dislike of Russell Brice.

So they pounced on the opportunity to make Brice look bad by running her story, claiming Himex was harassing its climbers. Puh-lease! That made me want to write something here. I was annoyed. There are plenty of horror stories about poor team dynamics (I can tell a few but I usually only tell them to the person at the other side of the dinner table) and potentially dangerous "team" issues on big mountains like Everest, stories that actually do need to be told, but I would hardly count this as one of them.

Himex is a commercial outfit run by Russell Brice, known by the Sherpas as the King of the Mountain. Brice and his crew are credited with guiding several people safely to the summit, some with little climbing experience.

Because safety is a huge issue on Everest, many climbers sign on with Brice because his team is one of a few teams that have been instrumental in rescuing and saving the lives of climbers in trouble. I am considering joining his team because of safety...and the big screen TV. Not that they are perfect, they've had their challenges, too, but nobody can guarantee anything on a mountain. Climbers must take some responsibility for themselves, especially when pursuing an endeavor like Everest, no matter who they sign on with.

My understanding of the way Himex works is that they will teach the more inexperienced climbers proper climbing techniques but it is up to the individual to perform. Makes sense. Be prepared to have to prove yourself and if you don't, expect to have the plug pulled. It's usually in your best interest and in the interest of other climbers and Sherpas. Betsy joined an expedition with experienced guides who could monitor and assess her performance. She just wasn't prepared and she didn't perform.

On Everest, climbers and Sherpas are often put at risk or asked to make sacrifices because of the actions of other climbers - experienced, like the Kazakhs, and inexperienced. This is part of climbing.

Understandably, most people are a little sensitive to programs that promote the idea that Everest is a mountain requiring no experience (I'm glad the Discovery Channel changed the name). High on the mountain when the trail gets extremely narrow, icy and rocky, and exhausted climbers are wearing bulky down suits with heavy boots and oxygen masks, making it difficult if not impossible to see their feet, the last person anyone wants tied into their same fixed line, or climbing above them on the Second Step, is someone just learning how to walk with crampons. The thought alone will make anyone anxious and annoyed. I'm feeling anxious and annoyed just writing about it.

I'm sure some people won't agree with me and this probably will sound condescending but much of what I've learned about mountain climbing while on mountains has little to do with actual climbing. Like it or not (and I generally do not like it at all), perception is important, particularly if you are a woman, because make no mistake about it, you are being watched. If you've never used crampons or a harness (you shouldn't be on Everest), the guides are the only people who need to know. Don't let it show on any mountain rated higher than "beginner." It takes 10 minutes to learn how to put them on. That 10 minutes could make for a much more comfortable expedition.

It is not to say that it's okay to treat anyone badly. BELIEVE ME, I have been around some rude and grumpy people on mountains and I know how awful and uncomfortable that can be. There is nothing worse than spending day in and day out with someone who has a fragile ego, gets belligerent in altitude or left his anti-depressant medication behind, and I won't go climbing with those people ever again.

There's really no excuse for unprofessional behavior...but this is a mountain, and not just any mountain. On Everest, people are killed every year, a lot of time and money's been invested, nerves are high, tempers are flaring, egos are shattered, sleep's deprived, weight's depleted (weight's depleted?)... I can go on...people are ON EDGE. Some can be downright nasty and tough to be around. I've accepted that as an unfortunate aspect of expedition climbing. Thankfully, my positive experiences with other climbers and guides far outweigh the negative.

Like Greg, I don't want to sound like I'm picking on Betsy, especially because there are others who attempt Everest without proper experience, and I am sure I don't know the whole story. If Betsy did communicate her lack of experience to Russell, she should have been advised to do more climbing before attempting Everest.

Unfortunately, when you choose to join a team that is being filmed for a documentary and then publish an article about it, "it's your decision." I want to see women on the mountain succeed! We are a minority up there. Betsy seems to have a lot of spirit and drive. She's very articulate and thoughtful in her writing. If climbing Everest is really her dream, then she should take a climbing course, climb a mountain or two, and then return to Everest when she is properly prepared. I'll root her on.

Way more then I meant to write. Okay, moving on...

On our way down from ABC, I took the following photo of two climbers as we approached BC.

The Ascent
Once at ABC, some expeditions don't return to BC until after the climb. Others will return to the lower altitude and increased oxygen at BC to gain strength before the final summit push. We descended to BC after fourteen days, while our Sherpas set up our high camps. Then they descended for a few days before we all went back up to ABC for the summit push. We returned to ABC in one day on May 9. It's a full day of walking, even when acclimatized.

Upon returning to ABC, the wait for weather begins. Phanden was out collecting information from other teams and Sherpas since we didn't have a weather forecasting system. We had planned to ascend after one rest day but Phanden said that Russell Brice, who has the best weather forecasting system on the mountain, was telling climbers that May 15 would be a good summit day and so we would have to wait another day, May 12, to start our push. Russell's team typically climbs after May 20 and so it seemed logical that he would want to encourage others to climb before then if he saw a good weather window.

One of his team members, David Tait, who was attempting a double traverse (summit from the north, descend the south, then summit from the south and descend the north), did summit on May 15. In retrospect, I think we had probably the best weather on the mountain ever in the history of climbing Everest! Every day of our push was nice. Makes me feel bad we didn't reach the top. Regardless, we were safe.

The summit push from ABC starts with the climb to the North Col (Camp 1 - 23,000 feet, 7,000 meters). A col is a mountain pass or low point between two hills, also called a saddle. This includes a walk to "crampon point," where climbers snap on their crampons (my sister, Paula, who is as close to climbing a mountain as I am to being a chef, calls them croutons) followed by another walk to the fixed ropes.

On the north side of Everest, the entire route is climbed using fixed lines. The fixing of the ropes has been considerably controversial in the past. This year, the Himex Sherpas fixed the ropes all the way to the summit and climbers were asked to pay a $100 fee to Himex for this service. It seems to be in the best interests of everyone to have one organized team fix the ropes since new ropes are needed every year. Unfortunately, there are climbers who use the ropes but do not pay the $100 fee. Enforcing payment is part of the problem. Russell Brice walks around ABC collecting money from climbers and if he doesn't see them or they don't offer, he often doesn't get paid.

Prior to Everest, most of my mountain climbing has been in rope teams. Two to four (or five) climbers tie into a rope and ascend the mountain together while carrying ice axes. If one climber falls, the other climbers are there to stop the fall or safely pull someone out of a crevasse. It takes good teamwork and communication amongst the climbers, who must ascend at the rate of the slowest member. The team moves and stops together so there isn't much flexibility.

With fixed lines, climbers clip into a rope and ascend independently at whatever rate they like. With the benefit of flexibility, I usually prefer to follow behind and take photos, especially if it's a nice day. On May 12, the first day of our summit push, we climbed to the Col. We never wore down suits when climbing to the Col. It was too warm. The climb up the fixed ropes to the North Col can get steep and icy. The difficulty of this climb really depends on the timing and snow conditions. The first time we ascended, we weren't as acclimatized and the conditions were much icier than later, making it more difficult. Also, steps get kicked in throughout the season, making it much easier to ascend. It never took longer than five hours to go from ABC to the North Col.

The next day, May 13, we put on our down suits left at C1 earlier, and made our way up to Camp 2 (C2 - 25,000 feet, 7,600 meters). I was drowning in my tomato red, size small, Mountain Hardwear down suit (I am selling it if anyone wants to buy it at a reduced price). It's at least a foot longer than I am. Although I liked the color, it was so big I had to pull hard when putting on my harness so that it would stay up and not sink below my waist. Phanden laughed as I approached C3 because he said my harness was down to my knees. That was an exaggeration but he was actually quite concerned because the harness is extremely important! I could barely find it while walking.

Although many of the Sherpas are small, it is difficult to find down suits small enough to fit me - this is definitely a man's market. Shops in Kathmandu sell down suits at reduced prices but we would only be there for two days and I didn't want to risk not finding something. There wasn't time to have an extra small made so I bought what I could find.

Gene and Con left about an hour before Julio and I did. The terrain to C2 consists of simple snow slopes but the altitude takes its toll. Despite the easy terrain, I had a tough day and never seemed to get my rhythm. It was extremely difficult to continue walking after taking my first step out of camp. I kept thinking it would eventually get better but it never did. Looking back, this sort of makes sense, given we never ascended higher than the Col while acclimatizing. I also knew I didn't eat enough at BC and felt upon my return to ABC that I was weaker than before, not stronger.

Although I felt horrible, I continued up, one step at a time, thinking I'm not stopping unless I can't possibly move another foot and if that happens, my climb is done. Lopsang was waiting with oxygen at around 7,500/7,550 meters. When I was within about 30 feet of him, I asked him to come down and grab my pack so I could reach him faster. I was moving that slowly. Julio had just left with his bottle.

This would be my first time using oxygen so I sat with Lopsang for about 20 minutes getting set and trying it out before continuing up the remaining 50-100 meters to C2 (our Sherpas taught me how to use the mask and regulator before heading up but it was brief). I told Lopsang I didn't think it was working but he assured me it was.

When I realized I was actually moving, I figured it must have been working because I was at a point where movement was about to stop without some sort of help. Between the Col and C2 (7,600 meters) were a total of six hundred meters in elevation gain and just under six very tough hours. It would be my worst day on Everest.

Once oxygen is used, it's like a whole new mountain. You breathe more easily and your body starts working like it wasn't working before - and your bowels start moving like they weren't moving before. "Lama Jangbu, where's the ladies room?" That's a story I'm happy to share offline.

But then you become dependent on oxygen and that's not good. Some climbers, in an effort to conserve energy during the summit push, start using oxygen at the North Col (7,000 meters). It's up to the individual. I believe most climbers with five bottles of oxygen and three high camps begin using it at 7,500 meters, which is about where we started. I couldn't go higher without it.

Climbing to the summit without oxygen and surviving is truly freakish.

My body felt weak going to C2. By then I'd lost a considerable amount of weight and now know I needed to be far more diligent about eating and drinking while at BC and ABC. The effects of altitude are insidious. While at ABC for two weeks, I felt pretty good but in reality I was not eating enough due to a loss of appetite. But because I felt fine, I had no idea that my body was slowly deteriorating and my strength was being zapped.

I was hungry up high, though, probably from sucking in oxygen. At C2, Julio and I were having discussions along the lines of "how much would you pay for a whopper with cheese right now?" I think $50 would have done it for me, another $20 for fries and a shake. Apologies to all you vegetarians and chefs out there but protein and fat were what I craved and a juicy burger or a South of Market burrito would have done the trick just as much as, if not more than, a healthy gourmet meal.

Our cooks were great, given what they had to work with. It was my own fault for not forcing myself to eat more but I had a hard time swallowing spam spam spam and yak cheese for protein. We did have chicken one night at BC before the summit push and I devoured my two pieces in seconds. "Please, Kami sir, may I have some more?" There was no more. I considered walking an hour down to the Tibetan village and getting my own damn chicken. See what I mean? People are ON EDGE! Or maybe it's just me.

We all slept with oxygen at C2. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I set my oxygen regulator too high while sleeping. I got the best night's sleep ever - nine solid hours; however, it created even more dependence on oxygen and hurt acclimatization. It also depleted my oxygen supply and I had to use a new bottle the next day.

With oxygen, the climb to Camp 3 (C3 - 26,200 feet, 8,000 meters) seemed much easier even though the terrain was a little tougher, with scattered rocks and snow. It's also steeper and as you ascend you start to notice the exposure on both sides. It's a long way to the bottom. We had a fairly short distance to ascend, reaching C3 in just a few hours.

The only memorable event on the way to C3 was when I dropped my goggles. They fell about thirty feet down the mountain. The goggles were just out of reach of the ascending climbers and understandably, nobody seemed interested in clipping out and grabbing them for me. But I was worried because I wasn't sure whether I would need them for summit day. I bring 3 pairs of eye protection with me, probably overkill but there are some things that are light and worth having high on a mountain, just in case - I've been there before.

Lopsang asked me if I wanted him to get them. I quickly assessed their value and told Lopsang there would be $100 in it for him if he went and got them. Thirty seconds later they were back in my hands. The value of my $60 goggles went up sort of like the value of food at a movie theater or a whopper and cheese at C2. I obviously didn't have to offer him any money but his help meant that much to me and I wanted him to know that. Later when I paid Lopsang, all the Sherpas thanked me like I was paying them, too.

The toughest challenge for me on Everest was being in altitude for an extended period of time. I'd dealt with the effects of altitude on many mountains but never at such high altitudes for so long. I made some mistakes with regards to food, water and oxygen usage. My friend, Tom, even told me before I left what regulator settings to use with my oxygen at different times on the mountain. The problem is that you can't see your oxygen regulator while climbing. To change a setting, you either have to take off your pack or have another climber or Sherpa help you. This dependence on others made me uneasy but removing my pack was time consuming and energy draining.

Everything was a bit overwhelming. My mind was so overloaded, I just let some things slip. Kind of important things! It's easy to say that now in the comfort of home at sea level in California. Having now gone through this, I expect to feel much more comfortable next year.

On summit day, we left C3 sometime between 10:30 PM and 11PM on May 14. I was disappointed that I fell asleep and woke to Phanden yelling "Megan, are you awake?" at 10 PM. Sleep deprivation was definitely not a problem for me on Everest - it was more of a problem living and working in San Francisco.

That gave me little time to prepare but it definitely got my adrenalin going as I quickly strapped on my harness, pulled on my boots and snapped on my crampons. I noticed my boots were a little damp and cold inside because stupido (that's me) failed to properly prepare them for the climb.

If there are ABC's for high altitude climbing, preparing your boots for summit day is probably one of them. Normally I pull my liners out of the shell and into my sleeping bag. Not today and I'm not sure why - I must have fallen asleep. So I turned up my battery operated foot warmers to full blast and left them there for the duration of the climb. I could tell it wasn't too cold outside so I got pretty lucky.

The beginning of the climb from C3 involved mixed snow and rock as we wound our way up through other camps in the dark - it took a few hours just to go through all the other camps. I knew when Phanden told us our highest camp was between 7,900 and 8,000 meters that it would be a long and tough summit day for me.

Although climbers summit from 8,000 meters on the south side, the norm for high camp on the north side is around 8,200 to 8,400 meters. I do okay in the mountains but I am not one to perform above the norm. You won't see me setting any speed records either.

Like most sports, good technique will help conserve much needed energy. Knowing I'm not the strongest or fastest climber on a mountain, I've had to have pretty steady technique just to meet the norm. I've always learned it's best to ascend at a slow, steady pace, using the rest step to conserve energy. It's something I constantly try to improve. I cringe when I see climbers taking three or four quick steps and then stopping to catch their breath.

Poor weather can mess with my plan, well, anyone's plan. On a beautiful day like our summit day anything can happen up there. I figured I'd give it my best and move upwards until either I reached the summit or something or someone told me to turn around.

Climbing with a headlamp during the night is a strange experience, especially high on Everest. For the most part, all you could hear is the sound of crampons gripping the ice in between your own deep breaths. All you can think about is putting one foot in front of the other. All you can see is the path, the rope and the climber in front of you. The darkness, the oxygen mask and down hood keep everything else out of sight.

Occasionally you might look up and see a line of little lights moving further up the mountain, as we did. It was the Indian team - they left about the same time as we did but were maybe 300 meters, and a few hours, higher.

It's quiet and hectic at the same time. Each step brings an assessment of your condition. Am I too warm? Too cold? Breathing too hard? Do I need water? Food? Your mind is so focused that you almost forget who and where you are. It's just about moving and how your body's doing. The summit is far off. The time goes fast. Next thing you know it's 5am and you've been moving all night. It is usually the coldest just before the sun comes out, when you begin to see where you are. And you can hardly believe it. That's when you start to wonder whether you will reach the summit. At least, that's been my experience, less the oxygen mask, on many mountains, not just Everest. It's very intense... and pretty darn cool!

I was struggling with the huge Alti-Mitts I was wearing because they were too big to fit inside my ascender. This became problematic until I pulled off the outside liner and just used the inside. Again, it was not terribly cold out and I got lucky - my hands stayed warm for the time being.

Another thing I noticed was my mouth became extremely dry almost immediately after we started walking, so much so that I became desperately thirsty, despite having downed half a liter of water before leaving camp. It was so uncomfortable that I kept trying to reach for the small pouch of water buried in my down jacket pocket. But that was hard to find and I didn't want to stop so I struggled on with the group and basically sucked it up. It happened the previous days, too, but we weren't climbing for very long.

In Kathmandu after the climb, I noticed the area around my mouth was pealing from the dryness (it wasn't from the sun). The oxygen we use on the mountain is aviation oxygen that has very little moisture so the valves and hoses don't freeze in extremely cold temperatures. This can cause symptoms of dryness. I didn't expect it because Julio had told me when he climbed Everest from the south side in 2002 he didn't once drink any water, which he acknowledges was a mistake as he was treated for mild frostbite. But he didn't experience the same dryness. In fact, none of my friends who climbed Everest had this problem and I've never read about it in any mountaineering books. Now that's a little frustrating! I'm not sure what to do about it next year, other than drink and carry more water. A friend suggested bringing hard candies. These are the types of things about high altitude climbing and how our bodies behave that we all learn through experience.

Eventually we made our way to the northeast ridge. This was spectacular! The trail was maybe a foot wide in some places but not steep. It's a long traverse with a steep and scary drop to the right.

I stopped at some point to have some water. This was when I got into trouble with my hands. I removed my mitten liners - I'm not exactly sure why but I think I was going to put on the gloves inside my pack. The combination of stopping and removing my mitten liners resulted in my hands very suddenly becoming cold. Lopsang helped me reheat my hands as he muttered "I told you to never take off your gloves and you took off your gloves." I knew I shouldn't remove my mittens but I did anyway, thinking it would be a quick switch and not realizing just how fast my hands would freeze.

I felt comfortable the entire climb, never hot or cold. At about 5am on the ridge, Gene and Phanden turned around. Julio, Con, Lopsang, Lama Jangbu and I continued on to the First Step.

The summit climb includes three steep sections called Steps. The First Step is a short rock buttress. It was pretty simple to climb. Above here the climbing is more exposed but without much height gain until the Second Step. At some point, I don't recall exactly when, Lopsang and I came across an Asian climber who was just sitting there by himself, casually, like he was at a picnic. I stopped to say hello and he smiled and offered me some water. Not one to turn down a sip with that horrible oxygen mask sucking all the moisture out of my mouth, I gulped some down. What's funny is I don't think Julio even noticed this guy or if he did, he forgot. It was just so out of place for him to be there. Later I thought, "Was I dreaming that?" but I know I wasn't. The affects of altitude are just so twilight zone strange.

The Second Step is across a series of small ledges, then around a large boulder and up the famous ladder. From C3, it took us 8 hours to reach the Second Step. I'll never forget seeing the ladder for the first time as we came around a corner! I'd read so much about it I almost gasped when I actually saw it. Then, as we moved on, it was out of sight again, hidden by a boulder that marks the beginning of the Second Step. I could see the area that Lhakpa Gelu described as a place to pull yourself up while on your knees - the rock is so slick that climbing with crampons is difficult.

My altimeter, which I set to 8,000 meters at C3, read 8,648 meters. I later learned that the altitude at that point is 28,230 feet, roughly 8,600 meters. I try to think in terms of meters on mountains outside the US because, hello, most of the world is on the metric system - 3.28 feet per meter.

To put that into perspective, we were about as high as the summit of K2, the second highest mountain in the world. It was the highest I'd ever been and to feel so good at that elevation was pretty cool. Standing on the northeast ridge, where so many famous climbers had been before, was a thrill. I might as well have been on the summit, it was so incredible and the view so magnificent. I felt like a "mere mortal" up there.

From where we were, we estimated another four hours of climbing before reaching the summit. Julio and Lama Jangbu agreed we'd run out of oxygen before descending to C3 if we did indeed reach the summit - we each had 3 bottles of oxygen on summit day. Running out of oxygen would be serious trouble and we weren't interested in having an "epic" descent, like that of Manny and the Kazakhs.

Although we felt pretty good and wanted to continue, it didn't make sense to climb the Second Step, the most difficult and dangerous part, if we weren't going to summit. After enjoying the spectacular view and euphoria one feels after climbing so high to a place we'd only read about before, Julio and I turned around with Lama Jangbu. Before descending, I grabbed some rocks and put them in my pocket. Con, a mountain guide and much stronger climber, went on to climb the Third Step and summit at around 10:30am with Lopsang.

The Descent
I now understand why they say the descent is the hardest part and it's not just because you've already been climbing for eight hours so you're tired.

I mentioned that on the north side of Everest, the entire route is climbed using fixed ropes. To climb, you clip into the rope with your ascender and use it to guide you up the mountain (a carabiner is also used). An ascender easily glides up the rope and grabs it so that if you fall, you are attached to the line and will only fall as far as there is slack in the rope.

Upon descending, climbers clip into the rope with carabiners. A carabiner doesn't grab the rope; it just circles it. If you fall, how far you fall depends on the slope you are descending and the location of the anchor. If you are descending a steep slope, a fall could result in a long drop to an anchor and this could be disastrous, even fatal. It is possible to use a rappel device, such as an ATC or a figure 8, but often the fixed lines are set very tight and it's difficult and time consuming to tie in and out.

So on steeper sections, most climbers use what is called the Sherpa rappel. Here, you walk facing downhill with one arm wrapped around the rope while grabbing the rope with both hands. Most Sherpas simply grab the rope with both hands instead of wrapping an arm and they practically run down the mountain. I needed to wrap an arm most of the time because my hands are not that strong and are small so it was difficult for me to feel safe and get a good grip just using my hands.

While the breathing is easier going down, it requires more upper body strength and by then you just don't want to use your muscles. It's tough and dangerous.

The protocol is that ascending climbers have the right-of-way. Descending climbers clip out of the rope to let ascending climbers continue.

I noticed on my way up that some descending climbers would grab onto me while going around me. It startled me at first (well, hello!) but made sense when I went down. Clipping out on a narrow section where climbers are wearing big packs can be tricky, especially with some climbers forgetting how big their packs are and suddenly turning around, sort of like skiers carrying skis on their shoulders - whop! There she goes down the mountain.

When in doubt, I used two carabiners, clipping one below the ascending climber before unclipping the other, and was seldom off the rope (of course I used the grab method to get around the good looking guys ; ).

On our way back down to C3 as we walked along the northeast ridge, Julio fell a couple of times. You cannot see your feet while wearing an oxygen mask, especially while descending, and when the trail gets narrow it's easy to clip a crampon and trip, especially when you're tired.

We were walking along the northeast ridge where the trail is narrow, not steep, but the drop to the left, down the mountain, is steep and that's where Julio fell. I was behind him, with Lama Jangbu behind me clipped into the same line, so when Julio tripped we were able to pull up on the rope. I felt bad for Julio because it takes a lot of energy to pull yourself back up after a fall. But once I saw he was okay and in good spirits, I kind of chuckled because he had a long slit on the back of his suit and there were down feathers pouring out of his behind. Oh well. I thought Julio was perfect but he's just a "mere mortal," too!

We came across several climbers making their way up to their high camps, mostly to 8,300 meters. When we reached C3, Julio and I were both very tired. Gene was in his tent getting some rest before beginning his descent. Phanden urged Julio and me to descend further but Julio wasn't feeling up to it.

I was concerned because my third bottle of oxygen went to the summit with Con and Lopsang and I didn't know what would be available when they returned. We drank loads of water and rested for an hour or two before I continued my slow descent to C1. By then, Gene and Lama Jangbu had already started heading down to the North Col. Lopsang and Con returned to C3 a few hours later. I did the right thing descending further - apparently Con was in no condition to descend from C3, so he and Julio stayed there for the night with Phanden. This was a major concern for Phanden because our camp was close to 8,000 meters, known as the death zone, and not a place anyone wants to stay for too long.

After summiting for his first time, Lopsang carried the equivalent of about five backpacks full of gear all the way down to ABC while I barely descended to the North Col. His load was so heavy and so huge that he had to push it down the mountain when he was unable to carry it. Keep in mind, Con, a professional mountain guide and strong climber, was so exhausted after summiting that he could only descend to C3. I turned around and saw Lopsang in the distance, thinking I should wait for him and help him but knowing that I couldn't. I was already moving and thinking in slow motion and was in no condition to be assisting anyone. It was frustrating. 

I now understand why climbers who run out of oxygen up high just stop. The mind is working but the body simply will not move. Pushing the huge load of gear, Lopsang caught up to me at the North Col and practically ran me over as he continued descending in the dark to ABC! What incredible strength! The thought of helping him seemed even more absurd at that point. Maybe my mind really wasn't working. Hello? Namaste? I'm the one who needed help!

I reached the North Col just as it was getting dark. It seemed any time I had a chance to say hi and chat with other climbers, I did, just to stop and rest and beg for water. No surprise, I ran out immediately because of the dryness from the oxygen mask.

I met a lot of very nice people! I stopped using oxygen somewhere between 7,500 meters and the North Col because the mask became more and more unbearable, making me painfully thirsty and unable to see my feet while wearing sunglasses.

It was a ridiculously slow descent to C1. When I arrived at the Col, I saw Lama Jangbu, who helped me to my tent and gave me some water. Then he continued down to ABC with Lopsang.

After my experience trying to sleep at C1 that night, I think I would have been better off sleeping with oxygen at C3. The tent where I had slept just two days earlier didn't seem the same. It had puddles of water inside with huge chunks of ice protruding from beneath from snow melting and then freezing under the tent. The only similarity was the breeze flowing through the open vent. Nice. Finding flat ground was impossible and I was too exhausted to move things around. So I found Phanden's pad and sleeping bag left inside and twisted my body around the ice boulders and puddles while attempting to sleep. That proved impossible and it was a miserable night.

The next morning Gene began his descent to ABC before I emerged from my tent. I discovered a teriyaki tuna pouch that I bought at Safeway and brought along. Can I even describe how good that was? That gave me enough energy to pack up my belongings and swim out of that tent but not enough to feel confident to descend.

I stood at the top of the fixed line, staring, wondering if I could descend. Probably 30 minutes went by and I'm sure other climbers were wondering what I was doing. I was a doggy downer and I needed a puppy upper (Saturday Night Live in the 70's). That first bit was pretty steep and the fixed rope was too tight for me to use my ATC and rappel. I'd have to do the Sherpa rappel. Easy enough normally but not today.

So I very slowly and painfully began my descent and took a deep breath once I made it down the steep part and to the anchor. Behind me was a Sherpa. Like most Sherpas he was flying down the mountain and I wanted to let him pass. Instead, he stopped and said hello and I realized I'd met him before through Phanden (who is quite popular).

He is from Karikoula, Phanden's village. I told him we'd just tried for the summit and I had no sleep at C1 in our wet and rocky 3 season tent. He offered to take my backpack but I saw his large pack and insisted on carrying mine. Then I told him to go on, I would be okay. He pretended to move on but really stayed with me all the way to the bottom of the fixed lines. Oh those Sherpas are not just strong - they have hearts of gold.

The snow on the path down was actually pretty soft and much easier to descend than earlier in the season so as usual I was given a break. As we slowly descended, we ran into Lopsang going back up the mountain at record speed to carry more loads down. He was really starting to rub it in now. His hair looked washed and his clothes ironed. He was so "chipper" that I almost wanted to slap him.

He told me I was carrying too heavy a pack, a Sherpa pack ("you're carrying your oxygen bottle down?"), and that I should have left more for him to carry. My hypoxic pride set in and I insisted on carrying my pack all the way down.

How do the Sherpas stand us? Their larger than life strength and good nature are two reasons climbers keep going back to Everest. When I reached crouton point, Lama Jangbu was waiting for me with my comfy shoes, a coke and a helping hand - I finally gave in and handed him my pack and heavy boots. The coke went down in seconds and with light shoes and no pack, I felt like skipping the rest of the way to camp. In fact, I was a completely different person. Huge lesson learned.

Julio, Con and Phanden reached ABC mid-afternoon. Julio suffered from slight snow blindness after descending without sunglasses much of the day. I've been through that before growing up skiing and it's not fun. Sunglasses further impede sight while wearing an oxygen mask and I suspect that's why Julio failed to wear his glasses.

One of the Hungarian climbers, David, gave Julio some eye drops to relieve the pain and he was feeling better within a day.

Everyone made it safely down to ABC and I consider that a successful climb. Lopsang emailed me his photo from the summit, taken by Con with a disposable camera.

We picked an excellent day, May 15, to attempt the summit. It was sunny with no wind.

The Weather Window is a period with no jet wind, low general winds and little precipitation perfect for climbing above 8,000 meters. The majority of all successful Everest summits occur during the Weather Window, usually between May 15 and June 8, when the Monsoon hits the Himalayas.

The climbing season as defined by government climbing permits ends June 1 but I know many climbers summit in June. Because of limited oxygen and energy reserves, climbers typically get one chance for the summit. The weather forecast becomes extremely important but forecasts are not always accurate. There's generally a bit of luck involved in picking the right summit date but this year was an unusually good year for weather.

Back to Kathmandu and Home
Upon arriving back to BC, the long wait for vehicles began. It would be a few days before a driver would pick us up and haul us out.

One afternoon I walked into our kitchen tent, the hub of activity, just to see what was going on because there was always something going on in there. On this particular day we had a visitor I'd never seen before, an Englishman named Gavin Bate. He was there with his Sherpa, Pasang. Gavin looked pretty tired and spent because he'd just arrived from ABC after surviving a near fatal dose of pulmonary edema high on Everest, above the Second Step.

This is extremely dangerous and he had to descend immediately. In a hoarse voice, he said he was originally going to climb without oxygen until he decided to "buy" oxygen at C2. It sounded like the seller was some random guy he ran into up there. The oxygen and/or regulator could have been faulty. I'm not sure what he was thinking, why he didn't bring his own oxygen and regulator just in case, but I know he's an experienced climber.

He explained that this was his fourth attempt on Everest and his previous climbs all seemed to involve some strange decision to NOT summit like "that year I couldn't be bothered by the queue so I turned back." Couldn't be bothered by the queue?! He raises a lot of money for a non-profit every time he climbs Everest so maybe he just needs to keep climbing and not summit.

One day we walked down to the Tibetan village to spend a day with our Sherpas at their favorite social spot. It was a dark little tent shop run by a Tibetan woman they knew well and was already occupied by four of their Sherpa friends, who were quite drunk by the time we arrived. We spent all day there, eating boiled potatoes with Sherpa sauce, a wonderful spicy creamy sauce, and noodle soup and chicken, and drinking beer after beer after beer. We were there for hours.

We saw Steve, the Irish climber I met earlier who was worried about Cheynes-Stokes. Evidently, he attempted the summit the same day we did but was ahead of us (everyone was ahead of us because nobody else was trying to summit from below 8,000 meters). After climbing above the Second Step, he saw a Japanese climber fall down the rope to an anchor, and to his death, while descending. Con saw the same climber. I later heard, but never confirmed, that the Japanese man was named Ishi San, 62.

After witnessing this, Steve was so distraught that he decided to abandon his summit bid. When he returned to camp, he saw the dead body of a Czech climber next to him outside his tent. The climber was Libor Kozak, 47. Sadly, I believe he died from cerebral edema. Steve said he was so shocked and saddened by the day's events that he decided never to return to Everest again. I didn't tell Steve that if I had a dollar for all the climbers who said they'd never return to Everest, my 2008 expedition would be paid for, although I think he meant it.

Down at BC, I commented to Julio that I had a huge blister on my right big toe. He looked at it and said I had a case of frostbite. I could not believe it! My feet were never cold. The toe did become numb and stayed that way for a couple of months but it never hurt.

Looking back, I made some mistakes, such as not pulling the liners out of my boots and starting off with damp boots on summit day. I'm sure I didn't drink enough water because I was constantly thirsty. I used Boreal G1 Expes which were the only boots available in my small size at such short notice (even with time it is difficult to find a small enough boot). They were very heavy, much heavier than the La Sportiva Olympus Mons the guys were using (they all laughed at how heavy my boots were - thanks guys) but seemed okay and comfortable on the climb. Regardless, with the benefit of time, next season I will try another boot.

After a few days our jeeps finally arrived and we were off to Kathmandu. There was major road construction going on in Nyalam so it was a long drive to Zhang Mu, where we stayed overnight before crossing the border into Nepal and heading back to Kathmandu the next day.

By afternoon we were in our hotel rooms at the Yak & Yeti. It was then that I finally got a look at myself and realized I'd lost way too much weight! My ribs were sticking out and my stomach was concave. Yikes!! I needed a drink. Actually, I needed several cocktails, a steak and mashed potatoes with gravy and cheesecake for dessert, and then another drink.

When I returned home, I developed a throat infection, a common mountain ailment. My timing could not have been better. Incidentally, my knee was fine on Everest and I completely forgot it was ever an issue. The day I left for Nepal I got a shot of cortisone. I'm not sure if it helped or not.

High Inspirations
We were supported by Geljen Sherpa and his staff at World Records Expeditions & Treks. Thank you!

I want to express my overwhelming thanks to our Sherpas - Phanden, Lama Jangbu and Lopsang. Their job requires them to risk their lives and without them, I could never hope to attempt a mountain like Everest.

We have a tendency to take the Sherpas for granted and expect that they will flawlessly handle everything on the mountain and they usually do. We forget that they are human, too, with families and children to feed and educate. They may not want to work on Everest but they do it to make a living.

Apa and Lhakpa Gelu moved to Salt Lake City so their children could get a better education and not have to work on the mountain. Many of them have friends and/or family members who perished on Everest or other mountains in the Himalayas, just doing their job.

Lama Jangbu's and Lhakpa Gelu's brother and Lopsang's father, Lhakpa Dendi, died on Everest in 1991 when Lopsang was just six years old. Some people return home after climbing Everest and fail to recognize the Sherpas in their speeches, websites, articles and/or books. Fortunately, they are a minority.

Our cooks, Nima and Kami, worked hard in the kitchen and never stopped smiling. They were great cooks, fun to have around, and extremely patient!

Apa and Lhakpa Gelu reached the summit from the south side as part of the Super Sherpa team.

“If there is anything good that comes from our summit on Mt. Everest our goal would be to create a more peaceful world,” Apa and Lhakpa Gelu said from the top. “Our second goal would be to continue in Sir Edmund Hillary’s footsteps and contribute to education and improving health care in the Khumbu Region and for all Nepal people in the remote regions.”

 

We all celebrated together in Kathmandu. Apa was suffering from some sort of lung problem and Julio advised him to stop this Everest nonsense! 17 is enough already. Apa just smiled politely.

I also want to thank Dr. Julio ('J' as in 'Jewel' is how the Sherpas pronounce it). His email got me off my couch and on the greatest adventure of my life. He is the first and only Puerto Rican to summit Mount Everest. If it wasn't for him I may still be on Everest with 3 empty bottles of oxygen.

Climbing with Julio is like climbing with Albert Einstein and Steve Martin put together. His brilliance and good humor were always appreciated as he earned respect from everyone around him. When you're on the mountain, it really helps to be around people who are not only intelligent, but who also find humor in what we do.

Finally I got a chance to read all the messages in Gene's Blog. Wow! Thank you to everyone for your support and enthusiasm! I laughed out loud at a comment from my nephew, Ryan, who lives in London:

Megan...Megan...Gene, I know you guys are busy climbing that mountain and everything; but could you please ask Megan an important question for me. Do we have Shrimp Cocktail sauce up at the ranch? I am planning on heading up there soon and would like to be sure that there is at least one jar. Please get back to me as soon as possible, because I don't want to find myself all the way in Fairfield with a bunch of shrimp and no sauce. Thanks for the help, have fun on your hike.

It became clear that the worry back home was too much and I would be doing everyone a favor if I join a guided expedition, so that's what I'm planning. I also recognize that we were pretty lucky with the weather this year and the mountain can always throw out something new next year. Joining a guided expedition will give me an opportunity to experience a completely different kind of climb and I'll be in a much better position to deal with the unexpected.

 After giving an Everest slide presentation in September, a man approached me and said: "You seem like a very nice person but I think you've got a few screws loose. Why would you risk your life and the lives of others by climbing a silly mountain and spend money that could help people who really need it?"

I told him I used to ask myself that all the time - still do sometimes. But I decided there are some things we shouldn't have to explain. It's just what we do. The people I am with - Sherpas, climbers, etc.. - also choose to be there and we work together as a team to minimize the danger. The experience is out of this world. I love climbing mountains - it makes life fun and exciting.

Some people buy boats or send their kids to Ivy League schools. Sailing makes me sick and I don't have children (admittedly, not great analogies but give me a break here). As long as I stay healthy and have an interest, I am going to climb mountains, preferably in exotic places. And I will encourage any of my 17 nephews and nieces who have an interest to do the same - two are already - especially if it gets them outside and away from their computers. Of course he was totally dissatisfied with my answer and went on and on.

I didn't point out that he just spent nearly two hours of his day watching my presentation and then talking about it afterwards.

And besides, as my sister, Molly, says, "a baby's gotta do what a baby's gotta do!" (She stole that from Rugrats.)