On top of the world
At the start of summit day on Mount Everest, your little world doesn’t extend beyond the beam of light from your headtorch. As I climbed the gully above the South Col, I suddenly saw something appear out of the darkness. The next thing I knew, I was hanging from my rope.
Blood started to appear on the snow in front of me. I lifted up my balaclava and even more snow turned red. I had a horrendous pain in my head and I remember thinking: ‘This isn’t massively good.’ It turned out that I had been knocked unconscious by a rock hurtling down the slopes.
My climbing team was just behind me. One of the members serves in a rapid-response police unit. He took one look at my skull and said: ‘It’s a serious head wound that needs stitching up. I suggest you go down.’
But this was Everest, and I was close to achieving a second coveted ascent of the mountain. I placed my clients in the care of my climbing staff, summitted quickly and descended to Camp 4 on the South Col, where I spoke to a member of a neighbouring expedition who happened to be a neurosurgeon. He gave me the once-over, after which I continued on to Camp 2 in the Western Cwm, where I was rewarded with seven stitches in my forehead.
Heads up
I was incredibly lucky to survive, but I didn’t realise just how fortunate I had been until two years later, when I was involved in the extraction of my friend Dawa Sherpa, who had been killed by a flying rock on Everest’s Lhotse Face between Camps 2 and 3.
These days, I use a variety of head protection on the mountain, ranging from a strong polycarbonate climbing helmet on the Lhotse Face to a beanie insulated with shock-absorbing d3o gel on summit day. Helmets are being worn more and more on Everest, especially on the lower ramparts of the Lhotse Face, where the ropes go straight up to Camp 3. The direct line means that you might be struck not only by a stone that has popped out of the ice but also by a dropped lip salve or water bottle.
I can’t see the justification for wearing a helmet while passing through the notorious Khumbu Icefall between Base Camp and Camp 1. If something is going to fall on you in the icefall, it’s generally going to weigh a couple of hundred tonnes, so a helmet isn’t going to make much difference. I have also seen climbers wearing helmets in the Western Cwm, but unless you’re hit by a meteorite, I think you’re pretty safe there. That said, you have to accept a certain amount of personal responsibility. If you decide not to wear a helmet and something bops you on the head, you shouldn’t sue the expedition you’re climbing with. Everest is all about managing risk.
Another part of your anatomy that’s in danger of being damaged on Everest is your toes. To ward off the cold temperatures on summit day, I wear a pair of Millet Everest boots as they happen to fit my feet really well. They are very light, but won’t last as long as the equivalent models from La Sportiva and Scarpa. That said, I only wear my Millets (which are fitted with AA-battery-powered Therm-ic footwarmers) for four or five days each season, so my current pair have survived six Everest ascents. I wear these boots all the way from Base Camp on my summit bid.
Something that really annoys me is seeing Sherpas carrying clients’ summit boots through the icefall. During the phase of the expedition when I’m climbing up and down the mountain to adjust to the altitude, and helping to stock the camps with food and equipment, I wear lightweight La Sportiva Nepal Top boots.
The type of crampons you use depends on the boots you wear. I use an old pair of Black Diamond Sabretooth crampons as they happen to fit the Everest and the Nepal Top boots very well. I want crampons that go on quickly. I don’t want to be fiddling around with lots of straps in the cold at the South Col and courting frostbite. My steel Sabretooths are a basic step-in model and sport a single neoprene retaining strap. I can easily clip them on to my boots while wearing gloves.
By contrast, lightweight aluminium crampons on Everest are a recipe for disaster because the ice is bullet-hard. I know of at least one climber whose summit day was ruined because their aluminium crampons snapped. Steel doesn’t have to mean heavy; Petzl makes some impressively lightweight steel crampons. My lightweight axe also has a steel rather than an aluminium head so I can perform tasks such as chopping tent platforms.
I always carry sufficient gear for a crevasse rescue, including two ice screws, two slings, Prusik loops, a Wild Country Ropeman, and four or five snaplink and screwgate carabiners. I have two short lengths of rope called cowstails attached to my lightweight harness. One cowstail attaches to a Jumar clamp and the other goes to a carabiner. During descents, I hand-wrap along the rope.
Happy camper
I’ve spent more time at the foot of Everest during the past five years than anywhere else in the world, so my Base Camp set-up is quite luxurious. My Mountain Hardwear (MHW) Trango 4 tent has lots of pockets for things such as iPods and speakers. I outfit it with two locally made sleeping mats, a Therm-a-Rest, a Karrimat, a blanket, a duvet jacket, two pillows, a –30°C synthetic bag and a lightweight down bag.
On the hill, I sleep inside the same –40°C down bag that I have used for the past six years. I lie on a three-quarter-length Therm-a-Rest and a full-length, closed-cell foam pad inside one of several geodesic tents, which I share with up to two Sherpas or climbers. The tents are tied to rocks at Camps 2 and 4. Bamboo stakes are used at Camps 1 and 3.
I use a much smaller rucksack than you might expect. I carry a 50-litre rucksack and I think that’s big enough for all of my kit, which includes an Icom walkie-talkie, a satellite phone, a stainless-steel flask for summit day, snacks such as cheese and saucisson, and Nalgene water bottles (one of which I usually wear in an insulated pouch on my harness for easy access). I use energy powder to help mask the taint of water poured from a dirty pan.
My kit bag includes Icebreaker base layers in light or white colours. Over the top of my base layer, I usually wear a thin Polartec 100 fleece. I also have a much warmer MHW Monkey Man fleece and a thin synthetic duvet. Low down on the mountain, I wear a pair of sadly discontinued MHW Navigation Pants. Like the Icebreaker clothing, the light colour of these trousers helps to reflect the sun’s rays.
The icefall is the hardest place to get the clothing right. Although it’s cold at 5am, when the sun comes up, the temperature suddenly becomes ‘scorchio’. For this reason, the layering system is the way forward, and I use a variety of clothing combinations all the way through to Camp 3.
I also carry a very thin Gore-Tex jacket and pants. They weigh virtually nothing and sit in the bottom of my bag. I throw them on if the wind picks up or if I start to feel cold. My one-piece down suit goes on at Camp 3. I wear it with an Icebreaker top and bottoms, a one-piece sleeveless Polartec Power Stretch suit, and a thin fleece top. In recent years, I have taken my down suit off on the descent from the summit because I hate being too hot.
Gloves and gas
Big down mitts are essential above Camp 3 but they need to be reasonably dextrous so you can use your Jumar. I wear a leather-palmed guides’ glove in the icefall. Below Camp 3, I use a wool hat that I bought locally in Namche Bazaar or a peak cap with neck protection. On summit day, I wear a Windstopper balaclava. I cut out the nose piece to accommodate my TopOut oxygen mask.
The TopOut is more comfortable, has a better field of view, and doesn’t ice up as much as other oxygen masks. All the major teams bar one currently use TopOut with Poisk’s ubiquitous aluminium-and-Kevlar oxygen bottles. On summit day, I use two or three oxygen bottles, depending on how quickly my team is moving. The oxygen is highly compressed: a so-called ‘four litre’ cylinder actually contains several thousand litres of oxygen. At a flow rate of four litres per minute, it will last for around four hours. Lighter three-litre bottles are also used.
My team leaves Camp 4 at around 10pm. We aim to reach the summit between dawn and 10am; 1pm is my final turnaround time as I want to be back at Camp 4 by 3pm. But would I try to summit again with a head injury? Probably not.
21st-century Sherpas
Summit Sherpas are getting more and more savvy about the kit they use. Although they are often given kit by Western climbers who have fulfilled their mountaineering dreams, Sherpas are always looking to upgrade their gear: they do invest in their own equipment, especially high-altitude boots.
For the Sherpas on some teams who do the grunt work through the icefall, it can be a different story. I still see Sherpas going to Camp 2 and occasionally Camp 3 wearing jeans and low-quality sunglasses, and using ill-fitting crampons. I’ve even spotted a Sherpa wearing a pair of lightweight alpine summer boots on a carry to 8,000 metres. I’m pleased to say that all of our Sherpas are reasonably well equipped.
Unfortunately, there is a lot of kudos in the Sherpa community for having the panda-eyes look at the end of the climbing season. But in this day and age, skin cancer is a real concern. I carry more suncream than I need, and I’m always handing it out.
Even the most poorly equipped climbing Sherpa owns kit that is light years ahead of Nepalese trekking porters, which is why I’m a big supporter of Porters’ Progress (www.portersprogress.org).
Ten of the best
Having climbed the world’s highest peak seven times, Kenton knew exactly what equipment he needed to take on his eighth ascent. Here’s a selection of his essential items, including hi-tech eyewear, mountain clothing, electronic gadgetry – and, given the meeting between his head and a falling rock on his second climb, an interesting line in protective headgear
Don’t forget…
… CE category 4 goggles and sunglasses. My goggles are mirrored. I have two pairs of goggles and four pairs of sunglasses in case any of my team or my Sherpas (or me!) break theirs
Blood started to appear on the snow in front of me. I lifted up my balaclava and even more snow turned red. I had a horrendous pain in my head and I remember thinking: ‘This isn’t massively good.’ It turned out that I had been knocked unconscious by a rock hurtling down the slopes.
My climbing team was just behind me. One of the members serves in a rapid-response police unit. He took one look at my skull and said: ‘It’s a serious head wound that needs stitching up. I suggest you go down.’
But this was Everest, and I was close to achieving a second coveted ascent of the mountain. I placed my clients in the care of my climbing staff, summitted quickly and descended to Camp 4 on the South Col, where I spoke to a member of a neighbouring expedition who happened to be a neurosurgeon. He gave me the once-over, after which I continued on to Camp 2 in the Western Cwm, where I was rewarded with seven stitches in my forehead.
Heads up
I was incredibly lucky to survive, but I didn’t realise just how fortunate I had been until two years later, when I was involved in the extraction of my friend Dawa Sherpa, who had been killed by a flying rock on Everest’s Lhotse Face between Camps 2 and 3.
These days, I use a variety of head protection on the mountain, ranging from a strong polycarbonate climbing helmet on the Lhotse Face to a beanie insulated with shock-absorbing d3o gel on summit day. Helmets are being worn more and more on Everest, especially on the lower ramparts of the Lhotse Face, where the ropes go straight up to Camp 3. The direct line means that you might be struck not only by a stone that has popped out of the ice but also by a dropped lip salve or water bottle.
I can’t see the justification for wearing a helmet while passing through the notorious Khumbu Icefall between Base Camp and Camp 1. If something is going to fall on you in the icefall, it’s generally going to weigh a couple of hundred tonnes, so a helmet isn’t going to make much difference. I have also seen climbers wearing helmets in the Western Cwm, but unless you’re hit by a meteorite, I think you’re pretty safe there. That said, you have to accept a certain amount of personal responsibility. If you decide not to wear a helmet and something bops you on the head, you shouldn’t sue the expedition you’re climbing with. Everest is all about managing risk.
Another part of your anatomy that’s in danger of being damaged on Everest is your toes. To ward off the cold temperatures on summit day, I wear a pair of Millet Everest boots as they happen to fit my feet really well. They are very light, but won’t last as long as the equivalent models from La Sportiva and Scarpa. That said, I only wear my Millets (which are fitted with AA-battery-powered Therm-ic footwarmers) for four or five days each season, so my current pair have survived six Everest ascents. I wear these boots all the way from Base Camp on my summit bid.
Something that really annoys me is seeing Sherpas carrying clients’ summit boots through the icefall. During the phase of the expedition when I’m climbing up and down the mountain to adjust to the altitude, and helping to stock the camps with food and equipment, I wear lightweight La Sportiva Nepal Top boots.
The type of crampons you use depends on the boots you wear. I use an old pair of Black Diamond Sabretooth crampons as they happen to fit the Everest and the Nepal Top boots very well. I want crampons that go on quickly. I don’t want to be fiddling around with lots of straps in the cold at the South Col and courting frostbite. My steel Sabretooths are a basic step-in model and sport a single neoprene retaining strap. I can easily clip them on to my boots while wearing gloves.
By contrast, lightweight aluminium crampons on Everest are a recipe for disaster because the ice is bullet-hard. I know of at least one climber whose summit day was ruined because their aluminium crampons snapped. Steel doesn’t have to mean heavy; Petzl makes some impressively lightweight steel crampons. My lightweight axe also has a steel rather than an aluminium head so I can perform tasks such as chopping tent platforms.
I always carry sufficient gear for a crevasse rescue, including two ice screws, two slings, Prusik loops, a Wild Country Ropeman, and four or five snaplink and screwgate carabiners. I have two short lengths of rope called cowstails attached to my lightweight harness. One cowstail attaches to a Jumar clamp and the other goes to a carabiner. During descents, I hand-wrap along the rope.
Happy camper
I’ve spent more time at the foot of Everest during the past five years than anywhere else in the world, so my Base Camp set-up is quite luxurious. My Mountain Hardwear (MHW) Trango 4 tent has lots of pockets for things such as iPods and speakers. I outfit it with two locally made sleeping mats, a Therm-a-Rest, a Karrimat, a blanket, a duvet jacket, two pillows, a –30°C synthetic bag and a lightweight down bag.
On the hill, I sleep inside the same –40°C down bag that I have used for the past six years. I lie on a three-quarter-length Therm-a-Rest and a full-length, closed-cell foam pad inside one of several geodesic tents, which I share with up to two Sherpas or climbers. The tents are tied to rocks at Camps 2 and 4. Bamboo stakes are used at Camps 1 and 3.
I use a much smaller rucksack than you might expect. I carry a 50-litre rucksack and I think that’s big enough for all of my kit, which includes an Icom walkie-talkie, a satellite phone, a stainless-steel flask for summit day, snacks such as cheese and saucisson, and Nalgene water bottles (one of which I usually wear in an insulated pouch on my harness for easy access). I use energy powder to help mask the taint of water poured from a dirty pan.
My kit bag includes Icebreaker base layers in light or white colours. Over the top of my base layer, I usually wear a thin Polartec 100 fleece. I also have a much warmer MHW Monkey Man fleece and a thin synthetic duvet. Low down on the mountain, I wear a pair of sadly discontinued MHW Navigation Pants. Like the Icebreaker clothing, the light colour of these trousers helps to reflect the sun’s rays.
The icefall is the hardest place to get the clothing right. Although it’s cold at 5am, when the sun comes up, the temperature suddenly becomes ‘scorchio’. For this reason, the layering system is the way forward, and I use a variety of clothing combinations all the way through to Camp 3.
I also carry a very thin Gore-Tex jacket and pants. They weigh virtually nothing and sit in the bottom of my bag. I throw them on if the wind picks up or if I start to feel cold. My one-piece down suit goes on at Camp 3. I wear it with an Icebreaker top and bottoms, a one-piece sleeveless Polartec Power Stretch suit, and a thin fleece top. In recent years, I have taken my down suit off on the descent from the summit because I hate being too hot.
Gloves and gas
Big down mitts are essential above Camp 3 but they need to be reasonably dextrous so you can use your Jumar. I wear a leather-palmed guides’ glove in the icefall. Below Camp 3, I use a wool hat that I bought locally in Namche Bazaar or a peak cap with neck protection. On summit day, I wear a Windstopper balaclava. I cut out the nose piece to accommodate my TopOut oxygen mask.
The TopOut is more comfortable, has a better field of view, and doesn’t ice up as much as other oxygen masks. All the major teams bar one currently use TopOut with Poisk’s ubiquitous aluminium-and-Kevlar oxygen bottles. On summit day, I use two or three oxygen bottles, depending on how quickly my team is moving. The oxygen is highly compressed: a so-called ‘four litre’ cylinder actually contains several thousand litres of oxygen. At a flow rate of four litres per minute, it will last for around four hours. Lighter three-litre bottles are also used.
My team leaves Camp 4 at around 10pm. We aim to reach the summit between dawn and 10am; 1pm is my final turnaround time as I want to be back at Camp 4 by 3pm. But would I try to summit again with a head injury? Probably not.
21st-century Sherpas
Summit Sherpas are getting more and more savvy about the kit they use. Although they are often given kit by Western climbers who have fulfilled their mountaineering dreams, Sherpas are always looking to upgrade their gear: they do invest in their own equipment, especially high-altitude boots.
For the Sherpas on some teams who do the grunt work through the icefall, it can be a different story. I still see Sherpas going to Camp 2 and occasionally Camp 3 wearing jeans and low-quality sunglasses, and using ill-fitting crampons. I’ve even spotted a Sherpa wearing a pair of lightweight alpine summer boots on a carry to 8,000 metres. I’m pleased to say that all of our Sherpas are reasonably well equipped.
Unfortunately, there is a lot of kudos in the Sherpa community for having the panda-eyes look at the end of the climbing season. But in this day and age, skin cancer is a real concern. I carry more suncream than I need, and I’m always handing it out.
Even the most poorly equipped climbing Sherpa owns kit that is light years ahead of Nepalese trekking porters, which is why I’m a big supporter of Porters’ Progress (www.portersprogress.org).
Ten of the best
Having climbed the world’s highest peak seven times, Kenton knew exactly what equipment he needed to take on his eighth ascent. Here’s a selection of his essential items, including hi-tech eyewear, mountain clothing, electronic gadgetry – and, given the meeting between his head and a falling rock on his second climb, an interesting line in protective headgear
Start the slideshow (10 pictures)
Don’t forget…
… CE category 4 goggles and sunglasses. My goggles are mirrored. I have two pairs of goggles and four pairs of sunglasses in case any of my team or my Sherpas (or me!) break theirs
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