Everybody Goes Home...

I don't even know where to begin. The last four days have been a blur. Multiple 4:30am wake ups for all day missions. Guess I'll start at the last calm evening. 

The final week of the Everest season typically provides a fair bit of high mountain drama and this year has been no different. 

Hundreds of people all move up into position to summit around the same time. This is due to the weather window being fairly narrow and if you miss it, you're either stuck in screaming winds and cold or you call it and come home with no summit. Many teams feel this pressure and all line up at the same time to hit that precious week of low winds. 

A number of folks get in trouble and many of them don't have the moxie or the assistance of a world class guide to get down alive. Crowding, wind, cold and inexperience all play a big part in creating a total shitshow. This what we encountered the last few days. 

The weather forecast for the night of the 17th showed very high winds so we assumed that all the teams would see the same thing we did and delay arriving on the exposed South Col (Camp 4 @ 26,000ft) till the next day. Turns out, several teams went anyway. 

And this is when the wheels started falling off. 

The next day we began receiving reports of 24+ hr summit attempts, frostbite, exposure and severe altitude illness. We were hearing that clients and a few Sherpa guides were scattered and stranded above high camp and in big trouble. Many of those that did get down to the relative safety of Camp 4 began tearing through other teams' supplemental oxygen cylinders. Obviously this is a shitty thing to do and in my opinion, is not only worthy of an ass whooping, it's grounds for criminal charges. Stealing supplemental oxygen from climbers that are expecting it to be in place for their upcoming ascent or for use in emergencies is about as low as one can go in the world of mountain karma. It has happened before and sadly will happen again. 

We were hearing that Chinese, Indian and UAE teams were reporting several of their members were either broke off completely and requiring assistance or, in a few cases, unaccounted for. Anticipating such a setting, we had arranged for our stud Sherpa team to be in place at Camp 4 the next day to help clean up the mess and help evac climbers in need. Once the rescue request was made, our guys activated quickly. We got confirmation that an Indian woman and her Sherpa guide were "stuck" just below the south summit (28,500ft). At the same time that call came in, Lakpa and Nima Dorje were tending to a sick American climber that was the client of a fairly large operator on the mountain. They worked alongside the guide to nurse this fellow back to health and ultimately helped in lowering him all the way down to Camp 2. 

So that left Mingma and Nima Ninja to head up from Camp 4 to locate the Indian woman and her guide. For all intents and purposes they were essentially on the moon... and our guys would be their only chance of survival. 

It was 8pm and -20F. 

The next morning we woke to hear that our guys had found the 2 stranded climbers at just above 28,000ft. They were out of oxygen and water. Our guys provided them hot drinks and then, because of the disparity of extra oxygen cylinders, provided them their own personal oxygen masks. 

Talk about selfless. 

The woman was barely able to bear weight and required over five hours of labor intensive "short roping" down to Camp 4. Essentially they lowered her 2,000 ft down a snow slope with the occasional rock feature. 

At the same time these events were unfolding, we were getting word that a young Dutch male had died at Camp 4 after returning from the summit. There are plenty of news outlets reporting extensively on his plight so I'll just add that his sudden deterioration was another source of confusion and tension in the flow of communication between the players at Camp 4, Basecamp and Lukla. 

That morning I hopped in Andrews stripped down Dynasty bird and we headed to EBC knowing that we were about to have a massive day of evacs and full blown rescues. One by one, Andrew landed at Camp 2, loaded up a single patient and dropped them with me at EBC. Twelve round trips later we had evac'd a ruptured Achilles' tendon, 4 deep tissue frostbite cases, 2 altitude illnesses and our 4 bad ass Sherpas. 

At that point it was noon and the weather was starting to deteriorate so we flew back down the valley to Lukla with the most critical of our lot. The remaining evacs were ferried down by other helos and the most in need of acute frostbite care were ultimately flown down to Kathmandu.

That evening as we are eating supper, discussing the day's events as well as what the next day might look like, we begin hearing the storyline of an Australian female climber who was in the middle of a full blown epic above Camp 4 with multiple Sherpas attempting to bring her down. I received a call from Gordo at Basecamp around 8pm requesting medical advice to pass along to the team that was trying to stabilize this woman. It sounded like she was quite ill but had a solid support staff tending to her. We discussed a plan that was to be passed on to Camp 4 and agreed to communicate throughout the night should her condition worsen. 

Around 5am the next morning I got an update that she had made it through the night, was speaking and the rescue team was very shortly going to begin assisting her down the mountain. 

We had several more evacs to clear from EBC that day so Chris and I stripped the seats from Kilo Bravo and headed up towards EBC. As we turned up above Pheriche, we ran into a wall of wind and snow that bounced us around enough to where Chris called it and we headed back to Lukla to wait it out. The weather in this valley is unquestionably the most fickle and unpredictable as anywhere in the world. We hoped to wait out the weather and go rescue this woman either later that day or perhaps the next morning once the Sherpa team delivered her to Camp 2. 

As we sat in the teahouse waiting for the clouds to clear, we got word that the female climber had died during the descent to Camp 3. The effort to get her down that terrain was superhuman. I'm confident that everyone involved did everything they could to save her life.
I had never met this woman, but her survival meant a great deal to me. I wanted so badly to help load her on the chopper and take her down to Kathmandu. I visualized it the night before. But it just wouldn't be the case. Once again, countless media sources have provided commentary about the death of this young woman. I've got nothing more to add. 

The next day we heard that our Sherpa team had just arrived into Camp 2 with the Indian woman they had rescued from just below the south summit. It was time to go pick her up. An hour later, Chris and I had Kilo Bravo stripped down and ready for the trip to Camp 2. As this was Chris' first landing at C2, we decided to drop me at EBC so he could navigate the tricky terrain with the absolute lightest helo possible. I watched as he crested over the icefall out of sight into the western cwm in very shitty conditions. Five minutes later he came over the radio telling me he was on his way down with a fairly critical patient.
I hopped in the bird with Chris and finally laid eyes on the Indian woman. She was not well. Shallow respirations, thready pulse, sluggish pupils and lower extremity cold injuries. Sick.
We lifted off from EBC weighted down and booked it straight to the Lukla hospital. We stabilized her and ultimately shipped her down to KTM to address her frostbite therapy. She'll live to fight another day. 

I didn't know it at the time, but that would be the final rescue of the season for us. The few remaining climbers descended without issue and we went straight into beer drinking mode. 

It's gonna take me awhile to process this two month experience. I'll have to reflect on it and I'm sure I'll write a bit more. 

For now... I turn my attention to putting a bow on it. It's time to go home. To my family.
‪#‎beofservice‬
Namaste. 

I Work With Some VERY Bad Dudes...

To date, this was the most high profile rescue of the season and showcased to the world exactly what I've known for months... our Sherpa rescue team is the most bad ass, highly trained, hard charging collection of alpine rescuers the Himalaya has ever seen. 

Yesterday we received a report that 2 Slovakian climbers had been hit by an avalanche around 23,000 ft while climbing the extremely difficult southwest face of Everest. They were stuck, one was injured and they were requesting a rescue. Based on sat phone reports from the climbers, they were perched some 2,000 ft above the valley floor, holing up on a ledge known as Bonningtons Plateau. They could neither ascend nor descend. A long line helicopter rescue was out of the question based on the steepness of the slope and surrounding rock and ice. In order to rescue these guys, a team would have to climb up the technical face, secure the Slovaks and descend with them to standard Everest Camp 2. 

Our 5 man Sherpa team have essentially been training their entire careers for this operation and knew this was the type of mission for which they were in place on Everest for the season. Once they heard about this and what it would require of them to accomplish the task, they were like caged animals at basecamp... they couldn't get their harnesses on fast enough. 

The southwest face of Everest is unquestionably one of the most technical and challenging routes on the highest mountain in the world. Sir Chris Bonnington lead a team of Brits with the first successful summit of the route in 1975 and it has only successfully been repeated by two other teams since then. Several other teams have attempted it... all have failed, several have died.
It's steep, sustained and has an abundance of objective dangers at every turn. 

At the moment, our Sherpa team was positioned at Everest Basecamp (EBC) preparing to ascend to Camp 2 tomorrow and rotate around the mountain for the next 2 weeks as the heart of the summit season is in full swing. So, first things first, we had to get them up to Camp 2. I hopped in the Dynasty helicopter with Andrew again and flew up to EBC to help coordinate and discuss the next 24 hr operation with our EBC team. In order to move 4 of our guys and all of their gear, it would require 4 helo shuttles from EBC up to Camp 2. They would then begin climbing from there up to the Plateau around noon with the hope of reaching the Slovaks by dark. Then it would be up to them based on time, terrain, condition of the climbers and group fatigue whether they would continue to descend or wait till morning. I gave them each a big hug and wished them safety and strength as they boarded the stripped down bird in succession. Close to an hour later, Andrew had them all in position at Camp 2 and I flew with him back down to Lukla where we would monitor comms all afternoon into the evening. 

We settled in to our Lukla headquarters and patiently waited for each of the team's transmissions. They were climbing fast. And I mean really fast. Within 2 hours they were half way up to the Plateau. Another hour later they relayed back to us that they had made visible contact with the Slovaks. Then, 4 hours and close to 2,000 vertical feet of technical terrain from stepping off, they reached the stranded party. 

Unbelievable. 

They found one of the climbers to be able bodied and ambulatory on his own power. The other guy was essentially blind from taking the brunt of the spindrift avalanche in his face which left him with painful corneal abrasions. He could walk but would need guidance with his new found blindness. 

A blind dude descending Everest... I've heard that story before ;)

The team made a quick decision to start the descent in deteriorating conditions at 6pm. Ballsy for sure. We expected to be sitting by the radio till the wee hours, so we were a bit surprised to get a transmission 2 hrs later that the entire team and Slovaks had safely made it back to Camp 2. An absolute Herculean effort. 

The next morning Andrew and I headed back to EBC in a stripped down bird. A quick stop at the EBC landing pad to drop extra fuel and the two of us began the circling flight up to Camp 2 at 21,000 ft. The conditions were perfect as we crested over the icefall and entered the Cwm. The walls of Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse were glistening with fresh snow. We got a visual on the lower landing zone and Andrew deftly landed us on top of the glacier. 

I exited the helo and walked directly to our Sherpa team and bear hugged each of them. They looked remarkably fresh. 

Then I got a good look at my blind Slovakian. He had a patch over his right eye, sunglasses on and was sitting on his pack in the snow. I had him hold onto my shoulder as I led him into the spooled up helicopter. Andrew lifted us off, swung the bird down the valley and over the icefall. We landed at EBC a couple minutes later and got out so Andrew could return for the second Slovak.
The mid 40s, temporarily blind Slovakian climber was all smiles upon landing. I applied some ocular drops in each eye which quickly relieved his pain and I watched him fully relax now that his pain was gone.
He knew how close they had come to the edge and what an effort our Sherpa team had gone to in order to safely get them down. He was effusively grateful. Yesterday afternoon they were precariously perched high up on a technical face unable to escape... today, they were headed down to Kathmandu for more pain meds, a hot shower and a hotel bed. 

There is no doubt that what our Sherpa team did yesterday was of epic proportion. Their job this season was to conduct rescue operations on the biggest mountain in the world. They transcended that yesterday and took it to legendary status. 

They are my heroes. 

One self-appointed spokesman of the Khumbu newsfeed claimed from his home in the U.S. that we "aggressively inserted" ourselves into the scene to perform the rescue. It should be clear that without an aggressive approach these Slovakian men would have met a much different fate. 

The summit window is wide open for the next 10 days. I'm guessing our guys will have more work up high.
And we will be aggressive.
‪#‎beofservice‬

Go Save Jesus On Your Birthday...

Due to spotty (read... none) interweb, this is a post from last Saturday.
Today we completed a 24 hr rescue of 2 Slovakians that were trapped on the Southwest face of Everest. More on that later.
For now... May 7. 

The older you get, the less important birthdays are... right?
Well, this one was pretty important. 

I woke this morning only to remember that it was my birthday after seeing the date on my watch as I quickly pulled myself from bed to get dressed. We had work to do and birthdays were an afterthought. 

We received a call last night that there was an extremely critical climber circling the drain at Makalu Basecamp (19,100 ft). The report was that he was very close to death and everyone there was concerned he would not make it through the night. All the other important facts like age, gender, nationality, history or chief complaint were not filtered down to me so this would be flying in to the darkness towards an unknown situation. Pretty much par for the course over here. 

We spooled up the helicopter and were just about to lift off as a massive cloudbank enveloped the heliport in Lukla. The pilot turned down the engine and we watched in awe as the helicopter was instantly swallowed by white. Couldn't see 10 feet beyond the bird. 

And just as with most important things in life... the timing was quite auspicious. Moments later the bottom dropped out of the sky as a monsoonal rain pounded down for a solid 2 hours. If we had lifted off two minutes earlier, we absolutely would have never made it up to rescue this fellow some 10,000ft higher up and surely would have been shut down from returning to Lukla... and potentially a lot worse. We were grounded and would have to delay till the next morning. 

I went to sleep last night not knowing anything about this sick person that was surely having the shittiest night of their life. Perhaps he/she wouldn't even make it through the night. Maybe this person felt like we had abandon them. I tossed and turned wondering how alone and scared this person must feel. 

So this morning dawns with patchy clouds and no wind. I was fired up to get going and hopefully save this persons life. We spooled up again to go see what we would find some thirty nautical miles and a lifetime away from Lukla. 

Makalu is a stunning mountain a couple dozen miles east, southeast from Everest. It sits very close to the Tibetan border as a stand-alone sentinel almost to distance itself from the crowds on Everest. To fly there requires crossing one of several high passes. On marginal weather days it's advisable to start evaluating the succession of passes from lowest to highest... obviously using the the lowest one possible, only using the highest one as a last resort. 

As we crept up the valley, my pilot Nischal and I kept gazing out the right side of the bird to see if the lower, standard pass was open. Not a chance. Completely socked in. OK, higher up the the valley we eval the next option. Nope. Massive wall of clouds. Higher and higher up the valley we go. Past the last, highest village of Chukung. Then over Island Peak Basecamp and into a sea of clouds. Captain Nischal and I started referring to our strategy as "connecting the dots". He would fly a hundred yards and then find a little "sucker hole" and take it, each time gaining some altitude. We continued to climb... now over 20,000ft. I would occasionally catch a glimpse of some Himalayan giant out of the glass in front of me... just popping through a veil of clouds. We were heading for what I thought was the absolute highest pass over to the Makalu region and it looked fairly clear on our side. As we drew closer we both let out an audible "shit" as we saw the impassable cloudbank resting just on the other side of the pass. 

I thought that would be the end of it and we would turn back, but Nischal in his 18 years of Himalayan piloting said... "Let's try the very highest one. Our last shot." 

OK. Let's do it. 

We climbed another couple hundred feet and followed a massive, corniced wall as it hooked around to the north until a small nook appeared. The captain deftly crested about fifty feet over the ridge down the other side. The helo altimeter read 21,000ft. I could feel that the helicopter was straining at its max, cutting through the thin air with every rotor spin. 

Five minutes later we came in hot on top of Makalu Basecamp. Our patient was a mid 30s, Spaniard named Jesus that could not walk. With the help of the ground crew of Sherpa, I loaded him into the helo till he flopped into the back floor. I turned his oxygen mask up and told the captain that we were locked and loaded. He powered up the bird and I listened again as the rotors thwapped through the thin air. 

Jesus was a very experienced climber with five, 8,000-meter peaks on his resume. He had never had any physical problems in his 10-year career. Throughout the flight he continued to describe to me in Spanish how he was convinced he would have died within two hours of our arrival. He had been suffering from a very elevated heart rate and chest pain for 2 days and told me he was losing his will to fight. 

We flew him straight to the Lukla hospital where his tears flowed freely. I told that him that today was my birthday and he had given me the best present ever. He gave me the opportunity to be a part of a renewal of life. I was a part of a team that gave him the chance to celebrate another birthday of his own. 

I can't imagine a more profound gift.
Well... that, and we got to rescue Jesus on my birthday.
Pretty dope.
‪#‎beofservice‬

Be Of Service To Your Own...

Yesterday’s morning radio comm began with a rather impassioned call from our team up at Everest Basecamp imploring us to get a bird up to Camp 1 as promptly as possible. A close friend of one of our 5 super-stud climbing Sherpas was at Camp 1 in dire straights. The evening before, while carrying a load through the icefall, this mid 20’s, highly experienced climbing Sherpa had an acute onset of left sided chest pain. The story we were receiving was that Ongchu Sherpa was writhing in pain, clutching his chest and gasping for air. And this dude was a stud… not some middle-aged, guided, western climber. This lead climbing Sherpa had multiple 8,000-meter summits under his belt including standing on top of Everest twice. His Sherpa brethren surrounding him were extremely concerned for him as he was clearly in overwhelming pain and from their perspective, close to death.

We absolutely needed to go get him.

And here’s where things get a little complicated… both of our helicopters were grounded down in Kathmandu getting their regularly scheduled maintenance. So of course during our mandated 4 hours of down daylight time, we have a “do or die” mission requiring a helo evac from 20,000ft.

Perfect.

Luckily for us there is another helo operation basing out of Lukla with a badass B3 bird and an even badder ass Kiwi pilot named Andrew. I had been intermittently chatting it up and swapping stories with Andrew during the month the two of us have spent flying on separate operations in and out of the Lukla heliport.
Good dude.
Sick pilot.

So let’s get to work.

Once all the operations guys made their deals and we were confirmed a go, Andrew and I high fived and started planning. We would strip all the seats out of the bird here in Lukla, clip me in via my climbing harness into a fixed cabin bolt and fire up to Camp 1 to scoop up this fella.

I have to admit that I was just a twinge skeptical that a healthy, mid 20s, super fit climbing Sherpa was having a heart attack… but the approach to medicine is always to assume the worse and work backwards from there.

The weather was manageable with gentle winds as the patient was loaded into the bird.

Then I got my first look at this guy.
He was sick and this was no bullshit.

The report from up high was bang on… true to the tale, as he collapsed into the helo he clutched at his chest and squirmed violently in pain. As I went in to move his sunglasses aside so I could more clearly see his face, he took a wild, scared swing at me. He was in pain, frightened and delirious.

The last thing you want in a helicopter is to have a passenger goin all UFC in the back of the cabin. I managed to get a quick exam in with some basic vitals and promptly loaded up a dose of Haldol. This would shut him down for the length of the flight and allow us to safely return down valley.

The 10-minute flight felt like an hour. Every minute or two Ongchu would appear to pass out for a couple seconds, requiring me to press him with a solid sternal rub after which he would pop up in another confused thrashing session. The Haldol helped to sedate him but he clearly still had some fight left hiding inside his pain and delirium. Each time he dropped out I prepared to begin CPR on him…but each time he would spring back to life.

I alerted Andrew of Ongchu's tenuous condition and how great it would be to get down valley as quick as possible. Then Andrew gave me a choice… fly at a higher elevation and arrive a minute quicker or stay lower in the valley and take that extra minute in flight time. I chose to get lower as quickly as possible as my likely diagnosis was starting to take shape in my mind and the higher altitude was not helping his case. I began to get a sense that this was in fact not a heart attack but an episode of coronary artery spasm, which is not all that uncommon with exertion at altitude. The process is just like it sounds… the coronary artery goes into spasm, which intermittently occludes blood and nutrients into the heart. It hurts and robs a heart of the thing it needs the most… blood. Typically these episodes don’t last a very long time but my guess was that the excessive altitude exacerbated this whole process.

It felt like we were in a rocket ship. Faster than I’ve ever been in a helicopter. Andrew very nonchalantly radios back that he has the helo pinned. 
No shit.
We are absolutely nuking down the valley.

We make the call to bypass the helo pad in Lukla and head straight to the Lukla hospital landing pad. I knew the local hospital had all the staffing and equipment to handle a potential cardiac patient and was an hour closer than traveling all the way down to Kathmandu.

Andrew requested the tower hold all other aircraft as we blew over Lukla and dropped down onto the hospital LZ.

We carried Ongchu into the ER bay, got him settled into a bed, hooked up to monitors and I officially handed over care.

Yesterday afternoon I ventured back over to the hospital to get the final diagnosis. Dr K.C. confirmed my suspicion… no signs of a heart attack but we both agreed that his heart was indeed sick and he was in need of further cardiology follow up in KTM today. That quick 10,000ft descent relaxed that coronary artery and his heart began to normalize.

Our Sherpa crew felt this one. They were scared for their friend.
It’s another clear illustration… altitude is no joke. It’s the invisible assassin. Can take a strong man or woman and drive them to their knees.

I’m very satisfied looking back on this one. Our team showed how well it could perform at a high level with absolute situational awareness.
No down days in the Khumbu.
‪#‎beofservice‬

These Mountains Shook A Year Ago

These mountains shook a year ago today. And they shook hard. 
Just like everyone else, I woke to images of frightened Nepali men, women and children screaming and fleeing from devastating rubble and tragedy. The depth of the tragedy was still too fresh to appreciate but it was clear... this was an immense national disaster that would need solid international support to recover from. The people of Nepal, that I cared so deeply for, needed help. 
For the next week I tapped into every resource in my Rolodex trying to find a medical team that had a mission that matched my desired intentions... to serve the countryside of Nepal. It was clear that plenty of assistance was flooding into KTM and the Khumbu Valley. I was more concerned with the rural areas that weren't on the major trekking routes. The village clusters that have to walk miles for even the most basic medical attention. Those same villages build their homes by simply stacking rocks and mud with the occasional bag of mortar mixed in. These are the homes that crumble with major seismographic events. This is where medical assistance was needed and this is where I wanted to go.
MB says I paced around like a caged lion that week, waiting to connect with the right team that had an open slot.
As good networks do, mine provided me my wish. I was ultimately connected to a non profit called @nycmedics. Our light and fast team of docs, PAs, RNs and medics identified the most remote, most effected regions we could and we flew in.
In the month on the ground we treated close to 800 patients as tremor after tremor shook us.
A year later I'm back in Nepal working search and rescue in the trekker/climber saturated Khumbu Valley. But my thoughts are with the beautiful villagers of Langerchet and Towal. I wonder how they are a year later. I hope they are happy and healthy. And I hope the ground is stable underneath them.
‪#‎nepalearthquake‬ ‪#‎nepalnow‬ ‪#‎beofservice‬

Making Friends With My Nemesis

Sitting in my tent at 19,000 ft in the middle of the Andes Range in Argentina, I remember coming to the realization that the wind is my enemy.  We were not friends and we would never be.  Seventy mile per hour constant winds were pummeling my tent with unbelievable and unrelenting force. This had been going on for 2 days now and I was convinced that it had become personal. A gloves off, ass kickin, vindictive battle. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it…I was going to lose.

And this disdain was fostered early on…

As a child, I remember riding with my parents in my Dad’s T top Camaro with the windows down on a summer day. My parents seemed to be embracing the wind blowing around the car, enjoying the warm breeze. But I clearly remember worrying that the paper and objects in the car were going to blow away…maybe even me from the backseat. I didn’t like the chaos that came with heavy wind. Around that time I also remember being made very aware of the wrath of a southern summer time thunderstorm.  Immense lightening crashing all around, buckets of rain filling the woods and of course…my soon to be nemesis, the wind…just hammering the house with what felt like hurricane force power.

I have never liked the wind and throughout my mountaineering career this animosity has been nurtured with countless events that have supported my contempt. I have had dozens if not hundreds of summits rejected due to high winds. I have returned to lower camps on mountains from up high only to find my tents and gear throttled beyond recognition from a recent windstorm. I have retrieved bodies that were cast down the glaciers of the Alaska Range like rag dolls by the high winds. 

No, the wind I were not friends. And we would never be.

One of the things I have realized in my path towards middle age and the slight bit of wisdom that comes with my quickly populating gray hairs is that I refuse to foster negativity. I am realizing how important it is to surround myself with positivity…with clarity and goodness. And I mean exclusively positive.  By doing that, it becomes so very easy to push away objects or people that exude toxicity or anything of the Darth Vader ilk.

As I inventoried the good and the bad…I started on my culling process…jetting the bad and nurturing the good.  Some were clearly defined on one side or the other…some a bit more vague.  Some required a change in my own perception…some just required getting closer to things/people that I felt held promise.  Some required cutting the lines completely.  It’s been like Spring-cleaning of the soul. I recommend just such an exercise. It’s enlightening and cleansing to say the least.

Mountaineering and climbing were at the top of my list of “What brings me joy”. As I reflected on my 20-year mountaineering career though, I realized that the wind was a variable that was the yang in my alpine yin. I knew that it was a vital force in the construction of the very mountains I was climbing and through its forces, vital weather patterns were born. I knew that it had its place and appreciated its presence. Just not while I’m high on a mountain please.

So I decided it was time to become friends with the wind. I thought on how to go about doing this. I had paraglided quite a bit a few years back and although that was flying and dancing with the wind it was more about thermals and floating. There was way to much sitting around with paragliding.  Too many other variables in play. I wanted to harness the wind…I wanted to seek out the wind and desire it’s presence. I wanted to hunt the wind instead of being hunted.

Then it occurred to me as Merry Beth, Jace and I were planning for our inaugural trip down to Baja in 2010. We were heading to a small little fishing village on the East Cape of Baja that sits on the Sea of Cortez. Los Barriles was known for fishing in the summer but it in the Mexican winter it became a hotbed for this crazy sport called kiteboarding or kitesurfing. This wasn’t windsurfing with all of their cumbersome and unwieldy gear. This was a dude or dudette flying across the water, on a board under a huge, beautiful kite…being powered by the wind and the wind alone.

Eureka!!!!

The more I studied it and learned about it the more it turned me on. Within 24 hours of stepping foot in Baja I was in lessons. A week later (and dozens of epic crashes) I was finally getting up on my own and flying across the ocean.

Bliss.

Two years later I have now kited in Florida, Colorado, Texas, South Carolina, Haiti and next week, the Dominican Republic.  I have not only made friends with the wind but now we have an intimate relationship. I seek her out. I look for her on websites. I jones for her when she goes away.  I follow her to remote places.

I would encourage everyone to do a soulful recalibration. Bring in the good. Dump the nasty. Embrace the things that scare you and don’t be afraid to face the dragon. Joe Campbell would be proud.

Me and my new friend the wind will tell you…

Its time to fly!

Fellowship in the Andes

It's that time of year again... when my guest bedroom gets a gear bomb dropped right in the middle of it.

Duffel bags, electronics, solar panels, packs, sleeping bags, layers and layers of well broken in clothing, boots with the last trip's dirt caked in the tread... spread from wall to wall.
It's time to put my work clothes on and head out.

It's also around this time I do start to get a bit antsy...ready for an adventure...primed to breath some foreign air. I'm convinced that I'm genetically wired to implode if I don't escape the confines of the US at least once every 3 months. Can't say that I've tested out this theory in the past 20 years...but I'm guessing if I pushed the 3 month limit, something would would happen akin to the dude that had the creature pop out of his belly in Alien. I'll just continue to not test it.

As I've returned from expeditions over the years and recounted tales of adventures from far away lands, one comment has been repeated to me countless times from many of my good pals... "Dude, I want to come with you on one of your trips some day. No, seriously...do a trip sometime that I can join you."

Well, I listened and here we go...
Last year I laid it out there to a circle of my good friends that I would be putting together a trip to Peru to do our "Hidden Inca Trail" trek for exclusively friends and family...not knowing what kind of response I'd get. Be careful what you ask for.

This weekend 30 of my good friends and I will depart from our respective home airports and head for Lima, Peru with what will unquestionably be one of the most rowdy groups to ever set foot in South America. We will spend the next 2 weeks exploring the ancient city of Cusco, tromping through the rugged peaks of the Andes, getting our hands dirty with a day of community service in Chilipaua and most likely drinking a fair share of pisco sour along the way. My shaman friend, Sebastian will accompany us as a beacon of goodness throughout our journey. This man is pure magic with just thoughts of him making me feel cleaner and more grounded.

One of the joys of my job as an expedition guide is providing a venue for like minded folks to come together and bond over powerful experiences. I have been witness to dozens of life long relationships that were galvanized on the flanks of great peaks around the world. Climbing a mountain or trekking through remote alpine valleys places individuals in a wonderfully insulated world that requires bonding on a level that is difficult to attain in the ho-hum civilized world we walk around in day to day. As we sweat together weaving up and down these deep gorges and high passes, we go through our Heroes Journey together...establishing alliances, facing the dragon and sharing our tales. It is through this process that only we know...our own little secret that can never fully be told through photos and videos... that we are bonded forever.

I will watch with great joy as friends from my different worlds collide in one beautiful blend of adventure, culture and fellowship...forever to be linked by our shared walk.

Traffic Jam on Everest

Been reading quite a bit about the sketchy situation that is taking place on Everest this season. I just contributed to a NBC Nightly News interview with Brian Williams, so I thought it time to chime in here.

Four folks died last weekend as the first short weather window appeared on the mountain and created a "mad dash" attitude amongst the hundreds of commercial operations up there. A veritable conga line of folks were strung along the Lhotse Face all jockeying for position up at the high camp. The next night, the masses took off from 26,000ft towards the 29,035ft summit. Due to the excessive lines, inability to pass, extreme altitude and cold temps, folks were forced to essentially "stand around" for upwards of 3 hours waiting their turns. The four that died are suspected to have perished from altitude related illness and exposure, surely in part to standing in place for hours at a time at over 8,000 meters.

There are several well documented variables that are playing out there this season that are cumulatively at least contributing to most of the deaths there this year (10).

Primarily you have a large demographic of folks that have a strong desire to knock off the "7 Summits", which by default includes Everest. The only problem with this is many of the folks that seek out that objective have summited a total of 6 peaks...EVER...by the time they get to Everest. Many peak baggers these days fail to put in their apprenticeship prior to venturing up to the icy slopes of the Himalaya and arrive at Basecamp with minimal experience of how their bodies will react at extreme altitude and stress or even how to properly use their gear.

Now, I would never fault someone for setting a very high goal and set out to achieve it... but what is important to remind these folks is that lofty goals deserve a diligent amount of effort and work. Dozens of years in the mountains is important...understanding what altitude does to your body. Making decisions when you are ridiculously depleted. Establishing a sense of self reliance. These skills are only learned from years of working in the big hills.

Most of the Everest peak baggers are lulled into a sense of ease and complacency due to the fact that there are dozens of commercial guide outfitters that, for a lofty price tag will do everything for them except place their feet on the ground. This sets up a challenging dilemma for everyone. The Nepalese Ministry of Tourism will never turn down the huge money that Everest brings in to their impoverished nation (this year the Nepalese government reportedly issued around 340 permits at $10,000 each). The guide companies also have a hard time turning away such big $$$ (ranging from $25k up to $110k). And most frighteningly, the clients feel comfortable allowing the guides to do all the work and make all the decisions. There are plenty of stories out there about some dude or dudette with very limited experience making it to the top with just sheer conditioning and drive. What is typically not stated in these cases is how the guide provided all the critical decision making, life saving moves and logistical coordinating...which is what guide services do. I'm just not sure it's wise to coddle someone at 29,000ft.
You have the very young (13) and the very old (73) and I even heard...and I just can't believe this...a BLIND GUY summited Everest. What the hell? Must be easy.

Take all of the above issues and saddle them up with the fact that this season has been extraordinarily dry and windy on Everest. This has lead to very rocky conditions and lead to an excessive amount of rock and snow fall from the higher slopes which in turn has lead to several rock fall injuries this season as well as several abandon attempts simply due to the fact that the "route just wasn't in". My pals from the Eddie Bauer First Ascent team were attempting the very little climbed West Ridge and found the conditions to be horrific...mostly from poor snow coverage and high winds. That being said, these guys were bad ass for simply getting way up there and trying something VERY hard. Kudos to Charley, Jake, Dave and Brent.

The only humorous issue for me in this whole story is how on our summit night on Everest in 2001, all the other teams made it VERY clear they did not want to be around our team with Erik...assuming the blind guy would slow everyone down. Little did they know that Erik goes just as fast as everyone else on the type of terrain you encounter towards the top. I remember our expedition leader, PV telling the other teams..."yeah, you may want to avoid the night of the 24th. We might be really slow." That was some solid gamesmanship right there. We had summit night to ourselves. The only other humans we saw that night were these two guys that summited from the North side right around the same time we did. Otherwise that mountain was ours.

In any case, tonight another 100 or so folks are going for the top. I will send good warm and open space vibes to them as they push on.  May the stop lights remain green to the top.

Check out my contribution to the NBC Nightly News that aired on the 24th.

A CALL TO ADVENTURE Announces First 2012 Hero’s Journey

Press Release

Chiquita Brands International executives to participate in Sedona, Arizona May 10-13, 2012

Denver, Colorado, April 19, 2012:  A Call to Adventure, the partnership between MountainVision Inc, The Institute for Applied Human Excellence, and Summit of Everest Group LLC, is pleased to announce the confirmation of the first of its 2012 “Hero’s Journey” expeditions taking place in Sedona, Arizona on May 10-13, 2012.

Executives from Chiquita Brands International will be participating in the journey that includes personal, interpersonal, and team based adventure challenges including a summit attempt of Mount Humphreys, Arizona’s tallest peak.  The mountains will be the medium as they explore these themes and their effect on each individual and their respective lives.  Upon conclusion, each of the participants will have developed their own, personal “Hero’s Ethos” to help guide how they want to live their lives.

A Call to Adventure is currently accepting applications for our 2012 Colorado expeditions July 31^st – August 3^rd, September 11 – 14^th, and October 9^th – 12^th.  Private expeditions are available as well.  Contact us at www.acalltoadventure.com for more information.

About A Call to Adventure

A Call to Adventure is a partnership between MountainVision Inc., The Institute for Applied Human Excellence, and Summit of Everest Group LLC.  We believe we are all leaders to some extent in our lives, butheroes are something more. More importantly, anyone can be a hero in his or her own life.  Decided and committed to the exceptional, they are on a journey to develop and live an ethos that guides their behavior on an individual, interpersonal and team, organization, and community levels. For those who wish, A Call to Adventure uses the mountains and our professionally designed programs as the medium to lead you through this journey and develop your Hero’s Ethos.

Flip of a Coin and Your Life Goes…. This Way →

One of the many good things that came out of Expedition Impossible was getting to reconnect with a number of old friends from back in the day that recognized that scrawny, tattooed redneck running around Morocco with a blind guy on TV.

Perhaps the most remarkable was hearing from my pal Mike Morgan…an instrumental person in my life. Mike and I just spent a couple days together recently and had a blast reminiscing about many of the countless situations we found ourselves in, back in the day. One event of chance though, was perhaps the most critical in who I am as a person today.

At the ripe age of 18, Mike and I were attending East Tennessee State University in Johnson City, TN with a number of other guys of our similar ilk. What is that ilk, you ask? Well, let’s just say that we spent a significant amount of our time that year in J. City pretending we were in some country music video…chasing the “Ws”…whiskey, weed and women.

Oh, and going to class? That was optional… at best. I followed my stellar 1^st semester academic performance of a 1.2 GPA with a “is that really possible” 0.6 my 2^nd semester. Needless to say, it was clear that ETSU wasn’t going to ask me back for my sophomore year.

As that underachieving end of my first year of “higher” education was coming to a close, the restlessness that I felt brewing inside was also felt by Mike Morgan, one of closest pals on “Team W”. We had discussed on many occasions the fact that we needed to get out of the south. That we needed to explore and adventure. That we needed to see what else was out there. We didn’t know what any of that meant in terms of how to execute, but our intentions were clear. We wanted to go and do something.

After a few weeks of discussion and a VERY small bit of research, Mike and I had determined that snow skiing would be the activity that would guide us to the promised land of adventure. I had been skiing since I was 13 (thanks to my parents noting my interest after a church group trip to Snowshoe when I was a wee kid). Mike had in fact been racing on a ski team in the rugged hills around Gatlinburg for almost a decade. We both loved skiing but knew that it was only a catalyst in getting us out on the edge of something we had yet to see and feel.

To that end result, we had narrowed our landing spots down to one of two places… Vermont and the northeast slopes Killington, where we would only be a day drive from the safety of our family network should we decide to tap out at any point. The other option was the vast unknown of Colorado and the clear umbilical cut that comes from moving ¾ of the country away from anyone you know. Just the thought of “goin out west” at the age of 19 to ski and explore was enough to stand the hairs up on our necks. I bet between us we had less than $500, a couple of vehicles held together with some duct tape and bailing wire and some ski gear. We weighed the pros and cons of both locations for what seemed like a fairly substantial amount of time (considering we were still very busy in our pursuit of the Ws, and clearly this was very time consuming). We were torn. Vermont vs Colorado. It seems clear now that the decision should be a no brainer… but at the time, it was tough.

Then, as all good life changing decisions do, it came down to the flip of a coin.

Heads = Vermont

Tails = Colorado

I remember it as clear as yesterday, Mike and I sitting in a fairly deserted cafeteria on a beautiful southern afternoon around 2pm (we had just woken up).

Quarter comes out. Mike flips it and I watched, somehow knowing that my future was very much wrapped up in which way the coin landed. He held his hand over it, painfully extended the delay. Both of us smiling at what would dictate at the least, a year of our life.

And there it was… tails. Colorado. Oh shit. Should we flip it again? See if we get the same answer. That’s a long way from here. Other than some guy Mike had met once from Gatlinburg, we didn’t know a soul in Colorado.

We giggled a bit and decided we had to listen to the coin flip forces that be.

A month later our cars were packed, our families were kissed and we began our drive west.

The subsequent 23 years have been eventful to say the least. Colorado is my home. Boulder is as a part of me as any place that I was raised. Clearly my career, my family and my happiness have been, in part, defined by Colorado and the proximity to these wonderful mountains and lifestyle that exists here. This venue has been instrumental in how it has sculpted me.

That quarter landed on tails for a reason. In my humble opinion, random chance doesn’t exist. We make our own paths and then we walk on them. The way we walk down these paths is entirely up to us.

Go ahead and flip a coin. Perhaps a roshambo …but I’m pretty sure that the result is not random. Hard sayin.

I'm Not a Venture Capitalist...Or Am I?

Venture capitalist (VC) def: a person or entity that provides financial capital to early-stage, high-potential, high risk, growth startup companies.

Now that’s not exactly the same definition you would find if you used Wikipedia to look up “mountain guide” (that’s found here). And of course going into my event last week where I was speaking to 250 venture capitalists from around the country, I wasn’t sure I had a lot in common with these tech savvy, investment types.

However, after a little research on the industry, it became clear we were not so dissimilar… “high potential, high risk”… sure sounds like the mindset necessary to approach a big mountain peak. The risk is high, but the reward is great.

I think climbing is such a great venue to discover this concept of high reward/high risk. Whether you are at the base of a short rock route or a massive 8,000 meter Himalayan giant, the risk of failure is sometimes overwhelming… providing a great magnet for keeping your butt squarely on the couch.

Our whole way of life today is dedicated to the removal of risk. Cradle to grave we are supported, insulated, and isolated from the risks of life.

Risk is a verb.

It’s also a mindset that has been diluted over the years. I am reminded of a quote I heard a few years ago (excuse me if I butcher it):

“This nation was built by men who took risks… pioneers who were not afraid of the wilderness, business men who were not afraid of failure, scientists who were not afraid of the truth, thinkers who were not afraid of progress, dreamers who were not afraid of action.”

What comes with great risk is the opportunity to fall directly and sometimes dramatically on your face. It’s guaranteed that if you put it all out there enough times, you will experience failure. It hurts…almost always emotionally, sometimes financially or in my case, physically. The repercussions for failing on a mountain can come down to simply not standing on the summit or, in some cases, an ending that has more mortal results.

However, those of us that are willing to hang it all out also know that sweet taste of the summit. Once you’ve been there, it becomes the mystical memory of satisfaction…that has to be tasted and experienced again…and again. Determination and drive are the ideal defenses for the fear of failure and resistance to risk.

Risk is also important in venues well beyond the realm of business and the mountains. Our personal lives require risk as well. The requirements and commitments necessary to raising a well balanced and loving family are significant. The risk of sacrificing life as you know it in order to give so much of your bandwidth to show your family how much you love and adore them. It requires going out on a limb. Isn't that where the fruit is?

My friend Philip Kirakofe was one of the originators of the Failure Club. In Failure Club, members learn to defy the fears associated with ‘failure’ by pursuing seemingly impossible goals that they set for themselves. From the outset, failure is not only a highly probable outcome, it is the desired outcome. Only through embracing the reality of failure can its’ societal stigmas be stripped away and replaced with an inspirational alternative.

Take risks. Hang it all out there. Give it a shot. Try to do so in every facet of your life…personally, professionally, emotionally.

Life has no romance without risk.

Soldiers to Summits Q&A

High Ground, the documentary film that showcased our 2010 Soldiers to Summits climb in Nepal, had a stellar showing at the Boulder International Film Festival this weekend. Those of us behind the Soldiers to Summits project are so very proud of the Serac Adventure Films crew for creating such a wonderful film that showcases the challenges that all vets face when returning from service.

When Erik Weihenmayer, Jeff Messner and I came up with the "S2S" project in 2009, we knew that bringing a film crew to document our ascent with a group of injured vets would be an important aspect of providing a rehabilitative tool for freshly injured soldiers once we returned from our expedition. We believe that once High Ground does it's film festival rounds it will be used in just such a way... around the country at all of the Warrior Transition Units and rehab hospitals such as Walter Reed. The power of film is immeasurable. We are thrilled to see this all come together before our eyes.

Soldiers to Summits is not a "one off" climbing trip. We have expanded our concept and are set to take our next set of injured vet participants to climb Cotopaxi this December. What is important to remember is that this isn't actually about 'climbing mountains with some injured soldiers' at all.

We believe that by using the mountains as a venue and incorporating a strong, rehabilitative curriculum for our vets, we are providing them the opportunity to reclaim something that perhaps was taken from them while in combat. Whether the vet suffers from physical or emotional injuries, we believe that providing a setting that encourages leadership, self reliance and teamwork will be a catalyst for recovery. We have seen it in last years participants and are excited about going forward.

I thought this would be a good time to post a Q&A I did with a military focused magazine last year as we were returning from our trip last year...

Mag:

How did you come up with the concept of Soldiers to the Summit?

Jeff:

For years now, I have worked with an organization called World TEAM Sports, which works in bringing together 'able bodied' and 'disabled' for sporting efforts around the world. Back in 2009, I was collaborating with the Executive Director, Jeff Messner on a potential project for 2010 where we would bring together wounded soldiers for a trekking or climbing project in some far away land. In a strange twist of fate, I learned of a family relative that was killed in combat while fighting in Afghanistan over this same period. This jumped us in to motion quickly and committed us to creating and executing a project that would be set in Nepal and involve climbing a peak. Also at this time I introduced the idea to my long time climbing partner Erik Weihenmayer...the blind climber that I have guided on mountains around the world, including Everest in 2001. Erik, in his typical fashion suggested we "go big" and climb a peak over 20,000 ft...and so it began. As 2011 is the 10 year anniversary of our Everest summit, we saw this as an opportunity to be a part of a project that would be based on something bigger than "our Everest team". Next year will also be the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 and the beginning of full scale international conflict which would effect so many of our men and women in uniform. We knew that the full length documentary would be released in 2011...so the timing for a project of this nature was perfect. So, it was a very auspicious meeting of several events and personalities that planted the seed for this project.

Also of note...each of our "Everest Team" has a deep and profound respect for the drive and sacrifice of military men and women. Each of us, along with every other citizen of this wonderful country respects the fact that we are provided the opportunity to make a living at climbing mountains as a result of our freedom and the bounty that is provided to us living in the US. These opportunities are in part available to us as a result of the genuine sacrifice made my service men and women. And we aren't very good at many things...but we are good at getting folks up and down mountains. We are indebted and wanted to provide a medium for healing if at all possible.

We had quite a mixed bag of men and women with a wide range of injuries from TBI to PTS (D). Also one blind soldier (from an IED) and 3 below the knee amputees. Regarding their motivations...several of them would probably tell you this was simply an opportunity to go have an adventure and climb a mountain in Nepal whereas there are a few that perceived this trip as an instrument of healing. PTS and TBI are very nebulous injuries...that remain difficult to treat. A journey into the Himalaya is a wonderful medium to allow one to look inside and be somewhat reflective about previous events and hopeful future endeavors. I feel confident that each soldiers pushed themselves physically and emotionally well beyond what they thought capable.

Mag:

You have a unique perspective on disability, whether physical or emotional, would you care to share your thoughts about people with disabilities? Do you think all of us have disabilities?

Jeff:

I don't see it as much that we all have disabilities as much as those with physical and psychological injuries are simply more challenged. I have been guiding Erik for close to 20 years now and I would be hard pressed to call his blindness a disability. I have been a part of him accomplishing things that 99% of the worlds "able bodied" population would crump on. He accepts his "disability" as an adversity advantage. I have seen this happen with countless individuals over the years of working in the physically challenged community. Folks accept their injury and use it as fuel to be better than they ever could have imagined prior to the event. One of the amputees on the Nepal trip told me, "loosing my leg was the best thing that ever happened to me, because now I get to come do things like this.". It's a matter of perception...how do each of us use the tools and equipment we have to be the best we can be...to optimize our effort, disability or not.

Mag:

It takes an enormous amount of will power, personal drive and motivation to accomplish things that others say are literally impossible. Yet you've done the "impossible;" you've accomplished things that others could never even dream of achieving. How do you do it, and what advice would you offer to others, particularly those wounded warriors, who want to give up?

Jeff:

More of what I mention above. I have used two tools to get things done in my life...

#1) surrounding myself with a solid team that is not self absorbed and have a team first attitude (and are very skilled at what they do). This goes for my climbing team as well the network of professionals that I work with. But most importantly my wife. She is my most skilled and important team member. Always in it for the team.

#2) Believing that any project worth doing is at least worth an attempt. Too many folks sit around and conceptualize objectives until they are blue in the face. The true alchemists are the ones who then get up and execute....in spite of the fear of falling. So I have tried to create a situation in my life where I'm not afraid to execute...where I let myself down if I don't at least try. Then it becomes amazing how much can get done with that attitude.

Mag:

Can you share an instance or two on this last ascent where you motivated others to carry on and they achieved their goal?

Jeff:

On summit night on Lobuche (20,100ft) in Nepal on this most recent trip, I was personally guiding one of the soldiers, Steve Baskis. My great friend an climbing partner Brad Bull was in front of Steve and I was behind...tag teaming the guide commands for hours up steep rock in the dark and cold. Steve was clearly beat up early on...but Brad and I pushed him in every way possible...physically and psychologically. We heard Steve utter things like, "I can't do this. I didn't train hard enough. I want to go home. This is too hard." He was hurtin for certain.

We started to joke after 5 hours of this that Steve had heard all of our tricks and motivational cliches...that he needed some new material. But we got in Steve's head and pushed him as hard as we could. I think one of the truly motivating lines was, after running out of nice things to say to Steve to motivate him, I said "Steve, this is not about you. Quit being selfish. This is about all of your recently injured comrades...and those that are yet to be injured. You are doing this for them. Now knuckle down and get it done". Steve had no response for this and he got after it. Summited with us hours later in great style. I am so proud of him.