Tonight while roaming the streets of Kathmandu, comfortably meandering as I had dreamed about for weeks - in shorts and flip flops, enjoying the sensation of perfect temperature, I noticed a stagger in my gait due to a sudden 'snap' of the front thongy-thing part of my left sandal.
Well, shucks I thought. Time for a new pair of $1 flip-flops. Like literally $1 is what I paid for these cheapos, and that was years ago. I was not overly disappointed, these things had lived a good life - and luckily, I'm in Nepal where surely I can find an equally cheap pair of new ones.
So I began my quest. Asking any passerby where the nearest shoe store was. Shoe store? More than one person asked me with a confused look on their face. I would point to my broken flip-flop, thinking that English was the barrier to my intended message. Probably not. Each and every time, strangers would tell me that I didn't need a shoe store, what I needed was a cobbler. A cobbler? I would think.. I know that word from the 1800's and my visits to Sturbridge Village and Williamsburg where old-time re-enactments had taught me that a hundred years ago, people would get their shoes repaired rather than buying a new pair.
But come on, these are $1 flip-flops! I don't need a freaking cobbler. I just need a new pair of sandals. So I kept asking people, looking for the answer I wanted as to where a shoe store might be. I kept getting the same frustrating answer about a dang cobbler.
I happened across a couple of shoe vendors, but agonizingly for me, they did not have any flip-flops for the relatively large feet of this foreigner.
My limp really started to annoy me. With no thongy-thing to stabilize the bottom, the front part of my flip-flop would very annoyingly bend underneath my foot and nearly trip me with every step. I started to think I would pay $20 for a new pair, if I could find them in my size. I just wanted to roam the streets, free of worrying about falling with every step.
Just then I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye, a man seated on the sidewalk with a selection of needles, thread and a little stool. "Please sir," he said. "Sit down, I fix your shoe." Mostly believing this was a waste of time and effort, but at the same time desperate to be able to walk normally, I figured what the hell, let's give this a try.
I watched as the master went to work on my 'shoe.' In and out, and in and out with the needle and thread so quickly. Less than 5 minutes later, to my amazement, a .50 cent flip-flop was repaired.
The price of the repair? Ten cents. I placed it on my foot, impressed that the footwear was entirely functional - good as new really. I had come seeking a new pair of shoes, a shoe store, a comfortable solution to my problem. I did not get what I wanted, but I did get exactly what I needed.
As I reflect on not just the last 6 weeks here in Nepal, but on the years of preparation, planning, training and scheming leading up to our climb of Mt Everest, as painful as the last few days have been, my conclusion is now very similar with respect to the climbing experience. Everest did not give me what I wanted or what I came for. But I do walk away with what I needed from this experience.
My step-mother posted something on Facebook that has been rolling around in my brain - she encouraged me to focus on the 8750 meters that we did climb rather than the 98 meters that we did not. As I heed that good advice, the mental results are pretty astounding to be honest.
I've read everything I can get my hands on about Mt Everest. And mountaineering in general. I've seen all the movies. You might say it's been a bit of an obsession. I've had the privilege of climbing now on 5 of the 7 summits and I have climbed all over the world with an amazing and strong team of valuable friends.
Above is my buddy Dave Snow as he ascends the fixed lines on the Lhotse Face. The Lhotse-friggin' Face!!! Us! We've read about it, dreamt about it, now here we are climbing it.
This is in huge part due to the guy pictured above. I've called Dave superhuman, and I wasn't ego-stroking or metaphorizing..I really mean it. You see, in 2010, while on my first big mountain (Rainier), I crumped at 8,800'. Overheating, overpacking, undertraining, under-hydrating, under-eating - there were a lot of lessons on that trip for me. But I did crump. In a pathetic heap on the Muir Snowfield. Literally seeing blackness and stars, semi-conscious and wondering a bit what the heck I had gotten myself into. Immediately to my side was Dave Snow, trip organizer and Rainier-veteran of at least several times to my recollection. This is where Dave transformed to superhuman in my eyes, as he heaved my 65+ pound pack ontop of his own and without asking me, started trudging his way up the snowfield, extra backpack in tow. Through a storm. Like a bad storm with sleet and freezing wind slamming us straight in our faces.
Dave (and a phenomenal buddy Cecil, pictured below with Ueli Steck less than two weeks before he tragically died - we got this news while at EBC just minutes after it happened) carried my pack for about 1,000 vertical feet, then stopped shy of Camp Muir shelter so I could salvage some pride and walk into camp sporting my own pack.
As said above, I learned some hard lessons that day. And I've had the opportunity to pay it forward. I've since carried many packs for struggling teammates and have led several of my own climbs for rookie friends up that life-changing Mt Rainier.
But most experienced climbers would be done with a 2010-rookie performance like mine. Not Dave Snow. He invited me on Aconcagua - where I tried my absolute best and trained like a monster for a year, but had to turn around shy of the summit due to pulmonary edema.
I did manage to summit Elbrus with Dave. And led a team up Denali through brutal conditions and eeked out a summit there.
I feel like I'm sometimes accused in my 'real life' of never failing. Of everything just working out for me. I'll admit, I have a wonderful, full and rich life. I have a beautiful family, amazingly supportive wife and a dream job. I have been able to go on some just incredibly unique adventures and have had the most enriching life experience. But I also must say, these are things I have worked hard to achieve, very hard. And yes, there are many failures along the way. My secret has always been my ability to keep trying, to stick with it. You shoot at the hoop enough times and a ball is bound to drop. I shoot at the hoop a lot. Sometimes people only see the swishes and miss the ten air balls leading up to that swish.
And here I am on Mt Everest. The rookie that crumped on Rainer. The guy who turned around on Aconcagua. On an elite team with the opportunity of a lifetime. Sponsor patches on my chest.
There she is in the background. Mt Everest! It takes weeks just to be able to see her, much less climb on the mountain herself.
Once we hit the elevation where oxygen was required, it was completely revolutionary for me. I felt nearly as good as sea-level. It was interesting - after climbing with these guys for years, I know that some of them just seemingly are unaffected by altitude or certainly, to a much lesser extent than myself. Ironically, when it was time to don the O2, some on the team noticed almost no benefit in performance, but to me, it was like I could totally all of the sudden understand blood doping and I was able to move 3x faster and just felt amazingly strong.
Back to my buddy Dave, as he ascends the Lhotse Face between Camps 3 & 4. I yell to Dave, excited as I'm taking this picture - pointing out the Yellow Band (the slanted band of rocks just after the furthest climber in the picture). And I point out that we're about to go over it, then onto the Geneva Spur (the large hump in the background to the left). Dave of course knows this as well. But I'm choked up with emotion at just the thought. Dude! We're on the Lhotse friggin' Face and we're about to go over the Yellow Band! And the Geneva Spur! Then on to the South Col - and holy cow, we'll be in position for a summit bid for reals!!! I say something to Dave about George Mallory and Hillary and Norgay and all the legends before who have walked these steps. And now it's our turn - just wow!!!
Tom - working his way up the Lhotse Face as well on an excruciatingly hot day in our down suits.
Lhakpa demonstrates how to use our oxygen masks and regulators for the first time.
Danu Sherpa and myself. This guy is as tough as they come.
Team Chupacabra entering the icefall for the last time upward
Brandon, Pasang Sherpa and myself sharing a tent for a few hours of rest at Camp 4 before trying for the summit.
Incredibly beautiful morning we left EBC for our push to Camp 2
Tom, determined ever upward on a tough day on the Face.
And there it is. The ride out of EBC we've all been dreaming about. We hadn't intended to be leaving without those last few hundred feet to the summit. As hard as it is, just perhaps that's exactly what we needed somehow out of this whole experience.
I saw this banner hanging in Namche Bazar on Buddha's birthday regarding the true meaning of life. It has simplified my perspective to thing of things in this way.
The cobbler on the street did good by me. For 10 cents, he solved a very annoying problem of mine pretty instantly.
I return home without the fame of having summited Mt Everest. I return knowing that I will get a million well-intended sympathy comments or awkward comments or people afraid to even ask about my experience here. That's no one's fault. It just is what it is. The natural first question is 'did you summit?' I'll be thinking, well, that's what I came for. It's what I wanted. It's what I trained for. It's what I felt I had deserved. But maybe, just maybe, it's not what I needed.
Most people are aware of the sad reality that climbing Everest means seeing dead bodies. Our first trip through the icefall we saw our first body - a decapitated Sherpa believed to have died in an avalanche in 2007. Then there was the trauma of Ueli - a hero of all of us. We had all looked forward with amazement to see him not only repeat the incredible 1963 Hornbein/Unsoeld West Ridge climb (without Oxygen) but to top that all off with a traverse of Lhotse. I mean, we were going to be with this guy at base camp - maybe get to meet him like our buddy Cecil did! Hearing the news, seeing firsthand his body being flown down to EBC for confirmation - all of this was so sobering.
But for me, most sobering was between the South Col and the Balcony having to literally step off trail to avoid stepping on a body. Then stepping over that same body on the way down..right about the time the I could hear the jet stream above Everest and the winds were howling so intensely even at the South Col that I could not imagine how much worse it was up there at the summit. It was then that I knew that those 98 meters were not a curse to be contended with for the rest of time, but a gift - likely a gift of life. A gift of my 5 children seeing their Dad again next week. Of reuniting with my incredible sweetheart. And of this chance encounter with a street cobbler who fixed my not-so-useless flip-flop for only 10 cents.
Below are some selected videos of the summit push. My post is a bit disjointed here, but I wanted to sneak these in here..
