A Day to Die For: 1996: Everest's Worst Disaster - One Survivor's Personal Journey to Uncover the Truth (40 page)

High above them, six Indian climbers had set out that morning from the top camp on their summit attempt. They were caught up in these rapidly deteriorating conditions. Half the team had turned back. The other three, Tsewang Samanla, Dorje Morup and Tsewang Paljor, pressed on, claiming in a radio call to their Base Camp to have reached the summit shortly before 4 p.m. Nepalese time. In doing so, they had foregone their only chance of survival. They had been gripped by summit fever, which offered them the first Indian ascent of Everest’s northern flanks. To do this, they had ignored the obvious signs around them that should have told them to retreat. They died on their descent.

Meanwhile, on the south side, we had woken up at Camp 3 on 10 May to observe continuing poor conditions high on Everest. We delayed our departure until after our second radio conversation with Henry at midday, during which we raised our concerns – again. We were struck by the storm on the South Col at 6.30 p.m. that evening. The observations and interpretations of conditions made by Matt Dickinson, Alan Hinkes and Martin Barnicott seemed to match those of our team.

The book I decided to study next was
Sheer Will
by Michael Groom, the lone surviving guide from Rob Hall’s team. In fact, he and Jon Krakauer were the only two from that team who reached the summit and lived to tell the tale.

In Michael’s book, which is about his climbing career, a solitary chapter is dedicated to the events of 1996. Because of this, he concentrates largely on 10–11 May, and therefore the information about the days leading up to the disaster is limited.

However, one particular point, earlier in Michael’s book, caught my eye: his mention of a weather report being used on Everest in 1993, some three years before the disaster of 10 May. I contacted Michael in Australia to ask him if the UK Met Office had been used in 1996.

He responded:

I sought clarification on this final point:

Michael answered:
‘You are correct, my recollection refers to prior to the tragic events.’

In a subsequent email, I asked Michael if Rob had discussions with, and received weather forecasts from, the Imax team.

Michael:
‘Rob sometimes had discussions with other teams and may have received the weather forecast from Imax, but I wasn’t involved with this discussion.’

I pushed the point with Michael:
‘If you could just confirm whether you recall Rob having his own weather forecasting or not?’

Michael:
‘I have had a pretty good memory of the events relating to the summit day of Everest ’96, but I can’t remember a single thing about Rob’s weather forecasting, sorry.’

I understood Michael’s reply. I don’t think Rob had his own forecast. My belief is that Rob was receiving information from another team that did.

Michael’s answers strengthened my belief that the Imax team had been receiving weather forecasts before 10 May.

His account of being lost on the South Col and their desperate attempts to locate Camp 4 I found chilling reading: ‘Today, looking back, I realise we had staggered depressingly close to C4 before staggering away in the opposite direction.’

At that time, Michael had with him Beck Weathers, who was to suffer terrible frostbite injuries. Nearby, Neal Beidleman was aiding Yasuko Namba, who would die of exposure the following morning. Had either of these two pairs been the head torches I’d spotted in the distance as I arrived at the South Col that evening?

I already knew what Geoff’s response would be, before I showed him Michael’s answers.

‘Recollections and discussions he was not party to. You’ll need much more than this, my lad!’ was what I received after he’d read them.

I expected no less from Geoff. He was not deliberately pouring cold water on this painstaking research. Rather, he wanted to keep my feet firmly on the ground. Several people had died in the storm of 10 May, others had been badly injured. If I was going to put anything into print, I had to make the utmost effort to ensure it was correct.

However, for my motivation, it was important to me that Geoff saw I was making progress, albeit slow. Each snippet of information I uncovered would bring about lengthy conversations between us, ones that would in turn give me ideas for further lines of enquiry. The responses I’d received from Michael were no exception to this.

One episode Michael had chosen to tell me about was of an actual event on summit day. I had not asked.

It seemed that Michael was haunted by the events of 10 May. Had Rob listened to him and heeded the signs, had they headed down at this point, then it is highly probable that no one in Rob’s team would have died. Beck Weathers might have returned to Camp 4 relatively uninjured.

In view of my suspicions with regard to weather forecasts, I needed to understand the clients’ thoughts as they moved up the mountain in readiness for their attempt on 10 May.

Lene Gammelgaard, a client of Scott’s, returned from Everest that year to write her book
Climbing High
. This account I found perceptive. She noticed what was happening within her team and its relationship with others.

On 9 May, when I was on the radio to Henry, Lene and her fellow climbers were in the vicinity of the Yellow Band. She writes with reference to this point in their climb: ‘The weather has deteriorated – wind!’

As their two teams climb higher, over the Geneva Spur, she continues:

During the afternoon, Lene and other members of Scott’s and Rob’s teams reach the South Col:

I was particularly interested in Lene’s thoughts as she lay in her tent on the South Col, contemplating the summit attempt ahead.

I was concerned by Lene’s use of the words ‘a wider margin of safety’. It indicated that the clients might have been aware of the existence of a weather forecast and the information it contained. I emailed Lene to ask if she could clarify what she had meant by this phrase. Unfortunately, I received no reply.

Many unanswered questions had perplexed me since 10 May 1996. One in particular appeared to have no logical explanation. When the climbers and guides of Rob’s and Scott’s teams were descending from the summit, fighting for their lives and struggling through the storm to get down to Camp 4 on the South Col, why hadn’t Anatoli come to ask our team for help?

We were in two large tents, referred to as ‘Himalayan hotels’, only a matter of 50 feet away. He’d gone round the tents of Rob’s, Scott’s and the Taiwanese expeditions, so why not ours? Anatoli not only knew us as friends but had climbed with some of us on the Tibetan side of Everest the previous year. We had with us five strong Sherpas. We were fresh onto the South Col that evening with full oxygen supplies. We were his best, if not only, chance.

The days that immediately followed 10 May were not the time to ask such questions. It was too soon afterwards. The pain and anguish, the remorse, were still apparent. Added to this, Anatoli was not on our team, therefore affording me little opportunity to talk to him in the aftermath. Their leaderless expedition was trying to come to terms with what had happened, while simultaneously making plans to pack up their camp and head back home.

Had Anatoli forgotten we were coming one day behind them for our attempt on 11 May, or had he not been told?

I sat back in my chair with a copy of
The Climb
in one hand and an early edition of
Into Thin Air
in the other. The latter had on the front cover a haunting photograph of Anatoli climbing out alone along the steep and precariously corniced upper section of the South East Ridge towards the Hillary Step. The single rope attached to his waist was being lifted high into the air by the strength of the winds through which he was battling. I stared at this image with sadness as I reflected back to early on in the 1996 expedition. Memories came flooding back of me sitting around on the many large rocks that lay randomly around our Base Camp, chatting with Anatoli and my fellow teammates. He’d spent much of his spare time socialising in our camp. The air had regularly been filled with laughter and the sound of our conversations.

I looked to
The Climb
for answers. One of the first quotes from the book that struck me was: ‘Boukreev found himself alone, thinking about the decision he’d made to sign on to the Mountain Madness expedition.’

In the planning stages, Anatoli had been going to join our expedition. That was until he was offered a lot more money to join Scott’s instead. Anatoli had perhaps been beginning to regret this change. I sensed that he felt a bit of an outsider, not fitting comfortably into this high-dollar guiding.

It was not from
The Climb
but from two independent sources that further confirmation of Anatoli’s isolation would emerge. In one of the emails I’d received from Michael Groom, he’d stated:

The fact that Scott’s head guide, Anatoli, was not at the meeting was not only strange but slightly disconcerting, and an observation by Lene Gammelgaard raised the level of my concern. She both saw and understood the relationships that had developed within the hierarchy of the Mountain Madness team. In
Climbing High
, Lene describes an interesting situation around the time Anatoli arrived at Camp 2 on 6 May:

I was beginning to suspect that Anatoli had not been fully involved in the planning, and in consequence may have been unaware of all the facts.

In the days running up to summit attempts, we’d seen less of Anatoli. Therefore, I can’t be sure he was aware of our summit day, or the fact we’d been asked by Rob and Scott to fall back and make our bid on 11 May. Nor did I know if Anatoli knew of a weather forecast. I was hoping that Anatoli’s description of the weather in early May would indicate if he was using his experience or a forecast. I wondered whether there would be any mention of our team on the South Col.

In the following, I have quoted what I consider to be significant observations made by Anatoli, along with thoughts and important conversations he had during the ascent to the South Col. All these are taken directly from Anatoli’s and Weston DeWalt’s
The Climb
.

LHOTSE FACE, EN ROUTE TO CAMP 3, 8 MAY

Anatoli, on the way up with Rob’s and Scott’s teams, passed the Imax expedition who were descending. A point at which he spoke with Ed Viesturs, the lead climber on the Imax expedition.

SOUTH COL, 9 MAY

When he arrived at the South Col, around 2 p.m., Anatoli found the wind gusting in excess of 60 mph. His worst fears were being realised.