Feature: A Spartan Conquers Mt. Everest

            On Sunday, May 23, 2004, I reached the summit of Mt. Everest, fulfilling a decade-long dream to conquer the world’s highest peak.

            My group of 10 climbers needed more than nine hours to negotiate the last 1,500 feet.  We passed three dead bodies, part of a group that went just ahead of us.  Six of them, we learned, had died from the extreme conditions just two days before.

            It was surreal and downright scary, but also awesome and thrilling.  Many emotions flooded my brain in a way I can’t describe. 

            But I didn’t take much time to enjoy the view—only about 10 minutes.  We had to muster all our energy and focus on the descent, which would take another eight hours to reach the Advanced Camp III, the penultimate camp.  The vast majority of fatalities among Everest climbers take place at this stage, when people succumb to exhaustion.

            How, you might ask, did a Midwest kid like myself get into this two-month ordeal of an adventure?  Growing up on a farm in Milan, Michigan, the tallest thing I had ever climbed was a silo.  I was first exposed to mountains after I moved to California in 1989 and a friend took me for a hike in the Western Sierras up to some lakes at 10,000 feet.  

            I was immediately hooked.  We hiked the Sierras at least once a month up to about 13,000 feet. 

            About ten years ago, I read Seven Summits, by Dick Bass and Frank Wells.  I was mesmerized, line by line, as the authors recount their conquests of the highest peak of each continent.  It was an inspiration.  Their feat has been achieved by fewer than 90 people since.  I was enthralled by that vision.   

            So I began to climb progressively larger mountains, Mt. Whitney (14,496 ft.), Mt. Shasta (14,162 ft.) and Mt. Rainier (14,410).  Other peaks include Pike’s Peak in Colorado, Mt. Rose, Sawtooth, Castle Peak, Mt. Talac, and Mt. Ralston—all in the Lake Tahoe area.   Always in the back of my mind loomed the vision of the Seven Summits.

            At that time I worked for World Wide Sires, in Visalia, CA, directing exports of dairy and beef cattle frozen semen.  “I’m in genetic sales,” I used to tell friends.  In any case, during my frequent travels to Africa and Europe, I could spot various peaks from the airplane window, including beautiful Mt. Kilimanjaro (19,339 ft.).  That’s one of the seven summits, and the first I’d scale.  It was not a difficult climb.  This past July, I’m told, MSU football coach John L. Smith did so with a group of Spartans—most of them nonexpert climbers—on an MSU Alumni Association tour (see sidebar).

            After Kilimanjaro I climbed some of the other seven summits—Elbrus (18,481 ft.) in Russia, Aconcagua (22,840 ft.) in Argentina, and Denali’s Mt. McKinley (20,320 ft.) in Alaska, which took me two attempts.  These climbs gave me confidence that I could summit Mt. Everest, the world’s tallest peak at 29,035 feet (8,848 meters) and one of the most treacherous. 

            In 2000, I changed jobs and joined Blue Diamond Growers in Sacramento, CA, to direct their exports of almonds.  As a condition of accepting the job, I asked them to agree that I could take two months off within five years to climb Everest.  They agreed, probably thinking this was apropos of someone in the “nuts” business.

            Indeed, my quest would seem foolhardy when you look at the history of Everest climb attempts.  Only about 1,200—about 15 percent of those who try the arduous task—have ever reached the summit.  A good many die trying.  Since 1922, more than 171 fatalities have been recorded.  In 1970, four climbers made the summit, while eight died trying.  But such stats were not enough to discourage me.  The sheer excitement of my vision trumped all else.

            In late 2003 I committed to this climb with Russell Brice of Himalayan Experience.  He might be the world’s foremost Everest expedition leader, having led 8 percent of all those who successfully reached the Everest summit.  He has not suffered a single fatality in 15 years—an unbelievable track record.

            The cost of the overall expedition was around $45,000.  About 85 percent of it came from sponsors—Excel Inns of America, MCS Educational Services of Sacramento, New Factor, Michigan Farm Bureau, Oceanspray, Placer Title Company.  The Moosejaw store in East Lansing was essentially a co-sponsor, since they gave me major discounts of all my equipment.  And Blue Diamond Growers allowed me the time off.  I am deeply thankful to all of them.

            To prepare myself physically, I organized a strenuous daily regimen of physical fitness.  Five days a week, I’d get up at 5:30 a.m.  Three days a week I’d spend an hour on a stair machine while carrying a 52-pound backpack.  Two days, I’d do it at a running pace.  One day a week I’d swim 80 laps, one day a week I’d run 7 to 8 miles.  My routine included at least 200 sit-ups, 40-80 pull-ups and 40-80 dips, because climbers need to be able to pull themselves up with ease.  On weekends I’d get at least one good hike through snow up in the Sierras.  Regularly I’d rock climb at the local gym.  Often I’d work out twice a day.   

            My goal was to stay at 10 percent body fat.  I’m 5-8 and, with four months of that regimen, became quite fit.  I weighed 166 pounds before the climb, but right afterwards I was an emaciated 145 pounds.

            On March 30 our team met in Katmandu, Nepal, and spent a couple of days going through our equipment.   We then flew to Lhasa in Tibet, China.  Our climb would be via the northern route from China, which is more technical than the southern route through Nepal.  It’s also a bit safer, since we bypass the dangerous Cwm ice fall. 

            We spent a few days getting acclimated to the more than 10,000 feet altitude and visited some monasteries.  We then drove towards Everest and went through three small towns, each a little higher in elevation, spending a couple of nights at each town. 

            Then we arrived at the Everest base camp.  We had two teams of ten climbers each, plus about 25 Sherpas, Himalayan porters who carry and help set up tents and gear, and who also put in the ropes up high.   We basically did very little at base camp.  We’d do little day hikes into the neighboring hills.  Every other day, we’d walk 5.5 miles to an interim camp.  Then one day we’d overnight there, and hike another 5.5 miles to an advanced base camp.  You want to get used to the surroundings and progress gradually.

            No partying of any kind occurs at this stage.  Everyone is focused and serious.  You want to stay healthy.  I also stopped my brutal exercise regimen.  At this stage, you want to conserve energy.  Basically, we just talked, went out for little walks, relaxed and read.  I read 10 books in six weeks, including Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, and books by Joseph Conrad and Lawrence Sanders.  I also wrote a journal.

            After a week at the advance base camp, we proceeded to hike to the first of four Advanced Base Camps.  You have use a rope here and there as you go over rocky terrain, but for the most part, it’s hiking.  At all times, I used an ice pick and a jumar—a mechanical device that attaches to a rope and can only slide up.  There were some sections when the slopes were 80-degrees and you have to go straight up over ice or rocks, but nothing too severe. 

            As you advance through the four Advanced Base Camps, the idea is to proceed slowly and gradually acclimating to each new level. 

            The really technical aspects of the climb take place in the final leg from Camp IV, at 27,500 feet, to the summit.  You have to scale some 25-45 foot vertical rock walls.  They are scary, because as you scale them, you face a 2,000 foot sheer drop.  You can’t afford any errors.  At that altitude, you’re wearing a bulky down suit and carrying an oxygen tank.  The descent is even more challenging. 

            On May 22, we got up around 11 p.m. and started the summit climb at 12:30 a.m. of May 23, in pitch darkness.  I drank some hot tea with lots of sugar and half a granola bar.  At that altitude, you have no appetite.  Once you got to the Advanced Base Camps, about the only things we ate were instant soup and granola bars. 

            It would take us nine hours to get to the summit, and another eight to get back down to Camp III.  That’s roughly 17 straight hours of climbing, plus the time you spend on the summit.  While it sounds exhausting, it’s actually not untypical.

            As we ascended, we spotted a person—then another, and another—sitting on a rock or along the trail.  You wonder, why is someone sitting there?  Then it dawns on you, “Oh my God, these are the people who died two days ago.”  Reality sets in.  You get a feeling of fear and nervousness.  You’re humbled.  I probably moved a little slower, made sure my footing was firm, and checked the ropes more carefully.

            All climbers are aware of the risks.  You hear stories about near-fatal mishaps from other climbers.  For example, one might have started slipping on an icy patch and saved themselves from falling by sticking their axe in the ice.  I was very, very lucky.  Once, at 28,800 feet, I was going around a traverse that was only a foot wide with an 8,000-foot drop when I noticed the end of my rope was all frayed from rubbing against the rock.  It was shredding.  My heart basically shook to my toes.  It was unnerving.

            Most climbing deaths do not occur, as the movies suggest, when climbers slip and plunge thousands of feet to their deaths.  They occur when one sits down to rest, falls asleep and never wakes up.  They freeze to death.  Typically, it happens to someone who strays from their team.  On your own, you’re more likely to sit down when you get tired.  With a group you push each other along and make sure everyone keeps going.  Ironically, many climbers die when they attempt to hide from the wind.  As they do so, they are more likely to fall into slumber.

            Besides the cold and inclement weather, another major hazard climbers face is the lack of oxygen.  While in Camp IV I took my oxygen mask off for a couple of hours.  While talking to my teammates, I couldn’t remember any of their names or what countries they were from.  So I put my mask back on, and within 15 minutes I could remember everyone’s name. 

            5:30 a.m. was a moment I’ll never forget.  Until then we were climbing in darkness.  Suddenly the sun rose over the horizon and I could see for 50 miles.  It was a stunning view.  You could see all the peaks and their shadows.  That was neat.  But you could also see the 8,000-foot drop-offs, some from ledges that were about two inches.  I don’t like heights, so that gave me a real queasy feeling.

            At 9:45 a.m. I reached the summit.  It was the culmination of ten years of dreaming and four years of preparation.  To be perfectly honest, however thrilling the moment was, my emotions quickly turned to an intense desire to get down safely and quickly.

            I was totally exhausted, and nervous.  We had been on the move for nine hours.  Eight out of 10 fatalities take place during the descent, when climbers are tired and running out of oxygen. 

            After taking some photos with banners from the sponsors, I started down.  That was challenging, since you have to look down, and as I said, I’m not particularly fond of heights.

            Many people have asked me whether conquering Everest has been a life-altering experience.   I think it has.  It definitely makes you more humble.  Makes you appreciate life.   Makes you want to say “please,”  and “thank you.” Makes you let people know you appreciate them today rather than tomorrow as you realize you may not be here tomorrow.  Makes you appreciate running water, hot showers, toilets, soft toilet paper, and good food. 

            Number one, you appreciate your family and friends!  Also it keeps you close to your religious faith.

            Within the next three weeks, I ate everything in sight and gained much of my lost weight back.  My desire to complete the Seven Summits is still there, but I’m not in a rush right now.  I plan to do the Vinson Massif (16,067 ft.) in Antarctica in the next three years.  And Mt. Kosciuszko (7,310 ft.) in Australia will happen on a vacation in the next two years.

SPARTANS CLIMB MT. KILIMANJARO

            On Thursday, July 22, 11 Spartans traveling with an MSU Alumni Association tour reached Mt. Kilimanjaro’s Uruhu Point, at 19,340 feet the highest peak in Africa and one of the world’s Seven Summits.  The MSU contingent included football coach John L. Smith, his two sons, Sam and Nick, John McCallie, husband of basketball coach Joanne P. McCallie, Greg Hauser, member of the national alumni board, his son Steve, Gary and Jill Witzenberg, Hal Lehr, and sportswriter Dave Birkett and photographer Jimmy Chin, covering the climb for ESPN Magazine.  The team was supported by five guides, a cook and 29 porters.  

            "The sunrise that morning (when he reached the top) has to be the highlight of your life,'' John L. Smith recalled after returning to campus. "You're up there at 19,000 feet when that giant red ball seems to come up through the clouds . . .  it was phenomenal, almost like a religious experience.

            "What a moment! I couldn't stop crying.''

            Jill Witzenburg, scaling the mountain for the second time in two years, lauded Smith’s leadership.  “Coach Smith’s determination to reach the peak inspired other team members to fight off nausea, headaches and dizziness to join him,” she notes, adding that from the base camp at Kibo Hut, temperatures dropped to the lower 20s.

            For more information about MSU Alumni Association tours, visit www.msualum.com.