How to Climb Everest

“Today's Knowledge
How to Climb Mount Everest




So you've signed up to scale Everest, at 29,035 feet (8,850 meters) the highest point on Earth. You've paid your permit fees, and for tens of thousands of dollars more, you've equipped yourself and hired a Sherpa to lead you up the mountain's south side.

You've got your ice axe, your glacier glasses, your climbing boots and your crampons, your ropes, carabiners and harness, and, oh yeah, your satellite phone (just don't try ordering a pizza at 25,000 feet). Grab your thermal socks, too. The top of the world awaits.

Base Camp
17,600 feet (5,400 meters)

For two weeks, you've been gently winding your way up Nepal's side of the mountain. The hike has been spectacular, spanning terrain dotted with modest farms, quaint villages, and Buddhist monasteries perched on bare rock. So far, the skies have been dominated by the Himalayas' snowcapped peaks, but as you enter base camp, Everest's black pyramid tip, looming two full miles above you, disappears from sight.

Your mission now is to acclimatize your lungs to getting less oxygen, an essential preparation for the climb ahead. To do this, you'll climb up and down the mountain between camps, a process you'll repeat until the final push for the summit. A too-rapid ascent can result in acute mountain sickness, a prelude to life-threatening high-altitude cerebral or pulmonary edema. The cure? Immediate descent.

Camps I & II
19,500 & 21,300 feet (6,000 & 6,500 meters)

On Everest, even getting to Camp I is treacherous. In your way: the legendary Khumbu Icefall. This is no hockey rink. Vast crevasses in the deep glacial ice are bridged by metal ladders, often tied together end to end to reach across. New crevasses constantly open up, and giant walls of ice collapse. You make your climb in the early morning, before the sun begins to warm and melt the ice and avalanches become more frequent.

After you make it to Camp I, you enter the wide, nearly flat "Valley of Silence," officially known as the Western Cwm (pronounced "Koom"--that's Welsh for valley). The days here in the Cwm actually can get insufferably hot, and the glare of the late spring sun off the deep snow can blind you. As you climb further into the valley, you must cross giant crevasses in the ice. It's here that Everest's forbidding summit comes back into view, and here that you make Camp II.

Camp III
24,000 feet (7,200 meters)

If you want to conquer Everest, first you've got to take on Lhotse, the massive mountain next door. That's because from Camp II, the best way up is the Lhotse Face, a 3,700-foot (1,100-meter) glacial wall pitched as steep as 80 degrees. You hold on to ropes scattered about the Face, kick the steel crampons on your boots into the frozen ice, and pull your body up. Not the most technically challenging climb. Even so, don't try this in bad weather. Many climbers have died scaling the Lhotse Face, their bodies plummeting down into a vast chasm at the base of the wall.

After hours of climbing, you reach Camp III, which sits on a precariously angled shelf of ice near the top of the Lhotse Face. Many Sherpas refuse to stay here, preferring to push on directly to Camp IV. Here you'll have to painstakingly carve your tent site into the steeply sloping ice. When you're done, you'll rest at a frightening and uncomfortable angle.

Camp IV
26,000 feet (7,900 meters)

More climbing, and ice gives way to rock. You make it to Camp IV. The good news? You're only 3,000 feet (900 meters) from the top. The bad? You're dying. So is everyone around you. You've reached an extreme altitude at which the human body stops acclimatizing and starts deteriorating. Climbers call it the Death Zone. Nearly everyone, including the hardy Sherpas, will use bottled oxygen now.

Camp IV is on the South Col, a rocky, wind-swept pass between Everest and Lhotse ("Col" is French for pass, and easier to pronounce than "Cwm"). Regardless of the route they take, all expeditions use this as the final camp before attempting the summit.

Top of the World
29,035 feet (8,850 meters)

You start the final push at midnight. First, you reach the Southeast Ridge, what climbers call "The Balcony." Dawn comes, and you ascend arduously to the South Summit. Last chance to turn back. From here, you must cross a knife-edge ridge in the sky. Misstep to the right, and you could fall 10,000 feet. Misstep to the left, and you could fall 8,000 feet. You rely on fixed ropes. Same goes for the Hillary Step, a four-story rock wall named after Sir Edmund (who scrambled up it without the fixed ropes you'll need).

Once past the Step, timing becomes critical, as you must descend in daylight. Your every step is labored and sluggish. Finally, exhausted and exhilarated, you're there, a snow-dusted spot no bigger than a dinner table. The panorama before you is astonishing. To the north lies the Tibetan Plateau. Himalayan peaks rise all around. You note the prayer flags and family photos others have left to mark their achievement, snap a few photos of your own, grab a rock, and quickly descend. Now the trick is to make it down.

Claire Vail
July 27, 2004



Want to learn more?
Make a virtual assault on Everest
http://dsc.discovery.com/convergence/everest/
interactive/interactive.html”

“That's really an awesome read.”

“kinda makes you wanna go get a plane ticket don't it.

wouldn't it be cool to take a trip just to base camp?”

“One step at a time, grasshopper.

the rest step is good, mmmkay?!?

I think everyone that climbs Everest should not only haul their own trash out, they should have to carry some of the trash that's been left on the mountain back down too.”

“A woman in my group that climbed Rainier last year went to Everest with a volunteer group. They hiked to base camp then picked up trash on the way down. Their problem was finding places to bury all the trash. it's a real issue there.”

“Good idea Bobo.

I can honestly say I have no real desire to climb that mountain.”

“Forget Everest, just look on any roadside here in the good ol' USA.

More trash than you can poke a stick at.

I volunteer here for riverside cleanup, and have also done roadside cleanup (no orange jumpsuit).
Go back a month later and wonder why I bothered.”

“Hell, just fly over and parachute down. Duhhh.”

“My desire to even visit Base Camp evaporated after reading "Into thin air" and the amount of filth in the villages you have to pass through to get there.”