The People You Meet: Alpamayo Expedition Wrap Up...

Every return begins where you finish. The journey in its entirety,  however seamlessly

straightforward, epically complicated, big or small is made more fulfilling and memorable by those people who you meet along the way - those who guide you, those with whom you share a smile, a laugh,a joke, a tear, an embrace, a lesson learned. There are journeys where these moments play out against a backdrop that is as spectacular and poignant as the moment itself. My journey began long before I stepped off the plane in Peru and long before the 2am 'alpine start' setting out for the summit on the south-west flanks of Alpamayo. 

It's hard to find the words that capture this particular expedition in its entirety. Whist the mountain is certainly one of the most beautiful I've ever seen and every sunrise and sunset seems to top the last in terms of jaw-dropping beauty, what really stands out has been the entirety of the journey itself and the people that I've met along the way. 

My Peruvian adventure started months ago through initial conversations with fellow mountaineers, climbers and guides around objectives -  climbing for aesthetics, building of skills, and personal discovery rather than a pre-determined bucket-list. Additional ingredients to the mix were elements of discovery, exploration and the pushing of personal boundaries... a stronger, more solid foundation of skills, fitness, experience. Yes, I'm 'high maintenance' and yes, one would call this a long 'shopping list' of requirements but with a solid foundation of experience already under my belt I knew that I'd soon embark on the journey that would best fit the bill. Thanks to Alpenglow Expeditions it wasn't long before I had the mountain in my sights. I'd never been to Peru, Alpamayo is aesthetically gorgeous, the team was small and experienced, and the terrain was the perfect ground to build upon skills and experience.

Staying motivated to train for any physical challenge and striking a delicate work-life balance can be as precarious as the challenge itself. Alpamayo provided the perfect testing ground to push physical boundaries and training discipline from the relative comforts of sea-level and prompted the opportunity to meet some fantastic people along the way. Working around a hectic work schedule, I trained for my climb at The Fitzroy Lodge Amateur Boxing Club (ABC), a non-profit, charitable club, run by volunteers and supported by donations, grants and member subscriptions. The overarching aim of the boxing club is to offer a safe environment for boxers to train and compete in the sport of amateur boxing, by teaching boxing skills engendering discipline, respect, honour, self-control and a healthy life style. Without a shadow of a doubt, combined with an active mountain-lifestyle, boxing has provided me with a fantastic base level of fitness and the combined physical and mental strength to put one foot in front of the other on long, sometimes painful and seemingly endless snow-slogs. Boxing is perhaps not viewed as conventional 'mountain training' but the mental and physical elements between the two sports are not dissimilar. Furthermore, the encouragement, respect, and discipline that I have gleaned from the trainers and fellow boxers has taught me some tremendously valuable lessons that will remain with me forever and carry over into both work and play.

A fundamental part of every climb, project or challenge is the team itself - the sum being the whole of its parts. Those people who go from being strangers one minute to your closest confidents and friends the next - even when separated by the perceived barriers of language and culture. Our intrepid team on Alpamayo was made up of Americans, British, Ecuadorians and Peruvians... Certainly not to be overlooked and central to its success were our Peruvian team mates led by Alfredo (cook, interpreter, middle-man, father-figure, horse-whisperer...) and his side-kicks, Julio and Pablo who cared for us all the way to high camp and greeting us every morning from under their giant brown Peruvian hats and with the biggest and brightest of smiles calling out 'Buenos dias seniorita..!' Without their endless energy our individual journeys would have been significantly steeper and the mountains would have been much higher. 

Cashapampa is the small mountain village and physical starting point of the expedition and set the scene for our meeting with Tony, his wife and children and their burrows which would support us in our trek to Alpamayo Base Camp. Expeditions require a phenomenal amount of logistics support to get people and equipment from Point A to Point B. The carefully managed train of mules and horses leading us into and out of Base Camp in wind, rain, snow and sun provided us with a unique insight into life of local Peruvian farmers and 'living off the land'. It was beautiful to see the smiles on the faces of Tony's children as they proudly welcomed us into their home for a hearty and welcoming lunch. Growing up on a farm in Canada, it was fascinating to get this unique local insight and experience as chickens, pigs, guinea pigs, cats and dogs formed an integral part of 'country life' against a backdrop of maize in the rolling hills, stone-wall enclosures, mud-brick houses and warm smiles.

Upon our return from the mountain and back in Huaraz, we were fortunate enough to meet the wives and children of both Julio and Pablo and participate in a traditional feast of 'pachamanca'. Dating back to pre-Hispanic times, pachamanca comes from Quechua language: "Pacha", earth, and "Manca", cooking pot, which could be translated as "earth oven". Widely used in times of the Incas civilisation, Pachamanca is very related to ritual. Pachamancha is a dish (most often including potatoes, corn and meat (beef, pork, lamb, guinea-pig) buried under the ground and cooked over hot stones for about 2-3 hours. It is then eaten with a great fanfare of music, dancing and celebration - and a 'cerveza' or two..! More than a method of cooking it's a celebration in and of itself, a source of fertility and life. The feast was a fantastic way to celebrate the success of the expedition and draw our time in Peru to a close.

I will eventually write a more detailed synopsis of the climb, the teams success on the mountain, our route and the movement between camps but wanted to capture in this blog a bit about the 'essence' of why I love to climb, the basis upon which my memories are formed. In many ways, my climbing experience and passion is best represented as a quilted mosaic of people, mountains, and experiences. Climbing, for me, has become more of a journey and less of a destination and I look forward to adding yet another patch to that quilt. Onward and upward to the next adventure..! 

Photobomb by Jaime... Sunset at High Camp

A well earned beer back at Cashapampa with Julio

Chad doing the rounds for the evening briefing at High Camp on Alpamayo

Jaime leading the way as we move between camps

Because every blog needs a cat picture... Tony's daughter and cat in Cashapampa.

Trying out the local coca leaf brew in Base Camp...

Alfredo desperate to take the bright pink polish off of my hands (and amputate chronically cold fingers).

Without the awesome support of our guides the mountains would be much higher.

An alpine start setting out for the summit.

View looking back from pitch 6 or 7 on the face... bravely captured by Charles and Jaime.

Alpamayo in early afternoon light with perfect view of fluted SW face.

Acclimatisation walk around High Camp.

Climb up to High Camp.

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Huaraz: The mountains are calling and we must go...

Yesterday I found myself hurtling, knuckles white with fear and exhilaration, down a narrow dirt track in the shadow of some of the most stunning scenery that I've seen in a while... snow capped mountains stretching far into the valleys below, paths lined with pre-Incan ruins on a radiant blue-bird day. I was in Huaraz - a village that I'd long heard about for its friendly mountain feel and its reputation as the gateway to the Cordillera Blanca and all that it has to offer. And I was on a full-suspension mountain bike... not quite the traditional acclimatisation process but effective none the less.

We had arrived in Huaraz on Sunday evening after a long 8-hour bus journey out of Lima. The early hours of the bus journey were monotonous (a term I don't use lightly) as the brown-grey colour of the shanty-towns and rural villages blended with the dull grey sky. It wasn't pretty but I knew that Peru was simply holding back, waiting to deliver. And deliver it did.

As we approached the foothills the sky suddenly began to break and the rays of sunlight began to add colour the ground below, bringing out vibrant greens, highlighting the pinks and illuminating the mountain streams trickling out of the rock which lined the road. Switchback after switchback led us to an altitude of 3800m where we crossed a mountain pass and another valley opened up below.

We were pressed to the windows of our comfortable van, taking pictures and getting increasingly excited about the adventure ahead. We'd only met that morning - a small team of 6 including 2 guides from Ecuador, US, Canada and the UK and yet our shared excitement and anticipation about working together in the coming weeks had already created a bond.

Huaraz is the restless capital of this Andean adventure kingdom and, as yesterdays morning breakfast revealed, its rooftops command exhaustive panoramas of the city's dominion: one of the most impressive mountain ranges in the world. It certainly lived up to its reputation as a trekking metropolis (think of a cross between Mendoza, Kathmandu and Chamonix) - dozens of adventure tour operators line the streets to help plan trips, rent equipment and organise a list of adventure sports as long as your arm. Adding to this (perhaps the icing on the cake) are dozens of fantastic restaurants which offer a global range of cuisine with Peruvian charm.

Our guest house is absolutely stunning. A small, spotlessly clean bed and breakfast called Olazas - friendly, cozy, beautifully decorated with a spectacular roof-top terrace. My heaven. And to make the guest house even more perfect, it offers mountain bike tours of the Cordillera Blanca... Even if I wasn't here to climb a mountain I'd certainly consider coming back just to relax, explore and soak in the spectacular panorama over one of their delicious breakfasts.

Being a team made up of 5 men (and me!), we couldn't help but let our adventurous side get the better of us yesterday as we loaded up a van with bikes and prepared to acclimatise by heading up into the higher altitudes. We cycled breathlessly through the amazing terrain and held on for our lives... a few of the boys went off to a slightly more 'hardcore' track but me, feeling particularly comfortable with the amount of risk I was already taking in advance of a significant climb, decided to take things easy and stay on the 'straight forward' terrain - which did have its share of single track sections, mud, and rock-laden downhills. It's been ages since I was last on a mountain bike - 6 years in fact - and this brief taster certainly reminded me of why I love the sport.

And here we are today - gorgeously sunny Tuesday morning. As the subject-line indicates, the mountains are calling. Our bags of kit are currently being loaded into two vans and in about an hours time we will head to Cashapampa (9000 feet / 2743m). The three hour drive will take us through beautiful farming communities as we head between the spines of the Cordillera Negra and the Cordillera Blanca. Here we'll organise our burros (mules) and hike to Llama Corral (11,500 feet / 3,505 metres).

We are super psyched and really looking forward to the adventure ahead. This will be my last blog post for a while until our return from the mountain in just under 2 weeks time. Breakfast is now being served on the stunning terrace and once again we can't help but be mesmerised by the views.  And so, the mountains are calling.... and we must go.

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Living Large in Lima...

'Stepping out of your comfort zone' is my personal definition of the word 'adventure'. Adventure means different things to different people because 'your comfort zone' is, by its very definition a personal boundary. On Thursday morning I found myself 'stepping out of my comfort zone' as I stepped on my flight to Lima, Peru...  For the first time in a long time I felt as though I was on a grand adventure -  stepping out of my comfort zone and being a guest in a new country, a new city, experiencing a new culture, meeting new people, trying new foods... It was the whole package.... the deluxe version, in fact. The very prospect of being out of my comfort zone made me feel incredibly alive. 

Landing in Lima about 13 hours later, I was suddenly more committed to the 'adventure' as I leapt out of my comfort zone with an almighty stride - Spanish instructions boomed over the airport intercom, baggage trolleys jammed haphazardly around the luggage belts, travellers from all around the world converging in a babel of cultural idiosyncrasies under the buzzing fluorescent lights... I felt lost but in a strange way, felt as though I was exactly where I was supposed to be. My sense of sight suddenly seemed clearer, my sense of smell sharper and my hearing seemed to pick up the occasional recognisable phrase in the midst of the cacophony of noise. It could have been scary and I could have worried about a million other things but for the first time in a long time I just 'let go' and let the adventure take me. I felt free... even though I was lugging around about 40kgs of baggage.

One of the initial 'ambassadors' to adventure in a new city is often a local taxi driver. Sometimes they speak English, sometimes they don't... either way, to me, the privilege of being driven around a 'new city' and having the opportunity to reflect on first impressions is intensely satisfying. I had no idea what to expect from Lima. My first impressions were that it was a lot cooler than I expected (about 17 degrees), that the traffic was chaotic (7.30pm 'rush hour), and that there seemed to be an abundance of hair dressers, casinos and gyms built into the box-like buildings generally built no higher than 4 stories. I learned later that this is because Lima sits right on a fault line and the last earthquake, a 4.8, occurred only just last week. 

My hotel, located in the Milaflores district was quaint, clean and quiet and provided the perfect stepping stone for exploring the city. A short walk away was the Pacific Ocean and a commercial hub with everything from Starbucks and TGI Fridays to local alpaca arts and crafts shops.  

As the formal part of my expedition wasn't due to start until Sunday morning with an 8-hour drive to the mountain village of Huaraz, I had two full days to see as much of Lima as time (and jet lag) would permit. Two key highlights stand out - stepping on a hideously fluorescent and touristy yellow 'Turibus' and secondly, participating in the world cup festivities (watching Holland make it into the semi finals... barely)

I was able to join the 'Turibus' near to the hotel... The first stop was in the bohemian district of Barranco (adjacent to the Miraflores district). Here I learned that the locals of this especially affluent district pay 43% tax for the privilege of their stunning ocean front views and high-end services and shops. The bus then continued on for 5.5 kms into the city centre where we visited The San Martin Square, the Main Square and the Convent of San Francisco and its Catacombs in which 70,000 people have been buried. The open topped bus not only provided a transient way to 'dip in and out' of the city's rich history, it also provided me with enough cold air and stimulus to combat waves of jet-lag.

The second highlight of my time in Lima was the World Cup. Knowing smiles were exchanged between strangers who were seen to support the same team. There was a man on my Turibus tour who was dressed head-to-toe in Brazilian colours and carried a replica World Cup into the catacombs. The priests and nobility buried there would have turned in their graves. And then there was the game itself. THE game. With my head of blond hair, fair skin and big nose I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible supporting Holland in a pub that was RAMMED full of Costa Rican supporters. Only the waiter shared my secret and kept offering me drinks that seemed to get cheaper and cheaper as the goalless minutes ticked by. To save my nerves I decided to leave the pub when the game went to penalty kicks and instead caught the winning 'goal' through a window looking onto the television. I celebrated with a smile and a local drink, a pisco sour. It was a good day.

My Lima adventure was a thoroughly enjoyable one and provided the perfect prelude to what I think will be a fantastic two weeks in the mountains climbing Alpamayo. I am so excited to meet faces new and familiar and to enter deeper into this adventure as I discover more and more about this stunning country and its people. Tomorrow begins the second chapter of this new adventure and I can't wait to go even further to the precipice of my comfort zone. Bring it on.

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Alpamayo - The chicas, chicos and gringos you meet along the way

Trawling through an online library of photography of Alpamayo I can’t help but feel excited about the weeks ahead. I made a conscious decision not to go back to the Himalaya this spring but rather to focus on exploring a new part of the world that would combine two passions which have fuelled my travels and numerous stamps in my passport over the past five years - mountains and people. When my friend Adrian Ballinger, understanding the lure of mountains of aesthetic beauty (Makalu, Cholatse, Ama Dablam to name a few) sent a well timed email, it didn’t take too long before Part 1 of my summer plans came together.

At (19,512 feet/5,947 meters), Alpamayo is the gem of the Cordillera Blanca in Peru. Ever since it was first climbed in 1951, alpinists have been flocking to attempt its fluted Southwest Face. In July 1966, on the German magazine ‘Alpinismus’, a photo made by American photographer Leigh Ortenburger, was supported by an article resulting from an international survey among climbers, photographers, etc., voting for Alpamayo as "The Most Beautiful Mountain in the World”. As soon as I saw the jaw-dropingly breathtaking photo, I couldn’t help but whole-heartedly agree.

Günter Hauser, who made the first ascent, wrote: "As we pitched our tents the sun went down and Alpamayo became a kaleidoscope of swiftly-changing colour altogether becoming suffused with the pale lunar radiance of the evening before against the background of the dark blue sky with its diadem of stars." 

Alpamayo deserves these accolades. Although smaller than many of its neighbouring peaks, it is distinguished by its unusual formation and overwhelming beauty. It actually has two sharp summits, North and South, separated by a narrow corniced ridge. 

We'll be climbing the Southwest face. Although there are several climbing routes on the Southwest Face the most common is known as the Ferrari or Italian Route. It was opened in 1975 by a group of Italian alpinists led by Casimiro Ferrari. It begins at the top of the highest point of the snow slope where the bergshrund separates the upper face on the left and then ascends a steep runnel to the summit ridge. Summit day consists of  450m  (1,500 feet) of perfect ice and neve (styrofoam-like snow) climbing on a flawless fluted face.

I’ve been told that you’ll know you’re nearing the top of the climb when you begin to see light ‘through’ the face from the other side. And on a good year, you can actually top out on the summit ridge, with one foot dangling down each of its almost vertical faces… Nothing like a knife-edge summit ridge to get the heart racing.

The journey...

I’ll be flying directly into Lima, Peru where the journey will begin. I’ll spend a few days on my own in Lima before meeting up with my climbing team - faces familiar and new as we head from Lima to Huaraz - a winter sports and adventure mecca,  attracting visitors from around the world to enjoy climbing, hiking, snowboarding, skiing and to visit the glaciers and mountains of the Cordillera Blanca.  From there we’ll make our way to the trail-head where the real climbing will commence…

As I’ll be traveling to a part of the world that I’ve never visited before, I thought I’d do a bit of research on the food, people, culture and traditions that I can expect to find there… From the looks of things, I’ll be eating and drinking well (if I acquire a taste for guinea pig!), get a real appreciation for the immense scale of the rain forest, learn some new Spanish words and… likely acquire a new pair of yellow underwear…

A few random but interesting facts about Peru…

• Peru grows more than 55 varieties of corn, and you can just about find it in any colour  including yellow, purple, white and black;
• The potato is originally from Peru, and there are over 3,000 different varieties. Proud Peruvians use the phrase “Soy mas Peruano que la papa” (I am more Peruvian than the potato);
• Cuy or Guinea Pig is a traditional dish eaten in Peru;
• Peru is the 8th largest producer of coffee in the world, and is the 5th largest producer of the Arabica bean;
• Peru is a surfer’s paradise. Chicama has the world’s longest left-handed wave at 4km’s long, and Mancora (close by) has the world’s largest left-handed point-break.
• Two-thirds of Peru is covered in prime Amazon rainforest;
• There are 3 official languages in Peru: Spanish, Quechua and Aymara, but east of the Andes in Amazon Jungle regions it is thought that natives speak a further 13 different languages; and,
• In Peru, it's traditional to give friends and family yellow underpants on New Year’s Eve as it brings good luck...!

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Time for an armchair expedition - 2 months in 12.5 minutes. Videos from Makalu & Ama Dablam!

Last week I was asked by a colleague at PwC to present at client-facing meeting  on the theme of teamwork challenges and lessons learned from my climbing expeditions and experiences on Everest, Makalu and Ama Dablam.

As I'd only just returned from Nepal after two months away I had quite a bit of catching up to do on the work front and in getting my fitness back on-form. Needless to say, I soon found myself the evening before the scheduled presentation rather frantically putting together a short video documenting both the Makalu and Ama Dablam expeditions and a short-slide deck that would supplement 45 minutes of speaking..! The results of the videos can be found below - enjoy this little 12 minute summary of the past 2 months of 'expedition life..!' 

Makalu (September - October 2012)

Ama Dablam (October - November 2012)

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This blog is about people... and thank you's...

Perhaps an unusual statement about an adventure which, in the physical sense, has been purely ‘vertical’, freezing-cold and oxygen-limiting...! Reflecting both on the extensive preparation Makalu / Ama Dablam expedition and the two-months spent on the snowy cold slopes, this adventure has really been brought to life through the amazing people that I have met along the way....people who have inspired me, helped me, and joined me in some shape or form on this incredible adventure to just over 7000m on Makalu and the 6800m summit of Ama Dablam.

Some of these people have dazzled me with their genius and art. Others have shared with me insights about how I can live. Others have devoted their life to helping others. Some have conquered mountains while others have built business empires. Some are great artists while others have entertained with their brilliant musical talents. One thing that they all have in common is that they are passionate, talented, and amazing people who have added colour to my life and have helped to shape the moments that have made up this journey.

Autumn Himalayan Wrap-up
This autumn season in Nepal has been an incredibly memorable one with both highs and lows and lessons learned. The lows  remind us of the risks inherent to mountaineering and the fragility of the decisions made on its slopes - on Manaslu, one of the biggest accidents in Himalayan history, an accident that both guides and Sherpa had been fearing might happen but hoping to avoid since the mountain became commercially popular in 2008. All of us on the Makalu team knew someone involved in the accident, and our thoughts and prayers go out to all those affected by this tragedy.

My nervous-decision to attempt to climb Makalu was driven primarily because of the closure of Tibet and concern about the resulting crowds and conditions on Manaslu. Looking back, I am so glad that guide Adrian Ballinger convinced me to join him and the Alpenglow Expeditions team in exploring this incredible and remote mountain. We experienced safe and stellar climbing conditions, a stunning valley and gorgeous mountain camps and reached a final altitude of 7100m. While an early jet-stream bringing 150kph winds prevented us from our final goal of reaching the 8500m summit in early October, we all left the mountain happy and healthy, and committed to returning next year to have another ‘go’. This is a fantastic result and I am incredibly proud of our performance on this formidable peak and look forward to building on this reconaissance in the autumn of 2013.

And then Ama Dablam – an iconic peak for which I’ve been training over the past two years. With its dizzying exposure, narrow ledges and knife-edge ridges I was worried that I’d love my nerve. However, it all worked out even more perfectly than I could ever have imagined. With my body fully acclimatised to the lack of oxygen post-Makalu and fully supported by a strong and talented Sherpa team and excellent guides Adrian Ballinger and Chad Peele, it was a thoroughly enjoyable climb with a straight-forward 13-hour summit day which brought us back to base camp for dinner. Conditions were incredible on the 26^th of October - perfect neve on our summit push above high camp, lots of good ice on the Grey Tower, and dry granite down low between Camps 1 and 2. Our summit day offered incredible views From the summit of Ama Dablam we were treated to incredibly stunning views of the south Face of Lhotse, Nuptse, Mount Everest, Cho Oyu, Pumori, Shishapangma, Makalu, and the Khumbu Himal. Standing there looking out over the surrounding peaks was worth every second of the work that I’d put into this journey.

Thank you’s...

Throughout this journey I’ve been inspired by so many of the people that I’ve met along the way. These people have inspired me to push on to find additional strength and motivation to reach the summit of these mountains – or make my way as far as possible up their snowy slopes…! These people have included the likes of David English OBE, MBE; Christine Mills MBE; Alex Trapnell and the Hope for Tomorrow team, Sir Stirling  and Lady Moss, Charles Finch, the team at Sherpa Adventure Gear, Katy Biddulph from Striders Ege, Piers Morgan, Peter Elliott, Isabelle Santoire, the girls from the Sisterhood, the team of builders volunteering their time at the Khumbu Climbing School, Captain Ashish at Fishtail Air, our cook / chef Tashi, guides Adrian Ballinger, Chad Peele and Monica Piris, my fantastic colleagues at PwC, my family and friends… plus many, many more.

Without the tremendous support of these people life would not be nearly as fascinating and mountains would be significantly higher.

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Ama Dablam Summit Day Summary - Expedition Report...

Camp 1 on Ama Dablam is perched high up on a rocky ridge offering just enough of a view of the route to the summit to conjure a range of emotions fluctuating on a sliding scale between excitement and sense of “what the hell have I gotten myself into…??” 

Whilst it isn’t the most comfortable camping spot in the world, the fact that the sun crests over the mountain and hits the tents at 6.15 AM is a huge bonus particularly when everything seems to freeze solidly overnight and getting out of the deep, dark depths of a sleeping bag to embrace the day  - or rather, embrace the jumar - is made somewhat more lucrative and less baltic.

At 7am our 2-day summit push officially began as Sergey, Valdis, Chad and I left the warmth of our yellow tents and began the steep climb to Camp 2.7 - an ascent of about 300 vertical meters over technical terrain of rock, ice and exposed ridges. The allusive snow-capped summit of Ama Dablam seemed to appear closer and closer with each precarious step. It was a gorgeous day with blue skies and a very light breeze so we managed to stay warm in the sunshine and top up our raccoon-eye tans. We’d already climbed from Camp 1 – Camp 2 as part of a training rotation so the familiarity of the terrain and the ropes certainly helped to ease nerves over some particularly exposed areas which had previously made my stomach turn and my heart beat double-time..! 

The Yellow Tower:
Just before Camp 2 we were met by the infamous 12m vertical rock wall better known as the Yellow Tower. If climbing Ama Dablam was a video-game, this obstacle would be a ‘high score challenge’ and would force the video-character to do a blind-folded, triple back flip off of a can of tomato soup over a pit of crocodiles and onto the ridge of a massive stone wall. In mountaineering terms, the Yellow Tower presents an equally formidable challenge – minus the crocodiles, soup, and backflip but adding into the equation a jumar and a 10,000 foot drop off of a slabby ledge no wider than a patio paving stone. 

To make a rather long story short, I was the first to rather ungracefully jumar way up the wall, trying desperately neither to think about the wind whistling behind me nor the aquamarine-blue glacial lake glittering in the sun several thousand feet below the backs of my big-booted heels. 

Thank god style-points were not handed out for the ascent of the Yellow Tower as, apart from my right leg doing the ‘jail-house rock’ with sheer terror, I would have received a negative score upon reaching the belay ledge where Chad stood smiling broadly and framed by an assortment of colorful ropes – old and new. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see him!! 

Camp Poo...er... Two:
Valdis and Sergey followed closely and heroically behind (with significantly higher style points) and we recomposed ourselves in Camp Two. Camp Two is better known as ‘Camp Poo’ due to the extensive garbage and human waste left behind from other expeditions. It’s both sad and strange to see firsthand how one of the most iconic camps in the Himalaya is one of the dirtiest (serious understatement) I’ve ever seen… Needless to say, we were under strict instructions ‘not to touch anything’ and kept bottles of hand-sanitizer close to hand..! Having survived the Yellow Tower I was not eager to test my luck or the strength of my gastro-intestinal system here!!

At Camp 2, we were also met by our super strong, skilled and smiling Sherpa team - Dorji Sonam Galgyen Sherpa, Palden Namgya Sherpa, Danuru Sherpa -  who had come down from establishing our Camp 2.7. For the past few years Alpenglow Expeditions uses Camp 2. 7 as it’s a safer option (and only about 10 minutes away) from the more serac-prone and therefore dangerous Camp 3. Camp 2.7 was also to be the ‘launch pad’ for our summit push very early the following morning.  

I must admit, having escaped relatively unscathed from Camp Poo, and now standing in the shadow of the Grey Tower I was looking forward to this next section being over and having the opportunity to dive into my tent! Little did I know about the vertical adventures in store!

The Grey Tower:
Straight out of Camp 2 we made our way up a steep snow ridge, climbed through the Grey Tower… aptly named because it’s grey and it’s a tower (our minds are simple at altitude). I love mixed climbing and, being acclimatized (thanks to the physiological benefits gained through our 7000m ‘touch’ on Makalu) I found the Grey Tower to be quite a treat (ok, perhaps a slight exaggeration… a new pair of Jimmy Choo’s or a bed… or even a shower for that matter would have been a greater treat…). 

The Grey Tower is infamous for its unbiased affinity for shooting rock and ice missiles on climbers daring attempt its vertical face. Having said that, today the Tower was kind to us and few projectiles came down - the ice and snow lodged in numerous rock seams combined with some solid-rock steps carefully navigated through crampon-points provided great foot-holds and the only casualty of the climb was the granola bar that fell out of my pocket into the airy abyss thousands of meters below. Rocky outcrops also provided great handholds and, when combined with some careful jumaring, the 1.5 hour section proved to be a technical but thoroughly enjoyable vertical journey with conditions and terrain not dissimilar to what I’ve experienced on climbs both in Chamonix and in Scotland. The anchors and ropes were also good which provided some comfort although I did chuckle nervously at several points when I was provided with a choice of about 9 ropes all haphazardly poking their way out of the ice-covered rock… Russian roulette alpine style. Fortunately the ‘new rope’ was pretty obvious!

Mushroom Ridge:
We made good time climbing a snow-rock-ice chute off of the Grey Tower to gain the ridge traverse, better known as the infamous "Mushroom-Ridge". Mushroom Ridge can only be described as a very bizarre but fairly stable rock formation with ice and snow cornices tenuously stuck to a knife-edge ridge. The Ridge is famous – or rather, infamous -  for no other reason than that it has been known to be white-knuckle-inducing heart-stopping-ly terrifying…. For approximately 1 kilometer one must walk along the rocky, icy, snowy ridge no more than 30cm wide with an abyss of thousands of feet falling away at either side. I’d heard and read horror stories about the ridge but again, found it in excellent condition - not quite to the point where one could do kartwheels on it -  but it did offer occasional-enough solid snow / ice and rock footing (straddling, crawling, tip-toeing, inching…) With the help of a Palden Namgya Sherpa, and doing everything in my power not to look down I found my balance on the ridge and made my way across.  The final stretch…!!

Camp 2.7 & overnight: 
We followed the ridge to the right side of the base of the Dablam, where I looked up - overjoyed, relieved, a little bit emotional (yes, I shed a single, frozen tear or two… or ten…) -  to see Camp 2.7 beautifully carved into a giant ice buttress and sat on a narrow ledge no wider than a single tent. Sergey, Valdiz and Chad were already there waving comfortably from their tents and boiling water from snow. It was great to see that we’d all made it, unscathed, were in fine form and ready for an ‘exciting’ high-altitude evening of boiling water and discussing the nutritional benefits of freeze-dried food and other very educational, stimulating conversations which filled our hypoxic brains with wonder.

Whilst it was only about 3.30pm, it felt like it had been a very long day with both mental and physical challenges that had really pushed my limits. Having said that, the day had made me realize a great deal about myself. Sitting in the tent on the narrow ledge, re-hydrating, recounting and laughing over the events of the day made me realize and reflect upon how far I’ve come in mountaineering terms over the past few years… From having an absolute, white-knuckle fear of heights (we’re talking in-door, household ladders!) several years ago through to today where I consistently entrusted my life to two tiny stainless-steel fork-like front-points with a 10,000 foot drop at my back and now sleeping in a tent on a ledge no wider than a tub protected by ropes no wider than a shoe-lace attached to a tempramental icy buttress… Has this been ‘development’, is my brain severely suffering from sustained lack of oxygen or am I just becoming ‘mad’ in my old age?! Either way, it’s soooooo worth it..!

Day 2 - Summit Push from Camp 2.7:

In spite of the fact that comfort was hard to come by and a good nights sleep eluded me, 4am rolled around far too quickly. From within the warm depths of my sleeping bag I‘d already anticipated the typical summit day early start. By the time I heard the Sherpa’s stirring in the neighboring tent, I’d already started to go through the mental check-list of the things I’d need to do as part of the finely-tuned ‘sleeping-bag to summit’ journey. Hand-warmer taping, summit-sock fitting, down layering, water boiling, backpack stocking, head-torch adjusting, helmet donning, crampon fitting, mitten tightening…. (I’m sooooo ‘low maintenance!). I’d been pre-warned that it was going to be bitterly cold so was doing absolutely everything in my power from our 6300m perch to do what I could to prepare for the baltic vertical journey that lay ahead. For once in my life, I was more concerned about doing everything I could to resemble the Michelin Man rather than a fashionista… a diva in down.

We inched our way out of the tents, clipped on our safety and geared up our jumars and left the relative comforts of Camp 2.7 shortly after 5am – everyone was super psyched and raring to go. In spite of my nerves, I was happy and warm and excited to climb!! I knew what lay ahead was a relatively straight-forward steep and dramatic climb to the summit of one of the most beautiful mountains in the world. And it was well within our reach! It was time to put in some work and take advantage of all of the work that we’d been doing to prepare for this iconic and unforgettable climb.

We started out of Camp 2.7 with two easy pitches of dramatic but very solid 40+ degree snow-ice to the side of the Dablam – a section which can be prone to some ice-fall. The sun had not yet hit the mountain so we climbed in the shadow and under a light breeze. Conditions were far from tropical – but they were certainly not bordering on arctic… and we did our best to move efficiently in temperatures bordering on -20 degrees. Adrian and Sergey led from the front with their usual efficient speed and skill whilst Valdis held up the middle and Chad and I formed the end of our vertical conga-line. We had the route to ourselves and again, found it in perfect condition with deep, solid snow-steps leading us to the 6800m summit. The trick was to find a rhythm and keep moving. Apart from a few stops to warm hands and take a drink I managed to do this under the watchful eyes of both Chad and  Sherpa Dan Nuru.

Rounding past the Dablam, we followed the fluted but very easy and solid, 30-48 degree snowfields over one rocky-outcrop that ultimately led to the summit of Ama Dablam. Whilst I was relatively acclimatized, this did not stop me from feeling the altitude and the cold. With Chad and the Sherpa Dan Nuru offering both encouragement and support, I managed to slowly (and perhaps rather ungracefully!) amble my way to the summit just as the sun hit.  As I neared the top, Adrian, Sergey and Valdis had started to make their way down. 

The 6800m Summit of Ama Dablam:
I wish that I could say I summited with an air of dignity and strength and power however I must admit that I could do little but fall to my knees as I came over the crest of the final slope and onto the flat summit. And there I sat for a minute as a wave of emotion came over me – happiness, wonder, achievement, and gratefulness to have had the opportunity to climb this mountain with the support and encouragement of such a fabulous team…. 

From the summit of Ama Dablam we were treated to incredibly stunning views of the south Face of Lhotse, Nuptse, Mount Everest, Cho Oyu, Pumori, Shishapangma, Makalu, and the Khumbu Himal. Standing there looking out over the surrounding peaks was worth every second of the work that I’d put into this journey. I felt so tiny amongst the tremendous Himalayan peaks but at the same time, felt so strong and fortunate to have had the opportunity to have been a member of the Alpenglow Ama Dablam team. Huge, huge thank you to Dorji Sonam Galgyen Sherpa, Palden Namgya Sherpa, Danuru Sherpa, Chad Peele, Adrian Ballinger, Sergey and Valdis and Monica Piris as mission-control in BC for this fantastic experience and for all of your encouragement and support..! A special additional thanks to Chad for sacrificing his fingers to take photos for me when my camera-battery froze!! I owe you a bottle of Nepal's finest rum...

Rather than go through the play-by-play of our tedious (but speedy!) descent from the summit I’ll summarise by saying that it went without a hitch and was (surprisingly) much easier than I thought it would be. Even the Mushroom Ridge seemed to pass without drama and I descended the Yellow Tower with significantly more grace (and speed) than ascent..! We reached Camp 1 in record-time and decided to make the most of the creature comforts (Tashi’s fabulous cooking and a bottle of whiskey) in Base Camp.

A million Thank You's to the Alpenglow Expeditions Team...
On behalf of the Makalu-Ama Dablam summit-team, I’d like to extend a huge, huge thank you to everyone who has been following along and for supporting us during these past 2 months. It’s been an adventure of epic proportions and the fabulous memories will remain for many years to come. See you in the Fall 2013!!! 

Exhausted but happy in Camp 2.7

View of Ama on our Summit Day during the walk down

Sergey, Heather, Valdis

On the summit with, Hope for Tomorrow charity

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