Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain, Jonathan Bloom [best ebook reader TXT] 📗

reason whatsoever. When Ferguson entered the tent, he had likely come across a man lost in self-evaluation; a man taking an inventory one only takes at the most significant of life’s crossroads.

According to Ferguson, Hoyt ambled out of his tent a few minutes later and walked to a location he had returned to repeatedly over the last nine days: the body of Zachary Taylor. Hoyt knew this man. He had climbed with him on Everest. What was he doing frozen and strapped to a board at the bottom of the Qila Pass? The only answer was that he had joined Junk’s team to get revenge on his former expedition leader, met a terrible demise, and the board was some sort of half-completed coffin. Junk must have had to leave in a hurry if he was unwilling to complete the coffin. Hoyt suspected an avalanche. That would make sense given the condition of Aaron Junk’s Base Camp. It had been hit by some breed of colossus that had flattened it entirely and then disappeared. The warm weather of the past week would explain the avalanche’s disappearance. However the events may have transpired, Taylor was now laying there, fists clenched and thrust into the air, wearing a look of complete surprise.

The day blossomed warm and sunny, as had each day since their arrival. The team had gotten into a routine. There were early breakfasts consisting of eggs, sausage, and coffee (The sausage was gone after the fifth day). After breakfast they would split into parties to explore the area, much like Junk’s team had done earlier. They found no alternative route into Qila. They would then have dinner at noon, which usually involved fish stuck in the snow to keep frozen and then grilled in chunks over the Rob Roy by Yuudai. Afternoon found them keeping in shape and warding off altitude sickness by hiking up the pass as far as they could make it without risking serious injury. At sunset, they would climb down and eat supper like paupers, bread and oleo, in order to save their rations as much as possible. By the ninth day, supper was bread with no oleo. After supper, Hoyt retired while the others sat around a campfire and drank. “They share tales of past adventures and women. No one can keep up with that loud-mouth Chatham. I have the urge to poison him or fatally punch him or both. I need to keep instinct at bay. He is apparently a top-notch climber and the expedition needs such men.”

The porters and Sherpa arrived just as the team was beginning to pack for home. They were slogging in single file across stone and ice from the southeast, with Chhiri Tendi in front. There were easily over one hundred and fifty of them. Major General Ubugai must have hired on more men to ensure the successful climb of his son. The army of support brought with them beasts of burden and huge packs on their backs, all weighed down with food, clothing, and climbing equipment. It was like a cold-climate mirage. Hoyt’s team let up a cheer and Chhiri Tendi’s hordes cheered in response. “I was not happy at all” wrote Hoyt later that day. “They were late and had caused us unnecessary anxiety. I stormed over to Chhiri Tendi with the intent of venting my spleen. All I could say was ‘Where the devil have you been’ before he had his huge arms around me, hugging me as if we were long-lost brothers. He then kissed me on both cheeks and called me a ‘handsome bastard.’” He turned to his men and spoke to them in what may have been Nepali. As he spoke, he pointed to me every few seconds. This was accompanied by occasional laughter from the crowd which I found quite insulting; but when he finished his speech the men let up a giant cheer (the cheering ended abruptly when a distant avalanche was heard and seen near Asha) and each man in turn came to pat me on the shoulder or hug me and give me a warm verbal greeting in a foreign tongue through horrible teeth. After about one hundred and fifty kind salutations, I could no longer be upset.”

Chhiri Tendi and Hoyt spoke at lengthabout the plans. There was likely no way to get all of the porters and cooks over the Qila Pass, so they would unfortunately have to make their current location base camp. Only the American members of the team, the high altitude Sherpa, and one cook would proceed. This made for an overall team of about thirty-five. All thirty-five would proceed to Advanced Base Camp and the four camps on Fumu, then Chhiri Tendi and Hoyt would make the push for the summit. Chhiri Tendi was very excited. He knew the route from his attempt with Hoover. Chhiri Tendi said, “Had he not been decapitated, Hoover would be honored to know we are working together, and that we are recreating his steps in our struggle for the top.”

Hoyt also explained to Chhiri Tendi that Junk’s team was over the Pass already and probably making a go for the northern route up the mountain. Their hope was that Junk and team would already be half-spent just getting to the northern base of Fumu and would not have the energy nor the supplies for a summit attempt. According to Hoyt, Chhiri Tendi added “That [expletive] is too capricious and too inexperienced to carry out such an endurance test. He is likely to fail.” Hoyt asked Chhiri Tendi to please minimize the blue talk. Chhiri Tendi apologized and said he would try. Moments later he was swearing again.

Everyone awoke at sunrise the following morning ready to take on the Pass. Gear was packed. Cigarettes and pipes were smoked. Prayers were spoken. A delicious breakfast was eaten. Packs were placed on backs and goodbyes were said to a large percentage of cooks and porters who were to stay at