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

At the point they stopped moving east and started climbing up again, they were almost exactly on their originally planned route. They would follow the planned route as far as they could, up the snow fields to the base of the Eastern Ridge. Then they would turn west, crossing Rauff’s Maw and continuing until they rose high enough to mount the Eastern Ridge. Finally they would follow the ridge to the summit. They would take this route until they either ran out of food and fuel, or until they came across the rest of their party. “I hate to admit it” Hoyt wrote in his journal, “but I am gambling just like that adventurer manqué on the other side of the mountain. When it comes to Junk, nomen est omen.”

The ascent up the snowfields was technically easy, but it was physically challenging because they were hungry and gasping for air. They had not acclimated yet, and they both suffered from splitting headaches and nausea. The slight cases of frostbite they had suffered in the storm were not causing them too much discomfort, as they had tended to those spots with hot water immediately upon arriving at their Camp One. Unburdened by a massive team, they arrived at the base of the Northeast Ridge far ahead of schedule, and decided to down climb to

Camp One that same day. Tomorrow, they would do the same thing again. And the day after that, they would return to the base of the Northeast Ridge and set up Camp Two. From there, on the morning of the sixth, they would set off for Rauff’s Maw. They would be completely out of food and fuel by then. If they did not find the rest of their party at that point, they would have to make haste for Base Camp, or die trying.

The rest of the expedition decided to continue up the mountain even though they were far off course – too far west to leverage the easy passage of the snowfields. No, the route they would take was a snowfield harshly interrupted by a forty foot wall of granite. They would again have to forego acclimatization because such a technical climb could not safely be repeated again. The only good news was that if they succeeded in getting over that wall, they would be west of Rauff’s Maw, and therefore able to skip it. This could potentially shave days off of the ascent.

With Hoyt absent, Wilde took charge and mandated a day of rest. If they could not acclimate again, he felt holding their ground for a few more days was the next best thing. “Our numbers have dwindled too much. We cannot afford to lose a single man to hypoxia” he said. They set up camp at the foot of the granite wall on the evening of September fourth and remained there for two days.

Little did the team know Ferguson would take this opportunity to prosthelytize about healthy living. Ferguson cursed the canned meats, pipes, and alcohol they had on the expedition. He was surviving on a diet consisting almost exclusively of yams and almonds. “It keeps the intestinal flora verdant and the remainder of the bowels pristine.” Somehow he had managed to jam pamphlets into his backpack and now took this opportunity to pass then around. “I will take on this diet when I give up caring” wrote Wilde in his notes that evening. Ferguson offered to give a quinine suffusion to anyone who wanted it once they returned to the States, but the rest of the men politely refused. Realizing he was not winning over converts, Ferguson asked if he could at least prepare supper that evening. The team acquiesced and the Indian cook was given the night off. Yams, beans, and walnuts were cooked in a skillet and sweetened with a liberal helping of brown sugar. The team was surprised and pleased. Supper turned out refreshing and delicious. The next day he continued lecturing about a healthy diet. He infused the discussion on the second day with talk of abstinence from sexual relations. He alleged the right diet would dull those urges, bringing about psychological harmony. “Not me” Chhiri Tendi responded. “When I see a yam, I go crazy. If you’re alone on the trail, a well-cooked yam can be a respectable replacement for a lady.” Ferguson promptly lost his audience.

The team awoke on the sixth after two days of rest, ready to take on the wall. Drake was excited for this moment, for Wilde agreed the team could give his invention – the “magic rope” – a try. There was no denying it was designed for the sole purpose of surmounting obstacles just like this one. They came to the very base of the wall. Wilde wrote: “Drake took off his backpack and unzipped it with bare hands, steam pouring from his nostrils. Out of it he pulled the black disk. Its concentric rings looked like the grooves of an unusually thick musical recording, the knobs and dials in the middle being the recording’s label. Drake took the disk and placed it on a relatively flat area. I asked what would happen next.”

Drake said one person would lean down and grab the handles sticking out of the sides. Then Drake would turn the small switch next to one of the handles, thereby freeing the springs. The device would begin to expand. Once it was at the height of the climber, others were to stabilize it at its base and the climber with his hands on the handles would continue to rise. And rise. And rise. At some point, when they arrived at the top of the cliff, the magic rope would “sense” the top and stop expanding. Or it would expand to forty feet, whichever came first. At that point the climber could use whatever maneuvers or