Erickson

Anker

Lowe

Kris Erickson
We are all recovering from a brutal day of hiking yesterday. We pulled 3,700, deciding to bypass our initial Base Camp in favor of a higher camp. Mark and Andrew caught a stomach bug in Nyalam, causing some concern. Mark was ejecting in stereo, but nothing a little Cipro couldn't take care of.

Unfortunately, Andrew came down with some bronchial trouble and was forced to descend the 5,000 feet back to Nyalam with Alex in the middle of the night. Word came this morning, by yak, that Andrew and Alex would try to be back to Base Camp by the end of the week. It seems Andrew was feeling much better after having dropped much altitude. We have all been concerned about the altitude and have been drinking water and taking pulse oximeter reading fanatically. Eating has been more of a task, even for the "momo king" [Hans Saari], but our energy level is high.

The mountains tower 10,000 feet over Base Camp. We have been worrying about the amount of snow, but now it looks like there may be more than we bargained for. Also, there is noticeable evidence of slab and point release avalanches, which means that we will proceed with caution. Shishapangma is clearly visible from camp. We can't see the Swiss/Polish Route, but the British Route is stunning and looks to be fully skiable. We established the two meter dome tent that serves as our communications center during the day, and a cyber cafe at night. As I am writing this, Frank Zappa is ripping guitar in the background. More to come as we head up higher for a close look at the mountain tomorrow.

Hans Saari's quote of the day: "If we wanted to feel this bad, we could have just hit ourselves in the head with rubber mallets."

Conrad Anker
The high Himalaya are truly a magical place. Our Base Camp is situated near a small tarn, surrounded by glaciated peaks. To the south is the Langtang Himal, with a crest to 6,000 to 7,000 meter peaks, acting as a barrier to the monsoonal build-up. To the northwest is Shishapangma the mountain we are here to climb.

We are not the first group to visit this wonderful camp. Reports in the mountain journals let us know where, and in what style, the climbers climbed. The other way we know of an expedition's presence are the piles of garbage left behind. Our camp is truly magnificent. Yet, tucked into the boulders and the streams are the telltale signatures of high-altitude expeditions: Trash, rubbish, basura, abfall, garbage. Yeah, these are our comrades, people with the same aspirations and goals, here to enjoy the mountains. And why do they leave these piles of rusting cans? Do they think they biodegrade? Is the trash out of sight and out of mind? Have they climbed everything in the best of style, deeming the area climbed out for future expeditions? Are they lazy?

Mountain Rubbish

Today after lunch, I got stuck into trash detail. As our yak herders will be going down valley in the morning empty, we have a great opportunity to clean up. A small brook to the side of our camp was littered with the debris of a post-expedition fire. In the charred mess, I found batteries, plastic containers, medical ampules and a few syringes. Did the Spanish expedition who left this mess ever think anyone would spend an hour picking up their trash? Another trash dump was the designated tin can spot. Not bothering to flatten the cans, group after group tossed their cans in this pile. By this time, my garbage antics attracted the Tibetan yak drivers. No translation was needed. They knew what I was up to and helped out.

This dump was the worst around. Some cans were half-filled with rotting sludge, others were prime breeding grounds for bugs. This stuff isn't just an eyesore — it's a health hazard as well. Within all of this there were four old oxygen cylinders, one of which is our dinner bell, and the other three will find a new life as school bells in Nyalam. By the time we finished our task, we bagged six large bags of garbage and filled up an old five-gallon plastic jug with glass shards. The yaks will carry the garbage to Nyalam and drop it off at the town dump. It's a good thing for both of us — we clean up and the yak drivers earn an extra bit of cash for their work. We look forward to tomorrow's tasks: stacking rocks for a Y2K compliant shrine and sorting gear. Be good.

Alex Lowe
Underway and so, so happy.

Good-bye to internal combustion engines for a divine month. We arose this morning at 5:30, which is 7:30 Chinese time or true local time, if you accept that Tibet is China — go figure, I have a hard time accepting that personally.

The North Face Yak

Breakfast of paratha and eggs and then four hours of yak loading — a recreational pastime in Nyalam. The Tibetan yak herders haggle seriously but good-naturedly over weight but in the end the surly beasts get loaded and we all hit the trail. One may envision orderly files of yaks sauntering up the trial, but this is definitely not the way the caravan proceeds. Yaks are marginally domesticated animals, at best, and look at you with complete disdain just prior to shedding their load, trampling into oblivion, and frisking off to the high pasture. The Tibetan herders hold one significant trump card — wood rings piercing the yaks nostrils. Yaks understand little beyond pain and the violent heaves on the rope attached through the nostrils.

— Kris Erickson, Conrad Anker, and Alex Lowe, MountainZone.com Correspondents

EXPEDITION DISPATCHES