The Pull of EVEREST

A CENTURY AFTER A CANADIAN WAS INSTRUMENTAL IN CHARTING THE WORLD’S HIGHEST PEAK, A FELLOW CANADIAN REFLECTS ON THE MAGNETISM OF EVEREST

- JAMES LITTLE

IT’S A PERFECTLY CLOUDLESS day in November 1981, and I’m scram-bling up a ridge on the south side of Lhotse, the fourth-highest peak in the world. Or maybe it’s Lhotse’s neighbour, Nuptse. I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell from my map where one mountain ends and the other begins. But I do know that I’m ascending the flank of the Everest massif, in Nepal. And, thanks to the altitude, I’m moving surprisingly slowly.

Yesterday I was on the western side of Everest’s giant pyramidal peak, looking up at the storied Southeast Ridge, the route taken by Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay on their way to the summit in 1953. Down below, the Base Camp area was empty. Apart from a few other trekkers, there was no one to be seen. An American expedition left the mountain about three weeks ago, after successfully putting five men on the top — the only Everest summiteers of the year.

Today, I’ve decided that, just for fun, I want to go as high as I can by myself. As it happens, I get only to about 5,800 metres before I’m forced to turn around. The way ahead looks too dangerous. I don’t want to have an accident because, as far as I know, there is nobody within miles of me. And I have no way of contacting anyone.