EVEREST – THE RAF WAY

Ted Atkins

(Images: Map of the route, the RAFMRS Everest Team, and Dan Carroll, summit leader)

On 22 May 2001, Chief Technician Dan Carroll and Corporal Richard Bail made RAF history when they stood on the highest point in the world: the summit of Mount Everest. Four years of planning had made this feat possible and both Dan and Richard were part of the team selected to meet this challenge drawn from the 150 strong RAF Mountain Rescue Service. The role of the Mountain Rescue Service is to search for and rescue passengers and aircrew from aviation incidents. All members of the Service are volunteers, and for most it is a duty in addition to their primary role. They give up much of their free time to train, committing themselves to 24-hour call-out commitment, 365 days a year, to provide a continuous all-weather rescue service.

In March 2001, 13 of us (lucky 13 we said) were ready to leave for Tibet via Nepal. We had selected the North Ridge route as the line that we would take to climb Everest. The North Ridge is a difficult and technically demanding route; but it is a safer choice than the more normally used route from the south, in Nepal. Also, the great advantage of tackling the mountain from the north side, in Tibet, is that the team and equipment can easily be transported by truck to the Base Camp at an altitude of 5200 metres and, even better, equipment can then be transported by Yaks to Advance Base Camp at 6400 metres. Each one of these hairy bovines can carry a load of 40 kilos over the rough, moraine tracks, thus removing much of the personal drudgery of heavy load-carrying.

Preparation to climb a mountain such as Everest must be meticulous and exacting. Proper acclimatisation to altitude is vital. For example, if you were suddenly transported from ground level to the summit of Mount Everest, you would die within 30 minutes without the use of supplementary oxygen. At such altitudes, two-thirds of the world's oxygen is beneath your feet! The weather can also be severe and unpredictable, and there are only a few days when an attempt on the summit is feasible. So, the problem is simple; all you have to do is guess when the weather is going to be right, make sure you have all the equipment in the right place, and then have a fit and acclimatised team ready to go! Oh, I didn't mention that your Chinese entry visa is only valid for 56 days, so obviously it all has to happen within this time frame.

Life at high altitudes is about as uncomfortable as it gets. At Base Camp it is freezing cold, hot, wet, windy, dry and a fine dust permeates everywhere. It sometimes seems as if the world is against you as another bout of 'Kathmandu Quickstep' sends you rushing for the toilet tent in a blizzard, in the middle of the night. On a good night you make it to the tent before events overtake you! One night we were even 'called out' to rescue a climber from another expedition who had failed to return. We found him in the early hours of the morning, critically ill, and carried him back to Base Camp on a stretcher in a blizzard. There, we administered drugs and oxygen, and nursed him through the night until he was stable enough to be evacuated. Time at Base Camp was well spent, however. We could recharge our batteries and relax while the blizzards raged outside. Between acclimatisation sorties we were able to eat well, drink the occasional dram and, most of all, banter to our hearts content while we made up ridiculous words and cheated at scrabble.

From Base Camp to the actual summit is about 26 kilometres, with a height gain of 3600 metres. Twenty six kilometres is not a great distance for a mountain rescue day out in Scotland, but on Everest, at altitudes over 5000 metres, it is not a case of packing a flask and a few sandwiches. The strategy is to take on the mountain in bite-sized chunks, to gradually acclimatise, because, in essence, that is all you can manage. By using a system of base camps established up the mountain we were able to leapfrog into a position where we could make an attempt on the summit. Because of the distance between Base Camp and Advance Base Camp, we established a transit camp where we could stop and rest. Unfortunately, this camp was on the main Yak route and the Tibetan Yak drivers are the most notorious gang of thieves and scoundrels in Asia. The problem we faced was that the transit camp was not constantly occupied, allowing the Yak drivers to rob it at will; and they did, even stealing the tent guy-lines.

Our first objective was to walk to the transit camp and spend one night there before returning to Base Camp. After a rest at Base Camp, and when the weather permitted, we returned to the transit camp for another night before moving up to Advance Base Camp, where we spent one night before returning to Base Camp in one journey. At this stage of the climb the team is split into small groups climbing up and down to the various camps to acclimatise to the conditions, thus 'leap frogging' up the mountain. It was on one of these acclimatisation trips that I came across a party of Chinese scientists who were descending with a stretcher. This is always a serious event in these regions and it was immediately obvious that the casualty was dying. We had all been well trained to recognise the symptoms of High Altitude Pulmonary Oedema; an extremely dangerous condition which causes the lungs to fill with fluid, and in our first-aid kits we each carried one tablet of a drug called Nifedipine, for personal use should we exhibit any symptoms. I administered the drug to buy extra time while we organised the stretcher party to carry him to a lower altitude, to receive oxygen and expert medical help. Thankfully, the man lived and made a full recovery. It was a classic illustration of what can and does go wrong if you fail to acclimatise properly.

The climb above Advance Base Camp, to Camp 1, on the North Col at 7000 metres, was the first serious climbing undertaken. Even with the use of fixed ropes (to aid climbing and security) this was not a place to dawdle in. The chance of a fall was minimal due to the ropes, but we had to spend time under the ominous shadow of unstable hanging ice blocks called seracs. Whenever I thought that I could go no further without resting I would look up and then find the energy for a few more steps to get clear of a potential serac fall line. It was a long steep haul to Camp 1, and whilst the route to Camp 2 at 7700 metres was neither terribly steep nor technically demanding it was the highest climbing that we planned to undertake without supplementary oxygen - and it hurt. Camp 2 was on the exposed North Ridge, constantly battered by high winds charged with ice crystals that would remove bare skin. In order to stop the tents blowing away we covered them with cargo nets anchored to the rock. The climbing up to Camp 3, using oxygen, was up a steep ridge that offered little purchase for crampons or an ice axe, then out onto the exposed North Face at 8300 metres. The Camp was established on a system of narrow ledges built from rock and snow - very uncomfortable - one slip and it could be the end! I was at Camp 3 with Corporal Jim Groark and Wing Commander Brian Kirkpatrick when we made the decision to make an attempt on the summit. Because this is the longest stage of the route, normally taking up to sixteen hours, it meant leaving at midnight. This would enable us to tackle the greatest difficulties higher up the mountain in daylight, and be able to return in daylight when every advantage is needed to overcome the perils of mind numbing fatigue. Some new snow fell during our preparations in the afternoon, prior to our planned assault, and as this was not forecast it caused some concern, but not enough to dampen our spirits.

It takes three hours to get prepared and 'booted and spurred' ready to go, constantly brewing and drinking as much as possible. The massive boots make it seem as if your feet belong to someone else. Then the layers of clothing are put on before the down suit. I felt like a space man but the worst was yet to come. Fitting crampons can only be undertaken outside of the tent and the effort of bending over to do this makes you feel dizzy. The last and worst part was lifting my rucksack containing 2 oxygen cylinders, while keeping the delivery tubes and regulator clear for use. And so, down mitts over gloves, hood up, oxygen mask fitted, goggles over my eyes - there must be no exposed skin anywhere for it would be frost bitten in minutes - headtorch on and into the snowy blackness. The snow had become worse, making each step more difficult as we climbed unaided (it was dangerous to be roped together because if one of us slipped we would all be pulled to our deaths) towards the sections of buried anchor ropes that mark the route to the summit. The anchored ropes have all been fixed at various stages up the mountain by different teams in previous seasons, usually in daylight and in good weather conditions. We finally managed to find the fixed, buried rope that we had located in daylight the day before and the three of us began to climb up the mountain towards our dream. All too soon the rope ended, leaving us to go back to free climbing around the face to locate the next section and the next anchor rope. This was the most difficult and dangerous climbing I have ever undertaken. There were no second chances; the first slip meant a one-way trip to the bottom of the North Face! But, we could not find the rope and we were wasting vital oxygen and sapping our strength climbing unprotected on steep and lethal ground. So, after a heartbreaking search of three hours, I had to pull the plug. I drew my hand across my throat and pointed back to camp. There was still tomorrow.

After stripping off our ice encrusted equipment I discovered that my feet, despite the best equipment available, were frozen solid and I prayed that they would be OK for our next attempt. My feet came back to me again several hours later. Daybreak came and it was still snowing, but, anxious to carry on with our attempt, we tried to find the missing section of rope, this time in daylight. We quickly found our original route again and as we neared the top I found a second section of rope hanging down and decided to use this, as it is inadvisable to have everyone on one section, just in case it should become overloaded. As I pulled the slack rope from the snow it just kept coming free. Eventually I was horrified to discover that it was in fact the other end of the rope that we had all climbed the night before, and it was not fastened to anything! Only the weight of snow on top of it kept it fastened to the surface. Brian and Jim were now only connected to me and not the mountain as I held the loose end! I shouted down not to rely on the rope and to free climb once again until I could find a secure anchor rope. I managed to find another rope and we climbed on for 200 metres until the route seemed clear ahead and above for our next section. The weather took a turn, however, and began to get much worse; it was now snowing harder than ever. It became too dangerous to continue, as even simple things like taking a drink of water become difficult. At such high altitudes, because you are breathing so quickly, you lose a lot of body fluid through your breath and it is imperative to remain properly hydrated. If hydration levels drop, the blood thickens and does not circulate so well; a prime cause of frostbite at altitude. However, the ambient temperature is so low that water bottles will freeze even when placed next to the body inside a down suit! I think I realised then that Everest was not to be for us this time and I made the decision to turn back - again! Back at Camp 3 we watched our tracks being quickly buried in new snow and I finally had to say the cruelest words that I hope never to have to say again, 'It's time to go back down'. Both the other members of my team were with me. It was the only way; to go up might not be a return trip.

Normally, an expedition leader has to face the dilemma of who to choose to make the actual attempts on the summit, but in our case the prospective 'summiteers' were self-selected in that they would be the ones who were fully acclimatised, fit and in the right place, with the right weather conditions, when the opportunity arose. It takes five days to get from Base Camp up to Camp 3 in order to make a summit bid. My team had got the timing wrong and we realised that there was not enough time left for us to go down to rest and make another attempt. It was this element that the very experienced team of Dan and Richard got so right. The route from Camp 3 to the summit is the steepest and most technically demanding part of the climb; therefore, the condition of the mountain and the weather needs to be at least fair or better as you can expect to climb for between 12 and 16 hours to reach the summit and return to camp. Back at Advance Base Camp we watched Dan and Richard anxiously through binoculars. The team goal is far more important than personal ambition and the whole team was right behind them. We were glued to our radios and every crackle caused our blood to race. Dan called me on the morning of 22 May to tell me that they had reached the base of the summit pyramid. While this was a tantalisingly close point, metres are measured in minutes at these altitudes and it was several fraught hours before we got the final fantastic message to say that they were on the top. It was an incredibly emotional moment for me. After four years of planning we had accomplished the mountaineer's ultimate challenge. Come what may now, we had succeeded; but what would success have been worth if Dan and Richard had not come safely home? Before we left the mountain we discovered that two climbers from other expeditions had died, while others were severely injured. Mount Everest is an outstanding challenge that only the fittest and most determined survives, but, most importantly, we defied the terrible accident statistics of Everest to return home, fit, healthy, and as a happy, cohesive team of friends.

In terms of Service expeditions, this is the only military team to have placed non-Special Forces personnel on the summit. The success is a great credit to both the RAF and its Mountain Rescue Service, in that it was able to produce the calibre of person to undertake and successfully complete this great challenge. Eleven individual summit bids were made and eight members climbed above an altitude of 8000 metres. We would have placed more people on the top but for one of our team becoming ill on a summit attempt. That illness cost the summit ambitions of four hopefuls, who selflessly sacrificed their personal ambitions to ensure the safe recovery of a colleague. Looking back on our Everest adventure, it is wonderful to have been a part of the effort that created such a first for the RAF. If I were to say that I would not go back to the Himalayas again without a team as good as this one, then I would be condemning myself never to return there again.