Into thinner air: the climber's conundrum

This year's deaths on Mount Everest have focused attention not only on the dangers of the mountain but also on the rivalry and ambitions of the teams and individuals struggling to the summit. Is it ever acceptable to leave a climber for dead?  What if you might die yourself in attempting a rescue? Explorer and photographer Jonathan Chester, part of the recent Richard Bangs Adventures' Australia Extreme, discusses the moral dilemmas posed in deadly environment.  

It is 10 years since the tragic season on Everest killed guides Rob Hall, Scott Fisher, and six other climbers as recounted in "Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer and subsequent documentaries and movies.

This season, three confirmed deaths on the south (Nepalese) side of Everest and possibly up to eight more on the north (Tibetan/Chinese) side make 2006 an even more deadly season. 

The stories of two climbers, David Sharp and Lincoln Hall, have spurred debate on the ethics of mountaineering.

The outcomes of the stories are starkly different.  Sharp died on May 15 in a cave at 8,400 meters on Everest, having been passed by dozens of climbers. Hall was also left for dead on the mountain, and only by the sheerest good fortune survived.

I first wrote about Hall's amazing survival story two weeks ago, describing the early details of how my old Australian climbing friend had been rescued.  (See "Dead man walking: the survival of Lincoln Hall")

Why was Hall rescued when Sharp was not? Was it just luck? The truth is much more complicated.

David Sharp's Story

Many Everest veterans have commented on the fact that up to 30 climbers passed the still-conscious David Sharp on the way up the mountain, preferring to satiate their own ego and goals rather than assist a dying man. Then, on the way down, some determined that Sharp, having completely frostbitten hands and feet, was "too far gone" to be rescued, and that they themselves were too exhausted to lend more than cursory assistance.

Some observers argue that Sharp's fate was sealed when he decided to go it alone, unassociated with an expedition. He had opted for a budget service from Everest outfitter Asian Trekking that provided him with a permit, base camp support and some oxygen (two four-liter bottles), but no guide support above advance base camp on the mountain. Normally a climber planning to use supplementary oxygen would consume up to five four-liter bottles on the climb and descent. The bottles are heavy and expensive and it is usually only possible to have this much oxygen available with full Sherpa support.

The odds are against this style of ascent today. Everest has become something of a zoo, with reports of callous behavior by individuals and whole teams, and even of thefts of gear and oxygen bottles from tents high on the mountain.

This was Sharp's third attempt on Everest. Had he succeed in climbing in the low-budget fashion with limited oxygen, he would have been hailed as a bold climber, doing the mountain in good style. Instead, he paid the ultimate price for going it alone and on the cheap. 

Lincoln Hall's Story

Lincoln Hall is alive today thanks to Dan Mazur, an experienced American mountain guide, and a team of Sherpas working for the Russian company 7 Summits Club. This week Hall appeared with Mazur on the NBC Today Show, and he has been forthright in his gratitude.

Mazur has been something of a stealth player in the Himalayan guiding community for many years, a game he has played on his own terms, eschewing the fancy marketing and high-powered business practices of many of the better-known guiding outfits.  I first met him several years ago when he helped organize an expedition to the north side of the Karakoram range in the Himalayas.

When Mazur came across Hall two hours below the summit of Everest, he was guiding two clients toward the top. Mazur found him awake, sitting on a ridge, half undressed — rather "out of it." Anyone who knows Hall's dry, somewhat unusual sense of humor would appreciate his first words: "I suppose you're surprised to see me here."  Mazur realized that anyone who can make a joke in this sort of predicament has a good chance of surviving. 

Mazur had no qualms about stopping and giving aid.  He said on the NBC Today Show, "We just sprang into action.... You have to move quickly up there. If you mess around and start thinking about what to do he could already be gone."

In spending two hours assisting the seriously befuddled climber, Mazur and his clients, Andrew Brash of Canada and Myles Osborne of the U.K., ended up running out of time and oxygen and ultimately had to forgo their own summit chances.

Hall was exposed to the "death zone" without supplementary oxygen or extra clothes or sleeping bag for a night, but when he was found and given oxygen, food and water, then carried lower, he revived sufficiently to begin walking at around 7,500 meters. The lower he went, the more able he became to help himself.

In a nutshell, Hall survived because the weather was extremely mild, he was strong, he was part of a well-organized team with the Sherpa manpower to rescue him, and he happened to be discovered by one of the strongest, most experienced and reputable Himalayan mountaineers on the mountain.

The entire Everest north side base camp also assisted where they could with manpower and equipment in Hall's rescue, perhaps motivated in part by the criticism that had begun to filter through about Sharp's death.  Perhaps the mountaineering community wanted to demonstrate that the Sharp episode was an anomaly, but every human drama on Everest has its own unique set of circumstances and it is impossible to know all the facts.

What would you do?

Are the old values and camaraderie of the mountains gradually disappearing — at least on Everest?  If put to the test in similar circumstances, would you walk on by to achieve a life-long goal, or stop to assist a complete stranger, perhaps endangering your own life? Enter your comments below and dialog with your fellow mountaineers and members of the Yahoo! community to discuss this issue.