Climbing through the crowd

By CAMPBELL SPENCER

When Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay first stood on the summit of Mt Everest 50 years ago, they were alone, surveying an unspoilt wilderness. Their's was the only expedition on the mountain.

Today, the landscape has changed dramatically. Dozens of teams line up along narrow paths waiting their chance to make the push to the top, jostling for position, vying for rope holds and each trying to create their own piece of history any way they can, more often than not to keep sponsors happy.

"Both Tenzing and I thought once we'd climbed the mountain, it was unlikely anyone would ever make another attempt," Sir Edmund told National Geographic Adventure magazine. "We couldn't have been more wrong."

Everest of 2003 is a very different place to the mountain Hillary and Norgay conquered. And that change is no more evident than the sprawling campsite that sits at the foot of the grand mountain.

Base Camp is a far cry from the small rocky slope from which John Hunt's expedition chose to launch their historic summit attempt. Today, a permanent encampment sits atop the Khumbu Glacier, a barren piece of land with no view of the mountain itself, and every spring this wasteland comes alive as hundreds of climbers, support staff and Sherpas take up residence.

For decades Everest remained a solitary place with just one team occupying Base Camp each season. This changed in 1983 when the Nepalese Government opened the mountain to five teams each season, and again in 1987 when multiple permits were issued for every route.

This 50th anniversary year, about 1000 climbers and support staff will occupy the camp, with another 4000 trekkers and celebrities expected to drop in for the celebrations. Base Camp is alive with multicoloured tents, sponsors' logos, a media centre, daily yak trains, and the ubiquitous fluttering prayer flags.

Since early April, the record 81 teams and individuals attempting the Everest ascent have been conducting their puja worships to Miolojangma (the Goddess Everest), praying for her blessings to ensure a successful climb up the well-worn trail blazed by Hillary and Norgay. Most won't make it to the top, but if recent statistics hold true, between 150 and 200 will.

Since Hillary and Norgay's feat, a further 1650 people have stood on top of the world, three-quarters in the past decade. Almost 500 have summitted since 2000 and this week another 18 reached the top from the Tibet side and 31 from Nepal.

This has led many to question whether Everest has lost its edge and become merely a high-altitude tourist destination. The answer is both yes and no.

Peter Hillary says that between his two ascents in 1990 and 2002 he has noticed two major changes. The first is the sheer number of people on the mountain. This has been led by the rapid growth in commercial expeditions. It seems that anyone with two legs, a reasonable level of fitness and a spare US$60,000 ($103,00) can get themselves a spot on an expedition team.

"Yes, there is more traffic; yes, the experience is not the same, but we must acknowledge this is 2003 and not 1953, so things are going to be a little different," he says.

"Having inexperienced clients on some expeditions is an unfortunate development. When you have real novices up there it is dangerous but, more than that, these people are cheating themselves of the ultimate challenge. They don't get much out of it because they are only going along at such an elementary level."

The second change he has noticed is the increased ability of the Sherpa mountain guides, who, along with their western counterparts, are now able to ferry inexperienced clients to the top.

"In the early years the Sherpas worked hard low down, but now they are accomplished high-altitude mountaineers in their own right, so inexperienced clients will be assigned three or four Sherpas to look after them the whole way," he says.

British mountaineer Gordon Scott is more blunt: "The indigenous climbers now make it possible to get the rich and inexperienced far above where they could get to on their own. These guys are baby-sat all the way to the top."

Tashi Tenzing, the grandson of Tenzing Norgay, says: "I think the people who climbed up until the late 70s knew what they were climbing for; it was pure adventure for them. Today these people are achieving nothing. It kind of takes the magic off it when 50 or so people can stand on the summit on one day, and most of those are paying clients."

American climber Chris Warner reached the summit of Everest on the morning of May 23, 2001. He later wrote that he found "a summit jammed with damned people, each performing their own little victory ceremony".

After 15 minutes on the summit he began a chaotic descent. "I found myself managing a lunatic asylum, manoeuvering through the bottlenecks of zoned-out climbers." Eighty-nine people reached the summit that day, a record.

The overcrowding debate was fuelled by the infamous 1996 season when 15 people perished, including legendary Himalayan guide Rob Hall. Most of those who died were inexperienced climbers, the rest were mountaineers who gave their lives helping their clients. But it seems little has changed since then. Despite calls to limit the number of commercial groups, the tourism ministry says it is powerless to stop them.

"It is too difficult to check out the background of every climber. The companies send through altered CVs and say they are experienced, we have to believe them," says a ministry official who did not want to be named.

Not all mountaineers are set against amateur climbers giving Everest a shot. Ang Phurba Sherpa, deputy president of the Nepal Mountaineering Association, says they should be encouraged as they bring much-needed foreign currency into the country.

"How can you tell one person he can go and another that he can't? The climbers bring money into the country. They create jobs, and if they want to reach the top then we should help them," he says.

American mountain guide Tom Bell also defends the commercial expeditions. "The vast majority of these clients are pretty fit and experienced outdoor people who may not have the time to put together their own expedition. If they want to achieve a dream, then that's great.".

Peter Hillary acknowledges that a large part of the problem is that climbing is expensive. "You have these wonderfully talented young mountaineers today who just can't afford to go up on their own, so they have to take paying clients with them to offset expenses."



People chasing history have skied, snowboarded and paraglided down the mountain. This year there are attempts to break the speed record, which stands at 16 hours 56 minutes, and to put the oldest man and youngest woman on top of the world. Appa Sherpa is trying for a record 13th ascent, though he had to seek permission from his wife.

"I retired last year and my wife did not want me to climb, but this is a special year and I want to honour my heroes, so for me there is no other way than to climb the mountain again," he says.

Others are aiming to be the first black African, the first disabled Sherpa and the first expedition to try to put one person from every major religion on top at the one time. A reality TV show is sending five amateur climbers to Everest, and will broadcast their summit attempts over a six-week period.

But there is one thing all mountaineers agree on. They still respect anyone who reaches the top of Everest on their own terms.

"It is unfortunate that the bad publicity about the crowds has diminished the status of Everest because it is still an extreme thing to do. There is still a lot of respect for anyone who gets to the top carrying their own gear, walking on their own two feet and doing it tough," says British summiteer Michael Thompson.

The other cause for universal agreement is that this mountain is still dangerous. It kills. For the 1650 successful summiteers, 180 people have perished, including four this year, with many hundreds suffering physical and psychological injury.

For all the modern technology available to climbers, the mountain can still win. The fierce winds, the extreme cold and the sudden snowstorms have not relented in the past 50 years.

"It doesn't really matter if you are an experienced climber or a novice, this mountain has the power to humble anyone on any given day. That's the risk you take," says Tom Bell.

Peter Hillary says that there is no room for complacency on the mountain. "The reality is that Everest isn't easy. You have to deal with pain, chronic sleep deprivation, anxiety, dehydration, the extreme altitude. You may be sitting in a tent for days on end. It's incredibly boring. And you have to concentrate all the time, one mistake could cost you your life."

The last two weeks at Everest have seen severe snowstorms and strong winds, forcing many teams to abandon higher camps and descend, as expeditions have done since Mallory's day, to the relative safety of Base Camp.

But don't feel too sorry for them. The mess tent is big, comfortable and well-stocked. There's good food, rock'n'roll music, and no shortage of satellite phones with which to call loved ones, all from the comfort of large lounge chairs. There's even hot water for washing clothes.

Aches and pains are seen to by camp physiotherapists, and ailments are dealt with at the newly established Base Camp medical centre, complete with hyperbaric chamber.

And Tsering Gyaltsen Sherpa has opened the world's highest internet cafe, 300m above Base Camp. "I am catering to the demand for communication services, not from the expedition teams so much but from all the casual trekkers who pass through here," he says.

He is typical of those who have benefited from the spotlight turned on the mountain by the 1953 expedition.

The Sherpas, who live in the foothills of Everest, were a mainly isolated, subsistent and illiterate society. Tenzing Norgay and the other pioneers of his generation gave the Sherpa people an identity, and propelled them out of obscurity to the relative affluence and sophistication that they enjoy today.

"We are known as the gold-card members of Nepali society," jokes Ang Rita, executive officer at the Mountain Institute in Kathmandu.

Tourism has led to the Solu Khumbu region becoming the most developed of all Nepal's rural districts, with its local people enjoying one of the highest standards of living in the country.

It has created new jobs and opportunities, with the Sherpas earning five times the national average wage. They have more schools and health clinics a head of population than any others in this Himalayan kingdom.

There are more than 300 lodges and hotels built by locals to cater for the growing numbers of tourists, as well as dozens of trekking and mountaineering companies. The Sherpas' legendary ability for high-altitude mountaineering means they are in great demand to conduct mountain training courses the world over.

Namche Bazaar, the trading centre of the Khumbu Valley and once no more than a collection of a dozen mud brick houses, now boasts neon signs, an internet cafe, hot water, and loud modern music wherever you go.

However, this affluence has come at a cost. Tourism has accelerated environmental problems. Rubbish left by climbers over the years has been much publicised, and is not only an aesthetic issue, but one of environmental pollution with the dumping of batteries and non-biodegradable wastes.

It is estimated that between 30 and 40 tonnes of rubbish was left on Mt Everest every year during the late 1980s and into the 1990s.

The concentration of trekkers along major routes has led to forests becoming heavily degraded, as wood was collected for fires and to supply the booming lodge-building industry.

"We estimate that in places up to 80 per cent of forest was destroyed, and unfortunately it will take a long time to restore this damage. The high mountain environment means there is only a very low annual growth rate for vegetation," said Ang Rita.

Remarkably the Sherpas have managed to keep their culture relatively intact. There have been changes to the dress, food habits and family structures through Western influence, but increased wealth has seen many people pouring money into restoring the monasteries for religious observance and in being able to hold many more of their traditional festivals.

"The culture is quite strong," says Ang Rita. "During the main trekking season we wear western clothes and adopt many western practices, but in the off-season we mostly revert to traditional dress and a traditional way of life, and we celebrate all our festivals."

The benefits of tourism have not been equally distributed. The losers are those people off the main trails and away from the tourist centres. Inflation has bumped up prices for all goods in the Khumbu region, hurting those not involved in the tourist industry, who struggle to afford essential items.

It's a complicated calculation as to whether tourism has been a great winner, but solutions have been found to many of the problems and recent initiatives have shown it is possible for the people of Solu Khumbu to achieve conservation and maximisation of economic benefits.

Peter Hillary says one of the first things that struck him on his return to Everest last year was how clean it was. "In 1990 there was rubbish everywhere. It was truly appalling. But in 2002 it looked in almost perfect condition, no rubbish anywhere," he says.

Since a New Zealand group first went to Everest Base Camp in the late 1980s to give the place a clean-up, annual expeditions have combed the mountain and surrounding countryside collecting debris that has accumulated over the past 50 years.

In 1996, the Nepalese Government began charging a deposit from each team, to be refunded if the team brought back its rubbish.

The Sagamartha Pollution Control Committee was formed to mitigate the environmental problems associated with tourism and to educate local Sherpas on the advantages of keeping the area clean. In 2001 this body imposed a ban on any bottles being taken to Everest, and expeditions must now be self-sufficient in artificial fuel - the use of firewood is prohibited.

As the golden jubilee approaches, the world's highest mountain is just about back to her pristine best, and locals want to keep it that way.

According to Ang Rita, a pupil in the first school in Khumbu district built by Sir Edmund Hillary's trust, the most significant change to the region has been through the availability of education. "Sir Edmund did not just climb the mountain and then forget about it. He came back and built a school, and then another and another until, today, all people have access to education."

Ang Rita says Sherpa people now run businesses and organisations in Kathmandu and cities across the world. They can all read and write and most speak English.

"This education has enabled us to take advantage of the opportunities from tourism, but it has also taught us how to manage and preserve our area and our way of life. We know about sanitation, healthcare and more efficient fuels. The Sherpa people have benefited enormously from this schooling."

There has been much change, but the one thing that has remained constant through time is the reverence locals hold for their Goddess Mother of the World, Mt Chomolungma, the giver of all life - the mountain Westerners call Everest.