A Lethal High

This climbing season on Mount Qomolangma has been particularly deadly. Media reports said that at least 11 people have died on the 8,848-meter peak this climbing season – many in just the space of a single week in May. The death toll is one of the highest in recent years, although lately, local Sherpa guides have borne the brunt of accidents on the mountain. In 2015, the April 25 Nepal earthquake killed at least 21 climbers and Sherpas who were preparing to make their summit attempts, and the previous year, an avalanche on the Khumbu Icefall killed 16 Sherpa guides, which led to the climbing season being canceled for the year. In 1996, eight climbers died in a storm as they were descending from the summit, an event which came to wide attention after American writer Jon Krakauer wrote a bestselling book, Into Thin Air, about the disaster and the factors that led up to it. In an average climbing season, five to 10 people die, according to media reports.　

Still, knowing all this, people flock to pit themselves against what they consider to be one of the biggest challenges on Earth.　

“All the way down the mountain, there were people in need of help and rescue,” said Yu Shui, who climbed Mount Qomolangma for the first time this May and was stuck in the infamous “traffic jam.” “They were either dying or waiting to die, or already dead,” she told NewsChina, admitting that she had fainted twice on the mountain. 　

Yu was one of the growing number of non-professionals who set their sights on the prize of climbing the world’s highest mountain, some to challenge themselves, and some, it seems, who like bragging rights on social networking apps. The commercialization of mountain climbing has made the feat possible, but pure courage or desire is not a guarantee of the safety. Many over-estimated their physical capability, and ended up paying the ultimate price. 　

Zhang attributed the long line to the shortened window period – climbing is authorized by the Nepalese government for a short period in April to May, but in reality, the window to safely climb the peak – when the weather is good and the fierce jet stream is not battering the mountain at wind speeds of 40-50 kilometers per hour – can be reduced to just a few days in the last two weeks of May. Nepal charges US$11,000 for a permit, and issued a record 381 permits to climbers for 2019. Each climber also has at least one Sherpa guide, German news agency DW.com reported.　

The mountain can be climbed from the northern Tibet side, but the Chinese government has a stricter approach to issuing permits, issuing 144 permits to foreign climbers and 13 to Chinese (one is from Taiwan), along with 208 Nepalese Sherpas as guides and support staff, a total of 365. This is around half the number given permission to climb from the south side.　Each April, climbers from across the globe gather at the south side’s base camp at an altitude of 5,000 meters to train and adjust to the altitude, which involves making a series of ascents and descents. Altitude sickness can set in above 3,000 meters, and heights above 8,000 meters are referred to as the death zone – where humans cannot survive for long without additional oxygen. 　

It generally takes four days from the base camp to the peak, along which another three camps are set up for rest and recuperation – camps 2, 3 and the highest, Camp 4 on the South Col at 7,950 meters, from which the summit attempt is made. The weather window is crucial for a safe summit attempt, but this year, Mount Qomolangma experienced the extra-strong cyclone Fani which Wang Zhen, a photographer professionally known as Rocker, told our reporter has hovered around the Mount Qomolangma region, causing the window to be limited to between May 12 and 16 and May 18 and 23. 　Each year, specialist Sherpas fix ropes to the summit, but this year they finished late, on May 14, due to the adverse weather, so most teams chose to wait for the second window. 　

Oxygen DeprivationConsidering the bad weather, Sun Bing, founder of Summit Adventure, anticipated the crowds during the second window, so he set up larger oxygen stores at the three camps. His foresight helped his clients, as most victims, according to Sun, died of hypoxia on the descent. “The longer a climber stays on the mountain, the more oxygen they will consume. And hypoxia exacerbates energy consumption,” he said. 　

Now, climbing at 52 is no longer extraordinary. Japanese climber Yuichiro Miura summited in 2013 at the age of 80. Now, almost 10,000 people have made the same trip. 　

Commercial mountain climbing in China became popular in the decade after Wang Shi’s achievement. According to Song Yujiang, boss of the Beijing-based Dingfeng Outdoor Adventure, commercial climbing has developed quickly since. Before that, only professionals would attempt peaks above 7,000 meters high, and the circle was so small that nearly everyone knew each other. But now, more than 200 people summit mountains over 7,500 meters tall every year. Song has arranged expeditions for more than 100 climbers. 　

The purpose of climbing is going far beyond a hobby or professional exercise. Although climbing Qomolangma costs around 300,000-450,000 yuan (US$43,400-65,200) in China, more people are willing to pay. 　

“Half my customers were entrepreneurs who wanted to have success beyond their career. They hoped to prove themselves or enhance the enterprise culture by their feat of climbing,” Song told NewsChina. 　

But Song is worried that amateur climbers do not take the time to train properly by climbing smaller mountains of 5,000, 6,000 and 7,000 meters before they attempt Qomolangma. Many people, according to Song, have never climbed a high mountain before, and Mount Qomolangma is their single goal. 　

“Mount Qomolangma has become a place [to show off] at the Vanity Fair,” Rocker told NewsChina. 

Commercialization has dispelled the public’s sense of awe about climbing Qomolangma. Soon after Nirmal Purja posted the “traffic jam” photo, another image showing a mother bringing her son’s school flag to the peak of the Mount Qomolangma went viral in the Chinese community. The picture was a screenshot of the mother’s WeChat moments followed by a teacher’s thank you comment for the mother having “put the school in her heart.” Netizens, however, were not as impressed or moved as she expected. Instead, they joked whether climbing Qomolangma has become an essential “skill” for parents to flatter schools or to stand out among the other parents for the sake of their children. Following the news, some netizens remarked that climbing Qomolangma is no longer a demanding, admirable outdoor sport, since money can help anyone up to the peak, even asking Sherpas to carry them up. 　

No amateur climber can deny the crucial role of Sherpas in these days of commercial expeditions, since they make it possible for non-professionals to stand on the top of the world, and bear most of the risk. Every year, Sherpas transport supplies to the base camp and higher camps, including tents, water, food, oxygen cylinders and gas containers, and repair the ropes to the peak, to which climbers attach a safety harness. During the trip, Sherpas also have to carry more oxygen for their customers, weighing five kilograms per cylinder. To save energy, some climbers even ask Sherpas to put on their hiking boots for them. 　

According to Yu Shui, the four members in her team employed two guides each, and two of the teammates shouted for help due to exhaustion. If the other two had not descended ahead of time, they would not have had enough Sherpas to carry them to the camp. 　

This was what Rocker calls a “nanny-style” service, which has become a major source of income for Sherpas. However, Rocker argued that such “considerate” service has made climbers too dependent on the guides and more vulnerable to accidents. More importantly, more guides and Sherpas mean more crowds. 　

Yet, Nepal’s slack management of the guide companies and climbers increased the risk. A health certificate with a doctor’s signature, for example, is enough to get a climbing permit from the Nepalese authority. This year, a 62-year-old American climber died on Mount Qomolangma of heart failure. 　

Compared to China, Nepal has more outdoor adventure companies which, in order to lure clients, offer much more competitive prices. The lower price, however, according to Sun Bing, may come with poorer operations management, such as failure to double check the climbers’ physical condition, failure to check the quality of Sherpas or failure to predict and prepare for possible accidents. 　

Last year, Nepal’s biggest outdoor adventure company, Seven Summit Treks, was fined US$44,000 for allegedly faking climbing permits for one Chinese climber and one Australian climber. This year, two of the company’s customers died of mountain sickness on Mount Qomolangma, one from India and one from Ireland, according to the Xinhua News Agency. 　

In order to protect the domestic climbing business, the Nepalese government forbids any foreign organization or individual from establishing outdoor adventure companies in Nepal. Song Yujiang once cooperated with Seven Summit Treks, but soon stopped. 　

“We have different values about climbing. They think it is normal that several people would die from the climb,” he told NewsChina. Song revealed that he had established a new adventure company in China with several Nepalese guides. He hopes that this kind of cooperation will make it easier to restrain the Nepalese side and to prepare against possible accidents and conduct rescues, but he is not sure if his venture can successfully bypass the Nepalese government’s ban. 　

The corpses lying on Mount Qomolangma have sounded the alarm, but it is unlikely that ambitious climbers will rethink the tempting, but highly risky endeavor.