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the route would need more preparation before we could reach Camp 4. We descended and spent the afternoon rehydrating and discussing options with Base Camp via our handheld radios. The Sherpa’s form would be critical tomorrow. Our weather window was tight and we had to be off to a good start to give us any chance of summiting.
The morning didn’t bring good news. The Sherpa had universally decided that they had grown too tired for a summit bid, admitting that they were perhaps used to the shorter periods spent up high on trade routes on other 8000m peaks. In addition, they presented food as an issue, although they had plenty of cooked rice available and didn’t desire to share our rations. With much cajoling Pechumbe and Lakpa consented to accompany us as far as Camp 4. We would then be on our own for the two days it would take to reach the summit. One of the other Sherpa set out with us but soon tied off his load and descended. I grabbed what little kit we needed out of his load and continued up. Pechumbe did a sterling job leading and fixing the route - I followed him until, near dark, we left the security of the fixed ropes and began to traverse the ridge toward the Black Gendarme. This was the feature after which our expedition was named. A distinctive feature on the ridge, it comprised a tower of steep, dark rock, intimidating from below. Now, however, I could look directly across towards its precipitous slopes. I could see that its northern aspect could be traversed on snow and would present us little difficulty. For now though, we had problems. As it darkened the temperature dropped considerably; searching for a site for Camp 4, I noticed that the wind, which had been increasing all day, was now borderline gale force. I couldn’t make out any suitable tent platform – a bivvy was possible but at just below 8000m on an exposed ridge it would be decidedly dangerous. After a brief discussion with Pechumbe, we decided to descend. I think I knew then that Makalu 2014 was over. As we descended we met Colin just below the ridge, Lakpa having turned back earlier.
At nearly 7500m even the descent was strenuous. Briefly grateful for some respite, we rapidly inserted ourselves into our down-filled time accelerators and got the stove on. After the evening comms schedule Colin and I spent the remainder of the evening trying to figure out how we might salvage our bid; however, the more we considered it, the less viable it seemed. The Sherpa had had enough and any attempt to summit as a solo pair would leave us extremely vulnerable. With the rest of our team lower on the hill and the Sherpa determined to descend to base camp as soon as possible we would be days away from any hope of rescue or support. We had to accept the likelihood that to make a successful summit bid would see us spend 2 nights in a bivouac tent above 8000m and would likely leave us very depleted. We’d then still have to spend a further four days descending the route, potentially in worsening weather. Colin had already sustained frost damage to one digit. Reluctantly and with heavy hearts we accepted the inevitable: it was over!
We spent the next few days getting off the hill. As we descended I began to feel stronger and stronger, and found myself second guessing our earlier decision. Intellectually I understood we had made the right call but somewhere deep inside a voice said we should have gone for it, thrown caution to the wind. We’ll never know what the outcome of such a bid would have been but given the scale of the challenge I doubt that it would have been success.
On arrival in base camp I reckoned I was two stone under my fighting weight, much of it lost in the past few days of extreme activity up high. Our calorific needs were perhaps 6000 calories daily and I doubt that we were forcing down more than 1500. Still, I had no time to feel sorry for myself as base camp was a flurry of activity. Already loads were being packed and leaving for Num and eventually Kathmandu. In only a few days we were ready to leave Base Camp for civilization.
Leaving Base Camp was an odd experience. Despite the remote location it had been home for a while and our routine had grown comfortable. We walked out in only 4 days, the first being par- ticularly memorable. The extended distance resulted in us being benighted on the trail and our day ended with a seemingly endless ascent through the rhododendron forest to the lodge at Dobatu. On arrival, the tea-house was locked and in total darkness. We knocked on the door and were met with a few unintelligible grunts. However, before long we were met by the Nepali owner with the features of a Bond villain, who nonetheless proved to be very hospitable. A round or two of Tuborg beers served as an aperitif to a delicious dhal bhat cooked on a tiny open fire. Before long we were all suitably fed and slightly inebriated. All was well! The remainder of the trek to the airstrip passed uneventfully, our bodies growing accustomed to the increasing warmth and lower altitude.
On arrival in Kathmandu we were most generously offered accom- modation by British Gurkhas Nepal (BGN). Our time was spent waiting for our freight, exploring the numerous cultural sites and surveying one or two of the local hostelries in the evening. During the course of the stay in Kathmandu we were privileged to be invited to a party organised by Amelia Hillary, the granddaughter of Sir Edmund of Everest fame. Her father, Peter, spoke very well on the challenges of climbing in the high Himalaya and we were left with the feeling that even our modest efforts were worthy. I’ve heard it said that any expedition’s objectives should be:
1. Come back
2. Come back as friends
3. Climb the mountain
Well, two out of three ain’t bad!
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