The following morning, Tuesday, saw us heading off early to Camp 2. Once more spirits were high which even the first 2 steep and snowy pitches of climbing failed to dampen. It should be pointed out that the route from Camp 1 to 2 is a very different prospect to that from ABC to Camp 1. Whereas ABC to Camp 1 is essentially travel along a glacier moraine, i.e. unstable rock and steep scree, the route upwards from Camp 1 is the real McCoy. We are now on Cho Oyu proper. It is steep and frequently deep snow with no hiding places. For safety reasons much of the route is protected by fixed rope but this still has to be used correctly and such is the steepness that an error could have serious if not fatal consequences. With the sun shining we gradually made our way upwards. While there were occasional glimpses of other climbers around we were essentially alone on this part of the mountain although there were some Sherpas heading down carrying loads used by other teams and these were always given priority on the rope to speed their progress as a cheery 'Namaste' was exchanged (Namaste being the all-purpose Nepalese for 'hello', 'hi', 'how's it going', etc). Higher and higher we went with the temperature dropping all the time, and legs wearying in the deepening and steepening snow. As we reached the traverse, a means of avoiding the towering serac (ice-cliff) our Head Sherpa, Passang, took the lead as he had some concern about the quality of the fixed rope. Up we climbed, safety line and jumar connecting us from the fixed rope to our climbing harness. With the wind increasing and visibility reducing we inched our way along the narrow shelf of snow. Rarely more than 4 or 5 inches wide the snow and ice shelf was our route. If we looked right we looked straight into the mountainside. If we looked left the mountainside swooped away dizzyingly steeply. Looking ahead the view was that of the person in front, right hand gripping the jumar, edging carefully forward trying not to destroy what step there was with the point of their crampons. Looking back? No-one was looking back! Then we came to a halt. Passang had found a poor section of rope and and set about changing it. For 15 minutes we waited, becoming more comfortable with our surroundings. We were safe, the view magnificent, and our route was being improved. Eventually the work was done and we moved through the final steep section, which required some crampon front-pointing, to the top of the serac. Time for a sit-down, rehydration and something to eat and then we were off again. It was now heading towards mid afternoon and legs were wearying as fast as the weather was deteriorating. We could see Camp 2 in the distance but it didn't seem to be getting any closer. At this altitude, around 7000m, travel can be very slow as chests struggle to metabolise oxygen. Step, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, step, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Someone asked to stop for a water break to quench thirsts (the atmosphere is very dry). 'No - not yet' came the response. It was getting steeper, and colder, and the keen breeze from the left had become stiffer and was driving shards of snow and ice into our faces. Then, from somewhere back in the line, a cheer. Then other. Then more as one by one people saw ahead some of our Sherpas coming towards us from Camp 2 with flasks. This was why the earlier request to stop had been denied. Hot tea, coffee, orange was thrust into our hands together with much much back-slapping and other encouragements. Boy - what a difference! Now we really had Camp 2 in our sights and we set off again with renewed vigour. While the route gradually got steeper and the group became a little spread out the rhythm of step, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (sometimes extended to 8 or even more) continued until late afternoon by which time the camp had been reached. With much mutual congratulation, and while noting that some people believe the route from Camp 1 to Camp 2 is tougher even than 2 to 3 and higher, we began the melt/drink/eat cycle again. Merely being at this altitude of 7,200m is a huge drain on our bodies resources, let alone doing the kind of exercise in which we had been engaged, and urgently replenishment of calories was required. We were, after all, only 800m short of the (so called) death zone and this could not be forgotten in the high-spirits which this group of mountaineers maintained with remarkable reliability despite the cold and other hardships. As the forecast for the following night was good; indeed with around 10kph winds and less than 20% chance of snow it was even better than that for this night; Tim Calder proposed and we agreed that the best approach would be to rest and recuperate tonight and go for the summit tomorrow (Wednesday) night after a day of rest. As mentioned before the concept of 'rest' at 7,200m is odd as the body is working really hard just to maintain its functions at this hight. but there would be some recuperation and this would significantly increase the chances of summit success.
Wednesday dawned fair, although bitterly cold and with an unexpectedly stiff wind. The day was spent eating and drinking as you would expect and by late afternoon Tim had been round on one of his many 'rounds' checking on the well-being and readiness of his team. 'Be ready by 10.30 this evening' was the message. Game on!! We managed to get some sleep but by mid-evening the sounds of activity in the few little tents around us reached fever-pitch. While the tents were plently big enough in normal circumstances and we tried to put our big boots on, one-piece down suits, harnesses, etc the incidence of one person's sharp elbow or knee striking some softer part of one's tent mate increased - not always to the other's amusement. Add to that the fact that this was conducted by head-torch, and due to the rarified atmosphere every movement was followed by periods of deep breathing, this whole preparation took some time, and perhaps contributed to us not realising that outside our cocoon of red the wind had been rising. As 10.30 approached the tents were unzipped as we prepared to leave for the summit. The Passang appeared saying "Tim and I are not happy with the weather at the moment - please wait for a while". Meanwhile, now that we had stopped russling in the tent we could hear disturbing sounds. Was that an animal calling? No - not at this height. There it was again - plainly now a human in distress. We could hear the chilling sound, high on the mountain, of calls for help. All of a sudden it was getting very real indeed. 11:00 came and went and Tim and Passang continued to be concerned about the weather. And so it continued - we fully suited and booted and ready to go, but with the weather vacillating between benign and malign. Whatever happened to the forecast of a fair night. Clearly that was very wrong and it was deteriorating. Finally, at around 2:00 a.m. Tim concluded that it would be unsafe for us to make a summit attempt and were were stood-down. Bitterly disappointed we simply lay down and tried to get some sleep; very difficult while still hearing from time to time the distress calls of other mountaineers who had not had such wise leadership.
Thursday morning saw now improvement in the weather so we packed up our gear and headed down. Each step taking us further away for our goal. We didn't have the luxury of time for reflection though. The bitter wind was driving shards of ice into our faces and the heavy snow that had fallen after Tim wisely decided the summit was a no-go had buried all the fixed ropes. With Passang out front with his poles prodding for weaknesses in the snow layer (assessing the avalanche danger) we slowly made our way down. At one point there was a conversation between Passang and Tim followed by a telephone call to the Sherpas who had remained at Camp 2. So concerned was our leadership at the snow conditions that they were ordering the Sherpas to dismantle Camp 2 completely and to follow us down at best speed. Was this the end? It was beginning to look so. At the serac abseil (the reverse of the traverse mentioned earlier) we met another climber, German or Austrian we believed, in a highly distressed state. He told in faltering tones of dire conditions at the summit the previous night; of loss of fingers due to frostbite, and of probable but unconfirmed greater tragedy. We let him use the abseil before us, noticing as he slid away signs of soiling of his down suit. After our descent, very slowly and carefully we made our way to Camp 1, and thence to ABC. We shall wait to see the weather forecast for the next week or so before deciding what the do next. If the forecast is good Camp 2 can be re-established and we may have another chance for the summit. If not - game over.
Our disappointment at not reaching the summit is measured against the fact that we are all safe back in ABC with all our limbs and digits intact. Doubtless this sentiment is shared by those reading this blog. Cho Oyu will be there next year. We may get another change this year, or we may not. But we shall be home soon - intact.