Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain Jonathan Bloom (free children's online books .TXT) 📖

Thornton was out. The weather remained unforgiving. And the team had been divided, with one group having both radios. After Thornton and the Sherpa had left for Base Camp, the team on Hoyt’s side of the valley consisted of Hoyt himself, Yuudai, and Chhiri Tendi. They would have to fend for themselves with two tents, ample climbing equipment, but only a few days’ worth of food.

Hoyt had tried to make radio contact with the others immediately after the Sherpa had left with Thornton. He told the person on the other end his location and the planned location for setting up Camp One that night. Chhiri Tendi had walked up behind Hoyt holding the other radio at that moment. Close proximity did not require the antenna to be extended. Chhiri Tendi looked at Hoyt and then said into the mouthpiece, between deep breaths “What are you wearing?” Filled with rage over this little shenanigan, Hoyt held back from hitting the inappropriately comical Sherpa. “I abstained from blowing up. The mishap with Thornton was teaching me I had to change my ways somehow.” Chhiri Tendi’s opinion was that he probably deserved to be hit. “I tend to use humor to calm my nerves when I am concerned, even when it is probably not appreciated by others. Then again, I tend to use humor for everything.”

Hoyt, Chhiri Tendi, and Yuudai hiked up the scree, avoiding falling rocks as best they could. The weather continued to assault them. We can only assume the climb had now become harder psychologically because of all of the uncertainties that had been added to the equation. What if they did not find the other group? They would be stuck at the top of the scree with limited food until the weather abated. And once it did, if they could not see the other members of their expedition somewhere along the top of the scree, then they would need to give up on the climb and retreat to Base Camp or else risk succumbing to fatigue from hunger. “What’s more, I am stuck with two members of the team who I dislike intensely. Even Chatham with his now ghoulish visage and interminable chatter would be better than this harlequin porter and the silent, malicious oriental. Regarding the latter, I am convinced he is going to cut my throat tonight because the rest of the Americans are gone. This is his chance to kill the leader of the enemy. He can do it in the night and then hide my body, lying to Chhiri Tendi about seeing me wander off into the darkness, mad with a mix of altitude and despair brought on by my team’s fate and my brother’s death. He can continue the lie when he sees my fellow expedition members again. And then when he returns to Japan, he can finally expose the truth and be welcomed as a hero.” Hoyt’s prediction turned out to be incorrect as they all slept through the night, their exhaustion a warm, feather bed.

By five in the morning when they awoke, the weather had not changed. The wind howled outside of their tents and snow piled up. Waiting it out seemed to be the only choice and so that is what they did. “I am trapped here while Junk advances” Hoyt wrote. “Frustration builds in me by the second. He is no more than a grown urchin, unsuited for the glory of the mountains. The only positive aspect of my current predicament is that by slowing down our ascent, we counter the effects of altitude we had risked by delaying acclimatization. Other than that, I am in my own personal Hell.”

Yuudai and Hoyt did not say anything to each other the entire time they were holed up above the scree. They remained in their own tents. Ever the vigilant Sherpa, Chhiri Tendi communicated with both of the other climbers, inquiring as to their physical and emotional health. “I knew my job” Chhiri Tendi said in my interview with him. “And it was not just to carry the customer’s equipment. It was also to give advice. And I could give the best advice if I knew everything, from the team’s physical ailments to the dreams they were having at night. If anything seemed even slightly off, I would recommend we get the fuck off the mountain.”

There was nothing to do but sit in the tents and pass the time. The men read books, smoked, wrote, drank coffee, ate canned meats and chocolate, and shivered. When the next night came, sleep did not come as easily. After all, they did not have a day of climbing under their belts. They tossed and turned and shivered through an evening of deafening wind and knowledge they were low on food. They could risk at most two more days before they would have to accept defeat and climb down.

Out of what was likely boredom, Chhiri Tendi made an unusually risky decision. Having more experience with these types of unpleasant situations, he felt better than Hoyt or Yuudai. He decided to venture out into the storm and look for the other members of the expedition. He would bring one of the radios with him. If he could find them, then they could all reunite and form a single Camp One. This would buy them all more time to wait out the storm and possibly continue the climb. Give me one day, he asked.

Chhiri Tendi struck out eastward along the top of the scree at approximately noon on September third, with the weather now even worse than it had been during the climb up. Hoyt and Yuudai remained in their individual tents, waiting for Chhiri Tendi to either return or radio them with news. Neither came. Night fell and they did not see or hear from the sardar.

Now Hoyt was convinced Chhiri Tendi was dead. In his frustration, and possibly due to the effects of altitude on logic, he also became convinced Yuudai had set into play