The Call of Everest Page 7

  FLORA AND FAUNA

  I pretended not to look at a lone musk deer, the fanged, tree-climbing resident of moist forests in Nepal and Tibet, that stood frozen beneath a lone rhododendron tree just below me. I carefully stepped over the large pile of his tiny, bullet-shaped scat that clearly announced that I was an invader of his marked territory. These creatures once were rare because poachers hunted them for pods in their bellies that are used for making perfume. Yet musk deer had become quite common in this part of the park, thanks to the enforcement of wildlife protection laws since the mid-1970s.

  A small group of shaggy, goatlike Himalayan tahr browsed on the drier, shrubby south-facing slopes directly across the river. Ten years ago they posed a serious threat to many communities when local crops became their preferred food source. Now they are becoming increasingly scarce because the snow leopard, with its preference for tahr, has returned to these slopes. Scalps purported to come from the yeti, the legendary apelike creature that everyone’s uncle claims to have seen, are probably made of the reddish hide of a Himalayan tahr, or so some scientists think.

  An orange-barred leaf warbler and red-breasted rose finch sang in the distance, the first of many songbirds that would return to the region within the next several weeks. Gliding silently above was a lone Lammergeier (“lamb vulture”), or Bearded Vulture, with a wingspan of ten feet.

  The trail emerges from the cool forest into a high-altitude shrub land of dwarf rhododendron. The most conspicuous, the sunpati (Rhododendron anthopogon), has an aromatic scent that is among the most pleasing that I have ever encountered—in small quantities, that is. Porters often complain of “sunpati headaches” if their routes take them through too many miles of the pungent shrub, where the scent becomes overpowering.

  THE MOUNTAIN ABOVE

  When I look up from my habitual concerns, I behold one of the grandest sights in the entire world—the black, pyramid-shaped, ice-clad, and wind-blasted summit of Mount Everest. Nepalis regard it as Sagarmatha (“mother of the universe”) and Tibetans revere it as Chomolungma (“holy mother”). The mountain successfully resisted all Western attempts to climb it for 32 years, beginning with the first British reconnaissance in 1921 through numerous attempts until Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay’s successful climb in 1953. Fifty-nine years later, in the spring of 2012, more than 200 climbers will summit on a single day. Even so, the mountain continues to be shrouded in magic and mystery, and its ascent is considered the ultimate lifetime achievement by thousands of climbers and nonclimbers alike. The world’s highest pinnacle casts its spell on all who dare approach it.

  THE HIGHEST

  Why have so many been so fascinated by Mount Everest? A good part of the reason lies in one word: highest. At 29,035 feet (8,850 meters), Everest is the highest mountain with its origins on land. (Hawaii’s 4,205-meter Mauna Kea rises over 9,000 meters if measured from its base on the ocean floor.) As the Sherpa people—the famous Tigers of the Snow, renowned for their climbing ability and loyalty to their Western climber clients—are fond of saying, “There’s only one Everest.” The mountain continues to draw adventure tourists, since no other mountain is its equal. As mountaineers know, many other mountains, some less than 250 meters lower than Everest, are far more difficult to climb technically, but they are relatively ignored in the media.

  That makes me wonder: What would the landscapes and villages in the remote region surrounding K2 (8,611 meters) in Pakistan, or the equally remote Kangchenjunga (8,586 meters) on the India-Nepal border, look like today if they were higher than Everest?

  EVEREST’S GEOGRAPHY

  The 1,500-mile-long Himalaya mountain range separates the Asian mainland from the Indian subcontinent. On a map it inscribes an arc striking WNW-ESE between Nanga Parbat and the Indus gorge in the west, to Namcha Barwa and the Brahmaputra gorge in the east. South of the range lies most of India, and from west to east the Himalaya form the northern borderlands of Pakistan, India, Nepal, and Bhutan, as well as the southern border of the People’s Republic of China.

  MOUNT EVEREST AND the Khumbu Glacier create an imposing landscape at the top of the world. Climbers reach Everest Base Camp by following the Khumbu Glacier—the highest in the world—and tackle its icefall, where millions of tons of slowly moving ice tumble down a steep slope.

  The mountains bear the marks of a geologically young and active range. Gazing at the Everest and Lhotse massifs from my vantage point that morning, I could make out curious horizontal bands of yellowish rock stretching across their exposed faces. Most people are surprised to learn that the famous Yellow Band of Everest actually began as sediments on the bottom of what was once the Tethys Ocean. Unimaginable heat and pressure over the eons caused these sediments to metamorphose into marble, shale, and gneiss and thrust them upward toward the skies.

  The Himalaya are still growing, as evidenced by the frequency of earthquakes in the region. While leading the Andean-Asian Glacial Lake Expedition in Khumbu in September 2011, we experienced a magnitude 6.9 earthquake that was powerful enough to make the walls of our lodge flex like rubber. Within seconds, it triggered massive, thundering avalanches that resulted in the tragic loss of life in Nepal and especially Sikkim, where the earthquake’s epicenter was located. It also caused considerable geomorphic instability throughout the region. I witnessed massive rockfalls and avalanches throughout much of the next morning’s hazardous trek to lower terrain, and we had to change our planned route on several occasions to a safer alternative.

  ICE AS CREATOR

  Mountains in the region have been largely shaped by the sculpting action of ice. Valleys are U-shaped after thousands of years of glaciers gouging their relentless paths. Debris-covered glaciers, an indication of glacial stagnation that began with the end of the Little Ice Age in the 1850s, dominate the valleys of the high country. Lateral moraines—the deposits of boulders, rocks, and soil that form on each side of a glacier—are a common sight in the upper Imja and other valleys of the park. A series of parallel lines indicates the different periods of glacier growth and retreat. The famous Tengboche monastery is located on an ancient glacier terminal moraine, or deposit of material that indicates the farthest extent that the glacier reached. The villages of Khumjung and Kunde are located in a valley that is all that remains of a glacier that has long since disappeared. The spectacular face of the 6,812-meter Ama Dablam (“mother’s necklace”) was formed when several glaciers struck off in different directions from the summit region during the last ice age 12,000 years ago, eventually carving a “horn” similar to that of the Matterhorn.

  More recent evidence of this dynamic environment can be seen in the devastating scouring, riverbank undercutting, and rocky depositions in the vicinity of Ama Dablam. In 1977, a glacial lake burst out in a flood that dammed the Imja River for several weeks. Torrents, or large gullies that are flooded periodically from excessive snow melt or rainfall, have sliced their way down many a mountain slope. No one who has experienced the sounds and sights of a massive avalanche will ever forget it. Smaller earthquakes or tremors are common. Less dramatic are the landscapes marked by saturated soils moving slowly downward on steep mountain slopes, high above the trekking trails. Known as solifluction (moving soil) lobes, these strange, globular landforms must be viewed either from a helicopter or high up on a neighboring mountain.

  THE THREE SIDES OF EVEREST

  Most people identify Mount Everest with Khumbu, or the southern side of the mountain, a region inhabited by the charismatic Sherpa people and, more recently, Rai laborers and lodge managers from farther south. The bulk of the annual climbs, treks, research, cleanup expeditions, TV specials, IMAX and Hollywood films, and special events—such as the May 2011 summit climb and paraglide down to Syangboche airstrip by Sano Babu Sunuwar and Lhakpa Tsering Sherpa—take place on this side.

  But Everest contains two other inhabited, or seasonally inhabited, sides as well. All of the early 20th-century British climbs scaled the north side, in the Tibet Autono
mous Republic of China, prior to the closing of Tibet and opening of Nepal in the late 1940s and early ’50s. On the north side, commonly associated with the famous Rongbuk monastery, a road used by motor vehicles leads to Base Camp, a tent village that hosts several dozen foreign climbing expeditions per year and, more recently, thousands of Chinese tourists.

  The remote Kama Valley in eastern Tibet is the gateway to the technically challenging Kangshung, or East Face, of Everest, which has been successfully climbed by only a handful of people. Since its access is so difficult, this seasonally inhabited valley is a much more remote and pristine region than either of the other two sides. The British soldier, explorer, and botanist Charles Howard-Bury called it “one of the most beautiful valleys in the world” while leading a reconnaissance of the region in 1921. British soldier and explorer Sir Francis Younghusband called it “the most beautiful valley in the whole Himalaya,” a view echoed by American author/conservationist Daniel Taylor, who is largely responsible for establishing the Qomolangma Nature Preserve that protects the valley.

  A VIEW TAKEN from GeoEye’s Ikonos satellite shows Everest’s sharp relief in shadow and light. At this scale it seems impossible that humans climb the peak, but at least 15 different routes have been carved to the top.

  A low-pressure system caused by prevailing winds sucks much of the moisture during the monsoon season up the Arun River and into the Kama Valley, creating conditions much wetter than those in Khumbu or the Rongbuk region of Tibet. Old-growth forests of spruce, fir, hemlock, and rhododendron ascend to altitudes of 4,572 meters. Many of the trees reach heights of 30 feet and diameters of 10 feet or more. Clouded leopard, Himalayan tahr, musk deer, Himalayan black bear, barking deer, and other large mammals are found in these forests in relative abundance. As opposed to the dry, eroded, human- and cattle-impacted alpine shrub/grasslands of Khumbu, the alpine slopes in the Kama Valley are lush and verdant grasslands, a seasonal breeding ground for yaks since the 1920s. The shrub juniper and dwarf rhododendron have been removed by yak herders to increase grazing land, but this conversion to grassland has also facilitated the dramatic growth of once rare blue sheep populations, which in turn has encouraged the return of the equally rare snow leopard during the past several decades.

  Access to the valley is limited to only several months per year because snow blocks most of the passes during the others. Only 200 foreigners—their luggage carried by yaks, since portering is unknown in Tibet—visit the region per year. This daunting trek takes two weeks to complete, and any expedition must be entirely self-sufficient in terms of emergencies and evacuation plans, or otherwise face a very long trek out on the back of a yak. Located downwind of the Everest snow plume, the valley’s passes can also be blocked by more than three feet of snow falling over the course of one day, making escape by foot virtually impossible. Changing weather patterns in the entire Everest region, especially in the form of more and more catastrophic rain and snowstorms, add a further element of risk to the logistics of visiting this sublime hidden valley.

  EVEREST’S CLIMATE

  Geographically, the Khumbu region lies within the subtropical Asian monsoon zone, where more than 80 percent of the annual precipitation falls between June and September, although the full force of the monsoon is often mitigated by mountain ranges including the Numbur, Kongde Ri, Thamserku, and Kang Taiga Himal. For example, the average annual precipitation in Namche Bazar is 45 inches per year, but it decreases with altitude: Less than half falls on the alpine village of Dingboche, 3,500 feet higher. On the north side of Everest, the Himalaya represent a much higher topographic barrier to the monsoon, and the region is dry year-round. Partly as a result, glaciers on the north side of Everest are retreating at a faster rate than those on the south, since little moisture replenishes the snow that would ensure the continued growth of glaciers. The Kama Valley to the east is greener and moister than either the Khumbu or Rongbuk regions of Everest, since it enjoys the full force of the annual monsoon.

  Winters are normally dry, although heavy snowfalls, sometimes catastrophic, are experienced from time to time. In November 1995, I had camped one evening on the north-facing slopes of Ama Dablam when I felt a curiously warm wind moving up the valley. The unusual red color on the summit of Everest clearly signaled to me one thing—the weather was changing, and fast. It was snowing lightly when we broke camp the next morning, but I decided to take the porters down to Tengboche, just to be safe, instead of advancing to the next work site. By the time we reached Tengboche, the snow had piled up to our knees. It soon turned heavier and continued throughout the day and night.

  The next morning rumors swirled through the village, telling of hundreds of tourists, climbers, and porters in the upper valleys, huddled in huts or lodges. Ten feet of snow had fallen. More than 700 people were stranded, and tragically 26—13 Japanese and 13 Sherpas—died when an avalanche destroyed the yak herder’s hut to which they had retreated in the Gokyo Valley. Thankfully, over the next few days the Nepali government managed to evacuate all of those who were stranded, a feat that I still believe is one of the most remarkable rescues in the history of mountains and mountaineering.

  THE RED SPLASH of wildflowers alongside the Kangshung Glacier adds contrast to the white snow and ice of Mount Chomo Lonzo. Its northwest and central summit were first climbed in 2005 by a French team. Its main summit was first climbed in 1954.

  A CHANGING CLIMATE

  Ten years ago, the topic of climate change in the Everest region was practically unheard of. Today the topic is widely discussed among visitors and Sherpas alike. Dramatic indicators of climate change can be seen in phenomena such as the recession of glaciers and the formation of new glacial lakes. During the past three decades in the Khumbu region alone, 33 new lakes have formed and 22 existing ones have expanded. Much of the local discussion of climate change centers on the growing unpredictability of weather patterns and the impact on crops. Traditional planting dates are often delayed because of the late arrival of spring rains, and young crops are vulnerable to the often devastating downpours once the rain does arrive. People claim that more snow and more rain are falling than at any time in living memory. The monsoon used to end by the end of August but now extends well into, if not to the end of, September. Thousands of tourists can be stranded for weeks at a time at Lukla airport, a common gateway to Everest.

  THE VEGETATION OF EVEREST

  As on all mountains, vegetation patterns on Mount Everest depend largely on altitude, slope, aspect, precipitation, geology, and human use. On the south-facing side, warm and dry shrub grasslands were created by herders hundreds to thousands of years ago, and they now cover the highly modified, but stable, slopes. On the moist and cool north-facing slopes, fir, birch, and rhododendron forests grow. Above 4,000 meters in altitude, shrub juniper and dwarf rhododendron also serve as the geomorphic glue that holds the thin, young, and fragile alpine soils in place. Above 5,100 meters, only sparsely distributed cushion plants can survive.

  At the entrance of Sagarmatha National Park in Monjo, altitude 2,800 meters, Himalayan blue pine dominates the landscape, sprinkled with Himalayan hemlock, prickly oak, rhododendron, and Wallich’s yew—trees that benefit from the heavier rainfall at these lower altitudes. Fir-birch-rhododendron forests occur between 2,500 and 3,900 meters, mostly on north-facing aspects. The uninhabited north-facing slopes of Thamserku and Kongde Ri are covered in particularly thick forests of this sort. Maple, whitebeam, and tree juniper occur occasionally, as do a great variety of dwarf and tree-form rhododendrons, particularly colorful in the early to late spring, blossoming and fading in sequence until the beginning of the monsoon rains. Huge ancient juniper trees cluster around monasteries where they have been protected for hundreds of years, showing how large these and other trees can grow if left undisturbed.

  PLANTS AND ALTITUDE

  Looking at the north face of Thamserku, another peak in Khumbu, you can see the gradual upward transition from forest to tree line, and then fro
m bands of tree rhododendron, shrub rhododendron, and dwarf rhododendron up to the alpine grassland that continues up the zone of snow, ice, and discontinuous plant cover beginning above 5,000 meters above sea level and continuing to the permanent snow line at 6,000.

  Plants in the alpine zone (4,000 to 5,000 meters up) are highly specialized, containing most of their mass underground as roots with protective aboveground features such as dense rosettes or thick insulating hairs that can survive in extreme environments. In 1938, the famous mountaineer Eric Shipton found a saw-wort (Saussurea gnaphalodes) on a slope of scree (or loose rock debris) at an altitude of 6,400 meters on the north flank of Mount Everest—the world record for the highest known vascular plant growth.

  DISTURBING THE LANDSCAPE

  Alpine ecosystems throughout the Khumbu region have been heavily affected by human activities, especially during the past 20 to 30 years with the exponential growth of mountaineering, trekking, and adventure tourism. The most common damage includes the removal of slow-growing alpine shrubs and cushion plants by lodge owners, porters, and climbing parties for use as fuel. Such clearing accelerates soil erosion and decreases slope stability, as I was able to quantify in the 1980s. Other disturbances in the alpine zone are caused by increased numbers of pack animals, primarily yak and dzo (a mix of yak and cow), brought in to accommodate growing numbers of tourists. Waterborne health hazards have accelerated as a result of improper human waste disposal. Camping sites, base camps, and high camp regions are marred by accumulations of solid waste, and landfills and human waste pits are growing in number around the villages along the main trekking routes.