Lessons from Everest by Dr. Tim Warren

Author:Dr. Tim Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2012-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

“Don’t hope – decide.” —Tsering Dokkar Sherpa

One of main things I did differently in 2008 was to make my mind an asset rather than a liability. I read many books that I found meaningful and relevant, especially Michael Johnson’s book Chasing the Dragon. I took notes and reviewed them constantly from my journal. I had brought my copy of The Secret by Rhonda Byrne, to make sure I was on the beam with the law of attraction.

I simply could not afford to have any negativity or “mind worms” invade my cocoon of focus. Like Big Al Hancock said, I was here “to do a job, simply go to work.” And that’s what I did—I went to work. Many days I spent hours and hours in study and visualization. My mantra was “summit and safe return.” In my mind’s eye, again and again, I saw myself climbing this great mountain in good style with energy to spare, descending safely through the icefall and returning to Base Camp with all my fingers, toes and a pulse.

A million things can go wrong climbing the “Big E,” and, as you will see, an inexplicable series of events occurred that severely tested my will and, in fact, nearly caused me to give up and go home. I very nearly became a quitter, a beaten man, for a second and last time at the hands of the world’s tallest mountain without even making a true summit attempt.

The last rotation began innocuously enough. I was strong through the icefall, even catching up to people I deemed stronger than me. I was on pace to get to Camp One at a personal record time of three-and-a-half hours or less, until we got to the jury-rigged ladder section, where four shaky lengths were lashed together with rope. The whole assembly was slanted down to the climbers’ right and the rickety thing was bridging the gaping maw of a sixty-foot-deep crevasse. It was slow going here, and a bottleneck of climbers began to build.

The sun wasn’t up so it was bone-chillingly cold. We stomped our feet and clapped our gloved hands together to get the circulation going as we waited in the growing queue. I passed a struggling Adam, who was suffering mightily with freezing hands. I quickly pulled out chemical hand warmers and set to work with Ang Nymga Sherpa, kneading some blood flow into his upper extremities.

Finally, it was our turn for the ladder section; we traversed the scary apparatus and picked up the pace to get to camp before the blast furnace of heat came with the sunrise. In our acclimatization travels, we crossed several hundred aluminum ladder sections that were painstakingly installed and maintained daily by the “icefall doctors.” The danger these entrepreneurial Sherpas subject themselves to makes Alaskan king crab fisherman look like crossing guards. No wonder some are raging alcoholics. Both years, I had set up a ladder in my yard at home and practiced walking with boots and crampons. I felt very comfortable

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