I sort of became a mountain climber in 1969. While travelling around the world, I stumbled into Nepal and got whip-lashed by a story from a New Zealand climber who had just returned to Kathmandu from trekking about 300 miles to Everest Base Camp and back. His account so inspired me, I immediately decided to try to do it too. Alone, without mountaineering experience, not even a tent, I spent 32 days backpacking in the most spectacular mountains on Earth, the Himalayas, and succeeded to make it up the Khumbu Glacier to the base of Everest at about 19,000’.

Many years later in 2008, after having climbed some of the highest mountains in South America, North America and Europe, I set my sights to return to where it had begun, the Himalayas and an 8000m mountain. There are only 14 mountains in the world over 8000m, and it is the ultimate for any mountain climber to attempt one. No one knows how they will do at such high-altitude and extreme conditions.

I left Montreal on the 29th August 2008 and arrived several flights later in Kathmandu, Nepal on the 31st where I met my team of nine international climbers. Our plans were to climb Cho Oyu from Tibet’s north side and to fly from Kathmandu to Lhasa where we would begin our overland journey to the mountain. Since the summer’s Olympics in Beijing, China had closed the Tibet border to everyone. After arriving in Kathmandu, the Chinese embassy told us to leave our passports with them for 5 days and that maybe we would be granted our visa’s to cross into Tibet en route direct to the mountain. To fill-in time, we flew to Pokhara for 4 days of hiking in the Annapurna Hill District. Saturday, September 5th we were on our way overland to the Tibet border and Cho Oyu. The first night we stayed in the border town of Zhangmu just inside Tibet. Next day our small bus slowly zigzagged for hours up a very winding, often washed-out mountainous dirt road. We bounced over rock fall, crossed rushing mountain streams, peered-down within inches of thousand foot cliffs, and banged our heads on the roof of the jolting bus. Finally we arrived in the dusty, windy one street town of Nyalam, 12,000’, high on the perimeter of the Tibetan plateau.

After two nights of acclimatizing and hiking, we pushed on over this vast, elevated plain and crossed Lalunga-la (pass) at 5050m heading toward Tingri. Tibet is the highest region on Earth and is commonly referred to as the “Roof of the World”. We ambled along this barren hilly landscape devoid of much visible life, occasionally passing a small yet colorful walled-in village that would usually sit next to a cold glaciated stream or river.

The town of Tingri, situated at over 14,000’, overlooks a sweeping broad plain bordered by the great Himalayan peaks. Old and new customs and lifestyles mingle seamlessly in what appears like an old wild western Tibetan town. Packs of dogs yelp all night long. Pigs and livestock roam at will. Butchered goat carcasses hang for sale in open stalls on the street. Horse drawn wagons stand beside modern motorcycles in the dusty, unpaved road. We get our first full views of the towering snowy giants of Cho Oyu and Everest, seemingly so near now. It is a wake-up call that we are almost there.

The bus drops us off far up the broad barren river valley at a desolate Chinese military post we call Base Camp, 16,500’. Manned by kids in military uniform, a red flag hangs near a Chinese/ Tibetan expedition group also attempting Cho Oyu. Yaks grazing nearby on very marginal pickings, are waiting to porter all our gear and provisions up to Advanced Base Camp. We leave a few minor clothes behind and hike further up this bleak moonscape to interim camp, then continue up over long glacier moraine ridges, heaped-up rock hills, always moving parallel to a several kilometer-wide winding glacier until we arrive at ABC in light snow and gray visibility.

Advanced Base Camp (ABC) at 18,500 feet sits on loose rock-fall high above the twisted and choked-up Nangpa Glacier, and in the long mighty shadow of Cho Oyu, the ‘Turquoise Goddess’. Directly opposite us lies Nangpa-la pass, the traditional trading route between Nepal and Tibet. For several hundred years Tibetan and Sherpa porters have struggled over this high pass trading salt and barley with each other. Recently, it has also become an escape route for Tibetan refugees and on September 30, 2006 the Chinese Border Security Police shot and killed 2 unarmed Tibetan pilgrims attempting to leave Tibet, 18 others went missing and are presumed dead. The victims were shot from a considerable distance by the Security Police as they moved slowly away through chest-high snow. In the early morning when the sun is rising over the summit of Cho Oyu, its rays create an amazingly picturesque canvas of long curved shadows over Nangpa-la that are so beautifully framed by the shaded and brightly reflecting mountains on either side.

After establishing ourselves at ABC, the first item of business was to perform the important ‘Puja’ ceremony. We have a team of Sherpa’s and Tibetans coordinating and assisting our expedition, and according to Buddhist tradition and faith, we must request approval from the Mountain Goddess to climb Cho Oyu. Before a man-made altar, with Buddhist prayer flags streaming out in all directions, our technical climbing gear placed at its base, we chant for hours asking the ‘Turquoise Goddess’ to bless and protect us up high. Ringsing, our cook assistant who is also a Lama, performs the colorful and captivating ceremony. It is a moment and experience never to be forgotten.

Using ABC as home base for the next month, we will gradually be acclimatizing to the high-altitude here (18,500’) and by progressively climbing higher on the mountain, we will further increase our red blood cells. The key is the body needs time to adapt to low oxygen to avoid hypoxia and acute mountain sickness. High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) and High-Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE) are a climber’s worst nightmare since they can rob him very quickly of the summit and his life. Generally, there is a 3% loss of air pressure per thousand foot gain in altitude. Effectively, at ABC we have only 50% of oxygen that is available at sea level and on the summit at 27,000’ there will be only about 25% or less oxygen. The sun’s radiation is another serious issue as well.

September 18 we left ABC at 8am on our first rotation to Camp 1. Light snow was falling and the winds gusty. Falling rock from adjacent mountains cover most of the glacier as we headed up its flank. Huge penitentes, many 5 to 10 stories tall, suddenly appeared like ancient frozen behemoths in the foggy, misty conditions. After hours of crossing up and down over rocky ridges and circumventing icy obstacles, we came to the foot of a steep scree slope. After a brief break we started climbing this loose rocky hill, two steps up, slipping one down. Finally, about 1500’ up and near C1 in strong winds, we returned back down to ABC.

Although a thousand miles away, huge storms brewing in the Bay of Bengal regularly slam Cho Oyu with hurricane force winds. From ABC, we would regularly witness the upper reaches of the mountain in absolute chaos. Sitting on the north, leeward side we were spared much heavy snow. Our route above Camp 2 avalanched early in September, thus making it safer before we tackled it. However, on our next 2 rotations up to C1 and attempting C2, we were forced to retreat by these very gale force winds. Several other expeditions at C1 and C2 literally lost over 30 of their bullet-proof tents, being shredded or physically blown off the mountain. We were experiencing the full consequences of climbing an 8000m mountain.

Without fully acclimatizing as we had wished, not being able to get to or sleep at C2 over the last several weeks, and also being forced to act before the Jet Stream started to return south over the mountains, we had to make a  decision. We received a weather report that there would be a narrow 3 day window of opportunity with low winds. October 2nd we would leave for the top.

I prepared my pack for our summit bid. An error of judgment at this point can cost you the summit and/ or your life. Seven upper layers, five lower, double plastic boots with overboots, goggles, glacier glasses, multi-layer mitts and gloves, balaclava, tuques, medical bag, crampons, ice ax, pee bottle, water bottles, and very important- food. You can burn 5,000 to 10,000 calories a day. You need to eat, period. Also, a lot of sun protection; at this altitude with so little ozone, you will be burned. Prepare.

Thursday, October 2nd after breakfast, we took a group photo and I made my ‘peace’ with the ‘Turquoise Goddess’. Five grueling days lay ahead. Our day of reckoning was here. The Chinese/ Tibetans, Koreans and another international group were already a day or two in front of us. It was sunny. We were hyped.

First night at C1. Mike Chapman feels unwell at daybreak and decides to go down. Climbing between C1 and C2 is tough and technical. Negotiating several ice cliffs, backing-up your protection, staying alert and very focused. Himalayan climbing is climbing alone, not roped-up as a team. There are crevasses but they are usually very large and visible. Anyways, roped-up is usually too dangerous on the steeps. It is a 9+ hour day to C2, (23,622’). We are now above the clouds, above almost every other mountain in view. At C2 we are sitting on about 18 feet of recently avalanched ice.

October 4, Nathan and I climb together. Starting right out of C2 is a somewhat steep 450 slope. The air is thin, the views magnificent. Just above C2 you can see both camps below and far to the right following the arcing flow of the glacier, ABC. We both feel lethargic. About 1500’ above camp, there is a long ridge I hope high camp is situated. I have needed a little psychology today to inch myself up one step at a time. Just below the ridge it begins to snow heavily and visibility is cut sharply. On the ridge we realize C3 is still somewhat higher. There is already about a foot of new snow on the ground. We push up the last few hundred feet to C3 (25,000’) and arrive around 3:30pm. We have only about 7 hours to rest and eat before striking out in the dead of night for the summit.

I tent with Mike Hamill and Greg Vernovage. We start using supplemental oxygen for the first time to keep our bodies warm and charged for the climb. Packed three to a two-man tent, resting is the best one can do. At 10pm, I light my stove to boil water and prepare porridge. About 11:30pm, after the difficult task of putting on boots and crampons in this extreme cold, I am the last one out of camp. Right above camp begins the near vertical rock face called the ‘Yellow Band’. In the absolute dark of night, with only a small headlight as your visual compass, but with the millions of stars above keeping you company, you anxiously climb focusing on every detail. This is an altitude with so little oxygen that it is known as the ‘death zone’. Your body is physically breaking down and dying.

Over the years I have personally observed that our minds at high-altitude work like a pyramid. The more extreme and difficult the environment, the more focused we are on basic survival. You forget about fingers and toes and concentrate only on your next step, and staying alive. It must be in your arsenal of experience to remember, from time to time, to check the feelings in your extremities.

I was climbing with Tseten Gyurme, a Tibetan who had fixed the lines to the top of Everest for the Tibetan/ Chinese team that carried the Olympic Torch to the summit in early May, 2008. He is an amazingly strong climber and he kept his eyes on me in case I messed up. I overheard that Al Schumer had decided to return to C3. We passed several other members of our team. Over the years I usually get a runny nose in cold temperatures. It is not normally a problem since I generally have a hanky nearby or use a more elementary method. Today however, it was a much more miserable dilemma. I was wearing an oxygen mask. It was like Chinese water torture. It kept dripping and dripping and there was no easy way to deal with it. Somehow, psychologically, I told myself that this was the most important climb of my life and I would not let a little snot stop me. It was mind over matter and I won. We pushed on up in the dark. We had this whole great mountain to ourselves. I had no idea of time. I felt energized on the oxygen. I felt a serenity I have never known before in my life.

The night seemed to pass so quickly. I suddenly realized that it was getting light. The slope had begun to mellow considerably. The huge tooth just below the summit was now so near. We were almost there. Suddenly the ‘divine shadow’ of Cho Oyu appeared in the distant sky above the peaks. I knew I was going to make it. Mike Hamill was just in front of me. We slowly rounded the crest and saw the rising sun just edging up behind Mount Everest and Lhotse. Nathan Dolbeare had arrived first, followed by Karel Masek and Chris Bergum. We stood there in awe. We hugged. We took pictures. We all tried to absorb this momentous moment.

In the -40C temperature, with a light wind rising up the mountain from the west side twirling the snow into miniature tornadoes, I managed only a few photos before my camera batteries froze. I had really wanted to do a short video tribute to my aging mother and to the Tibetan people, but it was not possible. Standing there, on the ‘roof of the world’, probably higher than any other human being at that moment, I stood fixated with my mind numb in awe. So many weeks on the mountain, so many years of training, reaching a goal that sometimes seemed impossible. This moment would be way to short.

Before I knew it, I was on my way down. Did I leave to soon? Christ, stay focused, descending is the most deadly part. I struggled to get my crampon points to bite the near vertical rock down-climbing through the Yellow Band. At C3 I packed-up and was the 1st one out to C2. At C2, we all gathered to rest for awhile and snack. We decided we would continue down to C1 to sleep. Just below C2, crossing a steep slope and misjudging the snow my left foot found air and I fell maybe 30’. Fortunately, I had attached protection and the rope held my fall. Being very steep with soft new snow, I had to angle side-slope to get back on track.  The first rappel was over blue ice and a bergschrund (crevasse). The 2nd rappel was over a sheer 15+ story drop. My heart raced so fast I had to stop to rest for a minute half way down. Only later did I hear that a Slovenian climber, Miha Valic, had fallen exactly here yesterday and died. I finally got into camp 1 around 5pm after a 17 hour day.

News soon surfaced that 2 climbers had died and another had fallen but survived. Guy Leveille, a Canadian policeman from Winnipeg turned around 60m from the summit exhausted. He was climbing with the FTA Team led by Stu Remensnyder. Apparently Stu, after summiting had found Guy on his way down and spent the next 40 hours with him above 7500m trying to help get him down. Guy fell and was gone, Stu barely made it back to camp himself. Another climber had to be resuscitated with CPR after collapsing. Miha Valic, a Slovenian guide fell in the ropes on rappelling the icefall above C1, landed on his head and died. He was a great climber who succeeded to climb 82 of the 4,000m peaks in the Alps in only 102 days in early 2007. It is thought he was suffering from HAPE. When I got to C1 at 5pm, Miha was already wrapped-up and laying just outside of camp. Both deaths were a great tragedy.

We arrived back at ABC late morning on the 6th October exhausted but content after 5 long days. We had luckily managed to summit before the Jet Stream hit. Coming down below C1 I saw behind me sitting right above Cho Oyu a large Lenticular Cloud, which usually means very powerful winds circling the peak. We were actually the last ones to summit for the season. Next day the yaks arrived to carry out all our gear and the rest of the supplies and garbage. It was finally great to be getting off the mountain and going back home to our families and lives. A washed-out road delayed our return by a day. We managed to get back to Kathmandu at night October 9th, and the following morning I called home and received bad news from Rosanna that my Mum had passed away September 29th.

It was really strange because on the 29th I had repeatedly tried calling home but was unable to make a connection using the SAT phone. I did manage to reach her October 1st, the day before we left ABC for the summit. I had asked her about Mum but she was reluctant to say much. I knew something was wrong, but didn’t expect that. I very much appreciate that she held back the heartbreaking news. I would not have been able to do anything and I definitely needed all of my energy and concentration for the mountain. This essay and my summit is dedicated to my mother; Kathleen Armstrong Stewart Fairhurst, 95. Besides being a very loving mother, she was a real trooper.

I have a great deal of respect for every member of my team. Nathan Dolbeare, Louis Carstens, Paul Garry, Karel Masek, Mike Chapman, Al Schumer, Chris Bergum, Greg Vernovage, Mike Hamill.