Morality on a Slippery Slope

Mark Inglis’ journey to the top of Mt. Everest appeared to be one for the ages, courageous and inspirational, proof that with enough desire a person can overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

But the first double-amputee to scale the world’s tallest mountain may be remembered more for what he didn’t do.

May 15, the day the New Zealand climber realized his dream of attaining the Himalayan peak, was also the day that David Sharp, a 34-year-old British climber, was hunkered down in a nearby snow cave, taking his last breaths.

Inglis was the first to reach Sharp and one of an estimated 40 climbers who marched on rather than help as Sharp sat in a daze, deprived of oxygen, disoriented and supposedly near death 1,000 feet beneath the summit.

Sharp was making his return after reaching the peak. He died on the mountain and remains there, as have many of the almost 200 climbers who have perished on Everest in the last half-century.

Since Inglis was the one who disclosed what otherwise might have remained a tight-lipped secret -- and such secrets do exist -- he received the brunt of criticism, including a harsh condemnation from revered Everest pioneer Edmund Hillary.

With this being one of the deadliest Everest seasons on record -- 10 confirmed fatalities among an estimated 300 summit attempts so far; second only to the reported 19 deaths in 1996 -- the revelation has stirred a contentious debate.

Some in climbing circles bemoan what they perceive to be a diminished moral code caused, in part, by overcrowding and by commercial outfitters adopting a summit-or-bust attitude to justify the high fees they charge clients who, in some cases, lack adequate climbing experience. The cost of joining an expedition can run from $10,000 to more than $40,000.

Others, however, say that high ethics are still maintained among the veteran climbing fraternity -- of which Inglis has been a respected member -- and that situations vary. Conditions are extremely harsh in what is known as the Death Zone, above 25,000 feet, where oxygen is sparse, winds are fierce and temperatures reach 100 below. Judgment can be impaired and rescue attempts are difficult and can be perilous.

But rescues do occur. Just this week Lincoln Hall, who had become separated from his party and given up for dead, was delivered safely to base camp by a group of climbers who abandoned their summit attempt to lend a hand.

This contrast in scenarios, perhaps, suggests that blanket assessments are probably inaccurate. The human spirit is tested just as severely today as it was when Hillary and Tenzing Norgay logged the first successful ascent of the 29,035-foot peak in 1953, and whether it prevails admirably or otherwise depends on variables and is not always easy to determine. More than 1,500 climbers have reached the summit since 1953.

Inglis, 46, a former search-and-rescue mountaineer for Mt. Cook National Park in New Zealand, was himself the subject of a spectacular rescue after spending 14 days in a cave on Mt. Cook during a blizzard. He lost both lower legs but, with artificial legs, continued climbing with the ultimate dream of scaling Everest.

His 40-day expedition, led by veteran guide Russell Brice, included two teams totaling 22 climbers and six sherpa guides. The weather cooperated except for high winds that delayed the summit attempt a couple of days. It was savagely cold and difficult to breath without supplemental oxygen, which the climbers used while en route. At one point, Inglis had a long fall and broke one of his prosthetic legs, which he repaired with duct tape.

It was during the summit assault, on a well-traveled route, that the party stumbled upon Sharp, who sat cross-legged in a shallow cave, without oxygen, motionless and barely breathing. One of the sherpas attempted to revive him with oxygen, but it was ultimately determined that he was beyond help.

Though details are unclear, Sharp had become separated from teammate Vitor Negrete of Brazil. Negrete, in a solo attempt, reached the summit three days after Sharp’s death but became ill and was unable to make a descent. After being taken to one of the high camps by a sherpa, he also died.

Hillary expressed his disgust on New Zealand television about the Sharp incident, implying that his 1953 summit might not have occurred had his party found a climber in distress. “Human life is far more important than just getting to the top of a mountain,” Hillary said.

Inglis, who remains hospitalized while recovering from frostbite to his fingers and injuries to his upper legs, is stung by the criticism and has stopped doing interviews, said his wife, Anne. However, he told the Dominion Post of New Zealand, “I did nothing at all to help David because I wasn’t in a position to. Some of our sherpas and other team members were far more qualified and capable and did what they could, but to no avail.

“There were simple facts that determined whether someone was going to live or not. We had those facts, and they were facts that I’m sure Sir Edmund didn’t have.”

Brice, who has led expeditions up Everest for 16 seasons but no longer travels to the summit himself, told the Christchurch (New Zealand) Press on Wednesday that he instructed the team to abandon Sharp from base camp after learning from the sherpas that he was close to death. “Yes, we let him die, but we could not help him,” Brice said upon his arrival in Katmandu.

The Press supported Inglis in an editorial proclaiming that “all who climb on the world’s high peaks know that the explicit pact of those taking part in such enterprises is that an accident or physical collapse on the high ridges is a sentence of death.

“Other climbers can do no more than husband their resources to ensure their own survival in the thin cold air, beyond the reach of helicopters and rescue parties. Rescue is not catered for and not expected.”

Jan Arnold, widow of climber-guide Rob Hall, who was among nine mountaineers who perished in one day during a freak storm that swept through the Death Zone in 1996, told a New Zealand news program that it was wrong to point fingers.

“When you’re up there and can barely breathe, you can’t eat, you can barely drink -- all you can really do is plod on upwards with this one thing in mind,” said Arnold, who has climbed to Everest’s summit. “What it would involve to launch a rescue would almost be beyond the brain capacity of a person at high altitude.”

Edmund Hillary’s son, Peter, a climber and guide, said this week that slowly climbing upward in such extreme conditions, suffering from depleted levels of oxygen, knowing that a misstep could be disastrous, “You’re just focused on taking another step. You’re not joyously strolling up the mountain. You almost want to just curl up in the snow. It’s a desperate place.”

Ed Viesturs, who has scaled all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks without bottled oxygen, said there is an unsavory aspect at play as well. “This isn’t the first time this has happened,” he said of the Sharp incident. “Passing people who are dying is not uncommon. Unfortunately, there are those who say it’s not my problem. I’ve spent all this money and I’m going to the summit.” Viesturs was careful not to implicate Inglis and pointed to several instances in which climbers have come to the aid of others. Rob Hall perished, in part, because he refused to leave the side of his ailing client. Viesturs himself participated in the successful rescue of a French female climber who, like Sharp, was suffering from oxygen depletion just 300 feet beneath Everest’s summit, on the same route Sharp had been using.

“We put her on oxygen right away and we carefully pushed and pulled her down the mountain,” Viesturs said. “If you’re strong enough to mount a summit attempt, you’re strong enough to attempt a rescue, or at least sit there with him and try to provide a little comfort.”

Lincoln Hall was in need of more than comfort and fortunate that the Dan Mazur expedition found him when it did, at about 26,000 feet on the north ridge. Hall was sitting cross-legged near a ledge with a 10,000-foot drop. He had his suit unzipped to his waist. He wore no hat, gloves or sunglasses. He had no oxygen mask, not even a water bottle. Reports indicated the temperature was well below zero.

“His [frostbitten] fingers looked like 10 waxy candlesticks,” Myles Osborne, one of the climbers, said in a dispatch posted on Everestnews.com. “He seemed to be in deep distress, shivered uncontrollably, and kept trying to pull himself closer to the edge of the cornice, to the point that we physically held him back and eventually anchored him to the snow.”

They gave Hall oxygen, warm water, juice and snacks while radioing Advanced Base Camp for help. A sherpa team above ABC at a higher camp was dispatched and reached the Mazur party in four hours. Hall was still “fairly active” but not able to speak clearly. The next day he was delivered to ABC “by a massive rescue effort involving several teams,” and is receiving treatment for various injuries.

For the Mazur expedition, the morning summit window had closed and the team was eventually reunited with Hall, who told the climbers that he thought he was on a boat, not a mountain, when they found him and that he was contemplating jumping overboard.

Hall also talked profusely about his wife and family, leading Osborne to comment, “I could not help but wonder how in any way is a summit more important than saving a life? The answer is that it isn’t. But in this skewed world up here, sometimes you can be fooled into thinking that it might be.

“But I know that trying to sleep at night knowing that I summited Everest and left a guy to die isn’t something I ever want to do. The summit’s always there, after all.”