Lonely at the Top

For Goran Kropp, May 23, 1996, should have been a day of ecstasy.

That day the Swedish climber stood alone on the top of the world, halfway through his bid to become the first person to travel from his homeland to the top of Mt. Everest and back entirely under his own power.

But he was scared to death.

“I had passed [the bodies of] Scott Fisher and Rob Hall on the way up,” he said during a recent visit to Los Angeles to publicize his memoir of the adventure. “I perched for four minutes and rushed down.”

Kropp had bicycled more than 7,000 miles from Stockholm through Germany, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and India virtually to the base of the 29,028-foot peak in Nepal. He had lugged all his own clothing and gear up the mountain, eschewing the use of Sherpas other expeditions rely on to haul their loads.

Most remarkable, he climbed without the aid of bottled oxygen--something all but a handful of climbers depend on while ascending into the Death Zone, the stretch of desolation above 25,000 feet where the air is one-third that of sea level and climbers’ brains turn to mush.

After three punishing tries in 23 days, including one during which he came within 300 vertical feet of the summit before turning back, Kropp finally made it to the highest point on Earth.

His self-styled quest played out during one of the most deadly climbing seasons on the mountain--one that claimed 15 lives, including experienced and popular climbing guides Hall of New Zealand and Fisher of Seattle. The deaths became worldwide metaphors for the dark side of adventure when they were chronicled in Jon Krakauer’s bestseller “Into Thin Air.”

The terror that seized Kropp at the summit dogged him during his two-day descent. “I still suffered from diarrhea and I coughed up greenish-black clots of phlegm. My bronchi were gone. I couldn’t talk even if I wanted to,” he wrote in his book, “Ultimate High, My Everest Odyssey,” published in 1999 by Discovery Books.

Kropp says he celebrated only after he returned to Everest base camp at about 18,000 feet, realizing at last that the mountain could no longer kill him.

Bound for the Poles

Kropp emerged from the 1996 Everest drama as a quirky footnote, a story of success fueled by his determination and unorthodox journey during an otherwise tragic season. His feat won him mentions in books by Krakauer and David Breashears, climber, author and director of the Imax movie “Everest,” whose crew was climbing and filming on the mountain when Kropp made his ascent.

“It’s the best life you can have,” Kropp, 33, said from Vienna, where he recently spoke at an international avalanche conference. “I spend half the time doing adventure, half the time having lectures and getting money for the next one.”

In 2003, Kropp plans another “first”: to sail alone from Sweden to Antarctica, ski 1,400 miles to the South Pole and back, and sail home. He doesn’t know how to sail, but he’s learning.

As a warmup, on Feb. 18 he’ll set out from a Russian island on the edge of the Arctic and ski more than 1,000 miles to the North Pole, toting all his food and gear on a 264-pound sled.

“I’ve trained hard for this one,” Kropp said.

On the 60-day North Pole expedition, Kropp will be joined by another extreme countryman, Ola Skinnarmo, who at 26 skied to the South Pole at in 1998.

Though the terrain is spectacularly different between Everest and Antarctica, that same purist theme runs through Kropp’s undertakings.

No Help, Please

Kropp was no neophyte when he started out for the top of Everest on May 1, the first person to leave base camp in a season when many things would go fatally awry. He was eager to go after his four-month six-day bicycle trip during which he toted a 284-pound load on a customized trailer.

He started training in 1986 by giving up his apartment and living in a forest to save money for the trip.

In 1989, he climbed Illampu, the third-highest peak in the Bolivian Andes at 21,276 feet--and hang-glided down to base camp at 13,000 feet in only eight minutes, avoiding a two-day descent. In 1992, he climbed the Himalayan peak Cho Oyo, the eighth-highest peak in the world; and a year later, Kropp was the second person to climb K2--the world’s second-highest peak and one considered more dangerous than Everest--without bottled oxygen.

Climbers struggle with the thin air above 25,000 feet, using supplemental oxygen to be able to function and stave off high-altitude illnesses such as pulmonary or cerebral edema, both of which can be fatal.

“It’s impossible to have the same speed as someone climbing with oxygen,” he told his audience in Los Angeles. “It changes the height of the mountain.” By that, Kropp suggests, those who rely on bottled oxygen have in effect “lowered” the peak. “They might as well climb [19,000-foot] Kilimanjaro,” he says.

He was so concerned with his rules that the slightest departure from them nagged at him. He became concerned about “cheating,” such transgressions as taking a boat to Germany on his outbound route to Nepal, or later, accepting a piece of cheese from a fellow climber while on Everest.

This type of cheating was foremost in his mind as he proceeded up the mountain through the Khumbu Icefall above base camp, a tough labyrinth of crevasses and ice blocks with ladders and ropes each season to aid climbers. He decided against using any of the hardware and hewed his own route through the treacherous terrain, prompting Fisher, the late climber who witnessed Kropp’s unorthodox route, to call him “you crazy bastard.” The name stuck.

On this first try for the summit, with only an hour and 300 vertical feet to the top, Kropp realized he might not have the strength to make it up and back in the time he had calculated. He turned back.

“To turn around that close to the summit,” Hall said in Krakauer’s book, “That showed good judgment on young Goran’s part. I’m impressed--considerably more impressed, actually, than if he’d climbed and made the top.”

Kropp’s second attempt brought him to the South Col, a flat area at 26,000 feet strewn with spent oxygen bottles and more than a dozen corpses. “It’s like being in the waiting room for death,” Kropp said, saying bad weather and the unnerving bodies forced him to turn back.

It was after he returned to base camp to recuperate that he heard the May 10 tragedy unfold via radio. In a single day, eight guides and their clients--some of whom made it to the top; some of whom, unlike Kropp, didn’t turn back at their appointed hour--perished in a quick-moving storm. Their agonizing story made headlines and touched off a debate about experienced guides like Hall and Fisher taking novice climbers up the mountain for a fee. It was in this deadly aftermath that Kropp struck out again for his third and final attempt.

On May 21, he started up but was ill and still weak from his two previous tries. He arrived at the South Col about 7 p.m. Dogged by diarrhea and weakness, he slept and rose around midnight to begin the final ascent to the top.

During this slow and deliberate climb, Kropp again stared into the face of death. First he saw his buddy Fisher’s face appearing in the snow, still positioned where he had died. Then, as he climbed toward the South Summit about 1,000 feet below the summit, he spied Hall, whose body he had to climb over to proceed up the peak.

The sobering sights set off a panicked charge through his body.

Barely able to move, he watched members of the Imax film team as well as other climbers pass him as he staggered toward the top. After his four minutes of success--dulled by a deadening weakness--Kropp descended past the bodies again, this time stopping to take photos.

He continued slowly down, fearing he wouldn’t have the strength to make it through the Khumbu Icefall, until he stumbled into base camp. It took four months for Kropp to recover from his climb, at which point he hopped on his bicycle and pedaled home--arriving in Stockholm almost a year to the day he left.

A Universal High

Kropp says he has no desire to go back to Everest, though he did return in 1999 for a “cleanup” climb to the South Col where he and other climbers removed oxygen bottles and garbage that had accumulated on the mountain.

And then there’s the possibility of accompanying his girlfriend, Renata Chlumska, who wants to climb Everest without oxygen.

Now, living in Jonkoping, Sweden, he focuses on training for Antarctica, his speaking dates linked to his book and his penchant for Formula 3 racing (something critics say runs counter to his environmentally pure climbing ethics).

“I feel that my message in my lecture is important,” he said of his book tour in the United States. “It makes people inspired to do their Everest. It can be to start getting an education or run 10 kilometers in under an hour . . . everyone has his or her Everest.”