When I climbed Everest following in my father's footsteps, the Sherpa who accompanied Hillary

I was already at the top. Suddenly, I saw the brown ridges and rolling grasslands of Tibet at my feet. I caught my breath, but the panorama before me seemed to take it away.

David was standing a few meters away, calling me. With him were Dorje, Thillen , and Araceli , all smiling brightly. I joined them. Further back, other members of our team were making their way toward the summit.

“Okay, Jam , you did it,” David said hoarsely before hugging us.

"Thank you for this opportunity, David," I said. Then I cried for a few moments . I checked my watch: it was only 11:30. We were ahead of schedule, despite the time we'd spent waiting for the camera and filming.

The weather was clear in every direction, from the Tibetan Plateau in the north to the pastel-blue hills in the south, which merge into the Gangetic Plain of India . From there I could see the white and brown obelisk of Makalu to the southeast; Lhotse and Lhotse Shar to the south; Cho Oyu to the west; Manaslu, Annapurna, and Dhaulagiri in the distance; and Kangchenjunga 130 kilometers to the east. With Everest , these were nine of the ten highest peaks on the planet . If it hadn't been for the curvature of the earth and the haze , I would probably have seen even more of the great Himalayan range.

It was strange to see the great giants of the Himalayas from above, as I was used to always looking up at them.

When the others arrived, nine of us were together on the summit: Robert , David, Araceli, Lhakpa, Muktu, Lhakpa , Thillen, Dorje, the climbing sirdar Lhakpa Dorje, and me. We were all over the moon. David handed me the radio, and I spoke to base camp. "We're here... on the summit, and it's magnificent," I said. I wanted to say something deeper, something poetic perhaps , but my articulateness was slowed by semi-hypoxia . Base camp responded enthusiastically: "Great work, congratulations!" We caught the contagion of their enthusiasm.

I asked Paula to connect me with my wife in Kathmandu. When I heard Soyang 's voice, I told her, "I'm at the summit." I caught her off guard, as she thought we were still at Camp II or III.

"If my mother and I had known you were attacking the summit today, we would have held more rituals and said more prayers," he said. His surprise turned to cautious joy . "Good, so now you won't have to go climbing again, huh?" he said warningly. "Be careful on the way down."

My brother Dhamey was with her and later told me that he had been tempted to tell everyone the news, but he only called my brother Norbu and my sister Deki , because he did not want to attract nerpa , the unfavorable influences of wandering ghosts, especially while I was still on the mountain.

When the camera arrived, Robert and David spent a while setting it up. They had to insert the film with their bare hands to align it correctly and make sure the aperture was free of hairs or other tiny objects, which would be magnified a thousand times on the screen and ruin the footage.

"We only have one roll of film left," David said, "so we have to get it right."

The camera worked perfectly, and we shot the ninety seconds of that nearly three-kilo roll of film. I captured my father's presence more intensely than before. He looked at me, encouraged me, and supported me, proud of me. I shared with him the view that, with Hillary , he had been the first human to witness. I remembered him telling me how he had captivated Grandma Kinzom by telling her that from up there he had seen the monasteries of Rongbuk and Tengboche, located on opposite sides of the Himalayas and many days' walk from each other.

I looked at the ruins of Rongbuk Monastery, at the end of the Rongbuk Glacier, and then I gazed at the high grasslands of the Kharta Valley in Tibet, where my father chased yaks as a boy. Then I turned and saw him.

There was my father, behind me, beside a bare rock of ice. Dressed in his 1953 down jacket , he had removed his oxygen mask and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead. His face was shining, glowing. Was he looking at me? Could he see me there, triumphant and exhausted, as he had been? Or was it just me who noticed his presence?

I refrained from speaking out loud to him, but I spoke to him inside anyway.

"Both my dream and yours have come true."

In a clear voice, I heard him reply calmly, "Jamling, you didn't have to come so far ; you didn't have to climb this mountain to be with me and talk to me." He then told me that he was pleased that a son of his had climbed Everest and that he knew that if anyone could do it, it was me. Later, my uncle Tenzing Lotay told me that this was precisely the wish my father had confessed to him years ago. My uncle also told me that my father was convinced that I would find my own way up the mountain.

I had found him, but my father had been with me the whole time : ahead of me, leading the way; behind me, encouraging me; and beside me, giving me prudent advice. At the top, I felt I was touching his soul, his mind, his destiny, and his dreams, and receiving his approval and blessings. Perhaps it was true that it wasn't necessary to go so far to be by his side and understand him, but I had to get all the way up there to realize that his blessings had been with me all along.

The mountain came alive for me , just as it had for him. My father had worked for this moment and waited for it his entire life, and the mountain rewarded him for his effort and patience. It ceased to be a dangerous, inanimate pile of rocks—rocks that had carelessly claimed the lives of many—and became a warm, friendly, life-sustaining being. Miyolangsangma. I felt the goddess embrace us both.

Similarly, my father felt that his friend, the Swiss Raymond Lambert , was on the summit with him; in fact, he was wearing the red scarf Lambert had given him. His boots were also Swiss. His socks had been knitted by Ang Lhamu , and his balaclava had been given to him by Earl Denman in 1947, the year they attacked the summit together from the north side.

Edmund Hillary took three photos of my father on the summit, holding the ice axe high. Then my father dug a hole in the snow and left the worn blue and red pencil his daughter Nima had given him, along with a small packet of candy, a traditional offering to loved ones. Hillary handed him a black and white rag kitten that Colonel Hunt had given him as a charm, and my father placed it among the other items. Finally, he recited a prayer and thanked Miyolangsangma. He had finally reached the summit, on his seventh attempt, his lucky one.

At the summit, I left a framed photo of my parents in a red plastic wallet, a photo of His Holiness the Dalai Lama , a kata scarf, and, like my father, a piece of candy as an offering. I also left an elephant-shaped rattle, chosen from among my daughter's toys, perhaps significant, since, according to Trulshig Rinpoche's translation, Chomolungma means "good and steadfast elephant woman."

You must approach the mountain with respect and love. Anyone who attacks the summit aggressively, like a soldier fighting a battle, will lose.

Araceli took out the Senyera , the Catalan flag, and David and I took photos of her. She also spoke on the radio with a Catalan television journalist. Then I stood at the summit and imitated my father's famous pose so they could take my picture. My pose, as I later saw, wasn't identical to my father's, but rather his mirror image. In the same way, my climb mirrored his: it reflected his life and his values, even though they were undeniably mine.

Before setting foot on the mountain, my father knew that one must approach it with respect and love , like a child climbing onto its mother's lap. Anyone who attacks the peak aggressively, like a soldier waging battle, will lose. Thus, there is only one appropriate response upon reaching the summit of Miyolangsangma Mountain: to express gratitude. Like my father, I clasped my hands and said thu-chi-chay —thank you—to Miyolangsangma and the mountain. Then, for a few minutes, I recited a refuge prayer, with one mantra at the beginning and another at the end.

Om Mani Padme Hum Lama la gyapsong ché Sanggye la gyapsong ché Cho la gyapsong ché

Gedun la gyapsong che

Om taare tufare ture svaha.

I opened the package of blessed relics from high Tibetan lamas that Geshe Rinpoche had given me and scattered a handful across the summit . Then I sprinkled some chaane on the four cardinal points and unfurled the long prayer flag. I tied one end to the katas and other rolled-up flags at the weather station left on the summit by a scientific expedition.

I spent about two hours at the summit before heading back, and I felt as lucky and satisfied as I know my father felt.

The highest cleared ground on the mountain is on a rock platform about 30 meters from the summit. My father had wondered if anyone would ever pitch a tent and sleep there, practically on the summit. And forty-six years later, Babu Chiri Sherpa did, spending nearly 20 hours on the roof of the world without supplemental oxygen.

Just as we left the summit, we met Göran Kropp and Jesús Martínez , and then the "ten-time" Ang Rita - on his tenth ascent - who was climbing calmly, as if he weren't making any effort , without oxygen bottles.

In the couloirs above the South Col, we slid seated on the hard snow , holding the ice axe in case we lost control and needed it to brake. Upon reaching the flat base of the col, I was grateful for the remaining daylight hours and walked slowly back to the tents. Upon arrival, we drank tea, took photographs, and enjoyed the moment, relaxed and happy, though absolutely exhausted , so we went to sleep immediately. We had climbed for sixteen hours at over eight thousand meters.

After a couple of hours, I woke up and couldn't open my eyes; they burned like someone had thrown sand on them. I was blinded by the snow .

At that altitude, the sun's ultraviolet radiation, reflected especially off bright snow, can cause corneal irritation. It's very painful but, fortunately, temporary. On a climb in the Himalayas, my father lost his glacier goggles and suffered snow blindness, after which he always wore two pairs of goggles, and I do the same. However, they had fogged up due to the oxygen mask, and I was forced to remove them on the final stretch before reaching the summit.

Ed gave me some antibiotic drops , and Sumiyo gave them to me. What worried me most was not seeing well the next morning. If I couldn't get down, I'd be in danger. Muktu Lhakpa had also suffered blindness on the South Summit and reached the South Col crying and wailing. I never thought the same thing could happen to me.

By morning, I was still completely blind . I had no choice but to embark on what was, for me , the most terrifying part of the climb. I called Dorje and Thillen and asked if we could make the descent together. They had gear to bring down, but I would walk between them. I gathered my gear with my eyes closed.

Dorje led me, and we began the descent toward Camp III. On the Lhotse Face , I painfully opened my eyes to see if there was any danger above me, and I also looked down to see what the terrain was like before taking several steps with my eyes closed. Then I had to stop and wait almost a minute for the pain to subside. I repeated the process over and over, praying and thinking of my father. And of Beck Weathers. I began to understand his agony, even though I was suffering only a tiny fraction of his misfortune.

At Camp III, Kropp and Martínez, the Swede and the Spaniard who reached the summit with us, gave me some juice, the fuel I needed to keep going. Martínez also gave me some very dark glasses that helped me a lot.

Until I reached the bergschrund above Camp II, I wasn't sure I'd make it. I staggered to Advanced Base Camp and was grateful when the kitchen staff brought me tea and food. I ate Shyakpa Sherpa stew, and although my eyes hurt terribly, I felt happy and safe.

Before reaching Camp II, I ran into Ian Woodall and Bruce Herrod , the leader and photographer of the South African expedition, who were on their way up. Woodall, as unfriendly as ever, said nothing. Herrod, on the other hand, was a true gentleman. I had gotten along well with him at base camp, and when he saw me, he congratulated me and I thanked him.

The next morning, at Camp II, I was fully recovered , but I still put on two pairs of glasses. We decided to stay there one more day to finish some shots, clean up the camp, and clean up the area. Instead of running down the mountain, as if fleeing from it, that extra day helped us gather our thoughts in a relaxing limbo between the mountain and the everyday world of base camp.

On the way down from Camp II, we shared the load equally. The late spring weather made traversing the longest ladder a bit treacherous, and David couldn't resist filming Araceli and me as we descended and then turned around to recross the ladder up the mountain.

The arrival at base camp was glorious. Finally, relaxation and celebration . We toasted with bottles of beer and Coca-Cola. I felt overwhelmed with warmth, and some climbers and base camp staff cried tears of joy.

I quickly slipped away from the group and walked toward the lhap-so . Jangbu was already there, praying. I took out the sungwa amulet that Geshe Rinpoche had given me and placed it on one of the slate sheets that form the altar at the base of the lhap-so. I stepped back and stood beside Jangbu. I tried to let all extraneous thoughts dissolve so that Miyolangsangma and the protective and tutelary deities would settle in my heart. I thanked them sincerely, and my gratitude reached a stage I swore I would never abandon. I still feel that gratitude now. Miyolangsangma had allowed us to climb it and granted us a safe crossing.

According to Araceli , the praise she received in Catalonia and the rest of Spain for being the first Spanish woman to reach the summit was simply a natural result of the climb. She had signed up for the expedition as a personal challenge and out of her love of climbing. However, I knew that when I returned to Barcelona, ​​I would enjoy that praise and celebrate in style. Catalans love good food, good wine, and celebration, and her parents run a restaurant serving fine cuisine. Upon arriving at base camp, after a well-deserved rest, she quickly regained her cheerful and joyful demeanor and seemed as if she had never climbed so high.

We spent a couple of days at base camp, filming and packing. On May 29, the forty-third anniversary of my father's climb, we opened the remaining bottles of wine and drank heavily. Robert and I smoked cigarettes. The corrugated iron roof over the kitchen was already removed, signaling that the season, for us, was over. We felt like teenagers celebrating the end of the high school year.