On Everest, a rescue redefines the notion of achievement

The man sits in the dark night, on the edge of the trail, at an altitude of around 8,500 meters. His companion films his gray face, straining with fatigue, framed by two arms wrapped around his neck. Behind him, in the gloom, a woman clings to his back like a castaway, her eyes closed, her face hidden beneath an oxygen mask. That morning, at 6:30 a.m., this Chinese customer collapsed, semi-conscious, just a few dozen meters from the summit of Everest. At this height, bodies are pulled toward the summit like an asteroid by a giant planet. The Chinese customer couldn't resist the pull. She should have died there.

Her two Sherpa guides resuscitated her, then, throughout the day and part of the night, took turns pulling her or carrying her on their backs, down the sharp ridge. They don't have oxygen masks. They keep the last of their reserves for their client.

In the video, filmed on the night of May 18-19, we see the Sherpa get up, readjust his load with a quick jerk, and set off with a brisk pace. His companion follows him, and we hear his breathless voice: "It's really hard, a new chapter for Sherpas and the things we carry..."

He sits down: "This is really hard and it will be even worse if she gets worse... So we get up. One mistake, game over ... We can't let her die, we'll carry her back down to Camp IV. It's so hard, so hard... But we're not going to give up."

He sets off again, we count fifty steps before he sits down again. A fairground colossus would put on a show walking fifty paces along the seashore, a limp mass of 50 kilos on his back. But in crampons on dizzying slopes, the highest in the world, where the air is three times lighter and bodies three times heavier?

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