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4/21: Arrival to basecamp:
We arrived at Kanchenjunga on April 21st, landing directly at base camp, perched at an impressive altitude of just under 18,000 feet. Despite our team’s recent summit of Dhaulagiri on 4/9, we were all met with the unwelcome onset of headaches, a testament to the dramatic elevation change. In preparation, Chris and I had been trekking in the stunning Gokyo region, striving to maintain acclimatization while soaking in the breathtaking landscapes of Nepal and visiting friends.
Captain Pasang, Jill, Gina, Tracee and Chris squeezed into the helicopter with its seats removed to accommodate all our climbing gear.
Chirring helping the cooks.
At base camp, we were joined by Sirbaz and Saad, who had already spent nearly a month on Kanchenjunga, assisting the Sherpas with route fixing and load carrying. Sirbaz aimed to summit without supplemental oxygen as part of his ambitious Mission 14 project.
This camp felt extraordinarily remote, like an eagle’s nest clinging to the mountainside—stunningly beautiful but seemingly inhospitable to human life. The day after our arrival, we held a puja ceremony to seek blessings for our climb, setting the stage for our ascent which commenced the following day.
View from basecamp.
Camp 2.
4/23: Route: BC->C2
The climb toward Camp 1 begins with a rocky glacier crossing, which is covered in a layer of verglas—frozen water that makes the surface extremely slippery. Once we reach the snow, we face a moderately steep ascent that should be completed as quickly as possible. This urgency is necessary because an ice feature to the left can intermittently shed large chunks of ice, the size of cars, which can easily kill or seriously injure anyone below.
The next challenging feature we encounter is an icy traverse bulge that demands a distinct maneuver: leaning back away from the rock, with nothing but air beneath your feet, all while gripping a fixed rope. It resembles a via ferrata, but the anchors securing the rope are temporary, unlike the steel anchors found on established via ferrata routes. Once we finish the traverse, we must carefully rappel down to the glacier floor. As someone with a fear of heights, I found this particularly nerve-wracking.
Upon reaching the glacier floor, we set off on a 30-minute trek that involves several stream crossings as we make our way to Camp 2. It’s noteworthy that on this mountain, climbers typically bypass Camp 1 altogether.
When we finally arrive at C2, we find that the tents have already been set up for us, thanks to some of our Sherpa team members who have been diligently preparing the mountain for the past month. I share a tent with Jill Wheatley, a climber from Canada who has bravely overcome a traumatic brain injury and lost 70% of her vision. Despite these challenges, she is determined to climb all 14 of the world’s highest peaks. I feel both inspired by Jill’s resilience and grateful to share a tent with another female climber.
4/24: C2->C3
The following morning, Mama and I set out for Camp 3. While the climb wasn’t technical, it required navigating moderately steep snow and jumping across several crevasses, all while clipped to a fixed rope. I relished the rhythmic nature of the ascent, allowing my mind to drift as I repeated a mantra to myself, blended with the soothing sounds of the mountain.
As we approached a steep section, I noticed Mama had paused to pick up a coil of rope. I glanced at Chirring and remarked, “Oh, he has to carry that.” Chirring smiled and replied, “No, he wants to carry that.”
Before long, our group—Keval, Chris, Naoki, Sasko, Gina, Jill, Sirbaz, and the Sherpas—came together. We took a moment to bask in the warm sunlight and soak in the breathtaking views that surrounded us.
Mama and me sharing a tent at C3.
4/26: Route: C3->C4
We decided to take a rest day at Camp 3 while the Sherpas moved ahead to fix the route to Camp 4. The next morning, we all headed out together.
Immediately after leaving C3, we encountered a steep snow climb that had our hearts racing and our breathing hard, despite the fact that most of our team was now using oxygen. After that, the route leveled out with a relatively flat traverse, followed by descending one serac, jumping across a moderately sized crevasse, and then ascending a steep serac using a fixed rope. From there, it was a straightforward walk to the relatively flat Camp 4.
As soon as we arrived, the Sherpas quickly erected the tents, having built the tent platforms the day before. We all climbed into our tents and began melting snow to hydrate for our summit push that night.
4/27: Route: C4->false summit ->C4
We started climbing around 10 PM we had discussed starting earlier but ended up delaying due to snowfall. The first issue I encountered was that one of my sock heater batteries had completely drained. I imagined it had accidentally been turned on. Normally, I struggle with cold feet, but I tried to avoid falling into a cycle of negative thoughts.
The initial climb involved moderate snow, steep in places. A team of Sherpas had set out several hours earlier to work on fixing the ropes, and before long, we caught up with them and continued together. Navigation proved challenging, even though Mingma G had climbed this mountain before. We inadvertently ventured up the wrong valley and had to backtrack. While this wasn’t a major setback, we ended up standing around for several hours as the leading Sherpas searched for the correct route.
The cold was intense, and when you stop moving, your body temperature drops rapidly. My feet were not only cold but also becoming numb. I took the one functioning battery pack and kept switching it between my feet. Concerned about frostbite, I decided I needed to turn back and told the team. Mingma G told me to wait for the sun to rise before making a final decision, as turning around would mean that Mama would accompany me and lose his chance to summit. Reluctantly, I agreed to keep climbing, though I was not happy about it, as I feared I was doing permanent damage to my feet.
Way to the wrong summit. Photo credit: Chris Warner.
Area where we made the wrong turn when it was snowing earlier. Photo: Chris Warner.
In these high mountains, the coldest time of day often occurs just before sunrise. By this point, my toes had been numb in both feet for several hours. With Mingma’s encouragement, I kept climbing and felt relieved when the sun finally rose. It took several hours for my feet to thaw, but eventually, they did. For a time, we made slow but steady progress until we reached about 8,000 meters. At that point, a squall moved in, bringing wind and snow and reducing visibility to just a few feet. We followed some old fixed ropes, assuming they would lead us to the summit. After several hours of ascending a steep gully—later dubbed “Suicide Gully”—Nims caught up with our team, and he and Mingma forged ahead to the top. However, upon reaching the “top,” both recognized it was not the true summit, as they had both stood on the true summit before.
By then, it was after 3 PM, and our oxygen supplies were running low. We made the difficult decision to head back since it was unsafe to attempt downclimbing the gully and traversing over to a different section to reach the true summit.
No one needed to tell me twice; I quickly rappelled down, not even waiting for Mama, wanting to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam. I glanced up and saw a team member fall; his oxygen became unhooked and loudly discharged the remaining O2. Thankfully, the climber was unhurt.
After rappelling out of harm’s way, once I reached more mellow terrain, I began to hallucinate. I firmly believed that a bus had brought Indian pilgrims to Camp 4 on Kanchenjunga, as this is considered a holy mountain, and I was convinced that Sirbaz had descended via an alternate route. The hallucinations weren’t frightening, but they were unsettling. When I spoke to Chris Warner and received a puzzled look in return, it jolted me back to reality. We reached C4 a little after sunset and quickly fell into a well-deserved deep sleep.
4/28: Route: C4-> BC
The descent was somewhat of a blur. Mingma was determined that we would return to attempt the mountain later in the season, so we left as much group gear as possible at high camp.
Mingma G and Nims at C4 before we head down to BC.
Tracee C4 before heading down.
When I reached base camp and could finally assess my toes, I discovered that at least two toes on each foot had frostbite. Concluding that my climb was over, I asked Mingma to help arrange a helicopter flight back to Kathmandu. To my surprise, the majority of the team opted to fly back to KTM as well for recovery, which was a relief, as it meant we could share the cost of the helicopter flight.
4/29 -> 5/3
Back in Kathmandu, I find myself at a crossroads, weighing the decision of whether to rejoin the team for another attempt at the climb. I learn of a friend’s tragic passing in an avalanche in Alaska, a loss that hits close to home as I think of his wife, a dear friend, and remember their wonderful wedding in Alaska. This loss deepens my introspection, making me question why I would choose to return to the dangers of the mountains.
The frostbite on my toes only compounds my uncertainty, raising concerns about the potential for permanent damage. These experiences lead me to reflect on what drives me to embrace such risks in pursuit of standing on the summit of mountains.
Ultimately, my stubborn nature prevails; often, it feels more difficult to quit than to press on. I remember how I’ve dreamed of witnessing the sunrise from the summit of Kanchenjunga ever since Lakpa first shared his stunning photos with me in 2019. I’m not ready to give up just yet. Besides, I remind myself that I can always turn back if my toes get too cold, and this time my boot heaters will be fully charged.
Visiting the Boudhanath Stupa, a place for reflection.
Route above C2.
5/4: BC -> C2
Upon flying directly back to base camp, I experienced another altitude headache and felt a bit off balance. Other team members were also dealing with altitude issues, which led us to take an extra day to let our bodies adjust to the big jump in altitude.
The climb to Camp 2 felt easier this time, likely due to a combination of better acclimatization and familiarity with the route. As usual, my stomach and gastrointestinal system were not cooperating, but taking some Pepto-Bismol followed by an Imodium eventually brought relief.
After 5.5 hours of climbing, we arrived at Camp 2, which boosted my confidence since this time was 90 minutes faster than my previous ascent. I focused on rehydrating and fell asleep early, pleased to note that the day had been warm enough that my feet weren’t cold at all.
5/5: Route: C2->C3
We awaken to another calm and sunny day, the warmth of the sun inviting us to start our ascent. Mama and I begin the steady slog up to Camp 3, where the climb is uneventful but filled with the quiet determination that fuels our journey.
Upon reaching Camp 3, we settle in for the afternoon, listening on our walkie-talkies to the progress of the Seven Summits Team as they attempt to reach the summit. As the hours pass, anticipation builds, and late in the afternoon, we receive the exciting news of their success. The entire Imagine Nepal team feels a surge of happiness for their achievement, knowing it also means our own journey to the summit will be a bit easier with their fixed ropes guiding the way.
Mama and Chirring at C3.
Looking out from C3.
5/6: C3 -> C4
The climb to Camp 4 passes by quickly, and once again, the weather is warm enough that my toes feel comfortable. Partway up, we stop to eat, drink, and take in the stunning views. Gina and Daddy Sherpa are playfully bickering about how much water Gina should drink and how quickly she should drink it. We both share a few high-altitude giggles, finding humor in what we perceive as mansplaining about the proper way to hydrate. Gina’s infectious laugh is heartwarming, and in the context of altitude and hypoxia, everything seems much funnier.
Upon arriving at Camp 4, we encounter other teams who successfully summited the night before. We congratulate them and exchange many high fives, excited to hear further confirmation that the rope is now fixed to the true summit and the snow conditions are good.
I share a tent with Mingma G, Mama, and Kili. Inside, the temperature soars, making it difficult to sleep amidst the warmth and excitement. We all agree that we feel strong and are ready for another attempt at the summit.
5/7: Route: C4->Summit -> C2
We set out into the darkness around midnight. Sadly, we soon came across the body of an Indian climber who had died two days earlier, according to his team. The Sherpas took extra care to re-route the rope so we wouldn’t have to climb over him. After passing this solemn reminder of the mountain’s dangers, we reached the area where we had lost our way over a week ago. This time, the weather was favorable, and fixed ropes clearly marked the route.
Climbing towards true summit.
Approaching the summit with Kanchenjunga’s shadow looking like a perfect pyramid in the early am light.
As we traversed eastward around a ridge, we caught sight of a new part of the mountain. Dawn began to break, and it felt truly spiritual to be there. My chemical heaters seemed to be losing their warmth, so I switched on my battery-operated socks—both were working now—to keep my feet warm. Chris and Chirring rushed past us, having climbed quickly and already returned from the summit. Their energy gave me a much-needed boost of confidence.
The next section involved some scrambling that culminated in a rocky rise next to the body of a climber from years ago. For some reason, this body unsettled me more than the one we had passed a few hours earlier. I found myself wondering about his story: what had caused his death, which country he was from, who he was climbing with, and whether he was ascending or descending when he died. These thoughts troubled me, and I tried to redirect my focus to the beauty of the present moment.
Mama and Tracee on the summit.
Pemba, Tracee, Mama on summit. Pemba will be killed the following spring in the icefall on Everest.
When we finally reached the summit around 6:30 am, we weren’t alone. Naoki, Pemba, Mama, and a large group of Indian army climbers were there, their loud celebrations making me feel uneasy. I felt anxious to start the descent.
As we began to descend, my nerves spiked at the thought of the body near the summit. I stepped on a loose rock, which gave way beneath me, causing me to dangle briefly from the fixed rope. Terror coursed through me. Mama Sherpa, witnessing the scene unfold, grabbed my arm before the rope even caught me and scolded me for stepping on the loose rock as we continued down.
The descent back to Camp 4 was uneventful, and we exchanged nods with Nims and the Qatar princess he was guiding as they climbed up.
Crowded summit.
Small traffic jam on descent on area where I lost my footing. Jill can be seen smiling and waving.
Upon reaching Camp 4, there was much work to be done—tents needed to be taken down, and gear had to be carried back down. Mama took on an extremely heavy load, and I, wanting to help, attempted to carry more than I should have, which quickly turned out to be a mistake. Before long, I was exhausted and longing to sleep at Camp 3. I spotted Sirbaz, who kindly offered me some of his backup oxygen and encouraged me to keep going. But as I accepted his help, a wave of frustration washed over me; the voices in my head were relentless, telling me I was a loser for needing help and for not being able to carry a heavier load.
Mingma G accompanied Mama and me for the descent to Camp 2. He encouraged me, assuring me that I could make it and that it was normal to feel exhausted—something we all experienced. We finally made it back to Camp 2 before dusk and quickly climbed in our tents, ate some food, drank water and fell into a deep sleep.
Mama and Tracee on the summit.
Chirring in the overloaded helicopter.
5/8: Route: C2-> BC
I woke up at sunrise, the morning light spilling over the peaks, and descended to base camp with Mama, Daddy, and Gina. Upon our arrival, Mingma informed us that we would be catching a helicopter out later that afternoon. I quickly gathered my belongings, tossing them into my duffle bag. Within a few hours, a helicopter arrived and began shuttling climbers down to Taplejung.
Helicopter landings at base camp can be dangerous due to the elevation, and my flight was no exception. When it was finally my turn to board, the chopper struggled to take off, nearly crashing back onto the makeshift heli-pad. The pilot then instructed the passenger in the front seat to throw out extra bags to reduce our weight.
In an unexpected turn of events, my backpack—containing my money, medications, and passport—was among the items tossed out of the helicopter. I tried not to panic, but I felt a wave of stress until I was finally reunited with my pack two days later. Since that episode, I now keep my passport in my jacket pocket for all helicopter flights.
My feet, healing back in Colorado a few weeks after our summit.