Big-mountain Vets Debate the Future of the Himalaya

Of course, the number of guided climbers has risen greatly since China and (especially) Nepal upped permit sales in the mid- 1990s, according to Simonson, who expects to be back on the north side this season with his firm, International Mountain Guides. With more than 2,000 summitting Everest since its first ascent, in 1953, he concedes, “Some people here see it as a travesty.” Mazur, who runs the SummitClimb guiding company, chimed in: “I have mixed feelings about that. What really used to be an elite sport has become a lot more accessible.” 

Expanding the sport has also meant an expanded — and sometimes unwelcome — sense of responsibility for experienced guides who have their own clients to shepherd up the hill. “What happens when somebody krumps up high on the mountain?” Hornbein asked in the evening’s prefatory remarks. Implicit in his question was that it’s easier to set aside your summit dreams, and possibly jeopardize your own safety, when that somebody is a friend or ropemate. He illustrated his point with a short video interview with Charlie Houston discussing the 1953 American expedition on K2. “We’ve been very roundly criticized for risking the lives of five people to save one,” says Houston of the attempt to lower illness-stricken Art Gilkey, leading to a near disaster averted only by Pete Schoening’s famous belay. 

Today, friendship and team camaraderie are increasingly overshadowed by financial considerations, according to Douglas: “I think when you introduce a large amount of money, the dynamic really does shift.” Speaking of David Sharp’s essentially one-man venture, he continued, “He decided to do it very cheaply,” paying only about $6,500 to a Katmandu outfitter that was more travel agency than guide service. That’s little more than a tenth of what a first-class operation might charge. Which, for Simonson, shifts the potential rescue burden to professionals, like Mazur, who happen to be nearby and who are in effect taxed for their altruism. 

Guides on the panel pointed to what’s becoming a two-tiered economic system on Everest and, by extension, in the rest of the Himalayas: Clients with deeper pockets can afford better insurance (i.e., someone like Simonson or Mazur leading their teams), while the bargain hunters cross their fingers as they scan the Internet for good deals to get them to basecamp, especially on the Chinese north side, where the permits go for as little as $4,000—compared to $10,000 in Nepal. Douglas commented, “It’s a bit worrying if it all comes down to how good you are on Google.”