Since the Report was first published in 1995 there have been some notable events involving members of our team and those of teams that accompanied us:

In May 1995 Alison Hargreaves succeeded in her ambition to become the first woman to climb Everest without supplementary oxygen. She did so in excellent style and return to Scotland to huge public acclaim. Two weeks later she departed for K2 as part of her ambitious quest to climb the three highest mountains in the world within a year. She reached the summit of K2 in August but was killed during the descent when she was struck by a freak storm. One of her companions, Jeff Lakes, died later that night at camp 2 after struggling down the mountain in the midst of the storm. Jeff was well known to members of the BMEME as he was a member of the Lhotse team during our ascent.

Members of the other two Lhotse expeditions that accompanied us have also made news. Erhard Loretan climbed Kanchenjunga with Jean Troillet. This made Loretan the third person to climb all 14 eight thousanders. Benoit Chamou (of the Italian Lhotse team 1994) accompanied Loretan and Troillet on their summit day but failed to reach the summit (that too would have been his 14th eight thousander. Chamou died during the descent.

The third High Altitude and Mountain Medicine Course at Plas y Brenin was, once again, a total success with two excellent non medical contributions. Scott Parazynski came from Texas to talk about his experiences as a Space Shuttle astronaut. George Lowe, a member of the 1951 Everest reconnaissance expedition as well as the 1953 first ascent team, talked about his Himalayan experiences 45 years ago.

Andrew Pollard and David Murdoch have written a book on Mountain Medicine which will be published in the summer: High Doctor, Radcliffe Press.

The first academic publications arising will soon be appearing in the medical journals. Much of our work has also been published on the Internet (see home page address above).

Sixteen months after the returning from Everest we are in the happy position of having generated a profit -£15,000. The company will shortly be renamed (becoming Medical Expeditions) and new directors will be appointed to continue the spirit and the work of the BMEME into the 21st century.

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In many ways the British Mount Everest Medical Expedition 1994 was one of the strangest expeditions ever to go into the field. In all there were seventy five members drawn from all over the country with a few members coming from as far afield as New Zealand and America. Of the seven strong climbing team none had ventured above 7,500m before and nobody had had any experience of organising expeditions on anything like this scale. Many of the members aspiring to climb some of the lesser (6,000m) peaks had had very little mountaineering experience. Despite the huge costs involved the Expedition had no major sponsors and most of the mountaineering and research was to be financed by the members themselves. To make matters worse the Expedition had a set of objectives that went well beyond simply climbing Everest and a few of its neighbours. They proposed to perform 16 medical research projects, 2 environmental projects, conduct an educational campaign and promote the work of a Nepal based charity.

Not surprisingly before we left there were a few critics but the overwhelming enthusiasm of the members carried the project forward. It is, with hindsight, remarkable that the Expedition ever made it to Nepal and amazing that it achieved all of its objectives. As you will see in the ensuing pages the Expedition was most successful and it owes this success to the commitment and resourcefulness of all 75 members. Most importantly all personnel returned intact without serious accident.

The Research Teams grew over the years in scope and in stature and all research projects were completed despite the best endeavours of customs, yaks, extremes of cold and even avalanches at Base Camp. This Report summarises our preliminary findings but we anticipate that around 40 academic papers will be published in due course.

Everest evokes many images. To some it is a symbol of achievement to others a mountain of refuse and an object of derision. The popular press goes out of its way to make the image even more confusing. A few months ago a well known tabloid newspaper printed a double page spread with the bold headline, "300,000 people a year climb Everest". The article touched briefly on the environmental problems that this influx of climbers had had and made the bold statement that the, "Boffins on the British Medical Everest Expedition are going to install a loo with a view" .

Fortunately the facts are rather different. We neither installed a super-loo nor anything like it and, furthermore, only two Westerners, one Japanese and five Nepalese Sherpas reached the summit of Everest in the 1994 post monsoon season. The impression that climbing Everest is simply a matter of putting one foot in front of another up a well worn yak track bears no resemblance to the truth. Certainly there are few technical problems on the South Col route but nobody should underestimate the difficulty of even walking on the flat at altitudes of over 7,000m. let alone the cold and sense of isolation. Mix with that the dangers of the Icefall, avalanche and altitude sickness and you have an incomparable mountaineering adventure in a place filled with history. All of those who ventured into the Western Cwm felt immensely privileged to be there.

We have been criticised for taking too many people into the Everest area but I believe that we did this responsibly. The 75 strong team was divided up into 8 groups each with very different itineraries. At no point did the entire Expedition assemble in its entirety and, most of the time, the members were spread thinly throughout the vastness of the Khumbu region at a time of the year when there were very few other trekkers in the area. All but 2 members did visit Base Camp but the arrivals of the groups were staggered over several weeks so as to minimise the numbers assembled there at any one time. Our environmental team made an assessment of the real pollution issues that afflict Nepal and demonstrated a very practical method for the safe disposal of human waste in a fragile mountain environment.

Far from being a refuse tip Everest was in near pristine condition thanks to the efforts of many clean-up expeditions and the reduced traffic in recent years. I am glad so say that we left the mountain in the condition that we found it.

I hope that by drawing contributions from across the Expedition that this Report will be more than a compendium of statistics and will evoke fond memories for those who took part. The Expedition was remarkable in that all 75 members were bonded by a strong sense of common purpose. It is impossible to describe the exhilaration of being involved with such a happy and successful project but I hope that this Report will go some way to convey the remarkable team spirit enjoyed by so many.

The Report paints a broad picture of those who took part , their projects and their exploits. Inevitably there are also a lot of dry fact and figures that may be of use to future planners as well as reports on borrowed, donated or discounted equipment.

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In spring 1990, somewhere between Lukla and Jiri after our first trip to the Khumbu, Roddy Kirkwood and I realised that an Everest expedition was within the reach of ordinary mortals. We had spent the previous month climbing on trekking peaks and had shared much of the walk in with our New Zealand friends Rob Hall and Gary Ball who were in the process of making their first successful ascent. We had glimpsed the heart of an Everest expedition and our appetites were wetted.

A few months later, during a wet weekend in Wales, I got talking with Andy Pollard, who it seems, had been thinking about climbing Everest for years. Before I knew it Andy had, with typical efficiency, written a host of letters to trekking agents and signed them in my name. Within days the replies came rolling in. Most of them said that there was no chance of climbing Everest this century but one talked of a cancellation in 1994. We followed it up and by December 1990 we had an option on a permit. All we needed to do was find the Royalty (or peak fee) in full ( then £2,400 ).

By March 1991 we had found a few people willing to speculate with their hard earned cash and we sent the money off to Nepal - we were committed. In the early days we were wonderfully naive about the fund raising process and assumed that corporate sponsors would be falling over themselves to sponsor a bunch of doctors climbing the highest mountain in the world. We were very relaxed about getting the funds because our budget at this time was based on a peak fee (Royalty) of £2,400.

Within weeks of getting permission we were delighted to receive the patronage of Mr Chris Bonington and Dr Charles Clarke whose presence on the headed note-paper gave the Expedition some early credibility. Lord Hunt became our third patron in 1992. The pre-eminence of our patrons undoubtedly made a significant contribution to the prestige and eventual success of the Expedition.

Our first crisis came in December 1991 when the Royalty was raised to $10,000 by the Nepalese Government and made to apply retrospectively. By now we had recruited the nucleus of the climbing team. Charlie, Roddy, Andrew, Aidan and I met in Stirling to decide whether to continue. It was the first time that we had really got together and talked about our plans in any detail. It emerged that none of us had any real idea how to raise the cash but that we were all extremely enthusiastic and committed to the project. We decided to advertise for paying members of the climbing team and await the result. By then we had reasonably firm ideas about the research that we planned to do and we began to form a fledgling research team.

We placed the briefest of advertisements in the climbing press and for weeks my phone never stopped ringing. I was receiving about 5 phone calls a day from all over the world and was staggered by the overwhelming enthusiasm and support that people exuded over the phone. At the same time a few articles appeared in the medical and Scottish Press and they too generated a flurry of enquiries and even donations. We decided to organise an open meeting in the Lake District to gauge the support first hand.

In March 1992 over 30 complete strangers gathered at Dunmail Raise for the weekend and it became obvious that the mixture of medicine and mountaineering in the Everest region was a very powerful attraction. We had a great weekend of parapenting followed by a meal at the Old Dungeon Gill Hotel and the idea of a Support Group acting as guinea pigs for the research was born. With so many people now on board there was now no possibility of turning back.

In May 1992 the climbing team met in Oban and talked about attracting corporate sponsorship. There was lots of talk about "sexy packaging" and hype but nobody really came up with any good ideas.

The next bombshell erupted a few days before our next meeting at Blea Tarn in July. The Royalty rose from $10,000 per Expedition to $10,000 per person. Despite the horrendous weather and the gloom and pessimism preceding the weekend I emerged from it convinced that the Expedition would go ahead. If the level of enthusiasm amongst the Support Group had been high before it was now in the stratosphere. Jim Milledge attended the meeting and agreed to be our Research Advisor. He inspired us all with his excellent talk on the A.M.R.I. trip in the Old Dungeon Gill Hotel. Ronnie Robb was asked to join the climbing team and Alison Hargreaves also applied.

After that meeting Hannah Sutter kindly agreed to act as our legal advisor and drafted a Support Group contract, formed us into a limited company and registered us as a charity. What would we have done without Hannah? We prepared a colour brochure which Ronnie miraculously got printed and wrote a handbook which defined exactly what the Support Group would get for their money. By September we were ready to start taking £200 pound deposits which were designed to translate enthusiasm into commitment. I cleared off to South Africa leaving my Mum to field the deposits as they flooded in. Within a few weeks we had received 40 deposits with 2 years to go before the Expedition was due to leave.

An October meeting and public lecture in Hyssington turned out to be a major turning point for the Expedition. In the audience was a relative of a trekking agent in Nepal who later made the trip to the UK to capture our business. Thus begun our relationship with Thamserku. A relationship which saved us in the region of $30,000 and meant that with a large Support Group the Expedition could be largely self financing - but this is all still for the future.

While I was overseas Andy Pollard ran the Expedition. In February 1993 Mark Hoyle organised a press launch at the Aonach Mor ski fields. Brian Blessed agreed to come and give a lecture which turned out to be one of the best anecdotes of the Expedition - if you haven't heard it ask Ronnie (unfortunately it's too libellous to put in print). Swanlind (who for a time acted as our PR company) came along and made a promotional video and we had a good deal of television and press coverage.

We had initially conceived the idea of running a medical course as a way of increasing our prestige but it seems that once again we had underestimated the market. All of the courses at Plas y Brenin were hugely successful in terms of content, enjoyment, prestige and profit. The first one was in April 1993.

By the time of our meeting in the Lake District in July '93 the team spirit had really begun to work. Groups were emerging and people within the Support Group were beginning to plan and organise their own meetings. The Oldham Mountain Rescue Team proposed a team building weekend at Saddleworth which they organised and was a superb success.

In the autumn of '93 we made our flight reservations which represented another quantum leap in commitment but I was getting hassled by our Nepalese agent to hand over vast sums of money which we didn't have.

In November '93 Ang Tshiring Sherpa made the trip from Nepal to mid Wales to seek our business. We took a huge gamble and ditched our existing agent in favour of Thamserku and I believe this was the single most crucial decision of the Expedition. With the savings that we made by using Thamserku we were able to finance the Expedition without the need for a corporate sponsor. Thamserku, I consider, provided us with an exemplary service. Inevitably we had some difficulties and frustrations with the agent but they did cope admirably with the enormously complicated logistics of our Expedition.

By now the Team was meeting at monthly intervals and each meeting would typically be attended by 30 or 40 people some of them travelling from as far afield as Devon and Aberdeen. A winter skills training weekend, once again at Aonach Mor, was very successful and people who joined the Support Group as "trekkers only" began to aspire to the 6,000m summits of Himalayan Peaks. I am delighted to say that many ex hill-walkers now have a Himalayan tick to their names largely due to the success of this weekend on a wind swept Ben.

In March we took our training overseas for the first time and a small group had a go at ski touring in the Alps. This trip cost almost as much as climbing Everest!

The crux came in May 1994. The Expedition's cash flow was largely dependent on the Support Group following through and paying up on time. With increasingly urgent demands for huge sums money from the Nepalese Government and already committed to spending large amounts of other people's money, I confess that I felt more than a little pressurised. Fortunately virtually all of the Support Group paid up within a month of being asked, and we had a further surge of recruits after a Plas y Brenin Course in April. In June we even received our first corporate sponsorship - a cheque for £8,000 from the Royal Scottish Assurance.

By June I was becoming increasingly confident and even beginning to relax. This was helped by the rise in the value of the pound against the dollar. When I left for Pakistan in July I knew, for the first time, that we had enough money in the bank to cover most of our costs. It was, however, vital to maintain a tight control on spending as our budget was only designed to break even and any unanticipated expenses could have caused us a lot of problems. During the period from incorporation to February 1995 we turned over £294,395.36.

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From the day of our first open meeting in March 1992 the Expedition acquired an unstoppable momentum and although many hurdles were placed in our way we never really doubted that the Expedition would take place.

By far the greatest problem to confront us was cash and the rapidly escalating costs. Between 1992 and 1994 the Royalty alone rose from £2,400 to a staggering £53,000. In addition our Support Group budget was first calculated when £1 was worth US$ 1.87. When we bought our dollars in July '94 £1 was worth just US$ 1.5 and we had to buy 200,000 of them!

We were also unfortunate in the timing of our Expedition fund-raising. The 3 year campaign coincided with one of the deepest recessions ever and companies had little cash to spare for public relations projects.

The quest for cash took us down some unlikely avenues. In the early days we were persuaded that gloss and films were the answer and we were actively courted by PR companies. It soon turned out, however that their naiveté was at least as great as ours and we gained little tangible advantage. Right up until the last minute various broadcasters and film producers were vacillating but in the end we had to rely on my trusty video!

The meagre amount of corporate backing we did receive (5% of turnover) came almost exclusively from the personal contacts of members and the huge quantity of trawling mail-shots that we sent out were, in retrospect, a complete waste of time.

In March '93 we all got very excited when we made a presentation to the board of a major pharmaceutical company which was received with great enthusiasm. For a while it seemed that our financial worries were over and the Expedition would be completely underwritten. Alas it was not to be. Ironically the Everest 40th anniversary publicity dealt us a cruel blow. Suddenly the press was full of stories of refuse on Everest and bodies on the South Col and our backers pulled out overnight.

The Expedition was fortunate in attracting the support of several distinguished figures as well as our patrons. All who went to the Lloyd's climb will have fond memories of the late John Smith who took time out of his busy schedule to browse our research displays. Similarly Brian Blessed's lecture at Aonach Mor in February '92 proved to be more than memorable!

We did achieve a reasonable media profile and the attention seeking escapades that we organised proved to be most enjoyable. Few people, after all, get the chance to swing from scaffolding in front of a swarm of cameras on the roof of London.

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We spent a great deal of time over the 2 years before departure building the Expedition into a cohesive team. At the same time we were keen to cultivate a media profile compatible with a serious research expedition in order to ease our fund raising problems. The events that we organised during the lead in period were therefore designed to achieve both goals.

Managing the Team

The thought of taking a 75 strong Expedition of mixed experience and ability to the high Himalayas is a daunting one. Coupled with that we wanted to conduct a complicated research programme on as many members as possible and, of course, climb Everest. The massive logistical problems threatened to limit the size and scope of the Expedition and these problems exercised our minds quite considerably about 18 months before our departure.

Fortunately we hit upon a very simple solution that worked very well. One year before our departure we divided the entire Expedition into groups and encouraged each group to meet and 'bond' before the Expedition as much as possible. By this stage in the Expedition the team had been meeting fairly regularly for about a year and some grouping was already beginning to take place, so it was a relatively easy task to form the groups provided that there was scope for individuals to move to another group if they preferred. In the end there was hardly any movement between groups during the 1 year lead in.

Having formed the groups we then decided on separate departure dates so as to minimise the pressure on the environment and on the hard pressed Research Team at Base Camp. We were keen to avoid individuals within groups being labelled as leader as this would carry with it unfair responsibilities and even possible litigation. Instead we asked for volunteer spokespersons to act as the key contact person and to co-ordinate pre-expedition planning and meets. In addition we appointed one medical spokesperson to liaise with the Research Team and to be responsible for the day to day data collection. There were so many doctors around there was no need to name a group doctor.

On the whole the above structure worked well. There was a great deal of variation between the degree of 'bonding' before the trip and most of the groups remained intact and functioned well in the field. Some of the less experienced group organised pre expedition instruction weekends in the UK.

The logistical key to the whole Expedition was to make each group as autonomous as possible and to encourage them to plan their own routes and take their own mountaineering decisions. This meant that each group would be totally self contained with its own Sherpa crew and free to roam the Khumbu as it wished. We did ask each group to present itself at Base Camp on arrival and before departure from the Khumbu but imposed no other restraints. This independence within the Expedition framework made, I believe, all the difference between ours and a commercial trek. Members could plan their own objectives, train for a year to achieve them and carry responsibility for their own decisions. The absence of a guide, I am sure, heightened people's sense of satisfaction when they did achieve their goals - and most of them did.

As far as I am aware there were very few problems within groups related to decision making and everyone acted responsibly in assessing the conditions and their own abilities. This is reflected by the fact that there were no accidents. Groups seemed to be well satisfied with their sherpa crews and the quality of cuisine.

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 Medical Research Logistics

In addition to the projects administered from Base Camp we planned to collect a wealth of background data twice a day from Kathmandu onwards. This data collection was the responsibility of the medical spokesperson and, in most cases, this was performed meticulously. It is interesting that one of the non medics turned out to be the most assiduous data collector and medical spokesperson. Each individual was issued with a personal waterproof medical data book and the information on this was regularly transferred onto hand held computers. This data was eventually transferred to PC for processing. The palm held computers made by Psion proved to be very versatile and reliable..

One of the greatest problems confronting the Research Team was to 'process' groups quickly and efficiently as they arrived at Base Camp without confounding other projects. Some projects took a lot longer than others, some involved the administration of oxygen and some projects were dependent on having subjects not exposed to oxygen. Before leaving the UK each member of the Expedition attended one of two data collecting weekends which proved a useful dress rehearsal in the relative comfort of laboratories in London and Stirling. Obviously these weekends provided vital pre-acclimatisation data.

Inevitably groups were subjected to delays at Base Camp whilst they queued to be poked and prodded but there were few complaints and the Research Team collected a great deal of data.

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To make a safe and successful ascent of Everest and some of its neighbours.

To raise the profile of altitude related illness.

To make mountains safer for all by researching the mechanisms of altitude related illness.

To seek, by research, sustainable ways of using remote and fragile mountain environments.

To liaise with and involve local agencies in all environmental projects.

To make the first female ascent of Everest without supplementary oxygen and make the first British ascent of Lhotse. .

To collect medical data from the summit of Everest..

To minimise environmental impact by using imported fuels and new technologies to dispose of waste

To publicise and promote the work of the United Mission to Nepal (Nepal's largest development organisation).

To promote informed discussion of the environmental issues associated with trekking and mountaineering in the Himalayas and to facilitate the exchange of scientific data.

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Dr Charlie Hornsby and Dr Roddy Kirkwood became the 21st and 22nd Britons to reach the summit of Everest (8,848m) on October 11th 1994. They were accompanied by Sherpas Dorje and Dawa Temba. During the season there were 3 other Expeditions attempting to climb from the South (Nepal) and 7 from the North (Tibet). Due to premature arrival of the Jet Stream winds only 2 Expeditions were successful. In the whole season only 2 western mountaineers (Roddy and Charlie), 1 Japanese (Muneo Nukita) and 5 Nepalese Sherpas succeeded. All ascents were made using supplementary oxygen.

All fifteen of our medical research projects were successfully completed. In all 100,000 points of data were collected over the 3 month period from all 75 members of the Expedition. Much of the data is unique and, when processed, should yield valuable information. Scores of academic publications are anticipated in due course.

Some data was even collected from just 200 metres below the summit (8,600m).

Expedition members Chris Comerie, Mark Bryan and Paul Cleary reached the summit of the neighbouring peak Pumori (7,140m).

Alison Hargreaves reached around 8,400m without supplementary oxygen before being forced to turn back due to high winds and the risk of cold injury.

Members of the Expedition reached the summit of Island Peak (6,189m) and there were many ascents of Lobuje East (6,119m), Parchamo (6,273m) and Pokalde (5,806m). Only 2 out of 75 members failed to reach Base Camp (5,340m) which is an unusually low attrition rate.

Our environmental team conducted a microbiological survey of water quality in the Khumbu valley. They demonstrated a safe and efficient method for the disposal of human waste at altitude which involved freeze drying followed by incineration. All of the Expedition's waste was dealt with in this manner. They also documented some of the environmental problems in Kathmandu and lectured to the Royal Nepalese Institute of Science and Technology on aspects of waste disposal. The Expedition abided by the environmental code of conduct laid down by the UIAA and received a full rebate on its rubbish bond. Only 8 members of our Expedition were allowed to climb into the Western Cwm. Overcrowding was not a problem as only 21 climbers were attempting the mountain from the South side this season. Base Camp was found to be free from rubbish on our arrival and we left it in the same condition.

The Expedition has been extremely successful in its educational role. Four residential altitude medicine courses have already taken place and another is planned for late 1995. These have been attended by some 300 doctors and 250 laymen. One member of the Expedition is currently preparing a book aimed at GP's covering all aspects of high altitude medicine. Many articles have also been published in the medical press. As already mentioned we anticipate producing scores of academic publications in 1995.

The Expedition formed a promotional partnership with the United Mission to Nepal. The publicity surrounding the Expedition has been used by one of UMN's funding organisations to highlight some of the problems afflicting Nepal. This will form part of an ongoing fund-raising campaign. The Expedition has received significant T.V. and press coverage over the last 2 years.

During the 3,000 man days the Expedition was in the field there was inevitably some illness. Some of this was serious but there were no accidents and all members returned safely and unscathed.

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Research Leader: Dr David Collier MBBS PhD, Research Advisor: Dr James Milledge MD FRCP

Members of the Medical Research team include: Dr Peter Barry DCH MRCPI, Dr Rachel Pollard FFARCS, Dr Andrew Pollard BSc MRCP, Dr Scott Frazer FFRACS and Dr Nick Mason FFRACS, Mr Peter Pollard MSc, Miss Isla Martin, Dr Martin Rosenberg PhD, Dr. Catherine Collier BSc MB BS, Miss Diana Depla FCOpth, Prof. G. Arden FRCS, Dr Frederick Fitzke PhD, Mrs Angela Fry RGN, Miss Karol Howard RGN RCM, Dr Gerald Dubowitz MB BS, Dr Simon Travis MRCP, Dr John Nathan MB BS, Dr David Webb MD FRCP MFPM, Dr Chris Wolff MD MRCP, Dr Annabel Nickol BSc MBBS, Dr David Band PhD, Dr O'Callahan MB ChB, Dr Datta MB BS, Dr Mike Mullen, Doncaster Royal Infirmary.

Medical Institutions involved with BMEME;

St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Department of Clinical Pharmacology. St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Department of Cardiology. Kings College Hospital, Department of Physiology. St. Thomas' Hospital, Department of Medicine. Queen Mary and Westfield College London, Department of Physiology. Charing Cross and Westminster Medical College, Department of Medicine. Moorfield's Eye Hospital, London. The Institute of Opthalmology, London. Veterans Administration, Seattle, University of Washington, Department of Respiratory Medicine. Institute of Medical Research, Northwick Park Hospital, Harrow. Stirling Royal Infirmary, Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology. Birmingham Children's Hospital, Department of Medicine. Edinburgh University, Medical Research Council Unit. John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford, Department of Medicine. Glasgow Western Royal Infirmary, Department of Respiratory Medicine. Royal Hallamshire Hospital, Sheffield, Department of Anaesthetics

Members of the Expedition who travelled to Nepal include: - A team of seven climbers who attempted the ascent of Mount Everest. Five environmental researchers who undertook projects to reduce the environmental and health impacts of high altitude trekking, looking specifically at methods of dealing with human excrement and the appropriate treatment of solid waste. Twelve medical researchers who undertook fifteen projects into subjects as diverse as the control of breathing during acclimatisation, balance and orientation, carbohydrate absorption and the role of endothelin in high altitude pulmonary oedema. Fifty members of the support group who climbed 6,000m peaks in the Everest region. They acted as subjects in the research projects, and also collected basic physiological data during the expedition.

Expedition members were allotted to one of a number of trekking groups, designed to travel independently in the Everest region. Each group flew out from Kathmandu to Luklha (2,800m), and then trekked to base camp (5,300m) over a two week period or so. The groups were staggered so as to minimise their environmental impact and so as not to overwhelm the researchers waiting for them at base camp.

There were fifteen main medical research projects undertaken at base camp. Each trekking group had a three day period (or thereabouts) at Base Camp to get all their research done before they moved off and the next group arrived. As can be imagined, it was sometimes difficult to get all the research finished in the allotted time.

Apart from two groups, expedition members were meant to visit base camp on two occasions, once within the first two weeks of their journey, before they had acclimatised, and once ten days or more later, after acclimatisation. For two groups, the second visit was not compatible with their climbing itineraries.

Conditions on the mountain: The first wave of expedition members travelled to Nepal at the end of July, 1994. The monsoon is normally followed by a short period of relative calm, with low winds and clear skies, before the jet stream settles on the mountains and winter sets in. Unfortunately this year there was no such period, and high winds, estimated at up to one hundred and twenty miles an hour, swept the mountain almost constantly.

Despite this, members of the expedition were successful in their aims. The Everest climbers all reached over eight thousand meters, with two successfully reaching the summit at 8,848 meters, two of only three Western climbers to reach the peak this season. The last of our climbers only turned back when high winds blew away his tent and equipment from the South Col.

Three members of the Expedition climbed Pumori, an exacting mountain of over seven thousand meters on the Tibetan border. Others climbed Pokalde, Imja Tse, Parchamo and Lobuje mountains, all six thousand plus metre peaks.

One of our climbers suffered an acute stroke, losing the power in one side of his body, and a member of another team lost the vision in one eye within a few hundred meters of the summit. Both were accompanied down to our base camp to be examined, and thankfully both have completely recovered.

The Research Environment: The original plan was to site Base Camp at Gorak Shep and use the traditional site as an advance Base Camp. Although this would have provided a much more comfortable environment in which to conduct the research it would have made the climbing logistics vastly more difficult.

Base Camp was therefore sited at 5,330 metres on the rock covered glacier at the foot of the Khumbu Icefall. Being the first expedition to arrive we sited it as near to the foot of the Icefall as possible which is the prime location. This, however, proved to be a mixed blessing.

Many of the Research team spent seven weeks at Base Camp which, in itself, is a substantial feat of endurance. The altitude, cold, relatively poor food and discomfort of camping on a creaking rock-covered glacier add up to create a harsh environment in which to perform research. I have listed below some of the other factors that made data collection difficult at Base Camp.

The first problem to afflict the Research Team was the absence of a suitable tent. Thamserku Trekking (our agent) had agreed to supply a second large Ferrino mess tent but unfortunately this never materialised. Instead we had to make do with a variety of flimsy, single skin nylon ridge tents which sadly were not weather proof. Excavating adequate flat sites for these tents proved a strenuous and exhausting task. During the last weeks of the monsoon there were frequent snowfalls and occasional rain showers and the tents had to be reinforced with hired plastic sheets. During this period the typical weather pattern was a bright, sunny morning with clouds and precipitation arriving by mid day . Typically the afternoons were cool and were followed by a clear, cold night. As the Expedition progressed the afternoons became less cloudy with less precipitation.

Diurnal temperature variations (-18 to +25 degrees C) meant that use of some of the equipment could only be used once the temperature had stabilised thus limiting the length of the working day. Despite taking 2 new top of the range 8 horse power generators with us we had difficulty in maintaining a reliable power supply. Much time was used in maintaining the generators. Furthermore research time was also restricted to some extent due to electronic interference with the radio schedules. More careful selection of a radio frequency would have avoided this problem.

Some equipment did not survive the rigours of the approach march. Portable computers fared worse two of which suffered screen failure and one hard drive failure. Some work was delayed by the late arrival of equipment due to freighting and customs delays followed by shortages of yaks.

The most devastating single event to afflict the Research Team happened in the middle of the night. A large serac broke off from high on the Lo La (the 6,000 metre Col above Base Camp). The falling serac triggered an avalanche which pushed before it a blast of wind. Although the avalanche itself did not reach Base Camp the wind blast did. Such winds can be over 100 miles per hour and in our case the blast was channelled several hundred metres horizontally before striking Base Camp. The blast ripped selectively through the camp taking out 3 of the research tents but leaving many of the other tents untouched. The McInnes Box tent weighing 78 kg was ripped up, blown clean over another tent and travelled about 40 metres before colliding with the Mess tent. Ironically this same tent had survived an avalanche at Camp 2 twenty years earlier on Bonington's South West Face Expedition. Fortunately nobody was hurt but the research tent and their contents were severely damaged. In the middle of the night the Base Camp residents worked frantically to retrieve scattered gear and rebuild the shelters. Despite the devastation much of the damaged equipment was repaired and, with some improvisation, none of the projects were compromised.

Many of the Support Group subjects arriving at Base Camp were inevitably suffering from acute mountain sickness and their fortitude in the face of a battery of intensive medical testing meant that little data was lost due to illness. However, the difficulty of crossing the glacier from Gorak Shep and the cul de sac position meant that some data was lost. Understandably those groups on a tight schedule were unable to make the return trip for the second data collection session at Base Camp. Despite these many difficulties and the shoe-string budget that they had to operate within the Research team collected nearly all the data they had set out to collect. This is a tribute to their dedication, improvisation and stoicism.

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 Everest Climbing Report

Team members: Simon Currin (Leader), Andrew Pollard (Deputy Leader), John Sanders, Charlie Hornsby (summiteer), Roddy Kirkwood (summiteer), Ronnie Robb, Angus Andrew and Alison Hargreaves ( Alison was officially on a separate expedition -the Ferrino Everest Lady Alone- but was very closely attached to the B.M.E.M.E. and was part financed by the Expedition and is therefore included).

Liaison Officer: Mr Gongal, Ministry of Tourism, H.M.G.Nepal.

High Altitude Sherpas were: Kilu Temba (Sirdar), Dorje (summiteer x 5), Dawa Temba (summiteer), Tensing, Kami Rita and Finjo. All except Kilu Temba had summited Everest on previous occasions.

The post monsoon season of 1994 was a little unusual in that the monsoon persisted until September 23rd (officially) and the Jet stream winds commenced on October the first. It was the strong , cold winds that thwarted most of the other teams on the mountain.

We commenced work in the Icefall on September 1st as stipulated by the terms of our permit. The monsoon snow meant that the Icefall was in relatively benign condition and we made rapid progress to Camp 1 and required relatively few ladders in the process. As the season progressed fresh crevasses opened up and seracs collapsed obliterating our route. By the end of the Expedition many sections of the Icefall route were completely unrecognisable and we had deployed all 61 of the ladders hired from Asian Trekking - the ladders were retrieved by the Icefall Sherpas after the Expedition and were kept in Gorak Shep for the next season.

Poor visibility and frequent avalanches in the Western Cwm delayed our progress and we used much of this time to stock Camp 1. The conditions in mid September meant that we lost several crucial days before we could establish Camp 2 and thus we became established there a little later than we had hoped for. A large avalanche on the Lhotse Face engulfed Ronnie Robb and Henry Todd (International Lhotse Team) but fortunately they were relatively unscathed.

Statistically ascents take place from September 26th onwards and we had originally planned to be in position on the South Col for a summit bid during the last week of September. Indeed, had we been a few days ahead we would have encountered far less severe conditions as the last 5 days of September were both clear and calm. By the time we had stocked Camp 4 our first possible date for a summit bid was October 3rd and we made our plans for that date. Unfortunately this summit bid had to be further delayed due to Ronnie's illness (cerebral oedema). As it turned out October 3rd would have been an impossible summit day due to extreme winds. On this day the International Lhotse Team got into severe trouble 150 metres below the summit of Lhotse.

Camp 4 was occupied shortly afterwards but a serious summit bid was precluded due to the weather and shortages of food and fuel. Some members remained at Camp 4 attempting to sit out the storm whilst others descended to bide their time. The weather moderated slightly on the 9th ,10th and 11th of October giving the only window of opportunity. Andrew Pollard made his solo bid on the 9th turning around at 8,600m metres due to difficult snow conditions and a shortage of oxygen. The Japanese team made their ascent on the 10th and Charlie Hornsby and Roddy Kirkwood went on the 11th.. Alison, Angus and the French Team were poised to go on the 12th but by now the winds were back to full force and only Alison ventured above Camp 4. Angus remained at Camp 4 for a few more days but the winds never moderated.

Our Sherpas refused to assist in the clearance of the mountain and so much of this work was done by the Icefall Sherpas, the French Sherpas and the 2 remaining ones loyal to us. Base Camp was dismantled on 15th and the climbing and research teams flew from Syanboche on the 17th and 18th.

It is difficult to know how we would improve on our tactics in the future. We pushed towards Camp 2 with reasonable haste but the delay in our arrival made the summit bid all the more difficult. If we had been in a position to climb from the South Col during September then I am sure at least another 3 members would have reached the summit. Poor Sherpa leadership and relations certainly contributed to this delay and it is possible that with a better Sirdar, a more willing team and perhaps another couple of High Altitude porters we would have been in position a few crucial days earlier. We tried to be reasonably meticulous in packaging loads but in retrospect we should have sent all loads above Base Camp in pre-packed, locked containers as this would have avoided the problems of pilfering (particularly of food) and "down-sizing" by Sherpas. We left much of the day to day management of loads and record keeping up to our Sirdar who clearly was not up to the job but this was a difficult management problem. Our own lack of experience of recruiting and managing high altitude Sherpas undoubtedly compounded our problems and future teams would be well advised to research the backgrounds of their key personnel fully seeking, where possible, personal recommendations.

Having made these observations the French and Japanese teams progressed at the same rate on the mountain as us despite their lavish Sherpa : Climber ratios and their apparently excellent teamwork. Our Sherpas did more than their share of the route making whilst the other teams stocked their camps. Of all the climbing teams on Everest ours was undoubtedly the strongest and this must be partially due to the fact that our team did much of their own load carrying whilst the others relied exclusively on their Sherpas.

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Pumori Climbing Report:

I have not received a report from the Pumori team but have written down what I know of their ascent. I apologise in advance if the details are sketchy or inaccurate.

Team members: Chris Comerie (Leader and summiteer), Edi Albert, Paul Cleary (summiteer), Ian Newberry, Mark Bryan (summiteer)

The Pumori team were delayed for 5 days in Kathmandu due to poor flying weather. Once on the trek their luck fared little better when half of the team fell ill with a severe flu like illness. The fit half pressed on in order to avoid contracting the same illness and began establishing Base Camp and preparing the route to Camp 1. Despite these early misfortunes they made rapid progress.

Although the route is technically demanding they were accompanied by a dog ("Shep" as in Gorak") as far as Camp 1. On its arrival there it completely flaked out and the team's logistical problems were compounded by the need for dog food at Camp 1. The dog's condition at Camp 1 gave cause for concern and Mark Bryan (a veterinarian) contemplated the prospect of euthanasia but fortunately it rallied and was later carried down in a rucksack. The team shared the route fixing with other teams on the Mountain and survived, unscathed, frequent avalanches on the face.

They placed a snow hole on the ridge and Mark Bryan and Paul Cleary went first to the summit. Edi Albert and Chris Comerie moved up to make their bid the next day but Edi became ill in the night and probably suffered some degree of cerebral oedema. Edi descended and Chris went alone to the summit in excellent conditions.

Despite early illness and delays they climbed a difficult and dangerous route quickly and efficiently without mishap.

Support Group Climbing Reports

Support Group Leader: Stuart McNeil. There were 68 members of the Support Group and 8 members of the Everest climbing team. The activities of the Support Group were too diverse to summarise in a single report so I have listed the ascents made and leave it to the accounts in the "Personal Observations" section to give a fuller account of what went on.

Thirty five members of the Support Group arrived in Kathmandu on September 5th where they were unfortunately delayed for 5 days due to bad weather. The remainder arrived on September 19th. The earlier Table shows how their activities were kept separate in time and place in order to minimise over-crowding and consequent environmental impact. The Support Groups consisted of a broad cross section of experience, abilities and ambitions. Despite this there were no serious compatibility problems, no mishaps and a substantial number of ascents were made.

For descriptions of member's experiences click below

Table of Contents

Personal Observations:
I have asked all members of the Expedition to write on any aspect of the trip however controversial. These are the contributions that I have received.

Impressions of Everest

by John Sanders

Daylight slits like a razor across Base Camp but I can't rouse from my bag before the sun's warmth and Diana's smiling aqua Koflachs and the tea she brings come. A rest day otherwise by now we would have skated across frosted boulders under a star filled sky cut from the gowns of Vegas show girls into the Icefall maze too beautiful and too uphill to be scary. Drifting in and out of fantasy passes the time on the carry and in the tent. Staring at her picture I write to my girlfriend thousands of miles away and dreaming of a friendly and familiar body wish the photograph would turn to smoke so I could inhale her.

For days foodless and wind sheared we sit on the south Col. Familiarity has stripped the Sherpas of their gilded reputation. Not cheerful carefree nobles; they are people too. Are they card playing jokers always with a gap-tooth smile or are they petty, angry and jealous? Appearances change quickly and reliability is important in the mountains. A battle rages between what we want and what we see putting tension in the fabric of the group. We have all read of and want to believe in selfless, hardworking mountain companions, but see whores who do only their job quickly and that without love or completeness.

Summits bestow their favours with tears, jewelled tears that flow so fast they need two hands to catch: Andy's South East Ridge tears for his baby Jamie; Roddy and Charlie's tears of ecstasy and relief, two Sisyphes freed and triumphant; Ronnie's stroke crippled, lop- sided face in laboured sobs of fear and loss. Rich emotions and mortar between friends that we would not trade. We sacrifice so much for the pain, to satisfy our sweet tooth and feel the shared joy of travel in the mountains. Chasing a shadowy love we exorcise our desire and chase the point. How do we know when to love and when to quit?

Foodless on the South Col and taking an incomplete gear inventory in Kathmandu we think polluting thoughts and find it is our companions and the mountains that are really important. Idolising the mountains, we think it is the summit we want and do not realise it is some ethereal combination of snow on rock, laughter with friends, shared moods and dreams that we crave. The deception is part of it too. Satisfied, for now, we go home no one having made the only possible wrong decision - the one that leaves an empty seat on the plane. Filled with stories we return to our other loves, but when we can say "I was scared" but can no longer retrieve the feeling of fear we will return.

John Sanders is a paediatric anaesthetist.

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When did it Start? BMEME 1990 - 1994

by John Nathan

We came, we saw, some conquered. I read that people go to the Himalayas to be gobsmacked. I was totally gobsmacked for weeks, but for me the Expedition started long before the autumn of 1994.

It started in January 1993 when I rang Simon and was accepted as a member. From that moment onwards my life changed completely. Suddenly I was rushing 250 miles to North Wales for a weekend medical course, where I was rubbing shoulders with mountaineers of world renown. This was, as the Americans say, 'sumthin else'. I was discussing research projects, seeing pictures of the Vallot Hut (ONLY ?! 4,000 metres), having lectures on frostbite, oo-er!

My colleagues tolerantly allowed me to change my duty weekends, and I soon found myself driving 500 miles to Scotland for the weekend (in the rain). I well remember climbing Ben Nevis by the tourist track, and feeling quite pleased with myself that in snowy, foggy conditions my companions and I reached the top by 1 p.m., the pre-arranged meeting time. We opened the McInnes biscuit tin that sits on the top of the mountain, only to see Charlie, Simon and Stuart who had climbed the vertical side quicker than we had walked up the easy side.

I remember wondering what on earth I was doing at Pen y Pass at 5 am one August morning (in the rain) and mist, with 3 others to try to climb all the Welsh 3,000 'ers, and I also remember the fear of seeing the arrete of Crib Goch in the half light of dawn, all wet and slippery. I cannot describe the joy of seeing Tony with a cup of tea at his van after we had climbed the first 3.

I remember driving northwards again to Oldham in October (in the rain), and arriving exhausted at 10.30 p.m. after trying to follow the Oldham team's map which was perfect except that half the roads were missing from it! However, they got together with the famous Herbie and made that another magical weekend. (You remember the Oldham team in Nepal; they were the ones who were usually seen running when some of us found difficulty walking). There was another weekend in Derbyshire in January, when we found ourselves in a farmyard with cowshit just a fraction deeper than the top of our boots. In February I drove to Fort William again (in the rain). Conditions there, as it turned out, were colder than the Himalayas, and I well remember Ronnie insisting on putting up his broken tent in a gale underneath the Snowgoose Restaurant, 10 feet from a warm indoor shelter.

In April, a group of us went ski touring in the Jungfrau region. I remember well toiling up the Jungfrau Glacier in the heat one day, then the very next day struggling to find an Alpine Hut in a snowstorm.

Then in June we were all together in a mountain hut in North Wales (in the rain), and I was wondering whether George's little dog would water the end of a sleeping bag during the night. I have heard exactly who snores and who farts all night, and I am sure that I don't do either!

I am sure that there will be amazing stories about the Khumbu, but for me the period beforehand took me into places I have never been before in our own country. This, as well as the Himalayas, (not in the rain), will live with me for ever.

PS Does the sun shine in North Wales and Scotland?

John Nathan is a General Practitioner in Surrey.

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The Announcement!

by Christine Smith

The group sat waiting in the small darkened room. The yaks were late - were they lost or just overdue? With no tents there was nothing to do but sit patiently. Eyes shifted tiredly around the room. This house was different to the others we had seen, an old Sherpa house with the cattle shed below. There was little light filtering in, the walls were blackened by years of smoke. Ornate copper pots lined the shelf opposite and the family altar stood proudly at the far end. Our rucksacks leaned against the central pillar, below the soot marks counting the passing years. Sherpa voices drifted from the yak byre below and nearby the kitchen. We decided to try the Kukhri rum. We sat quietly thinking about the past weeks and the Parchamo climb to come.

A voice broke the silence, something prompted Martin to think of the time and the radio schedule at 6 p.m.. No one was particularly interested - we'd been out of contact for several days now- still it was worth a try. Looks of surprise ensued when seconds later the radio burst into life, Base Camp was calling other stations. We tried to reply, but to no avail. We listened with growing interest as the clear tone of Simon's voice urged teams to respond. Something in his speech expressed a sense of urgency - did he have something important to say? He had no way of knowing we were listening. We were powerless. We could only will him to continue transmissions.

Everyone was more alert now and hoping for any news - it had been strange without communications for so long. To everyone's relief Simon's slightly agitated voice finally declared that he would transmit a blind message. Then as everyone leaned forward expectantly, the radio fell silent. Faces around the room showed the same thoughts; had there been an accident, was it bad news or was it summit success? The tension began to rise as voices quietly began to ponder.

The radio broke through the chatter and again everyone leaned towards it in anticipation. The Sherpas began to gather in the doorway, sensing the occasion. "Base Camp will be transmitting blind to all stations in the Khumbu". The message was repeated. The suspense grew and then the adrenaline really began to surge. Silence fell again. The room was filled with loud chattering this time as everyone willed Simon to make the announcement.

The next few minutes seemed an age. We were powerless to do anything but wait. Then the news came. Short but loud and clear. "Two members of the team have reached the summit of Mount Everest". Loud cheers broke the tension. The tranquillity of the Khumbu was momentarily shattered. They'd done it! Who'd done it? The cheers and excited chattering rose and fell as everyone applauded the success and simultaneously craved more information. It was another day before that came (and even then it was by a process of elimination!).

The Expedition could go home proud in the knowledge that its highest goal had been reached. Only now did we realise how much we had all wanted this success. As the excitement turned again to calm and the adrenaline levels subsided, the team celebrated in the style they knew best. A toast to the Expedition, its leader and to the mystery climbers. The lodge was soon out of rum! New thoughts began to dawn. Now we had to succeed on Parchamo!

Christine Smith is a school teacher near Manchester and was the Spokesperson for Group 1.

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Names
By Ian Baxter

Group 4 included Stuart McNeil, Neil Crossling and me (Ian Baxter). I have noticed a tendency in the past to confuse Neil and Ian but Stuart is harder to explain. In any case we were for ever calling each other by the wrong name and I was probably the worst offender. Various solutions were mooted including writing names across the respective foreheads in indelible ink but they were never acted upon.. One morning I found myself walking behind Stuart and must have addressed him as Neil on a dozen occasions in as many minutes. Quite reasonably he remonstrated with me in the course of a good natured rollicking. Three and a half seconds later HE called ME Neil!

Ian Baxter is a policeman in Aberdeen

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Summit Day

by Charlie Hornsby

Back again, home sweet home. The two Wild Country tents had not been blown away after all, perhaps more battered, a few tears, but still there. Oxygen bottles haphazardly scattered by the wind about this inhospitable, sastrugied wasteland, clattering together in a noisy rhythm. A cold and eternal wind whipped across the South Col. Drunk from hypoxia, exhausted and tired, I stood to take in the atmosphere of this amazing place. Wonderment and respect for the landscape but once more despair as our hopes and dreams blew off towards Tibet.

Several hundred metres behind me, Rod and Alison appeared on the horizon rounding the wind-slabbed convexity of the Geneva Spur; like me moving slowly but methodically towards the Col. Long shadows now. An even longer summit plume trailed to the North East, and to the west the sky-scape an explosion of soft colour heralding the day's end and a cold night ahead.

The three of us quite comfortably squeezed into one tent, big Dorje and wee Dawa into the other, communication between the two tents impossible despite their proximity. The time was set - rendezvous outside at mid night. Long night hours lay ahead, we settled down with numbed acceptance.

Peering out through the doorway I traced the line of the "Voi Normale" across the deeply reddening South face, the snow plumes beautifully illuminated by the last of the light. Two slowly moving figures caught my eye approaching through the veils of spin-drift; a wave and soon an oxygen masked face before us - Nukita - summit boy! Wide grins, warm congratulations and handshakes; tales of adventure. I wondered how he must feel now?

The three of us alone again, huddled into double dacron bags for warmth, actually quite comfortable until we moved; then melting hoarfrost would run in rivulet's down the tent fabric to dampen us further. Alison's tower stove swayed awkwardly on its suspension but its soft purr efficiently provided a steady supply of warm drinks. I was surprised to feel pangs of hunger. The intensity of the wind and the rattle of the tent gradually increased, along with my anxiety and tension. Not so much a fear but rather a feeling of hopelessness with our situation, wondering whether chances were ebbing away. But up here emotions were strangely blunted. I struggled to rationalise in the oxygen depleted atmosphere.

Midnight crept slowly by and Rod, geared up, chanced a look outside into the funnelling void of wind and spin-drift. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad when we were up and out of here? He disappeared into the night to consult the two sherpas. Minutes later back with a committing expression - Dorje and Dawa were ready and inpatient to leave, dollar signs alight in their eyes. Cynical perhaps, these "barrow boys" of the Khumbu.

Struggling with crampons and rucksack. The claustrophobia constraint of an oxygen mask; should I take my ski poles? I sensed the impatience of the others and yet I did not feel prepared, even after so much waiting. Then we were away into the darkness, me racing against my breath to catch up - no rhythm, feeling tired and strangely removed.

The incline of the slope increased quickly, sastrugi ridges tripping me and clumsy boots breaking through the islands of crust - this was exhausting although I was acutely aware of our limited oxygen supply and loath to crank up the flow. One litre per minute, struggling on into the night.

We gained ground, slowly, but definitely higher; joy to be out of that blasted wind. Able to think again, warm and more comfortable. The snow surface improved, now supporting our weight, neve like as we weaved upward via ramps and narrow couloirs. I was enjoying the movement. Ahead the twin head torch beams of Dorje and Dawa could be picked out intermittently. So this was Everest.

I am not quite sure when I first became aware of the dull glow in the eastern sky. Subtly, I began to pick out the rock features around me, the bulk of Lhotse behind, Makalu, and over there , that must be Kanchenjunga, a distant silhouette. The slope ahead widened out into a broad couloir and we cramponed steadily up its icy steepness.

Heavy breathing, slow rhythmic steps, many rests, but the crest of the South East Ridge was now close above us. Dorje and Dawa catching the first rays of the new day as they rested in the dawn stillness. Back to plod mode, not allowing my mind to travel too far, concentrating only on this moment, and then the next.....

The ridge at last and time to rest a while as the soft morning glow highlighted this beautiful ocean of mountains. The westward peaks of Cho Oyo and Pumori, Nuptse and Lhotse with its distinctive summit couloir and to the north the soft pastels of the high Tibetan Plateau. Below us, the Kanchung glacier a sea of contrasting shades and textures. We sat silently in awe, glad to be free of the uncomfortable masks for a while.

The South East Ridge curving up gracefully toward the South Summit, gentle at first, then finally rearing up in climax - quite steep and rocky. We changed cylinders, stashing another in readiness for descent. Moving quite easily now in the warmth of the sun.

The angle steepened, not very steep but sufficiently so to climb with great care. The snow surface changed, now quite soft and un-consolidated overlying loose, shaley rock, the bedding plane of which slanted awkwardly downwards. We moved to the very crest of the ridge, heading for the extra security of the rock there, in places adorned by straggled and frayed rope dubiously anchored and treated with extreme caution. Absorbing climbing as the Kanchung Face unfolded below our feet, eight thousand feet to its base.

Before us lay the South Summit. the wind had picked up and, worryingly, rather "funky" looking clouds had gathered above the summit ridge -"hog's backs". Snapped out of our time warp thoughts, Rod and I were apprehensive, success appeared almost tangible although I sensed a creeping anxiety that our great prize would be snatched from our grasp. Spurred on, we moved purposefully towards the waiting calls of the sherpas on the South Summit, only some 50 metres further. Several of Nukita's discarded oxygen cylinders marked the way.

Rounding the icy crest, suddenly a familiar picture in the frame before us, not déjà vu I told myself rationally. The scene that I had studied so many times in so many photographs in so many books - the summit ridge itself. Just as I had expected it to appear, the narrow arrete studded with Nukita's pigeon hole steps leading to the foot of the short, rocky Hillary Step. To my left, the steep South Summit gully - I felt instant respect for those men of 1975.

Reunited with Dorje and Dawa, we took shelter below a short steep wall just below the South Summit. The wind was tearing across the arrete ahead, obviously very strong as an almost horizontal plume of snow and cloud streaked off into Tibet. The prospect of the exposed ridge before us appeared suddenly daunting - apprehension drifted over me. I looked to Dawa, he was scared too, but was already dragging a 6 mm rope from his sack; I did the same.

Although communication was difficult, we signalled to one another. I tied on and, with the crudest of belays, scuttled off on all fours along the knife edge ridge, wind blasting me from the side. A tangle in the rope - perching precariously "a cheval" across the arrete, I fumbled with a surprising lack of dexterity with this "bird's nest". Of all places for this to happen! I gave up and cut the rope, rejoining the ends with a simple granny knot. The rope came taught but already Dawa was following behind using the rope as a hand-rail. He soon passed by, on to tackle the alarmingly unstable looking final ridge with gung-ho gusto. No disasters - Dawa was there and quickly secured his rope to an old rope to an old line dangling from this famous rocky step. Together we cramponed up with remarkable ease; although steep, the snow was firm and a narrow gully twisted through this final obstacle leading the way to the easy slopes beyond. We had turned the last key to success. The four of us moved on upwards.

"Just a walk now" I told myself although I could clearly see giant cornices overhanging the Kanchung face to the right. Was this really it? Were we really going to climb the Big One? I looked back to Rod and raised a clenched mitt with an overwhelming feeling of joyful emotion. I stooped, gasping and breathless over my ice axe and my eyes filled with tears. Far away faces I knew and loved.

Moving along the top of the world together Rod and I, Dorje and Dawa, an experience I had never allowed myself to imagine before. Perhaps a safeguard mechanism against the trauma of failure? Now my mind was free at last and the summit only a few feet away. I felt a deep feeling of relief, contentment and emotion, we had made it.

Standing on the top of the world, summited, ticked, bagged. How lucky I was to feel so alive and to feel the strength of the bond between us? I thought of the others at Base Camp, of Simon and of Ronnie now back home; it had been an incredible trip and we had succeeded.

Six weeks later I sit at a desk on another dreary November afternoon, tied to a bleep in a dull hospital. Alone again now, I remember the moments that I can never forget and wonder what this life's all about?

Charlie Hornsby is GP in Elgin.

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GORAK SHEP TO BASE CAMP

by George Wormald

It was rather as travelling to a friend's party on a Friday night before a Bank Holiday - we knew it would be a pain but it had to be done. The journey was tedious, tiring and frustrating - how could it take so long? The route was stop start with queues forming on the steep slopes, and changes in direction where the way had to be changed. Occasionally there was the detritus of previous travellers rising to the surface. We had anticipated it to be a two hour journey but it was only after four hours that we came within sight of our destination. Everyone was thoroughly hot, exhausted and fed up.

The final straw was the last stage where we were crawling in first gear along a narrow switchback - so close and yet so far away from our destination that tantalisingly came into view every now and again. It was nearly dusk when we arrived, surprised at the number of people at the party and the noise coming from the green building. We were late arrivals, what would we find, who would be there so hesitatingly we entered.................

What a welcome from mine hosts Pete, Dave, Cathy and company. Stories were recounted of the trek, what was happening on the Hill, the who, what, when and why. It was just like gate crashing because our tightly knit group was now thrust into the hustle and bustle of a new world.

It was more like being in the racing pits at Silverstone. People coming and going, progress of the elite to follow, scanning the skyline through the binoculars, and reports of close shaves with the unthinkable. The adrenaline would flow when the radio crackled to life. News from the climbers on the Hill bringing us up to date with what was happening beyond the Icefall - so close yet so far away.

New people to meet - what was their name, what experiments were they doing, which expedition did they belong to? - then there were changed routines and new pecking orders, even new jokes to replace our tired and much overused ones of the trek in. However after a while it felt like home and a realisation that we had achieved one of the major goals of our expedition.

George Wormald is a business manager at Axis.

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Adventure of a lifetime

by Victoria Weller

Culture shock! Adjustment! We had left the relatively familiar confines of the airport and were transported into another world, no longer seen through the lens of a TV camera, but through the open windows of a taxi hurtling through the dusty uneven streets, lined with a multitude of shops glimpsed beneath corrugated iron roofs.

Images flashed past of old men outside the dukas drinking sweet milk tea; of washing lines slung between buildings; of small boys animatedly trying to sell fruit; all amid the perpetual sounding of car horns and the clattering of rickshaws and the three wheeled tuk-tuks.

The plan was to go to Kathmandu, take a bus to the end of the road, and then trek for about two weeks to the Everest base Camp. After a few hectic days in the capital the first ten days of the trek were fantastic. On a typical day we would wake early and set off at around 7 am and walk until lunch, taken at a tea house at about midday.

They say that the first few days trekking exhausts everyone to begin with: I would certainly vouch for the truth of the guide-book description of our walk as, "very strenuous". Having managed to get places on the tourist bus, that is to say one where there is only one person per seat, we began the nine hour ride to Jiri.

I noted with interest that there was a button on the dash-board to indicate the brake failure. This would light up periodically as if to remind us that it still had a useful function. Eventually, after many rehearsals, the bus broke down for the last time at dusk, 13 km from our destination and we had to go on by foot. The sky grew darker and darker and as my friend and I were walking slowly with our heavy packs we became separated from our fellow passengers.

Unexpectedly we were beckoned to the side of the road by a Nepalese peasant family. A little anxiously I descended the rough path to their house where they invited us to spend the night. This generosity was one of many such displays of warmth and kindness we were shown throughout the trek.

That night we sat on the mud floor, around the fire in their kitchen, and joined them in a meal of boiled potatoes with salt and chilli and rice. It is surprising how quickly one learns a language when one is hungry. The following day we walked on to Jiri where we hired a porter and guide for our trek to Everest.

After so much bad publicity last year, I expected the trail to be littered with pink loo paper and other western debris. Admittedly I went before the tourist season was underway, but I was struck by the fact that the countryside was so clean. Kathmandu is a different kettle of fish. It is a sprawling city, full of great poverty, and the entire waste from the capital seems to be deposited in the river. Conversely, on the trek only an occasional loo in a lodge emptied into the river. The others were holes in the ground, which may not have been altogether pleasing, but at least they were environmentally sound. It was difficult to balance the facts that, as a tourist, one is contributing to a weak economy but at the same time encouraging the Nepalese to exploit their landscape. Not surprisingly they have a great desire to build tea houses of timber, which are frequently in groups, to benefit directly from each annual influx of visitors. However, it was reassuring to see that thousands of seedlings were being prepared for planting in the Sagarmartha National Park.

Despite the scars left by the axes of the ambitious, much forest remains and still covers a landscape which is beautiful and breathtaking in its variety. From lush, verdant hillsides filled with fascinating flowers and strange sounds one moved into a different world at higher altitude. The scenery became rocky, harsh and silent, with sparse vegetation. The weather was clear and cool with blue skies and brilliant stars by night.

After 15 days walking , at the highest point of the trek, lies a hill of 5,500 metres, called Kala Pattar. From there it is a spectacular and rewarding view. One looks down onto clear, reflected blue lakes on one side, rocky moraine on another, and then, towering majestically above, there are the magnificent, awe-inspiring, snowy peaks of several of the highest mountains in the world - one of which is Everest.

My admiration for those who attempt to climb the great mountain, with or without oxygen, has increased 10 fold. As we came down from Kala Pattar there is 50% less oxygen than at sea level, we remembered and understood another trekker who was inspired there to compose songs about what he had seen.

In the final four hours of our journey to Base Camp, at 5,300 metres, the change in landscape was dramatic and utterly removed from anything I had ever imagined. We slowly crossed the glacier before us, which was made up of acres and acres of huge boulders and scree on an icy bed.

There were vast seracs created by the glacial flow beneath forcing up ice mountains, and many of the boulders were perched high on great, frozen wedges. The path was barely discernible, marked by an occasional cairn or pile of yak dung, and along it we picked our way to the welcome lying beyond desolation.

The British Expedition's Base Camp was immaculate. Contrary to what has been reported in the world's press there were none of the piles of used oxygen cylinders, frozen bodies and waste described in the tabloids. Impressive arrangements had been made for the disposal of all human and material detritus, as one would expect from a well organised and serious research expedition.

The work that was being carried out for many weeks was thorough, detailed and well controlled. I was glad to be used as a guinea-pig for some scientific research during my visit. Amongst other projects the Expedition expects to produce much positive information on the effects of altitude on the body, which cannot be ascertained by air travel by plane or balloon for example. A valuable contribution to our knowledge of mountain sickness will certainly be one of many results that emerges.

To go to Nepal is an eye-opening experience for a molly-coddled westerner. We are aware of third world poverty from the media. To see the reality and reflect on one's own good fortune is quite another thing. To wonder what can or should be done in the world is something else still.

Now, when I consider Nepal, my mind will flick through a book of images it retains. Among the selection will be not only those of poverty, but also of the scenery, the welcoming faces of the Nepalese people, the gurgling laughter of a baby I met, and all the other sounds and smells of a beautiful and fascinating country.

Victoria Weller is taking a year off between 'A' levels and university. She trekked independently from Jiri and joined the Expedition at Base Camp.

****

Swimming at 17,000 feet

By Ken Stewart

At Gorak Shep (alias Lake Camp) I jokingly suggested a swim in the lake to Sherpa Santash. He took me seriously so I had to go in. So then had he. The water was cold but not as freezing as anticipated. The rapid breathing was hard to control; but this soon settled and then the dip was "almost" enjoyable. It didn't last long though. We swam about 25 yards and then out we came, cleaner than before, and really chuffed with ourselves. We had to repeat the dip every time we passed Gorak Shep so had 3 more!

Ken Stewart, when he's not off his trolley, is a gynaecologist in Stirling.

****

Everest - Next Time?

By Andrew Pollard

When I woke up again, if I had ever been asleep, it was getting light. The tent was still ravaged by the wind and the demented flapping of the fabric was unchanged, its continuing presence almost reassuring. The inner tent was coated in frost which was sprinkled onto me whenever I moved or the thundering wind shook the tent. My down suit was damp with condensation and my socks wet and cold. This was the fourth day at Camp IV on the South Col at 8000m without food and since yesterday I was alone.

For those four days the Col had been shrouded in cloud and the icy wind blew snow around with the intent of burying all of our equipment, which it did. The others had left to try their chances on a later day and the Sherpas had deserted me. It was desperately cold. I was using oxygen continuously now to suppress the lethargy, cold and physical debility, which was so overwhelming. During several finger-numbing forays through the tent door, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find full oxygen cylinders buried in the snow outside and I knew it was time to go down. Condensation pooled in my oxygen mask and trickled down my chin, my throat ached from coughing. Time passed easily though, I don't remember much detail of my mental musings, the lack of oxygen slowed thought and melting snow for drinking-water took all day.

But something was different this morning. I got to my knees and unzipped the tent a fraction in what seemed like a frenzy of breathless activity. A shower of fine snow blew in my face and I shivered. But it was glorious. The sky was blue and cloudless for the first time and the South Summit of Everest was visible and crowned golden with the early sun. The wind was still roaring out there but less snow streamed across the Col and the slopes in front of me up to the South East Ridge seemed calm. It was 9th October 1994.

After 2 squares of chocolate and a sip of almost frozen Isostar, I set off towards Everest. I don't remember why, or what I had intended, but I had three 3 Litre oxygen cylinders in my rucksack and a litre of fluid. The oxygen was set at 2 litres per minute. I decided I wanted to have a closer look at Everest and take some photos. But I didn't know where to go. I could see the South Summit and South East Ridge but there were too many possible approaches up the slopes to the ridge. I never imagined I would be alone here. I was scared.

The snow was horrible. Most of the slope up to the ridge was wind-slab - a thick hard crust resting on unconsolidated snow. Each step was treacherous. I either fell through the crust and stumbled or slid on the slab. A few small avalanches set off from my feet and I wished I had a longer axe. There had been no wind since I left the South Col and I was warm as long as I was moving. I felt good. Icicles hung from my chin and my toes were numb.

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I thought I was being choked. I gasped and gasped. It slowly dawned on me that my oxygen cylinder must be empty. It was steep here and I couldn't safely take off my rucksack and get out a new one. I struggled on with pain in my chest, pain from sucking at the thin air. After an age I reached some rocks where I could rest before fumbling with the regulator and a new cylinder and begin gulping in life.

Sooner than I thought, I was just below the Ridge and pressed on straight up. Ten metres further and the snow became more unconsolidated. Like climbing on polystyrene beads. No upward progress. I turned the oxygen up to 3 litres per minute. I felt very insecure and traversed for half an hour plunging my axe deep into the snow with every side step until, eventually, I found good purchase and I stood on the South East Ridge of Everest.

The snow on the Ridge was the same. In places it narrowed and my slipping and stumbling threatened to hurl me down into Tibet or back to the South Col. Soon enough, though, the angle eased and I sat down on a flat section below the last slope up to the South Summit. I was at 8600m.

It is a remarkable place. I looked across to the summit of Lhotse, over Nuptse to the Mountains of Nepal and North and East into the brown plateau of Tibet. Below I could see the tents on the South Col. Red dots in the snow. I took off my oxygen mask and realised I was very alone. To my astonishment, I heard John talking on the radio from Base Camp. The friendly sound was deeply comforting and a wave of emotion swept over. I longed to speak to him and I talked frantically into the handset but he could not hear me and I felt rejected. It was about 11.00 am

I was within an hour of the South Summit of Everest and looking up I could almost touch it. I felt physically strong but the snow conditions were still unpleasant and dangerous and I was concerned about the descent. I was on my own, high on Everest with so much to lose. I began to sob. Not outwardly. There was no one to see anyway. Suddenly, it all began to seem so intensely pitifully pointless. I began to think of my son. Jamie was five and a half months old when I left and I cried at the loss of three months of his life. I missed Rachel desperately and wondered how I ever came to be sitting on this crazy frozen perch looking down on the world. So I got up, turned my back on Everest and went home.

It'll be Christmas Eve tomorrow. Jamie is quiet again now, tummy full of milk. Lying in his cot warm and snuggled under cosy blankets, his breathing is peaceful and content, hair ruffled and long eyelashes locked in sleep. Outside it's -6oC and there is ice on the window pane and a thick frost on the ground in the blackest night. Rachel is asleep too, deep in the duvet. It's 5.30 am and it's cold, but this is where I want to be tonight, with my wife and my boy.

Andrew Pollard is a research fellow in paediatric infectious diseases.

****

Clerical and Medical

By John Currin

With three days to go and the house strewn with blue plastic barrels and various piles of gear, the phone calls from newspapers, radio and TV suddenly came thick and fast. Feeling a little intimidated by the proposed TV coverage in my local gym whose infrequent use I now regretted I sought some support from my closest fellow expeditioner Chris Comerie. Having lifted some very light weights for the cameras I returned from the changing room just in time to hear the last part of Chris' interview. After some questions relating to climbing objectives and preparation the interviewer said "Tell me Chris why should a climbing expedition want to take a clergyman along?" I think Chris and I had met just once before at the Lloyd's event and this question was clearly one he had not anticipated. Searching for an answer while making some very diplomatic comments he finally said, "Well he'll come in very useful if someone gets killed."

We began the trek to Base Camp at Lukla in conditions of low cloud and drizzle. The weather remained more or less the same over the next four days, by which time we had taken a rest day in Namche and pressed on to Tengboche. The following morning I remember waking to bright sunshine, the sound of excited voices and tent zips being hurriedly opened. Suddenly after spending the last few days trekking in typical and all too familiar Lakeland conditions, that day we were presented with a full and glorious panorama of towering crystal white peaks, soaring into cloudless blue skies. In the warmth of the morning sun I shared the conviction of the Psalmist who said "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies the work of his hands." During the previous days of cloud and rain I had heard no one complain. In fact I think all of us were relieved to be free from the confines of Kathmandu,. As I gazed around and at last saw, what I had long anticipated, the clarity of the light, the tranquillity of the morning and the majesty of the peaks far exceeded my expectations. For a while that morning we were all awed and subdued.

I am more than grateful that there was no need to officiate in the way Chris had mentioned. Although a little disappointed and frustrated that due to ill health my own mountaineering objectives were not realised but the trekking was unforgettable and enhanced by warm companionship and strong team spirit. I know the experience the summit team had with the high altitude Sherpas was to say the least mixed, but the Sherpas who accompanied Group One and also Nima with whom I left Jill and the children were excellent. I found them to be organised, reliable, industrious, trustworthy and uncomplaining. Their kindness and hospitality has left as profound an influence on me as did the impact of being amidst the worlds highest mountains.

John Currin is a Curate at Eastwood Church

****

Our rest day!

By Denzil Broadhurst

The calm, measured tones of David Collier, the research co-ordinator, came over the radio from Everest Base camp. "Ronnie's had a stroke at camp 1 and we may need you to help"

OK, so we were members of a rescue team, but we hadn't really expected to be needed. Simon had asked us some time ago if we would act as a rescue team whilst we were with the expedition. Of course we laughingly agreed, knowing that we were only going to be in base camp for the two brief periods whilst tests were being done, the rest of the time we would be trekking, or climbing elsewhere, so the chances of us being in the right place at the right time seemed somewhat remote.

We'd been up to Base Camp for our first 5 days of medical tests to give some pre-acclimatisation readings, and then trekked down to attempt Lobuje East, eventually being defeated by thigh deep sugar snow at about 5700 metres. The prospect of the route ahead being a few hours of dangerous navigation through some desperate looking seracs and snow bridges hadn't been very encouraging anyway.

We'd then moved on to Dingboche to start the trek up to Island Peak, and the plans for the day were a gentle stroll up to Chukhung. We'd originally planned to have a rest day, but with the time lost in Kathmandu just a couple of hours walk would have to count as a rest.

So there we were, two days trekking distance from Everest Base Camp, on standby for an incident.

"We're trying to get a helicopter into Base Camp, but if that fails we'll need him taking to Pheriche" "We'll know in a couple of hours if it's available"

Ah well, at least it was sunny and we could have a kip while we waited, and I guess the views were better than we normally get around the Peak District. The Nuptse-Lhotse ridge and our target of Island Peak ahead of us up the valley, Ama Dablam to the South and Tawoche to the West.

Ronnie was being walked down the icefall with the help of the climbers from all the different expeditions in the area, and a group of Sherpas had set off up the icefall with the stretcher. They had him on oxygen and slowly brought him down to Base Camp.

"No luck with the helicopter, so once the doctors have finished with him we'll get him started on the descent" "If you can come up to meet him and take him the rest of the way to Pheriche"

If we were going to get a helicopter into Pheriche it made sense to also evacuate George Smith as well. George, 72, had made the trip up to Base Camp OK, but his health had deteriorated during his stay there. Eventually he'd started the descent, but at the speed he was capable of it would take a few days to Pheriche.

We eventually decided to make a move. Ronnie had still not left Base Camp, but we could get Mick over to Pheriche to borrow a stretcher for George, and start moving it up the hill to Lobuje, about 3 hours walk away. Mick and Martin went up to deliver the stretcher to the waiting Sherpas, and then continued on to meet Ronnie near Gorak Shep, while the rest of us followed on behind to assist the Sherpas on their descent with George.

The acclimatisation of the last 10 days had worked wonders. With that and the switch from our normal 25 pound sacs to just a spare jacket and head torch meant the journey which had taken a full day the first time was now over in less than 2 hours. The Sherpas had started the descent, but the stretcher was a standard folding hospital stretcher, with a man on each corner it was far too wide for most of the narrow paths. A set of rucksack shoulder straps and one of the Sherpas head straps sufficed to fasten George on with reasonable safety, then the Sherpas lifted the stretcher on to their shoulders and they were off.

We were off as well, jogging alongside at an astonishing speed trying to assist with balance on the steep slopes and loose scree. The carry continued at the same speed, no matter how steep or rough the path became, with a regular rotation of manpower on the stretcher between the Sherpas and ourselves. Not a carry method I would recommend for the UK, but in the circumstances amazingly effective.

Darkness began to fall as we reached the half way point of Tuglha after about an hour, but a round of lemon tea soon refreshed us for the next hour down to the tea house in Pheriche.

Ronnie was well on the way down by now, although he was still about 2 hours behind us. "We'll come up and meet you on the final valley section - give us a call on the radio" "I will if I can keep up, the doctor is already about 10 minutes behind his patient!" Ronnie was obviously feeling much better, and no doubt the oxygen was helping as well.

We sat in the tea house waiting for the call, devouring some much needed food when Lhakpah, our Sirdar, came in with a kettle of chang - "You want to try?". We'd been warned not try the local fermented rice brew until we were on our way home, but we deserved a drink, and we had told Lhakpah that the drinks for the Sherpas were on us. It certainly helped to numb the sore shoulders.

Some while later, when we received the call from the group with Ronnie, we weaved our way up the valley to be met by him smiling and cracking jokes while the rest of his party struggled to keep up. We were all ushered back into the main room of the tea lodge, disturbing some of the Sherpas who had already bedded down for the night, for some more food and chang until we all crashed out for the night in the dormitory. We had been carrying our normal day gear so it didn't matter that our tents, porters, kitchen, yaks and climbing gear were half way to Island Peak.

The weather was bright and sunny the next day so by mid morning we heard the distant noise of a helicopter reverberating up the valley and the two patients and doctor were on their way down to Kathmandu.

Mission completed, OMRT chalks up another incident!

Perhaps the team member who had produced the joke T shirt before we left - "OMRT on tour" with a list of our 1994 team trips to Scotland, Northern Ireland, Lundy and the Himalayas knew more than he was saying!

So much for our easy day, and we'd lost more time from our schedule. As long as we kept the radio turned off for the next few days we should be OK.

P.S. Ronnie seemed fully recovered by the time he left Kathmandu, and when we met up with George in the Garden Hotel 3 weeks later he was back to full strength.

Denzil Broadhurst is an electronics design engineer

****

The Researcher's Perspective

by David Collier

Conceived four years ago by a group of ex-Barts Alpine Club doctors the BMEME started as a small group of doctors who wanted to climb Everest. With the passage of time it grew into a highly complex Expedition. The unilateral increase in fee charged by the Nepali Government (to $10,000 US) for each climber to attempt the climb, made it necessary to broaden the membership of the expedition. For those of us interested in the research opportunities of hypoxia (low oxygen) this was to alter the entire project.

In addition to the seven climbers and twelve researchers there were a further 60 members recruited to the team. "Support team" members joined us for all of the pre-expedition weekends and mountain medicine teaching courses (half of them doctors). They paid the expedition a sum similar to the cost of a similar high altitude "trekking" holiday. In return they were members of a prestigious expedition, and volunteered for the medical research projects. It was the success of this symbiotic relationship between researchers, climbers and support members which made the most difference.

Before we left for Nepal, publicity efforts to help us included the climbing team scaling the atrium window of the Lloyds building; Labour leader John Smith came and saw displays of our research projects; we made a half -page cover picture in the Independent and the Times. This was only one week before John Smith died in our own hospital (where I was a Cardiology SHO at the time). We felt the loss of this sincere and forthright man who had tried to help us very keenly. A man of substance and conviction rather than the charisma and gloss we so often see from people in political life.

The separate support groups took part in our pre-expedition research weekends in London (Barts) and Stirling. The next time we all met up was at base camp, 5300m (18000 ft) on the Kumbu glacier. Groups of 8-12 members were tested on arrival at base camp and then on their return after attempts (usually successful) on mountains such as Island Peak, Pokalde or Lobuje East. Base Camp was established in September by the climbing and research groups. It was the focus of activity and linked the climbing team on the mountain with the research, and all the support groups as they came and went.

The research group included contributors from 13 UK universities including London (Barts, QMW, Kings, St Thomas', Charing Cross, Westminster, Oxford, Leicester, The Institute of Ophthalmology, Moorfields Eye Hospital, Birmingham, Edinburgh Glasgow and Northwick Park. We were unable to obtain umbrella funding for all the projects and only raised one £13,000 grant from the British Heart Foundation for a project on heart rate variability during hypoxia. Despite this we were able to complete almost everything we set out to achieve, largely due to the loan of equipment from all over Britain, mostly from the manufacturers themselves. Work included studies on the eye led by Diana Depla FCOpth (a project on visual field changes and hypoxia may shed light on the cause of chronic simple glaucoma). Balance and hearing work from Martin Rosenburg at Queen Mary and Westfield College addressed a theory about hair cell function and low oxygen exposure. Peter Barry from Leicester carried out the first cough challenge studies at altitude as well as recording nocturnal cough to confirm the impression that cough really does increase as you go higher. Out study on pulmonary oedema and endothelin-1 concentrations has just been beaten by a paper out last week in 'Circulation' from a European group. Gerald Dubovitz from Oxford performed studies on intestinal absorption and on the effect of sleeping tablets at altitude. The effect of benzodiazepine sleeping tablets appears to be dependent on how well acclimatised you are.

My own work, with collaborators from Kings College, Charing Cross and Westminster and St. Thomas', was to investigate peripheral chemoreceptor responses to carbon dioxide during acclimatisation. We have been able to show for the first time that fast CO2 responses improve with acclimatisation to altitude. This work was made more difficult by BOC, who supplied eight incorrect gas cylinders! Normally this would have been annoying, but this order arrived during a snowstorm at base camp - four cylinders to a yak and half of it was wrong. You can't just fax or 'phone your problem. At 18,000 feet \par you are stuck! The other major problem with our research was an avalanche. Just three days after we had equipped our three main research tents (each the size of a small living room) and our experimental work was underway, a large slab avalanche from the west ridge of Everest at around 8,000 metres brought down a huge volume of snow and wind blast. Researchers during World War II looked into using powders and other materials to increase the destructive force of blast from bombs, by increasing the mass of the moving air, in our case the spindrift from the avalanche increased the effect of the blast. Our research tents were all flattened, one 90lb tent, a McInnes box that was thrown over 40 feet through the air, over a climber and his tent, smashed our main VHF radio mast (2 inch tubing) and landed just in front of our mess tent.\par \par We were glad to be alive, but spent much of the night rescuing precious and sensitive equipment from the snow before rebuilding the camp the next day.

Although the conditions for climbing at extreme altitude were poor due to excessive wind from the jetstream, which arrived early, two of our doctor-climbers were able to reach the summit using oxygen. Dr. Charles Hornsby and Dr. Roddie Kirkwood are both Scots, although Roddie chooses to live (and climb) in New Zealand.

Alison Hargreaves, the best British woman climber (she climbed all the major Alpine North faces in 1993 direct) was a semi-detached member of the team. She was climbing as solo as possible and carried her own equipment. More than this, she wanted to be the first woman to reach the summit without using supplementary oxygen. Although Alison spent four nights at the South Col and seemed surprisingly well there without oxygen, her summit bid was foiled by severe winds and the sensations of impending frostbite.

Others were not so lucky. I treated one Scots climber who got to within 100 metres of being the first Briton to climb the second highest mountain, Lhotse. His frostbite of the toes, however, was nothing to the severe hand and foot injuries received by a sherpa working for a Nepali speed-climber. He had slept with wet gloves at nearly 8,000m and subsequently lost most of his fingers in Kathmandu.

One of our older support team members had to be stretchered in and out of base camp over the Khumbu glacier. Fortunately one of our support groups was dominated by most f the Oldham Mountain Rescue Team. A climber had a transient ischaemic attack at Camp 1 and had to be evacuated down the icefall and out to Pheriche where he left by helicopter. Thankfully he recovered fully.

What are the lasting memories? Sunrise over Everest, researching from 10 until 6 each day, the relief of seeing climbers return intact.

The expedition was successful beyond my hopes, and the unique structure worked well - the vast variety of members all had something to contribute, from a silicon chip designer for GEC Plessey, and oil refinery manager, a hatful of GPs, gynaecologists, anaesthetists, pharmacists and paediatricians.

David Collier

****

The Ascent of Island Peak - 20,305 feet

by Mark Howarth

One of our ambitions in Group 5 was to climb Island Peak. The last time I had wielded an ice-axe it had a wooden handle, which dates me a bit and I had never worn crampons outside a climbing shop. Everest Base Camp was a good place for my first lesson on ice climbing. Jim kindly told me I was doing everything wrong. Now if anyone asks if I have done much on snow and ice, I casually mention that I have climbed the Khumbu Icefall ... well, it's partly true.

A few days later we were at Island Peak Base Camp. This must rank as one of the worlds most desolate spots. The next morning we walked up the mountain in search or a bivvi site and wrestled with the decision - to climb or not to climb. We found an ideal spot after about an hour and a half - a ledge of flat ground among the rocks. The immortal words of Bill O'Connor echoed in our ears - "... one of the great joys of Himalayan mountaineering is the high altitude bivouac". Well, we would see about that. Back down for lunch and more uncertainty over who wanted to go. Jeremy, George, Geraldine, Dawa and myself were committed from the start and in the end only the five of us went.

We got a good send off from our friends that afternoon as we prepared to go to our bedroom on the mountain while they waited below. We felt like real mountaineers now. Then Chandra, our cook handed out four plastic bags containing our packed suppers. Suddenly it was as if we were children out on a school trip. Perhaps that's what mountaineers are.

Retracing our steps with enthusiasm, we were soon back at the bivvi site. In the fast fading light we laid out mats and climbed into our sleeping bags. A tiny crescent moon set soon after the sun. Soon there was a hard frost. We had planned to leave at three in the morning and Dawa arrived to wake us soon after two (he preferred the comfort of his own tent at base camp). I was glad he had brought some water as mine had frozen overnight. Too cold to think, we packed our rucksacks, put on boots and head torches and started stumbling uphill. Plastic boots proved cumbersome but not as bad as I had feared. Walking up steep rock and scree in the dark was very tiring. Knowing that I only had one spare battery, I carried on using the first for far too long and soon my head torch was providing only a feeble glow. Several times I decided I had had enough, and was only put off turning back by the greater difficulty of going down in the dark. I would wait till first light. But just as the sky began to lighten, we reached the glacier and without saying a word we all put on crampons and harnesses and roped together. There was no turning back now.

There is a magic about walking on the snow. We were now on the high Himalaya, not among them. Soon it was broad daylight and there was a clear deep blue sky. The agony and the breathlessness were not gone but were mixed with exhilaration as we traversed the glacier with increasing confidence. On the steepest section Dawa went ahead and put in a fixed rope which we climbed up. Then, roped together, we walked along the summit ridge - all of two feet broad, with a dizzy drop on either side. A short, if painful final climb took us to the top. I would have yelled with joy if my lungs had let me.

Time for photos, hugs all round and a swig from the hip flask. This was well earned ecstasy. As we moved around on the summit we never thought to unclip from the rope. By the time we made off we were tied in a long knot like a cat's cradle and had to clamber over and under each other to get free. I can't imagine what Dawa thought of us. But I do know that I wouldn't have been there without him.

We had to be off the snow before it got too soft so we soon headed back down the ridge, abseiled down the rope into the cwm where we stopped for a short rest and some food. There were better opportunities to admire the amazing scenery on the more relaxed descent. Then on down and down and down. I think I have never been so tired as when I arrived back at base camp. Aware that Ann was videoing me as I approached camp I tried to put some spring in my step but failed miserably.

Mark Howarth is a General Practitioner in West Sussex.

*****

Parchamo and group 1

by Denzil Broadhurst

"What do you mean, Parchamo isn't on our list of peaks?" There we were on the way to Kathmandu airport, hoping to fly out to Lukla, and Rai had just informed us that Parchamo wasn't included in our climbing permits. We'd done our group planning back in May at a weekend in Saddleworth, and the final crowning moment of our expedition was going to be the ascent of Parchamo. We were stunned!

As soon as we got to the airport we pinned down Rai and Sonam, one of the Thamserku directors, and over a Fanta, Chris and I discussed the situation with them. After going round the houses a few times without success, and with them claiming that Simon had agreed to no ascents of Parchamo, a sudden light seemed to come in Rai's eyes when he realised that we were not intending to descend via the Rolwaling valley. The whole problem had been a misunderstanding, and Rai's attitude changed completely. There wasn't much time to sort the permits, he didn't know if the expedition would cover the costs, and wasn't sure of what the costs were going to be, but he was prepared to try and sort it out.

We didn't fly that day anyway, so a meeting took place later that afternoon at Thamserku, with Chris and Pete Smith negotiating the deal. Finally, success, they would sort the permits and make sure they met up with us while we were trekking, and if the original agreement with Thamserku didn't cover the cost of the permit our group would split the costs between us.

Our problem now was that we were losing time in the flight to Lukla, and our schedule was aggressive. We made various fall-back plans, including missing Pokalde and Gokyo if necessary, but Parchamo was right at the end and plenty could happen before that.

Almost 5 weeks later, having assisted in the evacuation of Ronnie and George, and cutting our second visit to Base Camp to the minimum, our final version of the schedule was unrolling. We'd sprinted from Island Peak to Base Camp and back to Namche, the yaks and climbing gear having been left in Dingboche for most of the time since they couldn't cover the distances fast enough. Only Mick, Martin and Jamie had attempted the slag heap of Pokalde, and we had missed out the trip to Gokyo completely.

We headed up the valley towards Thame, racing past a number of yaks. How things had changed from the start of the expedition when the sound of yaks behind you was a warning to move out the way, and a good excuse for a brief rest.

We were sitting in a small tea house in Thame and wondering if we could top out on Parchamo at the same time as the Everest team reached their summit, when we heard over the radio that 2 of them were already there. Great news! Now we had to succeed as well.

Jamie spent most of the night throwing up and the Sirdar's father was also ill, so we left them at the camp site in Thame and headed up the valley. We had a good chat with one of the monks in the monastery, he originally came from the village, but had spent some time in the USA. We heard from Jamie that the monk came down later to see if he or Kami needed anything.

Lunch at Tengbo, once we had found where the Sherpas were waiting for us, then less than an hour to our base camp. The following day was the climb up the Taschi Lapcha to the bivvi site, but before we left, our yak driver who had been a monk, offered to do a Puja for us. It was one of their holy days, and they put up the prayer flags across the nearby crag and set up the altar. The smoke drifted across us as we sat and took part in the food and drink offerings.

The ascent to the pass was one of the hardest days we had done. A few hours working our way up the steep moraine with large areas still very loose and indistinct. We assumed there must have been a significant rockfall in the last year or so. The glacier crossing was similarly difficult going and also often unmarked. We watched a German party descending from the pass, with their porters struggling on the ice and snow in their tennis shoes.

The final climb was a scree slope, which felt as long as the Great Stone Shoot in the Cuillin, only now we were nearly at 18,000 feet and I was carrying a sac weighing almost 50 pounds. Mick, Stu and Martin were already in their bivvi below an overhang and Andy joined them, but Chris and I looked at the recent scars on the rocks all around and opted for a spot in the snow out of range of any likely rock fall.

The Sirdar of one of the groups camped nearby asked where our Guide was. "What, no Guide!" Then where were our Sherpas, porters, our tents? "None!", "You British.....HARD!"

Stu's old knee injury was troubling him after the hard going, so he snuggled up in his bivvi bag as the rest of us left around 3.30. Mick stormed the hill with Martin pulling out all the stops and staying with him, while Chris, Andy and I made our more sedate way up. The whole route was a steep angled snow slope which we climbed alpine style. Sure enough, by the time we were about half way up Mick and Martin came storming back down. Martin had kept up, but without the energy to bother putting a new film in his camera he had taken no photos.

The weather had been threatening all morning with dark clouds at about 24,000 ft and the occasional strong gust pinning us to the spot as we were peppered by the spindrift. The Sherpa guide with a group of Venezuelans reckoned there would be snow by lunchtime.

10.00 am and we were stood on the top, or rather within a few 10's of metres since the final section of the ridge was a series of dramatic crevasses. For the first time I had needed to wear my duvet jacket all morning, and my compact camera had to be kept tucked inside to stop it freezing. Both Andy's and Chris's cameras packed up on the summit but my trusty old OM1 carried on regardless.

An hour was spent with photos and radio calls to base camp and to Gerald and Nick on the top of Lobuje East, with a celebratory bar of chocolate, then a descent in just 1 hour to the bivvi site. We packed up the gear then began the long descent to the base camp for 4.30 p.m.. It had been a long hard day, but one of the best.

Overnight the wind picked up, blowing down the mess tent, and threatening the rest of the tents. We woke up to an al fresco breakfast in the snow. Perhaps the Puja had helped keep the bad weather away for those vital 24 hours, there was no way we would have been climbing today. Time to go home, we were due to be in Lukla the following day, but it had certainly been the climax of a great trip.

****

Only 23 kilograms!
by Denzil Broadhurst

So we were going to have to manage with 23 kg in the hold baggage and the hand baggage limit of 5 kg. We might end up wearing a lot for the flight out!

I'd cleared a space in the loft and all the gear was strewn across the floor with most of it sorted into piles: must have, probably need, might need, and luxuries. Before I'd got all the gear together I'd done a quick weighing and it was already over 30 kg. The luxuries pile seemed to be growing.

I guess the weight limit wasn't too bad for those who were only trekking, but we were planning on doing some of the peaks. Crampons, ice axes, helmet, rope and harness, a selection of normal climbing gear such as crabs and slings. What about the other climbing hardware? Chris and I had planned to take a set of chocks between us for belays, but we knew that they probably wouldn't be used. Chris would take a selection of smaller ones on wires, and I would take some larger hexes. A pair of jumars and a tuber went on the pile.

The plastic boots went in, and the lightweight fabric boots should be fine for all the trekking. A pair of sandals? They'll make a pleasant change in the evening. Trainers for the journey out - no, the boots would be okay.

Clothes? 3 pairs of underpants, it's only 7 weeks! 1 T shirt to travel in and 1 long sleeved shirt if I need to keep the sun off, I was planning to buy another T shirt in Kathmandu anyway. 2 pairs of thick socks and 2 pairs of thin ones would have to do. One pair of Troll trousers, a pair of shorts for hot days plus the tracksuit bottoms for climbing.

Thermal gear? Just how cold was it going to be? A couple of thermal vests plus a pair of long johns went into the pile. 2 pairs of gloves, a fleece balaclava and a skiing fleece headband went in as well. It's too easy to lose a pair of gloves and they could be crucial while climbing.

A huge pile of Buffalo gear! I was relying on it, and since they recommend not wearing anything underneath that saves some clothes. Would my 3/4 season sleeping bag be enough? I'd bought a good lightweight sleeping bag to go inside it for the really cold nights but it was over 1 kg.

The Goretex had to go in. Jacket, overtrousers and mitts made sure I had a full waterproof shell. Most wet conditions in the UK are dealt with by the Buffalo gear, but the Goretex is always there in the sack.

What about the camera. A second hand short zoom for the OM1 rather than a selection of lenses. It's incredibly rugged and doesn't rely on a battery. I'll put in the little weatherproof compact as well, far easier while climbing.

Everything in the barrel. No! It won't all fit, and it's already up to 28 kg. Put the light, bulky stuff in the rucksack and take it separately. It's all in but it's getting close to 4