Buy the ticket, take the ride...

- Hunter S. Thompson



Sep 30, 2015

Nepal considers age, experience and disability restrictions for Everest

Nepal Tourism says Everest could be banned for inexperienced and physically disabled climbers; proposes an age limit of 18-75 yrs.


Supriya Vohra

Five months after disaster struck Nepal, the tourism officials are mulling over restriction criteria for those attempting Everest. They have cited “safety” and “glory of the mountain” as prime reasons, evoking a sharp response from young and veteran climbers around the globe.

According to Gobinda Bahadur Karkee, Director General of Department Tourism (MoCTCA), “We are in the process of making a set of criteria for Everest. We are trying to put an age limit, a minimum of 16 years, and maximum of 75 years. Very young and very old people should not attempt climbing the mountain. We also do not want disabled people, those that are completely blind or those without legs or arms to climb the mountain.”

“Most important, we cannot have inexperienced climbers attempting Everest. They must have climbed a peak of at least 6500m before they attempt Everest,” he told The Outdoor Journal over telephone.

“We have to value the tallest mountain in the world. Till now, anyone with money and permit from their country could attempt Everest. You have to be able to climb the mountain on your own, and not by holding hands of your guide.”

Asked if a mountaineer was involved in setting the criteria, he said, “No not yet. But we might consult them in future.”

The proposal was announced around the time when Japanese climber Nobokazu Kuriki decided to abandon his attempt to summit Everest, after reaching the final camp last Saturday (26th September). According to his Facebook updates, “….it took too much time to move in deep deep snow. I realized if I kept going, I wouldn’t be able to come back alive, so I decided to descend.”

The climber was making a summit push alone without oxygen.

While there is a general agreement on the need for regulation (approx 600 climbers attempt Everest every year) and not allowing novices to attempt the peak, the global mountaineering community has given a mixed response to the government’s proposal.

Elizabeth Hawley, an Everest chronicler based in Nepal told AFP, “I don’t think the government is in any position to judge someone’s capacities or draw that line for mountaineers.”

She further cited examples of physically disabled climbers who have summited Everest, including blind American Erik Weihenmayer who scaled the peak in May 2001 and seven years later, became the only visually-impaired person to summit the highest mountains on all seven continents.

For New Zealander Mark Inglis, who became the first double amputee to summit Everest in 2006 (he lost both his legs to frostbite), the officials should look at competency as criteria.

“The whole concept of restricting disabled – even the use of that word – is just wrong, because it really doesn’t matter how many limbs you’ve got, but how able you are.” he was quoted by NZHerald.

For Indian climber Arjun Vajpai, who in 2010 became the youngest in the world to summit Everest, it is a good move by the government to bring down the numbers on Everest. “It is a tricky situation for the government, they need to choose their criteria carefully,” he told The Outdoor Journal.

“I completely agree with Mr. Inglis that physical disability should not be a criteria to decide who gets to climb Everest, but the criteria about experience is important,” he said.

“As far as age is concerned, I think whoever attempts the big mountain needs to have done their mountaineering courses,” he added.

Meanwhile, Nepal Mountaineering Assocation (NMA) president Ang Tsering Sherpa seemed skeptical about the government’s proposal. In a report in The Guardian, ‘he said the new rules had been frequently discussed in the past’ adding “I doubt this will be implemented. Earlier such plans were aborted because of pressure from human rights organisations and foreign embassies.”

Everest has been a subject of criticism and controversy for several years now. A peak that was once attempted only by established mountaineers gradually became a commercial venture, where anyone with basic ice axe and crampons and assistance from Sherpas could climb the big mountain. Nepal’s government has proposed measures in the past to make climbing safer, which included changing the route and raising insurance for Sherpas by 50%.

Feature Image: From Everest Base Camp April 2015 after the earthquake (http://6summitschallenge.com/)

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Feb 20, 2019

The Death Zone

World champion free-diver Pierre Frolla sinks without air to depths unreachable by most scuba divers. One day he nearly didn't make it back to the surface.



Sean Verity

This story originally featured in print, in the fall 2015 issue of The Outdoor Journal

Deep down under the sea, so far away from where you live, I have been through the last seconds of my life.

In 2005 or 2006 (oddly I don’t remember), I had the worst accident of my freediving career. After being world champion in variable weight apnea with a dive at 123 metres, where I used a weighted sled for descent and returned to the surface by pulling myself along a line and using my fins, I was training to go deeper.

“No matter what happens to you, you’re stuck underwater. There’s nowhere else to go.”

In my sport, risks are quite important. Imagine you’re running a 400-m race. You start way too fast, and after a few hundred meters you’re out of breath and you just can’t go anymore. What do you do? You just stop, walk a bit and slowly catch your breath again. When you’re free diving, no matter what happens to you, you’re stuck underwater. There’s nowhere else to go.

The basis of my sport is quite simple. Going beyond 100 meters is mythic. Only a few hardcore specialists, including the “no limit” guys can go beyond that. Athletes use a weighted sled to dive down and an inflatable bag to return to the surface. This means that the free diver reduces his energy loss to the max, and that’s exactly why he is able to go so deep. The world record is held by Austrian Herbert Nitsch: 249.5 metres on June 6, 2012, in Santorini, Greece. The problem is that at those depths, water pressure is unbelievable! At 100 m, for example, the pressure is about 11 kg per square centimeter of your skin. Consequently, the volume of air inside the human body is pressured and reduced too. Take an empty but sealed plastic bottle: If you get to this kind of depth, it’ll greatly deform. That plastic bottle is a metaphor for your body. This also means that if water manages to seep somewhere inside you through your mouth or nose, it will do so with such force that it’ll destroy everything in its path. Drowning is inevitable, and no Apneist can be saved in such case, even if experienced help quickly intervenes.

At great depths, nitrogen becomes narcotic and leads to what is called nitrogen narcosis. This kind of intoxication from staying in great depths for too long is the same as when you drink too much. In other words, you lose total control of your body and mind, and you become unaware of potential dangers. Acting like that underwater can kill you, as the slightest mistake will have incredible consequences. In my personal training, I mix apnea in variable weight and other constant weight dives, where I dive only with the force of my arms and legs.

Today, my team and I decide to put the weight to 118 m. I know I can go down 115 m, but we want to push a little, as it’s part of training. Once down, I’ll have no choice but to go back on my own. I also know there will be a small parachute and an oxygen tank hooked to the sled, but neither will be for me. The bottle empties very slowly and inflates the balloon. Both serve only to return equipment back to the surface. It’s easier for us to work like that rather than starting a counterweight system.

If I want to live, I have only four seconds to start my ascent. But I am stunned and unable to move. I think about my team: What will they do when they go down to find me, lifeless and filled with water?

I feel my legs sinking knee-deep in a soft, thick and viscous material.

I begin my descent. I pass my midterm diver. Very soon, it gets dark. I do not have glasses because they would serve me for nothing in this environment. So I stand, with my eyes closed. I’m relaxed and sinking slowly in the water like I’m used to. I feel the pressure now, but I also suddenly feel the sledge slowing. Then it stops, softly. Usually it stops dead. When I realize that something is wrong, I feel my legs sinking knee-deep in a soft, thick and viscous material. It is almost as if moving sands are closing in on me at 112 meters below the surface. It is actually a mixture of clay and silt, a mound a few meters higher than the sonar onboard the boat. It wasn’t identified even though it stood in the stack axis of the descent of my sledge. It’s nobody’s fault; sonar is not so precise.

In no time, I understand what’s happening to me. I’m stuck. I cannot get my feet outside the box, and I know there’s no exit door. I simply do not have enough oxygen to both work my way out of this with strength and go up as I have expected, swimming, with my hands and fins. If I want to live, I have only four seconds to start my ascent. But I am stopped, stunned and unable to move. I think about my team: What will they do when they go down to find me, lifeless and filled with water? I’m dying; that’s it. Today is the day. In 15 seconds, I will have consumed all the remaining air I was keeping for my ascent. I am also a few seconds away from being caught by nitrogen narcosis. I will go crazy right before dying.

“Did I become a vegetable?”

Suddenly, I have an idea. The parachute. Yes! I trigger the opening of the small air valve, which then rushes into the parachute. It’s working but it’s slow and long. So I wait, very still, with my eyes closed. I have no other choice. I try to relax. Everything at 112 m is multiplied by 10. One consumed oxygen molecule at the surface is equal to 10 or 12 molecules consumed at that kind of depth. One second is equivalent to 10 seconds. Time and life are both very cruel at the bottom of an ocean. I am now barely conscious. Finally, I remember feeling the chute tearing me away from my trap like a champagne cork. The ascent back to the surface, back to life, is way too long. When I reach the surface, I have strangely not entirely lost consciousness, but my body no longer responds to my brain. Did I become a vegetable? My team, frightened, retrieves and saves me. If I had not been so well-trained, I would not have survived this scary adventure. Instead of the planned 2 minutes and 40 seconds that I went down under water for, I stayed 3 minutes and 50 seconds. In the boat, I gradually recover and quickly regain all my abilities.

Pierre Frolla reascending to the surface, following the guideline with the sled and parachute attached to it.

A few years later, I’m on a movie set doing 60-m free diving over and over all day long, and an air bubble is created in my brain on one of these repetitive dives. But instead of being redirected into my lungs, it remains stuck in my head. When ascending, inevitably, this tiny compressed air bubble suddenly decompresses and its size gets multiplied by six. I immediately lose consciousness. Later, I wake up in a hyperbaric chamber. I stay there for eight and a half hours. But when I wake up in that box, I cannot feel my body. I’m unable to move. For hours, I do not know if I will stay quadriplegic or not. This awakening in the box is one of my worst-ever memories of free diving. I do not understand what is happening to me. It takes me 30 minutes to remember that I was free diving and to deduce that I certainly had a bad accident.

Apnea is an extreme sport. I’ll remember it always. Yesterday I dived to 113 meters. I’ll do it again tomorrow.

Photos by Franck Seguin

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