No Magic Helicopter. Carol PhD Masheter
peak in the world, Cho Oyu is in the Himalayas near Everest on the border between Tibet and Nepal. The Eddie Bauer pictures of climbers on big mountains resurfaced in my fantasies and rekindled my imagination. I thought real people like Bill can do this! Maybe I can too.
I took Bill to dinner and asked him how to prepare for such a climb. Bill’s advice was clear and to the point. “No reputable company will guide you up a peak like Cho Oyu without experience at high altitude and the right set of skills. Build a mountaineering resume. Climb with a respected guide service, like American Alpine Institute [a climbing school and mountain guide company based in Bellingham, Washington.] You can get a lot climbing experience in South America.” I thought perhaps after I had tenure, I could go to South America for a three week vacation and climb.
Starting in 1997, I experienced several major losses within 18 months. I lost a hard struggle for tenure. My department claimed I was not publishing enough. When I had asked how many publications would be enough, they would not tell me. Then I learned my boyfriend of six years was involved with someone else. Hurt and angry, I ended our relationship. My sister became seriously ill in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she lived. My mother died suddenly in Southern California. I felt devastated – again and again. I felt as though I was being attacked by wild beasts, ripped open, and left to bleed to death.
I did not know who I was or where I was going. A failed professor at age 50, I became a student again. I took university courses in computer science, calculus, and physics, sometimes along side my former students. “What are you doing here, Dr. Masheter?” some asked. “Learning something new, like you,” I would shrug and reply. I avoided the topic of being denied tenure, because talking about it brought back an overwhelming sense of anger and shame. I worked several low-paying part-time jobs as a computer instructor and programmer to reduce the drain on my savings. Perhaps I needed to prove I was a smart worthwhile person. Perhaps I was punishing myself for failing as a professor and as a relationship partner, for not seeing my elderly mother and my only sister more often.
Stress piled up from grief, anger, overwork, and anxiety about my professional and financial future. Some nights I awoke screaming in pain, my legs locked rigid by muscle cramps. My innards felt as though invisible hands were twisting my intestines into those silly balloon figures for kids. I lost 15 lbs. and felt weak and tired.
The weight loss concerned me enough to see a doctor. He reassured me that I did not have cancer, an ulcer, or some other horrible disease. He referred me to a nutritionist and a gastrointestinal specialist. Both concluded I had severe irritable bowel syndrome. The nutritionist recommended smaller more frequent meals, eating yogurt with live cultures, and avoiding wheat. The GI specialist recommended I eat more wheat bran, contradicting the nutritionist’s advice. Go figure, I grumbled to myself.
I experimented with the specialists’ contradictory suggestions. Those that made me feel worse I stopped. Those that eased painful symptoms I continued. The leg cramps turned out to be symptoms of hypothyroidism. The cramps became less frequent and less severe, after I started taking thyroid medication. Estrogen and progesterone were prescribed to reduce my hot flashes and help me sleep better. They did not improve my sleep and made my intestinal symptoms worse, so I quit taking them. Gradually I began to feel better.
Slowly, some things became clear. I wanted to stay in Salt Lake. It felt like home. Hiking, climbing, and backcountry skiing with friends in the nearby Wasatch Mountains was a big part of my life. Perhaps now would be a good time to try climbing in the Andes. Taking a foreign trip when my financial future was so unsettled seemed counter intuitive. However, I saw this trip as a “vacation” from the anger, sadness, and stress I was experiencing. Instead of the happy celebration I had imagined after getting tenure, my start in high-altitude mountaineering was born from loss and pain. I rose like a phoenix rising from ashes.
Turquoise Goddess
At 50 years of age, I signed up for climbing instruction and mountaineering in the Bolivian Andes with the American Alpine Institute. There I became the student of Brian Cox, a guide half my age. Brian did an excellent job of teaching mountaineering skills. He instructed four guys and me in crampon techniques, how to climb as members of a rope team, safe route finding on glaciers, ice climbing with two ice tools, and mixed climbing on rock, snow, and ice. Brian stressed the importance of adequate hydration and caloric intake, gradual acclimatization, and pacing. He was patient and positive.
Brian’s instruction contrasted sharply with my experience on Mt. Kenya and Mt. Kilimanjaro. Since the early 70s, knowledge about reducing the risk of altitude sickness had improved. Thanks to Brian’s gradual acclimatization program and insistence that we drink plenty of water, I had no problems with altitude sickness in Bolivia and climbed four peaks ranging in elevation from 17,000 to 21,000 feet.
Climbing in the Andes pushed my abilities and taught me a lot. Of course, I doubted my sanity during the miserable moments, like when four of us climbed to 21,000 feet elevation in a driving snow storm. However, the moments of doubt and misery paled compared to the joy of summiting high, icy peaks with melodious names like Eslovania, Piramide Blanca, Ilusion, and Illimani. I had such a wonderful time, I returned to climb in South America and summited additional peaks: Piqueno Alpamayo, Huayna Potosi, Janko Uyu, Culim Thojo, Illiniza Norte, Cayambe, Cotopaxi, and Chimborazo. Climbing to the top of big mountains on my first attempt began to feel routine, the logical outcome of getting very fit, buying the right gear, learning appropriate skills, drinking only treated water, eating only properly prepared food, and taking enough time to acclimatize properly.
I had so much fun climbing in South America, the dream of climbing Cho Oyu faded for awhile. However as I approached my 60th birthday, several guides encouraged me to try the Turquoise Goddess. I was strong and fit for a woman of my age, but each year I lost a little speed and power. I got injured more easily and took longer to recover. Somewhere I read inactive people lose 3% of their strength every year, while active people lose only 0.5% a year. Apparently we can slow the aging process, but we cannot stop it.
If I wanted to try Cho Oyu, I needed to do it soon, or I would be too weak. I had recently started a new career in public health, and my vacation time was very limited. I would need permission to take an unpaid leave of six weeks from my new job with the Utah Department of Health to climb Cho Oyu.
In the spring of 2005, I dropped hints. My boss, Wu Xu, was a bright volatile Chinese woman, who came of age during the Cultural Revolution. Not allowed to go to high school, she and her friends read banned books and secretly educated themselves at considerable risk. I admired her fierce determination to learn. I hoped she could relate to my climb of Cho Oyu. When I asked her for permission to take unpaid leave, Wu exploded, “Why you want do that?! Too dangerous! You die up there!” Her reaction surprised me. For a moment, I froze, not knowing how to respond. Then I heard myself say quietly, “Wu, people die right here in car wrecks every day.” Wu walked away, shaking her head in disbelief that I wanted to do such a crazy thing.
Now what? I wondered. Do I quit my job to climb a mountain? My chances of finding another job I liked as well as this one at nearly 60 years of age did not seem good. Climbing big mountains in distant countries was an expensive hobby. I could not afford to retire and climb fulltime. The next morning I was settling into my work, when Wu approached me tentatively. “If climbing this mountain is your dream, I support you anyway I can,” she said quietly. The change was so unexpected, I was numb with surprise. “OK,” I grinned. I walked on air for days.
My next step was choosing an expedition. I was going to climb a mountain nearly 27,000 feet in elevation on the other side of the world. I wanted to optimize my chances for a safe summit and return. I wanted the best leadership and resources I could afford. American Alpine Institute, the company with which I had had so many enjoyable climbs in South America, was affiliated with Adventure Consultants. Based in New Zealand, Adventure Consultants runs deeply resourced expeditions with top-notch guides. They are expensive, but they have had a good safety record for guiding amateur climbers up some of the world’s highest peaks, including Cho Oyu and Everest.
With some trepidation I sent my application and climbing resume to Adventure Consultants. At the time the oldest client they had guided on Cho Oyu was 53 years of age. I was nearly