Where the dream was born. Nearly 30 years later, Frank (left) returns to the summit of Kilimanjaro, with d.i.c.k (center) and Danny Ba.s.s (right). (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

The highest point in Europe, Mr. Elbrus, 18,510 feet, in Russia's Caucasus Mountains.(Photo: Norman Benton/Peter Arnold) [image]

The inimitable Peter Jennings and his nurse, Dr. Olga, only partially recovered. (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

Frank and Luanne Wells with Elbrus in the background.(Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) Five down, two to go. Lenin and comrades on top of Elbrus. (Credit: Frank Morgan) (Credit: Frank Morgan) [image]

Vinson Ma.s.sif, Antarctica, 16,863 feet (by the old measurement). (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

TOP LEFT: The man who made it possible, Giles Kershaw. (Photo: Rick Ridgeway) (Photo: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

TOP RIGHT: Refueling the Tri Turbo at Rothera Base. The drums were dropped by parachute from a Chilean C130. (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

The Vinson Team (left to right) Chris Bonington, Sandy Bredin, Rick Mason, Captain Frias, Rick Ridgeway, Giles Kershaw, Frank Wells, Steve Marts, Yuichiro Miura, d.i.c.k Ba.s.s, Tae Maeda. (Credit: Chris Bonington) (Credit: Chris Bonington) [image]

All business cla.s.s aboard the DC3 Tri Turbo.(Credit: Chris Bonington) [image]

At the landing site near Vinson, it's warmer to set up tents than sleep in the plane. (Credit: Chris Bonington) (Credit: Chris Bonington) [image]

d.i.c.k Ba.s.s (left) and Frank begin the steep gully above base camp, Vinson. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

Temperature 30 below, wind 40 knots. Frank nursing a frostbitten nose, just before turning back on the first attempt at Vinson's summit. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

Rick Ridgeway digs the "bolt hole," the snow cave they will bolt to in case high wind should demolish the tents. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway collection) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway collection) [image]

Premier British climber and expedition leader Chris Bonington.(Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

The modern-day samurai. "The Man Who Skied Down Everest," Yuichiro Miura, prepares to ski down Vinson. (Credit:Rick Ridgeway) (Credit:Rick Ridgeway) [image]

The third time works the charm. d.i.c.k on top of Vinson Ma.s.sif, highest point in Antarctica. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

d.i.c.k Ba.s.s trickle-charging shortly after take-off from Vinson. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

35 feet under ice. Frank emerges from the catacombs of Siple Station, Antarctica. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

Along way from the presidential office at Warner Bros. Frank's shining moment, the summit of Vinson. (Credit: Steve Marts) [image]

A walk in the park, the stroll to the top of Kosciusko, Australia.(Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

On top down under. d.i.c.k (left) and Frank on the summit of Kosciusko, 7,310 feet. (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s collection) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s collection) [image]

"To strive, to seek ..." David Breashears (in the lead) and Sherpa Ang Phurba leave the South Summit toward the Hillary Step. (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

"To find ..." Breashears in the Hillary Step, elevation 28,800 feet. (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) (Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s) [image]

"...and not to yield." Seven Summits fulfilled, d.i.c.k Ba.s.s on top of Everest April 30, 1985. (Credit: David Breashears) (Credit: David Breashears) [image]

Safely back in Base Camp, the Icefall behind, d.i.c.k and Breashears toast to success.(Credit: d.i.c.k Ba.s.s collection) [image]

d.i.c.k follows through his promise to throw a no-holds-barred bash. s...o...b..rd, August 1985. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) [image]

Victory is sweetest to those who have tasted defeat. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Mickey Mouse Character Walt Disney Productions) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Mickey Mouse Character Walt Disney Productions) [image]

The Impossible Dream. (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) (Credit: Rick Ridgeway) He found a packet of powdered lemonade to doctor his water bottle, then looked around the tent for lunch. One plastic food bag produced a packet of M&M's and a granola bar, another a handful of mixed nuts, Rye Krisp crackers, and a can of tuna. It wasn't caviar, but to d.i.c.k it was a king's feast. With lunch finished, he lay back and took a nap, waking about a half hour later. He looked out, but no sign of Frank. It was time to head back. He strapped on his empty pack, clipped a safety link to the fixed rope, wrapped the rope around his arm and behind his back to brake his descent, walked to the edge of the platform bulge, and lowered down the forty-five-degree slope.

A hundred yards below camp he met Frank coming up the rope.

"You're not far now, Pancho."

"Don't think I can make it. Too tired. I'm turning back."

Frank rested his arms on his knees. He was breathing deeply and rapidly, and d.i.c.k could see the red scarf around his neck was soaked with sweat. Frank had pushed himself as far as he could go.

"Don't worry about it, Frank. We'll just consider this an acclimatization exercise. Next time you'll zoom right up."

"Hope you're right."

At camp 2 Phil Ershler had followed through the telescope Frank's snail's pace up the ropes, and his failure to reach camp 3.

"Two things bother me," Ershler told those standing around the telescope. "First, if we go to the trouble of putting in another high camp, Frank will never get that high to use it. Second, if somehow he does get that high, there's a good chance he's going to kill himself."

"He really has no business going above the South Col," one of the others said.

"But I can't tell him he can't go. We all agreed everyone gets a chance on this climb," Ershler answered.

"At least we're obligated to tell him how we feel. Maybe we can even talk him out of it."

"I guess it's worth a try," Ershler said. "Let's have a meeting tonight."

Frank and d.i.c.k returned late that afternoon, and although Frank was obviously p.o.o.ped, after a couple hours' rest he seemed recovered, even feisty. Ershler announced a meeting after dinner. Following the meal, then, everyone stayed in the mess tent waiting for Ershler to open the discussion. Looking around, it was easy to spot those on the team who had just returned from the summit. Cracked lips, chapped cheeks, drained faces. Nielson was the worst. In addition to his general fatigue and his cracked ribs, he had sustained further damage to his already frostbitten feet, so he was planning on descending the next day to base camp. The others on the first team were planning on going down, too.

"Let me start by saying you guys turned in a poor performance today," Ershler told Frank and d.i.c.k. "You didn't even get out of camp here until after eight."

"How could we leave on time when the cook sleeps in?" Frank countered. "That one's hardly our fault."

"Okay, but the fact remains you couldn't get to camp three, and I don't think it makes sense to ask our Sherpas to carry supplies to a camp five if you can't get up there to use them. And that's only half of it. Even more, and I think all the others in the tent here agree with me, if you guys go above the South Col, there's a good chance you won't come back. Look at these other guys. Nielson's half-dead, Roach and Jamieson hardly have the strength to get from their tent to here. And these are tough hombres."

d.i.c.k winced. He was being included in this critique even though he was sure it was Frank that the criticism was directed at. He decided it would be more politic, though, not to say anything, at least for now.

Frank was also quiet, staring at the makeshift table littered with dinner leftovers, not angry but pensive.

When Ershler was finished Frank looked up, and in a calm voice said, "Fellas, you may not fully understand what this climb means to me. I've sacrificed a lot for this, in terms of money, job, the strain on my family. But I've figured it was worth it all because it was a dream I've carried now for thirty years. A lifetime dream, to reach the top of Everest, to climb the highest mountain in the world. Now it's even more, it's a double lifetime dream because it's part of the whole Seven Summits. So you fellas have got to keep that in mind, you've got to know that I only want one thing from you, and that's my fair shot at the summit. And now that we've got this far, you just can't pull the rug out. We made a deal at s...o...b..rd. I've volunteered to go last, without any other climbers than the Sherpas."

There was a silence, then Ershler said, "We're not trying to make it easier on ourselves. We're saying these things out of a concern for you two. We're saying, Here are two guys who have been very good to us, and we don't want to see them get hurt."

"It's our duty to make you aware just how dangerous it is up there," Nielson added. "If something went wrong, if a storm came, or you ran out of oxygen, you don't have those years of experience that lets you instinctually get out of a tight spot. And we're afraid if you try to go above the Col, that might happen. We don't want to take your dream away, but we want you to know how risky it is up there."

"I know it's risky," Frank said, "but I've already considered that. If there's a one in thirty chance I might not come back, I'm willing to accept those numbers."

"I'd say the odds are worse than one in thirty," Ershler said.

Then Ed Hixson spoke: "There's another point, Frank. It's not just yours and d.i.c.k's neck, but if either of you do get in trouble, then those who have to go up and attempt a rescue are also at great risk. So there's an overall responsibility here."

"Now we're getting to the heart of the matter," I said, "whether a climber is justified in taking risks when he might be risking the lives of those who have to rescue him should anything go wrong."

This question also happened to be at the heart of the controversy surrounding Nielson's decision to push to the summit in spite of illness. Now, perhaps sensing the common ground, Nielson was the first to offer his views in regard to Frank and d.i.c.k's case.

"I've already said I feel it's our obligation to make Frank and d.i.c.k aware of the dangers, but having done that, I would also say it's their right to take the risks if they choose. After all, it's that right that draws most of us to the mountains-the right to make our own decisions, draw our own lines."

"I agree with that too," Gary Neptune added. "I might be reluctant to go with Frank on his rope, but we all have the right to take our own risks. That's what climbing's about."

To this, everyone nodded agreement. For this, everyone in the tent was drawn to mountaineering. Because of this, everyone found the freedom to measure against the indifferent peaks a personal standard that was theirs and theirs alone.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," Ershler concluded.

"And know we're saying these things because we love you guys," Nielson added. "And we want you to come back."

Later that evening Frank and d.i.c.k were snug in their sleeping bags, talking about the meeting.

"At first," d.i.c.k said, "I thought everybody not wanting us to go above the South Col was really everybody not wanting you to go, but I figured n.o.body wanted to come out and say it that way because they didn't want to hurt your feelings. But then as we were leaving the tent Ed Hixson got me aside and said he was not going on our summit attempt because ours was such a weak group. Now I know he wasn't referring to the Sherpas, or Yogendra Thapa, because they have a lot of experience, so what he's saying is the weak link on the team is me."

"I can't understand why Hixson would say that," Frank said.

"I can't either," d.i.c.k said. "Especially after he saw me last year on Everest carrying those heavy loads all the way to camp five. He knows I'm strong."

It wasn't d.i.c.k's strength, however, that Hixson questioned as much as his experience. Even before the meeting Hixson had discussed his worries with some of the others.

"I know d.i.c.k has lots of guts and really good endurance," he had said. "And Yogendra is supposed to have good experience, and so do the Sherpas, but n.o.body else, including myself, has much technical mountaineering ability. I'm afraid that if we were to get in trouble up there we wouldn't have anybody to know how to get us out. I bet if you look through the records you'd find we are the weakest, most inexperienced team that has gone up against Everest."

Hixson went on to say he felt d.i.c.k lacked respect for the difficulties at extreme alt.i.tude, and after the first team had returned he was quick to point out that they were all haggard, despite being in superb physical condition. But his criticisms notwithstanding, Hixson never again brought up, beyond his short conversation with d.i.c.k, the possibility of dropping out of the third team, and d.i.c.k concluded that Hixson's yearning to get a chance at the top of Everest was stronger than his reservations about the strength of the team.

For the next week the climbing schedule unfolded as originally planned. The second summit team-Neptune, States, Ershler, and a Sherpa-departed camp 2, and two days later left from the South Col in the predawn of what promised to be a good summit day. This time those of us at camp 2 had no way to follow their progress; they had left the radio at the Col, and they had no video camera. Mid-morning, though, we unexpectedly received a radio call.

"Camp two, this is Ershler. I'm back at the South Col. I got very cold going up and knew I would risk frostbite if I continued."

Ershler had tried to repeat Nielson's no-oxygen ascent, and we guessed that without the warming effect of the gas he had become more susceptible to the cold.

"The others are going up," he continued. "I got a glimpse of them a few minutes ago, and they should be close to the South Summit."

We mounted our telescope with hope of spotting them at the same place we had seen the previous team, but now clouds blocked our view. There was nothing to do but wait for Ershler's reports. He radioed that the clouds had blocked his view as well. Early evening we had his final report: States, Neptune, and their Sherpa had all reached the summit and were back safe at camp 4.

The expedition had now placed eight climbers on top, more than all but two previous expeditions in Everest's history. Now it was time for Frank's and d.i.c.k's attempts. Frank was feeling he was as ready as he could be. The day before he had carried a load to camp 3 and felt much stronger. In addition he had been successful in convincing Ershler to establish an additional high camp above the South Col, and the Sherpas had been freighting the necessary gear to a cache at 27,500 feet.

With everything in place, on May 15 d.i.c.k and his group were ready to leave camp 2. Frank gave him a bear hug, and the Sherpas cheered for their good luck as they tied together on a rope for their pa.s.sage over the creva.s.sed region at the back of the Cwm leading to the Lhotse Face. The weather looked stable: no wind, no clouds.

d.i.c.k made good time up the fixed ropes to camp 3, feeling much stronger than he had twelve days before. Arriving in camp, he squeezed in a tent with Hixson and Yogendra, and spread his sleeping bag. Then he arranged his personal gear of extra socks, extra underwear, two types of sun lotion, lip cream, vitamins, personal salves and medicines, a sewing repair kit, backup mittens and goggles, extra hat and hood, Xerox sheets of his favorite poems. We were always chiding d.i.c.k about the amount of gear he hauled with him, but he was quick to return our ribbing whenever any of us asked to borrow something from him.

They woke early next morning to start the long task of melting snow for tea water. Hixson called camp 2: "h.e.l.lo Phil. Everyone had a good night's rest, and we'll be leaving in an hour. We'll call from the South Col."

"Frank wants to talk to d.i.c.k," Ershler said. Hixson handed the radio to d.i.c.k.

"d.i.c.k, this is Frank. How are you feeling?"

"Like a bull elk smelling the rut. I'm going to charge right to the top of this mother."

"We're all rooting like crazy for you. Remember, if you get this one we'll not only have the Seven Summits but you'll be the oldest man ever to have climbed Everest."

"I'm pushing for all I've got."

d.i.c.k finished dressing, then loaded his backpack. Hixson was watching and said, "d.i.c.k, you've got too much c.r.a.p. You'll slow us all down."

"Well, I think I know what I can handle," d.i.c.k said.

As he finished packing he thought, I'm going to show this guy once and for all I'm not the weak sister of this group.

Outside the tent d.i.c.k clamped his jumar on the fixed rope and left camp, setting a determined pace. It didn't bother him that he had more weight on his back than even the Sherpas; he had convinced himself that a heavy pack was good for his conditioning. Anyway, he planned on summit day to leave most of the extra weight at the South Col; he figured that then his pack, even with the oxygen bottle, would be so much lighter he would feel like he had wings on his heels.

He was almost flying now. Each time he glanced back the distance to the others had increased. For about an hour he lost himself first with thoughts about s...o...b..rd, then with stanzas from "The Cremation of Sam Magee" and "The Shooting of Dan McGrew."

Soon he was sliding his jumar clamp up the rope as it ascended a rocky outcrop named the Geneva Spur. The grade steepened to over fifty degrees near the top of the Spur. The alt.i.tude was 26,000 feet. Even though he wasn't using any supplemental oxygen, he felt great.

d.i.c.k thought, I really am made for this kind of work. If I'd gotten into mountaineering as a young man I might have been world-cla.s.s with a whole big list of first ascents. But that might have been at the cost of other things, like s...o...b..rd. But if I do make it up tomorrow, it will be like having my cake and eating it too.

He slid the clamp and pulled back to tighten it on the rope as a balance while he moved his feet. One boot up, sc.r.a.pe the rock to find a foothold, step, move the other foot, balance, slide the clamp, pull tight, move the feet again. The slope eased and he looked up to see an easy snow traverse leading to the South Col. And there, tantalizingly close and awesome, was the upper ma.s.s of Everest.

In thirty minutes d.i.c.k was at the Col gazing from the saddle across the plateau of Tibet, arid and brown and extending to the horizon. What a vaulted world-to his right the ridge climbed to the summit of Lhotse, to his left to the summit of Everest. He stood transfixed for a moment until he felt the chill of the first afternoon breeze, then he moved his pack into one of the three tents at camp 4. In an hour he heard the crunch-crunch footsteps of the others, and stuck his head out to greet them.

"Howdy you all!"

"We're late because we dropped behind to get photographs," Hixson said.

d.i.c.k thought, Heck, I took pictures too. Why doesn't he just accept the fact he took longer to get here? People are always doubting my ability to be able to do what I set out to do. I'll show them all tomorrow.

Hixson moved into the next tent, and soon they were all busy melting snow, preparing drinks and dinner so they could get to bed early; they hoped to leave camp about 2:30 next morning. d.i.c.k slept restlessly, not so much because of the alt.i.tude, he felt, as the anxiety over the task that lay before him. He tried to bolster his confidence by telling himself he had done very well on Everest the year before, and he had done very well so far this year. But at the same time he couldn't help wondering if things would suddenly change when he hit 27,000, or 28,000 feet. Would it be like a marathoner's "wall" that either you had to break through or it broke you?

Man can take bad news, d.i.c.k told himself as he rolled and tossed, but he can't stand uncertainty.

At 1:30 A.M. A.M. d.i.c.k heard the Sherpa light the small butane stove, and opening his eyes could see the blue flame like a waning moon cast a steel-gray light over his sleeping bag and other gear in the tent. d.i.c.k heard the Sherpa light the small butane stove, and opening his eyes could see the blue flame like a waning moon cast a steel-gray light over his sleeping bag and other gear in the tent.

Well, Ba.s.s, he told himself, let's get your tail in gear and have at it.

In this halflight d.i.c.k searched for his clothes to dress. He had slept in his long john underwear, and now over this he pulled quilted down pants and a pile fabric jacket. Then over the quilted down, another pair of pants made of nylon to protect against wind and a down parka over the pile jacket. He had slept in one pair of socks, and over these he pulled another, thicker pair.

By now his fingers were numb, and he welcomed the metal cup of hot tea, wrapping his hands around it, sighing with the first sip. Then he finished dressing. He held his boots over the stove, kneading the tongues until he could force his feet in; it took another ten minutes for his toes to overcome the cold-boot shock and regain feeling. Next he pulled on knee-high nylon overboots. He was breathing hard; even something like getting dressed, when at 26,200 feet, can be a major effort. Although he wasn't hungry-another effect of high alt.i.tude- he forced down some cereal mush. Then he crawled out of the tent to strap on his crampons.

It appeared their luck with the weather would last. There was no wind, and the stars through the rarefied night sky lit the snowfields so brightly they would be able to navigate without headlamps. One of the Sherpas led the rope, and d.i.c.k was second. As they climbed out of the Col the slope abruptly steepened. Soon there was loose snow that sloughed with each step so it was necessary, especially for the first two people, to kick in each foothold. Still, they made good progress and before long d.i.c.k was lost in the rhythm of pressure-breathing and rest-stepping so that it came as a surprise when he realized the star-lit snow was growing a brighter, pale pink.

The lead Sherpa began to slow, so he switched places with the Sherpa on the back of the first rope. d.i.c.k remained second. An hour past dawn they stopped for their first rest. d.i.c.k could now look over the Lhotse-Nuptse ridge that had for so many weeks fenced his view. The giants of the earth were now before him: Lhotse, Makalu, Kanchenjunga, Cho Oyo. There was still no wind, no clouds, everything promised a perfect summit day. Hixson, last on the second rope, arrived and sat down.