When I first decided to lead an expedition of this kind, I was doubtful that anyone would take me seriously. After all, who would want to join such an undertaking, I thought. Still, I believed there was a relevance to what people back home would be facing: uncertain times and hardship. The economy would be as tough -or tougher- on many people as the conditions on the mountain would be on us. And in some sense, I thought that people following our progress would be able to take their minds off the economic woes. My first call was to Ranulph Fiennes. We had a long and good history of pursuing adventure together, and so naturally I wanted him on my team. Ran was enthusiastic as a little schoolboy and immediately said he would be on board so long as I promised him that we would keep his own ambitions for the summit under wraps. “In case I don’t reach the summit for the third time, I don’t want any publicity,” he said. Ran was the first and the major professional explorer to join the expedition; with his support, getting others on board would be easy. This would also be Ran’s first “secret” expedition, during which he would pose as a mere television program host producing a segment for the BBC. Next, we needed the media on our side. A team from the BBC would be embedded with us at Base Camp, but the expedition’s main goal was to raise money and awareness for the Navy SEAL Warrior Fund. An American media outlet needed to come on board. My first call in this regard was to Virginia Linn, an editor at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Did she think someone from the paper could come to Nepal and cover the expedition, much like a reporter for the Times of London had on Ran’s previous Everest attempts. With the recession unfolding, it was decided that a blog, written by me, would be more economical. With the Post-Gazette on board, it was easy to persuade Jay Fielden, editor of Men’s Vogue magazine, to get me a stint as contributor to either GQ or Vanity Fair magazines (part of the same publishing group) once the expedition would finish. Two other friends, Sally Wiggin of WTAE in Pittsburgh and FOX News’ Glenn Beck helped put our message of “Support the SEALs” on television and radio. James Gandolfini happily offered to help us get product sponsorship from big, national corporations and subsequently my eager fingers were all over his Rolodex during a visit to New York. Thereafter, it was relatively easy to persuade other sponsors, such as Hershey’s and Continental Airlines, to help us out. But when two corporate sponsors pulled out due to the worsening economic conditions only four weeks before the expedition was set to depart for Nepal, we suddenly were left scrambling for a new sponsor. Not even Ran’s contacts to such benevolent individuals as Richard Branson or Ratan Tata (the Indian industrialist) or my own family were willing to help. In comes Dr. Richard Fuisz, the pharmaceutical tycoon and former intelligence officer with a soft spot for mechanical watches and a spirit for adventure. Within only 24 hours, Fuisz Technologies signed on as a sponsor and made the expedition possible. All in the name of wounded and lost Navy SEALs. By the time we descended on Kathmandu, the expedition looked utterly professional. This did nothing in the way of lowering the pressure we felt to perform well once we were on the mountain. We took all measures to ensure that our mission would be successful. Our Base Camp manager, Henry Todd, strictly forbade us to entertain strangers in our camp, or to be entertained outside of it. “No contact with strangers, keep them at bay!” he growled at us on the first day; Ran and I carefully stuck to our chocolate rations in order not to contract some incurable stomach bug courtesy of the hygienic conditions at Base Camp; I wore extra layers at all times just to make sure I didn’t get a cold. All these precautions ended up being helpful when the weather window arrived for our summit push. Seemingly in no time, we were up in the high camps, preparing to conquer Mt. Everest. Which is why we were all stunned when I came down with a bad case of the stomach flu (from which I am still recovering even as I write these lines). Still, Navy SEALs don’t stop killing bad guys because of a case of the stomach bug, and so we carried on, as a team, all the way to the summit. Now that we’re off the mountain safely, it has finally sunk in: we did it! Not as individuals, but as a team -supported by a much larger team who ensured that the execution of our mission would be possible. Thank you to all who have made this expedition possible.

After drinking half of an Indian Army platoon’s water supply, a case of mistaken identity pertaining to the Sherpa who carried said water, I felt refreshed enough to bypass Camp 2 and head straight to Camp 1 and on to Base Camp. This was a mistake, as it turned out, because the rest of my group thought I was headed to Camp 2 for some breakfast. When Kenton and the rest of the crew arrived at Camp 2 and didn’t find me there, they worried that I might have gotten lost and didn’t find Camp 2. At the time, a thick fog had descended on the Western Cwm and heavy snowfall set in, so their fear weren’t entirely unreasonable. Still, I thought that my team would assume that I carried on and I furthermore assumed that they, being stronger and faster than I, would catch up with me by the time I reached the ice fall.I didn’t think much of it when I had traversed half the length of the ice fall and still nobody had caught up with me. When I reached Base Camp a few hours later, the manager there, Henry Todd, showed considerable relief and gave me a big welcome hug. “Kenton will be happy to learn that you’re here, safe and sound,” Henry said. I expressed surprise at this but Henry insisted that Kenton was most worried about me. As it turns out, by the time I entered the ice fall five hours earlier, Kenton and Henry had set in motion a full-scale search and rescue operation comprising several expeditions and their Sherpa. The radio airwaves were full of chatter about my possible whereabouts as Sherpa, mountain guides and other expedition members searched up and down the Western Cwm and ice fall for me. The fact that they did not find me, even in the ice fall itself, is a tribute to the new route through part of the ice fall that I discovered when I came across a stretch that did not have any rope due to an avalanche. The next day, on our trek down to the helicopter landing site -a full five-hour-long march below Base Camp- several lodge proprietors and other locals greeted me with “oh, you’re the guy they were looking for yesterday afternoon”. This was the last of several episodes that ended on a positive note but that could have spelled disaster. Seven climbers and Sherpa did not fare so well on their trip to Mt. Everest this year. They will be part of a rather somber statistic of deaths on the mountain. This year alone, some three dozen climbers and Sherpa had to be evacuated due to brutal injuries, including broken backs and limbs. Tomorrow I will submit the last of my dispatches from Nepal.

On returning to Camp 4 to the summit, I felt too tired to carry on down to Camp 3, which lay at a lower, safer altitude. So Namgel, my Sherpa, switched my oxygen cylinder and I spent a very uncomfortable night at Camp 4. The next morning, I still felt exhausted but I knew that we had to carry on. At 6 AM, we departed for Camp 3. The climb down to Base Camp would require every last ounce of strength. Kenton Cool guided us extremely efficiently down to Camp 3 and then to the bottom of the Lhotse Face. On the way down, the blistering sun caused me to grow increasingly thirsty. In fact, by the time we reached Camp 3, I was more thirsty than I can remember ever being before. On my request, Kenton radioed the kitchen staff at Camp 2 to carry up some cold drinks and meet us at the bottom of the Lhotse Face. Knowing that relief was on the way provided some mental energy and within a few hours we reached the bottom of the Lhotse Face. However, the drinks hadn’t arrived, so I asked Kenton if I could go on to find the drink-carrying Sherpa while he waited for some other expedition members who were lagging behind. Off I went looking for my drinks. Halfway between the Face and Camp 2, I came across a Sherpa who didn’t look familiar but who didn’t wear climbing gear. He did carry a backpack, so I asked him “Do you have the drinks?” to which he replied in the affirmative. 2 liters later, I left the Sherpa, thanking him profusely. I then came across another Sherpa, this one looking a lot more familiar, also without climbing gear but with a backpack. I drank his load, too, feeling rather fraudulent about the encounter with the first Sherpa, who, it dawned on me, did not belong to our expedition. Filled up with almost a gallon of cool liquid, I decided to bypass Camp 2 and head directly to Base Camp via Camp 1. Kenton and the others would catch me up, I thought. Halfway through the icefall, I noticed that much of the familiar landscape had changed. Football-sized blocks of ice had imploded, while others had crashed on top of each other, leaving a field of rubble and devastation. Ladders had snapped in half, climbing lines were ripped, ice screws missing. I then came across a 7-foot-wide crevasse over which I would have to jump in order to proceed on. No lines covered this crevasse and I began to worry that I might fall into the 80-foot-deep crevasse on trying to jump over it. Ten minutes later, I gained enough confidence to make an attempt, despite being worn out and tired. I cleared the crevasse but on landing lost my balance and began to lean backwards. Only by chance did my glove get caught in an ice hook on the side of a large chunk of ice directly next to the crevasse, so that i did not fall in. Later, Kenton would radio to Base Camp explaining that the Sherpa, many of whom are a lot shorter than us and carry heavier loads, would not be able to cross this particular feature of the ice fall. What I did not appreciate until I reached Base Camp a few hours later, was that by the time I traversed the crevasse, a full-scale search-and-rescue operation was underway with several expeditions looking for me.

On approach of the summit, I noticed how strong the wind blew. Henry, our Base Camp manager who was in charge of making sense of the weather reports, mentioned that the expected wind speed would be 0-5 knots. But once we reached the summit, we felt the wind at about 20 knots, perhaps more. This brought with it a very cold wind chill, with temperatures down to -35 degrees Celsius (-95 F.), and we began to feel very cold, indeed. Before long, the saliva that was being collected by our oxygen masks only to then dribble down our thermal face masks, froze said masks to our chins. This was a rather painful circumstance but what really caught us by surprise was the fact that all of our cameras, six altogether, were frozen solid or had drained batteries due to the extreme cold. In light of all this, we decided to spend no more than ten minutes on the summit - we had planned for 30 minutes in order to call loved ones. On our way down, I noticed that the outer corners on the inside of my goggles had frosted up, which impaired my vision. As a result, the decent was a lot more challenging but it also meant that I wasn’t distracted by the sight of steep drops off to our sides, or by the sight of the multiple dead bodies that line the path up and down the mountain. We reached Camp 4 by noon, six hours after reaching the summit. One camp down, three to go ’til Base Camp, I thought to myself. I knew that despite the sheer feeling of exhaustion that overcame me at Camp 4, that I could not let my guard down until we safely reached Base Camp. It turns out that this vigilant approach saved my life. I will write about that tomorrow, but now I am going to enjoy a movie about Ed Hillary that I purchased here, in Kathmandu. I ordered room service in order to enjoy the movie over dinner. Placing the order was quite comical: the operator on the other line read back the order three times and protested that this was a meal for five people. When the trolley arrived, I noticed that it had five sets of cutlery and drinks on it, even though I’ll be enjoying the meal all by myself. After all, I lost 28 pounds in seven weeks and need to regain some energy.

Last week, our expedition reached the summit of Mount Everest. It was my first time climbing a mountain (last year I merely went through the Khumbu icefall but never actually climbed the mountain itself) and I was naturally very scared. In fact, I’ve never been so scared in my life, especially on the way down the mountain. By comparison, most of the climb up to the summit from Camp 4 was more challenging than scary, but negotiating one feature in particular -the notorious Hillary Step- almost cost me my life. It was about 5:20 in the morning and the sun was beginning to rise in the distance. The moon was still high in the sky and to the west we marveled at the amazing shadow that the mountain cast in the form of a pyramid. I was mesmerized and incredulous to have come so far and seen so much natural beauty. Then, without forewarning, I came across a large rock with a very flat surface which was angled quite steeply towards a 6,000-foot drop. “OK, I’ve had enough, let’s go back down to Camp 4,” I quickly told Kenton before he could clip himself onto the rope spanning the rock’s surface. “Mike, it’s only the Hillary Step”, Kenton said. “I don’t care, I’m not stepping onto that thing. Let’s go home.” To me, having reached the South Summit and gone beyond it was far more of an accomplishment than I had ever dreamed of. In fact, secretly, I had only set my sights on Camp 3 after the Navy SEALs told me that even after my training I was still not as strong as I could be. Camp 4 was a bonus, the proverbial whipped cream, and the South Summit was a cherry to top it all. No, the Hillary Step was definitely not for me. “Mike, clip onto the rope! Now!” Kenton yelled. I refused. Especially so after Kenton had traversed the Hillary Step and I had watched his crampons fight the slippery rock’s surface and slide violently towards the abyss. Panic set in and all my Navy SEAL mental toughness training came into play in order for me not to have a mental breakdown. A long line of climbers were waiting, rather impatiently, behind us and I was blocking their way. Finally, I clipped myself in and very gingerly began negotiating the frightening obstacle. Just as I had feared, I almost instantly began to slide off the rock, towards the deadly drop. “Hold onto the rope, Mike!” Kenton yelled at the top of his lungs. Quite by accident, I had clipped myself into an old rope from a past season. My hand reached for a third rope, which arrested the slide of death, and with considerable acrobatic improvisation, I managed to whip across the cold boulder. Kenton was visibly relieved while I was quite shaken, but not long thereafter, we reached the summit. It was on the way down that tragedy almost cast itself over the expedition. 

On another note, here’s a link to an ITN News clip of Ran and the rest of the expedition relaxing at the Hyatt Regency after returning to Kathmandu on Sunday.

Back in Kathmandu & relaxing at the Hyatt Regency

Finally! Ran, Thundu (one of our Sherpa who requires some medical attention) and I boarded a Nepal Air Force helicopter this morning and landed in Kathmandu at 10 AM today. Our original helicopter plans were dashed when a airplane and a civilian helicopter crashed at Kathmandu airport yesterday. Hence, we improvised late last night and through a local contact persuaded the Nepali military to airlift us out of a small village, located five hours’ hike below Base camp. The flight itself couldn’t have been more spectacular as the two courteous pilots tried hard to impress us. We flew at breathtaking proximity past cliffs, over treetops, fields, and ancient monasteries as we headed towards the Kathmandu Valley. Now that we’re here, it feels great to breathe thicker air again, even if its somewhat polluted. Our Khumbu coughs are already much better than they were up in the Himalaya, and we received a hero’s welcome by the staff of the Hyatt Regency and about a dozen reporters from the local and international press. After a most relaxing visit to the hotel’s spa and a shave and hair cut, it feels like we’re humans again, not Taliban. It is a fortunate coincidence that we would arrive here on a Sunday, as the brunch buffet, packed with delicacies we have only dreamt of for the past six weeks, couldn’t have been a more welcome sight at lunchtime. We are, however, feeling extremely tired and exhausted - it’s as though we’ve hit a wall. Even Ran, who is famous for going on and on indefinitely, fell asleep at the lunch table. Ran departs for London tonight; I will remain here to deal with some post-expedition logistics and give a few presentations to the local community. Tomorrow, I will post the first of a small collection of stories detailing how several members of the expedition and I got into some hairy situations on our final descent from Camp 4 to Base Camp. In the meantime, below is the much sought-after summit picture. It shows Kenton Cool (our guide), Namgel (my personal Sherpa), and I raising the Navy SEAL flag on the summit of Mt. Everest.

Namgel Sherpa, Kenton Cool, and I hoist the Navy SEAL flag on the summit of Mount Everest.

What a night! After returning to Base Camp at 5 PM local time, after an incredibly hard 11-hour-long climb from Camp 4, we went to bed feeling utterly exhausted. Because we all caught bad cases of the Khumbu cough, our camp sounded like a hospital ward for patients with lung problems. I hardly slept at all, despite being exhausted - that’s how strong the cough is. As a result, I am still very much in a state of mental daze and the fact that we summitted has not sunk in yet. No special, happy, or excited feeling…just pain and suffering, much like before. However, I am very excited about our upcoming helicopter flight back to Kathmamdu. The management of the Hyatt Regency there have kindly offered us the use of their helipad, and the thought of landing there already gave me the giggles  because our helicopter is gigantic (vintage Russian-made MI-17) and landing it there would definitely give the pool-going guests there a good dusting (the helipad is in relatively close proximity to the large, serene pool area). It’s a little strange to admit this, but I am more excited about taking a shower and getting my ridiculously long hair and beard trimmed in the Hyatt’s spa than about the fact that we all summitted -and safely returned from- Mt. Everest. I am sure in the coming days that will all change as the magnitude of the achievement becomes more clear. However, at the moment, Ran, Kenton and I are just giddy about our helo flight and about eating a good, rich meal at lower altitude. Tomorrow, when we retrieve all our camera gear (our stuff is strewn all over the mountain and the Sherpa are collecting it for us), I will post the most important picture of all - of us hoisting the Navy SEAL’s trident flag on the summit. I will also, over the coming week, write  in more detail about the rather eventful climb, during which I literally almost died no fewer than three times. However, I was too exhausted at the time to appreciate the perilous situations. To quote Kenton Cool at Base Camp last night talk about one such incident “and then I watched Mike slide down the Hillary Step and I thought to myself, oh no, he’s going to fall to his death!”

At the Geneva Spur with heavy traffic behind (we passed those guys!) (Courtesy Kenton Cool)

Kenton Cool, our guide, and I near the summit. Kenton is a lot more fit than I so he took off his oxygen mask. I wouldn't dare do such a thing until Camp 3.

I was already asleep after an 11-hour-long climb down the mountain, straight from Camp 4 to Base Camp. That part was far worse than going to the summit. Anyway, I woke up and realized I had neglected the blog. I will upload pictures and stories in 10 hours or so, when I wake up and can think clearly. The fact that we’ve all summitted has not sunk in yet, although Ran, Kenton and I are very proud to have raised the Navy SEAL flag depicting the trident on the summit. Much to the surprise of the Indian army mountain corps, who were watching us unroll our big blue flag. Last thought of the day: Go SEALs! Without you guys, this would not have been the outcome.

We leave tomorrow morning. Not for Kathmandu, but for Camp 2, followed by a rest day, after which we intend to climb to Camp 3. The next day, we hope to climb up to Camp 4 and on reaching this last remnant of civilization -there are tents with oxygen bottles and sleeping bags there-, we will rest for three or four hours before leaving for the summit at approximately 9 PM local time (11:45 AM in Pittsburgh; yes, Nepal is off by 15 minutes). With luck and mental toughness on our side, we should reach the summit of Mt. Everest 10-11 hours later and seven to eight hours after that should be back in Camp 4. I can say with great certainty that I have never before done any physical exercise for more than a few hours, so being on the move for up to 19, perhaps 20 hours will be quite a novelty. I know that I can sleep for 18 hours, I am quite good at that, but climbing for such a long period of time requires considerably more effort and discipline. My knee has gotten a lot better, thanks to a small team of Navy SEAL medical specialists out on Coronado Island, California, who got heir heads together to come up with a quick-fix for my not overly dramatic injury. It still hurts to bend it 90 degrees, but I have decided to make use of my other, good, knee when necessary. Of course, it is due to the excellent training and even better camaraderie of the SEALs that I am even able to participate in this adventure in the first place. No fewer than eight of their number volunteered to train me on their base and over the course of two months turned me from a “puny little watchmaker” -their words, not mine- into a pretty strong novice-mountaineer (mountaineering training was part of the package the SEALs put together for me). I consider all of this a great honor, especially because my friends volunteered their time and weren’t ordered to help me out. Which is one reason why I feel that failure is not an option - I don’t want to let those guys down. Nor do I want to disappoint the sponsors who, despite the terrible recession, came forward to support the expedition. These and other thoughts raced through my mind as I was packing my rucksack today, when suddenly Ran gave me a flurry of instructions in the unlikely event that he won’t return from the mountain. The thought of losing one of your best friend is never a happy one. Then, for the first time in a long time, probably since facing the terrifying cargo net on the SEAL obstacle course, thoughts of my own mortality came into my mind. I decided to do my best to ignore those negative thoughts and am thus trying to maintain a positive outlook. I am hopeful of reaching the summit on Thursday morning (local time) and returning to Base Camp in one piece two days later, with our entire team. One decidedly happy thought will help to keep me going: returning to Pittsburgh and enjoying a meal with friends and family at downtown’s India Palace restaurant is a vision that will serve as the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

After sustaining a knee injury, I am following the advice of a Navy SEAL medical team and am resting and applying plenty of ice to the swollen section. With fewer than 36 hours to go before I have to make a decision whether I will go up the mountain or not, I am doing everything I can to get fit and strong again. This entails eating a ton of chocolate, beef jerkey, mango strips, and macadamia nuts, while drinking plenty of fluids in the form of vitamin-C enriched energy drinks and Ovomaltine. This will hopefully aid in my recovery and strengthen me for the journey that hopefully lies ahead. Kenton showed me how to use the oxygen cylinders and regulator, in case I become separated from the rest of the group and need to handle my own O2 supply. I am, of course, the slowest and least-able member of the expedition, so the chances of me struggling up the mountain some distance behind the others are quite good. At last, I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel. Soon, we will be feasting and relaxing in the Hyatt Regency in Kathmandu, and not long thereafter, I will be back in the good old USA. It’s been long enough and we are all excited about our helicopter flight down the valley, which will mean a savings of three to four days’ trek back to Lukla airport (the airport we flew into from Kathmandu).