Skimming headlines this morning I happened to notice a story about a climber from Germany falling some 1,500-1,700 metres (about 5,000 feet) to his death on a mountain in Nepal called Ama Dablam. An accident on the other side of the planet, killing an individual who I never met, seems insignificant amid news of more dramatic disasters – train wrecks, riots, avalanches, U.S. politics – and yet the story touched me on several levels.
A painting of Ama Dablam has a pride of place in my apartment. Long before I ever saw the mountain in person I’d been entranced by its photos. It’s one of the world’s most striking mountains, often compared by Europeans to the Matterhorn in Switzerland. Commanding the Khumbu region on the route to Mount Everest, it is fondly named “Mother’s Locket” because of a hanging glacier (now diminished in size) resembling a traditional “dablam” worn by Sherpa women. From some perspectives it evokes images of a mother’s protective arms reaching out to embrace the people of the valley below.
Thirteen years ago a 3-man trekking expedition was commemorating the 60th anniversary of the first successful attempt to summit Mount Everest. We were retracing the expedition’s footsteps as far as its Base Camp at the foot of the mountain. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas and sent a storm which made reaching our destination impracticable. Happily for us, weather at our level cleared, enabling our guide from Canadian Himalayan Expeditions to suggest a day climb to Ama Dablam Base Camp as consolation for missing our main objective. It was a glorious climb, interrupted occasionally by having to make way for yak caravans carrying up supplies. Some time ago I reflected on that memorable experience here.
Thirteen years later, 57 year-old Wolfgang Waschiczek from Germany was one of 300 people granted a permit to climb Ama Dablam this season. Two years earlier he had been in Nepal on a trek like ours and I can easily understand his desire to return to climb the mountain. Last week he succeeded in reaching the summit with his personal guide. Then the two decided to rest overnight at the precariously-located Camp III. The following morning the guide asked Mr. Waschiczek to remain in the tent while he returned some borrowed gear, but got back to find his client missing. It appears that he had ventured outside without putting on the crampons so essential to safe footing and slipped. His body was found far below later in the day and taken out by helicopter.
I think it was the distance of his fall that first caught my eye. From skydiving days I know that it takes more than half a minute to drop that distance in freefall, so I only hope that he hit his head early and spent most of that time unconscious.
Today my thoughts go out to those who loved this man who I never knew. On this lovely little planet of ours, people are people and we are all extended family, even if we never cross paths and don’t share a common language or culture. I can relate to Wolfgang Waschiczek and suspect that, like many pilgrim souls, he had hoped that when the inevitable end of life’s journey came he would be doing something more interesting than languishing in illness or geriatric care. Perhaps, like me, he might have related to what Robert Falcon Scott wrote while he lay dying in a tent in Antarctica in 1912:
“How much better has it been than lounging in too great comfort at home”
Pictures are mine except the photo of Wolfgang Waschiczek which is taken from his Facebook page, and the image illustrating the camps on Ama Dablam which is courtesy of nepalsurmesure.com