Arguably the most notable event on Everest this year was the American climber Tyler Andrews claiming a fastest known time (also known, somewhat appropriately, as a FKT) for an oxygen-supported ascent from Everest Base Camp on the south side to the summit.
It was his sixth attempt to claim a FKT on Everest. His previous attempts have been on the much harder north side, but he diverted to the south side this time after China closed access from the north. He used supplementary oxygen from Camp 2, and reached the summit in 9 hours 55 minutes, beating the previous record of 10 hours 56 minutes set by Lhakpa Gelu Sherpa in 2003.
(Note: for 13 years, the record was believed to be 8 hours 10 minutes, set by Pemba Dorje Sherpa in 2004, but a Nepalese court declared this record void in 2017 after concluding that Pemba Dorje couldn’t prove his claim. The record for an ascent from the south side without supplementary oxygen is even more disputed, and if you’re interested to learn more, there is a good article on Explorersweb.)
When Tyler Andrews took the decision to breathe supplementary oxygen, he would have known that it will lead to questions being raised about his achievement, but he seems to be accepting of this. Supplementary oxygen makes a climb at high altitude much safer, greatly reducing the risk of altitude sickness and frostbite. It’s likely that it also reduces the risk of any long-term effects from lack of oxygen to the brain. For many alpinists, risk is central to the achievement; if you take away that risk, they say, then you’re debasing the climb.
The debate about the use of oxygen on Everest has been around for as long as people have been climbing the mountain. Its use was debated long and hard by the British teams who first attempted Everest in the 1920s. George Mallory was originally against it until he observed the performance of fellow climber George Finch and relative novice Geoffrey Bruce when breathing supplementary oxygen in 1922.
By the time George Mallory returned to Everest in 1924, he had been converted to supplementary oxygen to such an extent that it could be the reason he chose Sandy Irvine as his climbing partner on that last fateful climb. Irvine was a climbing novice, but he was the team member who had the most aptitude with the oxygen apparatus that Mallory now considered crucial to success.
Countless column inches have been written about the relative merits of reaching the summit of Everest with or without oxygen. The debate will continue for as long as people continue to climb the mountain. There will never be consensus.
Continue it may, but is there anything more that can be usefully said on this subject? Well, perhaps.
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while then you will know that I firmly believe that people should be allowed to climb mountains in any way they choose. Over the years I’ve used many methods to propel myself upwards, including aircraft, helicopters, pushbikes, chairlifts and even Snowcats. I also believe that as long as you’re honest, you don’t need to worry too much about which point of the summit you’re standing on, or even which summit.
Record claims require a bit more scrutiny though. People talk a lot about whether oxygen should or shouldn’t be used. They don’t talk so much about HOW MUCH oxygen is used, and this is absolutely crucial. As someone who used different flow rates of oxygen at different times during my time as a high-altitude mountaineer, I thought I would give you my perspective.
My very first 8,000m peak summit was Manaslu in 2011. I had reached Camp 4 at 7,400m without using oxygen. The following day I used oxygen for the very first time. With only 750m to climb to the summit and now with oxygen inside me, I wrongly believed that it would be easier than the previous day. I started out with frozen fingers after struggling with my crampons outside the tent. Only a few metres out of camp, I felt the rubber mask gagging on my face. I had to pull it away from my mouth to breath the outside air.
Climber after climber overtook me. My fingers were in pain and I was going so slowly that the summit felt light years away. Then my Sherpa, Chongba, came to the rescue. He called a halt and fiddled around with the oxygen cylinder behind my back.
When we resumed, I was flying (metaphorically, of course). I raced past all the climbers who had overtaken me. As the blood coursed through my veins, the warmth returned to my fingers. I felt like a superman. Suddenly the summit was well within my reach again. I just knew I was going to make it.
But behind me Chongba, who was climbing without oxygen, was struggling to keep up. He called another halt. This time when we resumed, the climb became a struggle once more. We did reach the summit, but it was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
I only solved the mystery of my Manaslu summit day six months later on my Everest climb. I was teamed up with Chongba again. He explained that the first time we stopped, he had turned my oxygen flow rate up to 4 litres a minute to get me going. During the second stop, he turned my flow rate back down to only 2 litres a minute. It was the only time I ever climbed on 4 litres a minute, and the only time I ever felt a superman at extreme altitude.
On Everest, I used oxygen at a rate of 2 litres a minute from about 7,200m on the slopes above the North Col. Then on my summit day, Chongba turned my flow rate down to 1 litre per minute at the top of the Third Step (about 8,700m) because he was concerned that I might run out of oxygen.
Looking back, I now believe that he made the wrong decision. One litre a minute doesn’t help much when you’re carrying a 4kg cylinder. It may lessen the risk of frostbite but it boosts your performance much less. I also know now that as long as you’re well acclimatised, suddenly running out of oxygen isn’t going to kill you. I’d had my oxygen flow rate suddenly reduced by 2 litres a minute on Manaslu and I’d struggled on.
After Chongba turned my flow rate down to a litre a minute, I slowed to a crawl. Although we reached the summit, I was the last person on the north side to get there that day and my descent became an ordeal.
When I finally staggered into Camp 3 that evening, we had been on the move for 18 hours. It was getting late, and there was no way I was going to descend any further that day. Had we done so then I would certainly have become benighted.
Yet I learned later of climbers who had gone to the summit and descended to Advanced Base Camp the same day without difficulty – almost 2,000m lower beneath the slopes of the North Col. It came as no surprise to learn that these climbers were breathing 4 litres of oxygen a minute. This turns it into a completely different experience.
I know that 4 litres a minute can turn an ordinary climber into a high-altitude superman. Two litres a minute won’t do that, but it will increase the safety margin.
Unlike me, Tyler Andrews is no ordinary climber. He was already a high-altitude superman before he put on that mask. And yet he climbed on 4 litres a minute from Camp 2, at only 6,400m.
From what altitude did Lhapka Gelu Sherpa start using oxygen and what flow rate did he use? Guinness World Records don’t say. Nor do they define the rules of the game. If Lhakpa was climbing on 2 litres a minute and he only put his mask on halfway up the Lhotse Face then these are two different records.
Perhaps these rules are already in place, but if not then I humbly request to define them. Tyler’s not going to like this, I know, but it’s nothing personal. If 4 litres a minute can turn a mediocre climber like me into a high-altitude superman, then it’s surely too much for a record attempt.
I believe that 2 litres a minute is a much better position to set the bar. It increases the safety margin without affecting performance too significantly.
My apologies to Tyler Andrews. He still has the record for a fastest known time on the south side of Everest while breathing 4 litres of oxygen from 6,400m. It’s a bit of a mouthful to say, but it’s still a great achievement.
