Into Thin Air: Death on Everest Page #5

We should have been worried.

At 24,000 feet,

Scott didn't understand...

that he had squandered reserves

of strength that he would need later.

Now that Rob and Scott had merged

their two teams into one...

our fates were tied together.

Buddy, you all right?

- What's that?

- I'm sorry.

- For what?

- For folding.

Come on.

Get your feet under you.

Damn.

- You okay, Scott?

- Never better.

You've been gone eight hours.

You look exhausted, mate.

- You've got to learn how to delegate.

- Dale is the best friend I've ever had.

You would have done the same thing.

- You make it okay?

- I'm fine!

- How is Dale?

- Alive.

Any problems, Scott?

Looking strong, Andy.

Peaking at the right time.

Yeah, no worries.

You know, I should think we're going

to knock this big bastard off.

You don't look happy.

You run your crew as you see ft.

And here comes the "but."

But Lopsang cannot perform...

and carry 80 pounds

of Sandy Pittman's gear.

- He says he can.

- He'll say anything you want to hear.

- You're his hero.

- What do you want me to do?

I've got a client who's got a job to do.

She needs the equipment.

- It's dangerous.

- I know what I'm doing.

- Do you?

- Yeah.

What happens if Lopsang folds?

What happens if he can't fx the ropes?

Not going to happen.

I'm telling you, mate.

Dump the blasted equipment.

Can't.

Can't, or won't?

Leave it, Lopsang.

Beck, what time you got?

Up you go, Krakauer.

Everest cannot be beaten

into submission.

You have to humor the mountain,

then sneak to the summit...

when it's not looking.

By now, the altitude

was a malevolent force...

a vise squeezing tighter and tighter

on my lungs and brain.

We all had intense headaches

that wouldn't quit.

It felt like someone had driven a nail

into our skulls.

Attempting to climb Everest

is a completely irrational act.

Hey, why don't you stop and rest?

Excuse?

Stop. Just rest. Sit down.

I am 47 years old.

I'll be oldest woman...

to climb Everest.

I must.

Must!

As you ascend into thin air...

you discover that humans

are not meant to be here.

The wreckage of those who had come

before us was everywhere.

A mailman from Seattle.

A couple from Aspen.

A businesswoman from Japan.

A New York socialite.

And a freelance writer.

We are all equal in the Death Zone--

confused as children,

drowning in our own juices.

Doug.

How's the barometer?

Holding steady.

We leave at midnight.

Climb all night...

Get to the summit...

summit by 2:
00 P.M. turnaround time.

I hate this.

The altitude?

The mountain.

What it's making me do.

You're doing it, Doug,

not the mountain.

The mountain's got a hold of me.

- All right, Beck?

- Yeah, Andy. Let's go.

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