Decision At Twenty-nine Thousand Feet

Decision at Twenty-Nine Thousand Feet

They spotted him just after sunrise, perched on a knife-edge ridge. He sat in the brutal cold without jacket, gloves, or hat. Australian climber Lincoln Hall had been left for dead. American guide Dan Mazur, two paying clients, and a Sherpa were just hours from the summit of Mount Everest on May 26, 2006, when they spied Hall.

The American had to react quickly. Would his team continue their assent to the top or help Hall? Mazur decided to help. Two other climbers passed them on their way to the summit. When asked to help, the two pretended not to understand. Mazur later discovered that they spoke impeccable English. Even more astounding was the fact that a week before Hall’s rescue, British climber David Sharp died one thousand feet from the top while dozens passed by on their way to the summit. But Mazur’s team lugged Lincoln Hall back down, forfeiting their prize.

Before we fault climbers who bypassed Hall and Sharp, we should consider what it costs to get to the summit. The weather on Mount Everest is so brutal that there are only two windows a year for climbing, each about ten days. Fewer than half the climbers succeed in their attempt. Some 280 have died trying.

Climbing Everest isn’t cheap, starting at $45,000. It begins with an eight-day hike from Kathmandu to the seventeen-thousand-foot base camp. The entire expedition will take about two months. As they head out from base camp, climbers face soaring ice towers and crevasses so deep that one can only see darkness rather than bottom. It’s beautiful, otherworldly, and dangerous. One misstep can lead to death.

Towering waves of ice—several stories high—crack and collapse to create avalanches that bury climbers alive or plunge them into crevasses. At twenty thousand feet the air contains half the oxygen that it does at sea level. The sun radiating off the snow can create temperatures of 80 to 100 degrees Fahrenheit, leading to heat exhaustion, or plunge to 50 degrees below zero, bringing hypothermia. At twenty-two thousand feet, climbers must scale the Lhotse Face, a 3,600-foot wall of ice. At this point they are breathing bottled oxygen. Winds can blow 175 miles per hour, a category five hurricane. At twenty-three thousand feet, climbers are beyond rescue by helicopters.

Above twenty-five thousand feet, climbers enter the death zone. Many suffer swelling of the brain and fluid in the lungs. It’s half a mile from high camp to the summit, but the final ascent will take eight to twelve hours. Oxygen is now one-third of what it is at sea level. If climbers make it up Hillary Step for a few moments on a summit about the size of a dining room table, they now face the most lethal part of the trip: descending the twenty-nine-thousand-foot monster. Slowed judgment and reflexes from exhaustion cause mistakes that lead to far more deaths than on the way up.

When Mazur and his team chose to rescue Lincoln Hall, forfeiting their dreams so tantalizingly close to the summit, it was an amazing act of mercy. Showing mercy is often messy, and it is seldom easy. It cost God’s Son everything. It will cost us, too. But even if we are twenty-nine thousand feet up, we need to remember this:

Every breath in your life is a gift of God’s mercy.

God blesses those who are merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

Matthew 5:7