NEPAL: Conquest of Everest

(3 of 3)

On and up they stumbled, like flies on a whitewashed wall. An unmapped ice ridge stopped them, as it had stopped Team No. i. On one side, the ridge's gables projected over a face that fell 12,000 ft. Opposite was snow, firm enough for footholds, but guarded by a sheer rock face, 40 ft. high and holdless. At sea level this would be a minor obstacle to a trained mountaineer, but at 29,000 ft., neither Hillary nor Tenzing could attempt it. Instead they found a chimney that opened to the top. Hillary went first and crabbled his way upward through the chimney, using shoulders and knees as levers. Then it was Tenzing's turn, and soon the pair lay together in the frozen snow at the top.

They got up and plodded on. As fast as one hump was cleared, the next blocked the view. Both men were slowing down when suddenly it loomed into view—one last narrow snow ridge running up to a peak beyond which nothing was higher.

Bear Hug. They made it, roped together, and stood on the roof of the world. It was exactly 11:30 a.m. on Friday, May 29, 1953.

Gravely they shook hands, and Tenzing, forgetting formality, hugged Hillary like a bear. Then they took photographs of the British, Nepal, Indian and U.N. flags lashed to Tenzing's icepick.

What did it feel like to be there? Said Hillary: "Damn good." Tenzing, a devout Buddhist, said: "I thought of God and the greatness of His work."

After 15 minutes' exposure, both were weakening rapidly. They started down and arrived, half frozen, at Camp VII. At first neither could speak, but their comrades forgave them that. On both bearded faces, festooned with icicles, a broad grin told the story that Everest at last had yielded to men who accepted the challenge because it was there.