Shishapangma

Greenland

Everest

North Pole

Kilimanjaro

Tibet

Mt. Fuji

Shishapangma

Journal: May 12th, 2001 – Summit Day – Shishapangma, Tibet

2:30am(23,600ft.) – Dan and I awake in our mountain catacomb to winds of revulsion as the gods blow the tent-fly in to a whipping frenzy against our tent. I dreadfully peek my face out to see what the heavens have provided for us. A clear skies surprise with sparkling diamond stars brightens the night. We resolve to wait a few more hours to see what circumstances will be in early morning. We have five more days of food available and hell bent on sticking it out in Camp 3 as long as possible for stable weather.

4:30am – Conditions remain unchanged, so I set my watch alarm for a few more hours of needed rest. We climbed up from Camp 2 in a blizzard yesterday afternoon and the effect of high altitude and frosty cold have been like dead weights dropped on my chest. If the prevailing wind diminishes within a few hours we will start to prepare for our summit bid.

6:30am – The wind has subsided slightly, and Dan and I know the sun will be up soon to help warm our bodies during the climb. A decision to push for the summit is made, and the hanging stove starts brewing for the long day. We will be departing later than preferred but figure if conditions deteriorate we can always turn around and come back to Camp 3.

9:30am – Dan and I are fully hydrated and our rucksacks are packed with the minimal essential gear. We are anxious to get out of the tent and start up the ridge even though breathing is arduous. My body is essentially dying and cannot sustain life for too long at this altitude. We are heading up into the death zone. Our Tibetan climbing partners head out in the lead post-holing in knee high deep snow. The blustery wind has decided not to give us a much-needed repose, but the sky is a filtered, cloudless blue, so I take this as a good omen.

Noon(24,300ft.) – In numerous segments along the North ridge rocks stab through the snow compelling Dan and I to rope up. My over-mitts contain so much loft I am unable to grasp my technical ice axes forcing me to wear 2 lighter pairs of mitts as an alternative. Various expeditions in the past years have placed fixed line along the North ridge. We decide to use only a fraction of what is available due to uncertainty they will hold our weight jumaring. Trusting our mountaineering prowess we begin running belays to speed up our ascent.

3:00pm(25,000ft.) – Conditions continue to be unfavorable equaling agonizingly slow progress, although my mind keeps telling me to continue. The sun glows a dazzling yellow burn, but I can now see clouds forming to the southeast. I stop and film some video of neighboring 8,000-meter peaks to the south: Cho Oyu, Everest, Lhotse and Makalu. I scan the horizon and view multiple snow-enshrouded mountains, a majority of which appear as children to their 8,000-meter ancestors. As my shadow extends down the ridge Dan and I resume our objective to the little pinnacle above in the sun.

6:30pm(25,850ft.) – We now are climbing in shade as the sun strikes the opposite faces of Shishapangma. The bitter cold has yet been a factor as long as we keep moving in our down suits. Our Tibetan climbing partners, Pemba and Noa, tell me they’ve decided to head down. They are cold, hungry, tired, and recognize there is at least another 2 hours of climbing. My resolve to summit becomes stronger with each breathless step. The Tibetans quickly disappear over a lip and down the North ridge. I take the lead post-holing through snow that soon changes to much steeper terrain. At this sheer angle, the chance of one climber triggering a fall pitching us both down the ridge is present so Dan and I opt for the “better safe and slow, then dead” method and begin placing ice screws for protection along the route.

8:30pm(26,390ft.) – Summit – Twenty-five days of traveling, acclimatizing, and climbing higher in altitude…. I can go no more! The summit of Shishapangma is the width and length of a surfboard so Dan and I take turns on its apex. The wind howls and blusters so ferociously that neither Dan nor I attempt to stand up. Although we are only a few feet away, our screaming is barely audibly to one another. Only two climbers have reached the summit before us this season, American Ed Viesters and Finnish Veikka Gustafsson. I hug the summit to stay annihilated from the winds and swallow in the views before snapping some quick pictures with my throwaway camera, praying they will turn out. My other 3 automatic cameras have frozen during the day. The chill streams through my down suit and I begin to shake uncontrollably. I give my camera to Dan and unveil a banner for my girlfriend back home with “Will You Marry Me” printed on it. Dan snaps a quick picture. I want to film some video but do not attempt retrieving the camera from my backpack in these conditions. There is no smiling, rejoicing, or congratulating one another for our accomplishment. My mind has switched to survival mode knowing that a safe, speedy descent is essential. Dan and I are on the summit of Shishapangma for less than three glorious minutes, minus the glory.

8:45pm(26,350ft.) – I have gone no more than 10 meters before the sun has set in the distant mountains. We quickly bury our ice axes into the snow, face into the ridge and continue our down-climb. I pier over my left shoulder and see the upper half of Cho Oyu and Everest’s pyramid covered in dense dark clouds. The unsettling night cold is upon us. The entire rest of the descent I cannot feel my fingers. I constantly move them to keep the blood flowing to my hands when not gripped to the axes. I believe this will save almost certain loss of my hands. Each time I bury my axes into the snow and ice I jam the last three fingers on each hand into the steep angle of the ridge. This is the equivalent of sticking ones fingers in a box of ice cubes repeatedly for hours.

Midnight(25,000ft.) – The mountain is pitch black with only the illumination of a few stars peering through the obscuring clouds and our head torches to guide us. Foolishly, we have not wand the route and white powder has blustered over the terrain from the earlier day’s ascent path. I am getting so tired. I forego kicking steps and begin to glissade down certain sections of the route using my crampons to bounce off the rocks and ice tools for brakes in case I should pick up too much speed. The ridge seems to go on forever into a terminal onyx abyss. We think about bivouacking, but decide it is in our best interest to keep moving to stay warm and get back to our tents. “Down is good,” is all my mind can muster to think of.

1:30am(24,300ft.) – We finally approach the last technical section and painstakingly descend through the rock outcroppings. I occasionally bang my knees on the rocks as I alternate between down climbing and glissading, but I don’t care anymore, I just want warmth. The dreadful post-holing memories earlier this long day seems like a walk into a whitened endless hell.

2:30am(23,800ft.) – I have not eaten or drank anything since our stop 200 meters from the summit. For 17 hours all I have consumed is 2 GU’s, 1 Clifbar and 1 liter of water. I can see Camp 3 in the distance and my mind keeps telling my legs to pick up the speed, move quicker…my body has shut down. Each step is an exerted effort that my mind somehow coerces my body into doing.

3:00am(23,600ft.) – Camp 3 – We arrive in a frozen state of body and soul. Thankfully Noa has hot water in his thermos and I hurriedly gulp four cups, burning my throat as it goes down, too thirsty to care about the pain. I am so powerless I cannot even take off my crampons, so I shove my One Sport boots in to the Tibetan tent’s vestibule so they can help unlace them. I slip off my harness and collapse in my tent trying to get a breath without coughing up a lung. I take my gloves off and immediately notice that six of my fingertips are completely bone white. Too tired to care, deep sleep sets in, or so I think.

7:30am – “You were coughing uncontrollably all night and moaning constantly,” Dan said. We groaningly emerge from our sleeping bags and begin to heat snow that will provide us with the hydration to get moving. Dan and I are both experiencing initial effects of pulmonary edema in our lungs. The sure sign being we hear air bubbles gurgling as we take deep breaths. I discover I have acquired frostbite on six fingertips. Time is of the essence as we crawl out of our tent and slowly begin breaking camp for the long descent back to advanced base camp, 2 full days away.

Greenland

Gronau Nunatakker Range, First Ascents. On the 4th of July, British climbers (Euan Lawson, Stephen Phillips, John Starbuck, and Owain Jones), British/American Will Cross, and myself flew from Reykjavik, Iceland to Constable Pynt, Greenland, before continuing on to Gronau Nunatakker (N69’28, W30’13), an unmapped and unchartered region in Greenland which lies 60km to the north of Gunnbjornsfjeld.

The first evening out on 7 Jul our group reached the summit of a 2010m peak. The next evening Owain, John, and myself darted up a knife-edge ridge to the summit of a 2650m beauty. On 10 Jul, after a failed attempt to reach the summit of a peak parallel to 2650m on the periphery of Gronau Gletscher, I soloed a 2800m peak west of the team’s failed attempt, heading up the mountain’s East ridge zigzagging around bergshrunds and dicey cracks. I reached the summit at 3am just in time to enjoy the sun’s pale orange color spread across the horizon.

Two days later, our team headed north and placed camp on an upper plateau, setting our eyes on new objectives among the Gronau Nunatakker and Gronlands Styrelsens Gletscher expanses. After several days of heavy winds and blinding snow, leaving four feet of fresh powder, Will, myself, Owain, and John emerged from our tents and hiked to a summit of a small hump peak facing just south of camp. That evening the four of us reached the summit of a 2900m peak to the northeast of camp traversing several icy patches along it’s west face and then straight up the south ridge. On the 18^th of July our team made it’s second and last summit as a group reaching a domed peak in the far northwest corridor of the plateau.

Will and I decided to break off from the group and climbed on our own for the remainder of the expedition. We reached the summits of 2 beautiful virgins (Hhass Peak and Hans Schou Peak), with a gloriously fulfilling ten-hour ski and climb. After another 2 days stuck in our tent due to blizzard conditions, Will and I surfaced for a fourteen-hour, five-summit blitz of peaks (rated alpine PD+), traversing an entire range in the northeast corridor. Back at camp, I decided to make one more solo endeavor, and scaled “Schou Deux” by frontpointing up its south ridge, (1500-meter, alpine AD+) before traversing the western face to the summit. On the summit the wind had died, the air was crisp, and I was alone within the vast polar icecap of the Arctic circle viewing what no man’s eyes had ever seen before, an untouched and unscathed part of our world.

A day later Will and I managed to ski back with our sleds to the British base camp just before our Twin Otter arrived to fly us out. The exploration had ended as abruptly as it started, and as usual, I wished I could have stayed behind within the natural world.

Everest

[The following is a more detailed account of Sean’s Everest summit attempt from his personal journal.)

I had returned from outside my tent on the South Col where I had been jump roping to break my old world record and now lay comatose. At 26,000 feet, even the minor physical effort of jumping rope requires a Herculean effort. I could not believe I would soon be leaving the relative security afforded by the tent’s thin layer of fabric to go out into the howling winds for another attempt on Everest’s summit.

I had arrived at the South Col a day earlier after a 2-day stay at Camp 3. My original plan had been to climb from Base Camp to Camp 2, climb the next day to Camp 3, climb the next day to Camp 4 (South Col), and then leave for the summit that same night. Everest, however, had different plans. High winds on the summit slowed my progress up the mountain. You have to limit your time in the Death Zone above 26,000 feet so that your arrival at the South Col coincides with an immediate summit attempt. So I waited at the lower camps. Even so, when I got here, Everest was slamming the Southeast Ridge with 60 mph winds. Hoping for the best, I headed out last night on a summit attempt. I had reached half way to the Balcony before the winds nearly blew me off my feet. I was forced to turn around. I felt doubtful that I would have the strength to make it to the top of the world if the winds continued like this. I was not using supplementary oxygen like the others at the South Col. My breathing was short and rapid. I had powered down as many calories as possible in Camp 3 knowing my appetite would be nil at the South Col.

So, for my second summit attempt, I stepped out of my tent at 9:00 PM on the night of May 21 – 22. It was eerily quiet. No wind. I started up the mountain to a slow steady rhythm – four steps, stop, breathe; four steps, stop, breathe. Focus on the rhythm, focus on steady breathing. Push the exhaustion, the lack of strength, the pain aside. One cycle at a time. Four steps, stop, breathe. This continued for an hour, then two. Whenever I encountered a rock band and I had to pay attention to each step and test it before putting any weight down, my breathing would become erratic and uneven. I would find myself huffing and puffing like an out-of-shape runner. Calm down, focus on the rhythm. Four steps, stop, breathe.

I made it to the Balcony before sunrise. The sky was clear and bright stars were perched high above me. My headlamp battery had run out about an hour before, but the light of the half moon and the torches of other climbers made it possible for me to keep moving. With the dawn, spectacular views of the surrounding peaks began appearing.

It was a clear and cloudless morning. But with the dawn, the wind returned. I paused for my first drink of water. The cold air immediately slapped my face causing me to cover up so as to preserve the heat within.

Climbing over rock where you’re unsure of your footing is much more tiresome than climbing through snow. Fixed lines are placed at various areas to the summit taking away much of the technical challenge. However, with the high winds, mixed climbing on rock, snow and ice, plus the high altitude putting you into anaerobic exercise mode the whole time, you use up all your physical reserves long before the summit.

By the time I got to the most difficult portion of the climb, the Hillary Step, I was stretching the boundaries of my human capabilities. I pulled myself up the fixed lines, scraping my crampons on the rock trying to bite on any cracks. The winds had increased to 40-50 miles per hour, and I was doing my best to stabilize and not fall off the face. To the left and right of me were shear vertical drops down thousands of feet. I was relying heavily on my jumar to better grip the ropes. It’s basically a handle for grabbing ropes. It slides easily when you push it up but grabs the rope when you put any weight on it down. I was holding onto the rock with one hand and my jumar with the other while hoping that my crampons spikes would hold my weight on the little icing nubbins of rock under my feet, all while my whole body was screaming.

At this point, it’s not about how strong you are or how fit you are. Now, it’s all about your strength of will. I pushed on. At the top of the Hillary Step I hunched over and breathed heavily for a few minutes to try to feed my pounding heart a little oxygen and refocus my strength. Now it was a ridge walk before the summit would be under

my boots. Looking toward the top, I could see the summit prayer flags.

A few climbers were on the summit, staying low out of the wind. I pushed on. My boots felt like lead stones. Making each step I took an extraordinary effort. It seemed like an eternity.

Finally, the dream stopped being a dream. I could go no higher because I was there! I was now on top of the world. Eight years of dreaming and four years of dedicated training had culminated in this moment. However, I felt no happiness, no jubilation, no desire to raise my arms in victory. I had used every ounce of strength and every emotion I had to reach this point. I dropped to my knees and tried to relax my erratic breathing. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer. I thanked God for giving me the strength to succeed in my endeavor.

I pulling out my disposable camera and handed it to a Sherpa who was nearby to document the moment. I raised my goggles and stared into the lens of the camera. I was one tired puppy. A picture with the American flag signed by supporters came next and one last of me holding Steve LaMantia’s photo, a college classmate of mine who worked on the 105th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center and was killed on 9/11.

Five minutes in exaltation and I was ready to head down, descending without bottled gas. More climbers die on the descent than on the climb up. This had been burned into me as fact, and since the winds were showing no mercy and I was inhaling only the thin air, I knew I had to be extra vigilant.

At the Hillary Step there was a traffic jam of climbers. I waited almost 40 minutes before being cleared to descend. It was after I had moved down the Step that I realized I could not feel my toes. I was so drained of energy that every rope length of fixed lines required that I pause for a rest. At every break, I tried wiggling my toes to keep frostbite at bay. Mentally and physically, Everest was taking everything I had. The wind kept up its fury, but now I was too tired to care or to be scared or to worry for my safety. It would be very simple for me to lie down in the snow and die. I was that tired. It seemed like such a pleasant way to pass. I knew there are more painful ways to meet your end and falling asleep with numbness overtaking me would be an easy solution. But then my brain would start clicking again, telling me to get up and move down the mountain. Down to air, down to life.

I finally reached the South Col at 7:00 PM on the 22nd of May, 22 hours after leaving my tent the night before. I had no feeling in any of my toes or in my fingertips. I dropped in my tent and could barely muster the strength to remove my boots. Once inside, I began the melting process to re-hydrate my exhausted body. I lit my stove to melt a pot of snow.

An hour later, I woke to the feeling of warmth on my face and condensation on the walls of my tent. The water had been boiling for some time, and there was barely any hot water left. I drank it dry for the warmth and the moisture. I went through this routine twice more (passing out and waking up realizing I might end up burning down my tent from the stove being inside. I finally extinguished the stove, collapsed, and slept.

When I rose the next morning, I knew I had to move further down. My toes and fingertips remained numb. It was slow going without full use of my hands for the ropes and without full use of my feet for balance. After what seemed like days, I stumbled into Camp 2. I climbed into my sleeping bag and slept. I didn’t bother to take my boot liners off to look at my toes because I was already sure they would need medical attention.

I made it back to Base Camp on May 24 and went straight to the camp clinic to evaluate my hands and feet. Frostbite had set in and affected all of my toes. My fingertips were white and black as well.

I was exhausted. Finally I was able to stop driving myself and let someone else take over. Only then did I reflect on what I had accomplished and the torture I had endured to make my dream come true.

North Pole

Sean Burch Returns to U.S. After Record Setting Win in North Pole Marathon

WASHINGTON, D.C. . . . Physical fitness expert Sean Burch (USA) has returned home to the Washington D.C. area after his record setting victory in the North Pole Marathon. Burch, who is pioneering a new method of conditioning and training, and was competing in his first marathon ever, beat an international team of endurance athletes, completing the race wearing snowshoes in a time of 3 hours 43 minutes. This time is a new Guinness world record for the fastest northernmost marathon on earth. He returned to the U.S. this weekend after completing a press tour and interviews with European and Scandinavian media.

The marathon, which was captured in a series of exclusive photos and video, was an ultimate test of athleticism and physical endurance. During the 26.2 mile race, Burch had to endure a variety of conditions which were hardly typical for the average marathon runner, such as possible polar bear attacks, hypothermia, perilous ice cracks, sub-zero temperatures, wind, frostbite, pressure ridges and heavy snow, to name a few. When asked about the unusual conditions, Burch commented, “My right eyelids freezing shut from the winds were definitely an unexpected problem. I couldn’t really see the course at that point and had to go into a tent to warm up after the third lap so I could defrost. I had been running like a drunken popsicle”

Burch’s reputation is well known in mountaineering circles, even though he has only been climbing for four years. He reached the summit of Mt. Everest in a 2003 solo effort where he used minimal supplementary oxygen. He is drawn to extreme endurance competitions, such as the North Pole Marathon, to validate his Hyperfitness® training techniques as a new and effective means for goal-oriented physical conditioning. Burch’s Hyperfitness® programs are currently be taught in Washington D.C. and New York City, with a nationwide launch campaign early next year to coincide with the release of his book.

Burch’s penchant for the unusual includes jumping rope under extreme conditions as well. He holds the world record for jumping rope at altitude (which he did on Mt. Everest), and was also filmed jumping rope at the North Pole. Plans for his next endurance events in Antarctica and at the South Pole are underway.

Kilimanjaro

Tanzania, Africa

Kilimanjaro, Fastest Speed Ascent.

I landed at Kilimanjaro International Airport in Tanzania on the evening of the 26^th of May, 2005, in a torrential downpour. I choose to come to Tanzania for three reasons: To create more public awareness to global warming and the disintegration of Kilimanjaro’s icecap; to work in partnership with World Wildlife Fund (WWF)–Tanzania to help promote their environmental education program and cultural tourism projects; and to beat the world ascent record of Kilimanjaro held by Austrian Christian Stangl.

To train for the speed ascent I embarked on an 8-day acclimatization hike up Kilimanjaro by way of the Umbwe route. I spent each day hiking to the next camp and going on training runs. I exercised and slept for two nights close to the summit at Crater Camp, which is less than 1,000ft below Kilimanjaro’s 19,340ft Uhuru Peak (summit). My afternoons consisted of hourly laps around the Reusch Crater at 18,500ft, and early mornings jumping rope on the summit. Upon completion of my acclimatization period I descended via the Mweka route back to civilization where I rested, meditated, hydrated, and carbo-loaded for two days in preparation for the speed ascent.

The morning of the speed ascent, June 7, 2005, I arrived at Marangu Park Gate Headquarters with a certified Tanzanian guide and spotter, Benjamin. After the park ranger confirmed us in, and I signed the register, Benjamin and I synchronized our stopwatches for my record attempt.

This speed ascent would require me running through 5 different climate zones and ecosystems during the next 5 and half hours, ranging from equatorial to arctic conditions. These zones included the rainforest, heath, moorlands, alpine desert, and arctic environment. Every 3,000ft the zones would change, decreasing the temperature and affecting the terrain, weather, and vegetation. I would need to run up 13,000 vertical feet to reach the summit in temperatures that averagely range from 85° F to 0° F. Nature blanketed me from the rain for the first half hour as I made my way to the opening checkpoint at the Mandara Huts. I frantically ran to the park ranger hut and signed in.

I was soon deep in the white powder of clouds as I entered the heath ecosystem. Although vision on the trail deteriorated to twenty-five yards, I felt wonderful running at a fast click, and was constantly yelling, “Sogeza tafadhali (Move please)!” to oncoming porters, trekkers, and their guides.

When I reached Horombo Hut (12,300ft), which is in the moorland ecosystem, the affects of altitude were still not bothering me, evidence I had trained well for my challenge. The first signs of wear and tear occurred in the saddle between the Mawenzi peaks and Kibo Hut. I was now in an alpine desert environment and the winds were becoming brutal causing sand to swirl and kick up in my face as I ran. With the temperature dropping I became a little frosty, and decided to run/walk while I grabbed a layer of clothing and something to eat and drink from my rucksack.

Feeling energized and toasty from food, hydration, and the extra layer, I switched back to running and arrived at Kibo Hut back on schedule. I knew the toughest part of the ascent was just ahead. From Kibo Hut (15,500ft.) to the crater rim were a series of switchbacks that had the history of consistently demoralizing trekkers on their own summit bids. I knew this would physically be the toughest part of the ascent because the loose stone scree made it feel as if you were running in quicksand. I stayed on the switchbacks rather than strive for the straight up approach, and made good time.

When I arrived at Gillman’s Point at the edge of the crater, I was just over five hours. I knew in order to beat Stangl’s record I would need to keep running along the ridge to the summit. Viewing the summit across the crater ridge energized me, and I actually started to smile. I waved back to Kibo Hut to the ranger, dropped my pack, and began to sprint as fast as I could possibly muster. I was now repeating my mantra out loud, “No stopping, no stopping…run faster, run faster!”

The miniature spikes attached to the soles of my shoes bit hard into the snow, and the sign got closer and closer. Soon Uhura Peak, the summit I had spent so much energy training for was mine, and I grasped at the marker wildly before stopping my watches. Five hours, twenty-eight minutes, and forty-eight seconds. I waved my arms for all to see near Crater camp, and instantly keeled over and threw-up. I wasn’t feeling too celebratory until I sat down on a rock and looked out over the clear sky. I began to laugh and cry at the same time. I had done it! I finally mustered the strength to stand up and start down, but my quadriceps had frozen, and my legs collapsed from under me. After some time massaging my legs I managed to descend the crater ridge towards Kibo Hut.

When I arrived in camp all the Tanzanian porters came out of their huts, lined up, and stared at me as I walked in the Park Ranger’s quarters. Benjamin was waiting, and gave me a congratulatory hug and smile. I was honored and thankful for their respect.

Confirmation from the Tanzanian National Park Rangers was noted, and Guinness Book of Records researched and confirmed the ascent within the year, placing me in their book of records for 2007.

Tibet

Surrounding NyenchenThangla Regions, First Ascents

I spent 23 days (Nov 9 – Dec 1, 2006) climbing in unexplored mountain regions of the Chang Tang within a full day’s drive by Landcruiser from Lhasa. I carefully documented each peak by GPS, photographs, as well as researched from interviews using my interpreter to translate with local Tibetans in each village as to the history of each area I was climbing. Conditions ranged from below 0 temperatures, high winds, avalanches, rockfall, crevasses, and surprisingly, wild dogs and bears (dremo).

Base camp #1 was established within Samdain Kangsang area.

1. N30° 46.580, E 091° 30.323 (17,565ft)
2. N30° 46.152, E 091° 31.248 (17,147ft)

Base Camp #2 was established near Namsto Cho river.

1. N30° 32.786, E 091° 04.801 (16,343ft)
2. N30° 33.943, E 091° 04.113 (17,909ft)
3. N30° 33.544, E 091° 04.796 (16,784ft)
4. N30° 32.806, E 091° 02.882 (18,132ft)

Base Camp #3 was established within the Lungring area.

1. N30° 28.491, E 091° 17.105 (16,093ft)
2. N30° 28.587, E 091° 15.851 (16,509ft)
3. N30° 27.310, E 091° 16.188 (18,097ft)
4. N30° 26.561, E 091° 16.435 (16,605ft)
5. N30° 25.863, E 091° 16.641 (17,427ft)
6. N30° 27.287, E 091° 18.085 (16,334ft)
7. N30° 27.511, E 091° 17.889 (16,628ft)
8. N30° 27.795, E 091° 16.897 (17,332ft)

Base Camp #4 was established in the Nagdrak area.

1. N30° 25.626, E 091° 04.064 (16,767ft)
2. N30° 25.151, E 091° 04.620 (17,737ft)
3. N30° 24.850, E 091° 04.719 (17,683ft)
4. N30° 25.067, E 091° 03.976 (16,648ft)
5. N30° 24.574, E 091° 04.207 (17,917ft)
6. N30° 24.185, E 091° 04.357 (18,177ft)
7. N30° 24.105, E 091° 03.682 (18,222ft)
8. N30° 24.051, E 091° 04.254 (18,054ft)
9. N30° 24.412, E 091° 04.723 (18,249ft)
10. N30° 24.781, E 091° 05.338 (18,142ft)
11. N30° 24.926, E 091° 06.227 (18,139ft)
12. N30° 25.110, E 091° 06.716 (17,904ft)
13. N30° 24.733, E 091° 05.682 (18,164ft)
14. N30° 25.570, E 091° 05.541 (16,915ft)

Base Camp #5 was established in the Lakyem area.

1. N30° 20.405, E 091° 02.823 (16,120ft)
2. N30° 18.936, E 091° 01.513 (18,411ft)
3. N30° 19.186, E 091° 01.261 (18,253ft)
4. N30° 19.232, E 091° 02.007 (17,509ft)
5. N30° 18.812, E 091° 01.932 (18,294ft)
6. N30° 18,771, E 091° 02.541 (18,607ft)
7. N30° 20.077, E 090° 59.967 (17,586ft)
8. N30° 19.736, E 091° 00.175 (18,022ft)
9. N30° 20.190, E 090° 59.678 (17,194ft)
10. N30° 20.961, E 091° 00.334 (17,008ft)
11. N30° 20.821, E 091° 01.899 (16,065ft)

Base Camp #6 was established within Namtso Park.

1. N30° 35.056, E 091° 06.350 (16,494ft)
2. N30° 35.784, E 091° 05.382 (18,255ft)
3. N30° 35.998, E 091° 04.991 (18,481ft)
4. N30° 35.463, E 091° 05.079 (17,784ft)
5. N30° 35.138, E 091° 05.185 (18,552ft)

Base Camp #7 was established in the Bhaknag area.

1. N30° 10.747, E 090° 41.557 (17,074ft)
2. N30° 10.551, E 090° 41.458 (17,280ft)
3. N30° 09.860, E 090° 40.773 (18,708ft)
4. N30° 09.484, E 090° 40.552 (18,819ft)
5. N30° 08.960, E 090° 40.768 (18,912ft)
6. N30° 09.164, E 090° 41.178 (18,745ft)
7. N30° 09.116, E 090° 44.595 (18,059ft)
8. N30° 08.420, E 090° 44.927 (18,957ft)
9. N30° 08.685, E 090° 45.244 (18,884ft)
10. N30° 08.807, E 090° 45.437 (18,909ft)
11. N30° 09.205, E 090° 45.302 (18,944ft)
12. N30° 09.306, E 090° 45.335 (18,845ft)
13. N30° 09.645, E 090° 45.293 (18,809ft)
14. N30° 11.574, E 090° 42.457 (16,701ft)
15. N30° 10.022, E 090° 42.082 (17,611ft)
16. N30° 09.821, E 090° 42.737 (17,500ft)
17. N30° 09.036, E 090° 42.187 (18,548ft)
18. N30° 08.980, E 090° 42.541 (18,829ft)
19. N30° 09.350, E 090° 42.534 (18,459ft)

Mt. Fuji

World Record Winter Speed Ascent

Virginia man claims Mt. Fuji record

Washington (AP)

When Sean Burch decided he wanted to break the record for the fastest winter ascent of Japan’s Mt. Fuji, he knew he had to do it alone.

After all, the temperature was well below freezing. The winds were so strong that he had trouble standing upright. The frostbite on his swollen hands – a problem he’s had since winning the North Pole Marathon five years ago – made the conditions even more unbearable.

The 12,388-foot (3,776-meter) peak, one of the world’s most popular tourists climbs in the summer, is so treacherous in the winter that authorities distribute a yellow flier featuring a drawing of a big frowning mountain with all kinds of warnings to discourage any and all attempts.

Yep, this would definitely be a solo trek.

Thank goodness for GPS. Using his handheld device, Burch was able to verify his speed, location and altitude. Wearing snowshoes, Burch recorded an ascent time of 4 hours, 5 minutes, 42 seconds on Jan. 16.

“I knew it was going to be intense, but I didn’t know it was going to be that intense,” said Burch, who lives in Oakton, Va. “I got blown off my feet three times, which never happens to me.”

Carrying an ice ax, trekking poles, hot water, energy bars and covered with snow goggles, a full face mask and skull cap, Burch jogged the early part of the trek – but the severe wind and deep snow forced him to slow down and stop a few times. He wore heavy gloves but had to take them off – worsening his frostbite – to take photographs at the summit, where he also waved a banner to commemorate the inauguration of President Barack Obama.

“My hands are still swollen,” Burch said. “I still can’t feel three of my fingertips.”

Burch returned from the summit and showed his GPS and photographs to officials in nearby Fujiyoshida.

Andrew Smith, coordinator for international relations at the Fujiyoshida City Hall International Affairs Desk, confirmed the time but could not officially sanction it as a record because officials want to discourage winter ascents. Smith, who advises potential climbers of Mt. Fuji’s dangerous conditions, said there are several fatalities on the mountain every winter.

“I was very impressed with his accomplishment,” Smith wrote in an e-mail to The Associated Press. “It’s the fastest climb up Mt. Fuji in the winter that I’ve heard of.”

The summer ascent record is 2 hours, 32 minutes, set in a race in 2006, according to Mt. Fuji ranger Keita Akiba.

Burch, 38, has been doing this type of thing for years.

In 2005, he set the record for fastest ascent of Africa’s Mt. Kilimanjaro. Those were his pre-GPS days, when he had to hire rangers to be with him at the start and finish to verify his time.

He also won the 2004 North Pole Marathon — that’s right, it’s run on ice at the top of the world — and in 2006 climbed 63 remote mountain peaks in 23 days in Tibet. He attributes his feats to a fitness program he calls “Hyperfitness.”

“I always shoot for something totally different,” Burch said, “that’s going to stimulate the mind and body.”

Burch is not saying what’s next for him, but the chronic frostbite appears to have caused a shift in his choice of climate.

“Every time I go out there, it gets worse and worse,” Burch said. “ I’m thinking the next one I’m going to do is the desert.”