Three years to the day that Erik Weihenmayer, 35, (the first and only blind person to stand on the top of the world and complete the Seven Summits) and his team summited Mount Everest (May 24, 2001), they – and a few new recruits – arrived in Lhasa, Tibet. “The goal of this first trip was to prepare the kids to climb a big mountain,” said Weihenmayer of the two-part Climbing Blind (www.climbingblind.org) project to teach six blind Tibetan teenagers (14-17, boys and girls) rock climbing and mountaineering skills, then take them on a week-long trek into the Himalayas. The project will conclude this fall by leading the kids on a three-week ascent of Lhapka Ri, (23,100-ft.) on the north side of Everest.
Before setting into the mountains, the teens, students at Braille Without Borders, a Lhasa-based training center for the blind, received gear and education – about layering, loading packs, securely tying boots and donning crampons – and trekking training. They also learned to rock climb on a knobby granite face just outside of Lhasa.
The expedition began on May 29 at 10:15 a.m. from the prominent Tsurphu monastery at 14,700 feet. As is the practice, the kids and members of Climbing Blind paired up. They traipsed along narrow rocky paths, crossing small gurgling streams and grassy knolls, discovering the best method of travel. Some guides rang bear bells while giving verbal instruction from the front – using commands like “step high,” “narrow rocks,” “steep drop off left.” Others preferred to hold a common trekking pole with their mini-trekker. The five-hour day ended in the tiny yak-herding village of Leten (16,700 feet). “I was really blown away by the strength and resilience of the teens,” noted Weihenmayer. “It’s not surprising considering the tough lives they've lived.”
Following a day of mellow acclimation-hiking (and snowball fights), teams took off on the third morning with full bellies, full packs and full-on fervor for what would become eight-hours of gnarly rutted paths winding past yak farms and over countless snow-covered hummocks – topping out at Lasa La (17,500-ft.). The six inches of overnight snow melted in the beaming morning sun, turning deep yak-packed muddy grooves into ankle sucking divots. Boots slipped and slid and bodies stumbled. “I was a little bit tired and it was a little difficult to breathe,” admitted Kyla, a 17 year-old recent graduate of the school and multi-lingual massage therapist. “But this is so much fun and it’s a chance to show others that blind people can do anything – so I don’t mind.” Later the bright morning turned into afternoon hammer-the-face snow squalls and zero visibility.
Hiking through the stunning Nyechen Thanglhas on the fourth day went smoothly. But upon arriving at the base of Mt. Chitze – the destination for three days of glacier travel training – on day five, the team was surprised by a super-high snow line. “To reach it would have taken at least two-days of technical side hilling over loose scree and zig-zagging around gendarme rocks,” observed Weihenmayer, “with the prospect of finding dirty marginal snow.”
The trek was scrapped and rescheduled as a three-day glacier clinic for the fall. In the meantime, to give them the feel of glacier travel the kids, clad in full mountaineering fashion – plastic boots, crampons, harnesses and toting ice axes – shuffled up and down steep, scrub brush-peppered slopes connected by a rope.
“We went into this with the question, do the kids have what it takes to get to the top of a 7,000 meter peak?” said Erik. “I now know that all six have a real chance of standing on top when we attempt to climb Lhakpa Ri in October. (For more information: www.climbingblind.org).