We survived the first night without a roof over our heads. Quite comfortably, by all accounts. There were no dogs barking in the night, no heavy boots clunking down wooden hallways to latrines, none of the endless coughing fits coming through the thin walls of trekking houses. Instead, we had easy breezes, the quiet rustle of comfy down sleeping bags and moonlight coming through our tent ceilings. Oh yeah, and occasionally the violent thunder of avalanches… but that didn't truly bother us. We know we've picked a safe place for basecamp far enough from the vertical walls of this enclosed valley.

The day has been spent sorting gear, talking over plans, napping, reading, eating and getting to know our Sherpa teammates. We've got great strength and experience in our Sherpa team, and we'll depend mightily on them during this trip. I'm not aware of any team attempting the mountain this season that won't be reliant on Sherpa help. Some may claim to be going with minimal support, but they will still be heavily dependent on the Sherpas who fix the route through the Khumbu Icefall, to say nothing of the route above. This is not to say that, of the many talented non-Nepalese climbers assembled here at the foot of the hill, none would be capable of climbing the mountain without Sherpa aid, but the simple fact is that such climbs are not attempted in this day and age on this route on this mountain.

There is often confusion among those not versed in Himalayan climbing as to who Sherpas are and what their various jobs may be. I'm often unnerved back home to hear people say, while hiking or working hard, that they'd sure like to have a Sherpa along to carry their pack or to do their digging. Such comments are usually made in jest and are probably for my benefit when folks know that I have spent time in Nepal and Tibet. Nevertheless, they tend to sell the real Sherpa people short.

Referring to someone as "Sherpa" is to say that they are from a tribe of mountain people in a specific region of Nepal. It is not a job designation. It doesn't simply mean "porter" and it definitely doesn't mean "servant." Early on, when the pioneering Himalayan expeditions were discovering the amazing work ethic common to the Sherpa culture, these men were trained as high-altitude load carriers. But almost from the start, there were plenty of individuals -notably Tenzing Norgay who excelled at the art of climbing, who eagerly grasped its strategies, and who exhibited just as much ambition to reach summits as any Westerner.

By this 2009 Everest season, one cannot correctly make more than a few broad generalizations about who the Sherpas are on this mountain. Many may still be farmers the rest of the year… many may still fulfill the simple yet essential role of high-altitude porter… but then there will also be a fair number of excellent mountain climbers with superior strength and skill on rock and ice who are being counted on to guide individuals and lead expeditions. Some will struggle with English, but will then surprise the heck out of you when they turn out to speak French, Korean and Japanese just fine. Some will never have been out of these valleys, but increasingly others will turn out to have traveled the world; to be putting their kids through college in Canada, India or the U.S., to be web-savvy, literate and politically astute.

Away from the Himalaya, the assertion is often made (by people who, I feel sure, mean to honor this group of climbers) that Sherpas are universally strong and across-the-board gifted with a physiology that makes high-altitude climbing a snap. True, many Sherpas have less trouble acclimatizing than those who visit these mountains from elsewhere, but it probably does Sherpas more honor to recognize their limitations than any perceived inherent advantages. They don't live on Mount Everest. The highest commonly inhabited villages are usually only around 12,000 ft to 14,000 ft in elevation. They don't have three lungs and two hearts… or any other crazy adaptation that makes climbing easy. The really humbling thing for me is to realize that my Sherpa partners are working just as hard as I am when we are clawing our way up some slope in difficult conditions with heavy packs. That climbing is difficult for them -not easy- and that they go out to do it anyway, day after day without whining, indeed while smiling and laughing. It isn't just what we see on the mountain either. For a bunch of days we walked through rough farmland where every single rock was neatly in place, where fields were endlessly being tended to, where houses were simple but always in good repair. The work ethic was obvious, uncommon and admirable. Don't get me wrong. I'm not implying that the First Ascent team will be on holiday here. When the Sherpas we're partnering with cook and carry water and hack out tent platforms from the Lhotse Face and fix rope and get hard work done in dangerous conditions, sometimes we'll be right alongside them. And sometimes they'll be doing it while we rest or get other jobs done. And obviously the Sherpas won't be doing it for free. Money is a huge motivator in this part of the world, and expedition work turns out to produce some of the best opportunities in all of Nepal. But money doesn't adequately explain the smiles and the warmth and the friendship that our Sherpa partners will share with us on this trip. We'll try to be worthy of that friendship.

The clouds blew in the right direction today. In fact, everything lined up just right in most ways today. It was an auspicious day… so judged by our Sherpa team after a careful reading of the Tibetan calendar. Auspicious enough that our Puja ceremony was held today. Doubly Auspicious because it was Easter Sunday. Thrice Auspicious because it was the nicest day we've had in a week.

Peter Whittaker revealed that he'd stayed up last night with a few of the Sherpa team in the kitchen to decorate Easter eggs. Not so surprisingly, the Sherpas had not gone through that particular ritual before and Peter said they fully got into the task, coloring boiled eggs and attaching bright stickers. They were excited at the convergence of Easter, the planned Puja and a Sunday to boot. Peter kept all of this to himself and arose at 5 AM to hop down the bunny trail to his partners' tents and quietly salt the area with Easter eggs. He said he was surprised to run into another rabbit out there secretly doing the same thing. Linden Mallory had his own egg planting plans for the morning and was busily hiding colored plastic eggs with prizes within.

After breakfast and before the Puja began, the team (those who had not been bunnies) chased around searching for eggs. Jeff Martin and Linden made things interesting by mentioning that two of the eggs held special prizes. Ed Viesturs quickly tracked down the one that granted its discoverer the free drink of his choice from Gorak Shep. It took Seth Waterfall a bit longer to home in on the bright blue egg that held the $20 cash prize.

And then it was Puja time. The Puja is a ceremony quite important to our Sherpa team, and thus to us as well. In it, we ask the blessing of the mountain gods before setting foot on this sacred -and dangerous- mountain. A lama came up from Pangboche in order to read the correct prayers and chants. Our Sherpa team had worked throughout the morning to prepare a stone chorten as a sort of alter for the ceremony. Incense and juniper were lit as a way of sending fragrant smoke upward in offering. Partway through the three hour observance, a prayer mast was erected and flags unfurled in all directions. Our First Ascent team sat drinking tea and taking pictures of the colorful scene… but also contemplating the seriousness of an undertaking that requires so much blessing. The latter stages of the Puja involve a good deal of celebrating and toasting and tossing of rice. Finally, everybody grabs a big handful of Tsampa (barley flour) and tosses half of it in the air while saving half to smear on the faces of ones climbing partners. As you'd expect, this gets out of hand… and into hair, cameras, eyes, ears and everything as one and all laugh, shake hands and fist bump.

Our Sherpa team then invited us to join them in linking arms for a last half hour of carefree dancing and singing. We sang along and nobody seemed to mind that we didn't know either the words or the dance steps. The word is that the last 200 meters or so of the route to Camp I are giving the Icefall Doctors a special challenge. We are hoping each day now to hear that they've forged some sort of passage. Tomorrow we resume our training at the foot of the Icefall. We'll be rested, blessed and ready.

Base Camp is a busy place these days as all of the teams have arrived and the route through the icefall is now open. In the daytime climbers and trekkers are constantly milling about camp, checking in with friends and other teams to see what everyone's plans are. It's quite a scene.

Since the Icefall Doctors completed the route to Camp 1 teams have been busy staking claims to the prime sites. At least one team has sent climbers to spend the night there thus starting their first acclimatization 'rotation'. The Sherpas in our team went to Camp 1 the day the Icefall Doctors completed the final leg of the route and marked off an area for our camp there. Today our team carried loads of gear to the camp. This accomplished two things. The first and most obvious is to transport some of our gear further up the mountain. The second is to aid our acclimatization by climbing to almost 20,000 feet before returning to Base Camp to recover.

This was my first trip through the icefall in it's entirety. Of course I've heard about it, read about it, and have had plenty of time to obsess about it over the last 6 days. But there's no way to really get a feel for it other than climbing through it. I have climbed on plenty of glaciers. In fact I've spent weeks on end living on glaciers. But climbing through an icefall, where the glacier drops off of a steep slope, picks up speed and breaks up into crevasses (you can fall in these) and ice towers called seracs (these can fall on you) is not a normal or common thing, even for a mountain guide

So we got up at 2:15 am this morning and started our climb at 3am. There's two reasons to start this early. One is to get ahead of other people that may slow us down in dangerous sections. The other is to climb in the nice, cool temperatures of the night and avoid the oppressive heat of the day. Well, I must admit the 'cool' night time temps here are really ridiculously cold so getting out of my sleeping bag was the first crux of the day. From our camp it's about 45 minutes to the first big crevasses. The Icefall Doctors use aluminum ladders to bridge crevasses. On Rainier we also use ladders to cross crevasses the only difference is that on Rainier we'll use two to three ladders in a season, here there is about 35 ladders crossing crevasses and climbing up and down seracs. The Doctors do a great job of making things as safe as possible in the icefall. Of course there's the ladders, but they also place tons of rope on the route so you can always be clipped in and safe from a big fall.

Once in the icefall itself there are precious few places to safely stop for a break. The glacier is always shifting and moving so you really don't know when a chunk of ice may come crashing down. Your best bet for safety is to move quickly and in climb in control. Fortunately our team was able to stay fairly close together owing to our early departure. There were not many people for us to get caught behind and separated. We did manage to sneak in a couple of rest breaks, though we did make excellent time and we arrived at Camp 1 at the top of the icefall just before 7:00 am.

Camp 1 is a tricky place to camp. It is sandwiched in between the steep faces of Everest's West Ridge and the north face of Nuptse. Both sides of the valley are prone to ice and snow avalanches. The trick there is to position your camp so as to mitigate the danger from both sides of the valley. Also the climbing route from Camp 1 to Camp 2 currently avoids the big crevasses in the center of the glacier but passes directly under some avalanche paths on Nuptse. We were discussing the relative merits of two different campsites and where the climbing route will be the safest when a large avalanche came ripping down off of the summit of Nuptse. To our shock there was a large group of people on the climbing route, directly under the avalanche. Fortunately most of the snow and ice from the avalanche landed in the 'moat' between the glacier and the steeper slopes of Nuptse and the folks on the route, including some Sherpas from our team were only blasted with a 'powder cloud' from the avalanche. Still, this was a scary event and a reminder to be ever respectful of the power of the mountains.

It seemed as though everybody was on the move today. When I looked out of my tent at 4:15 AM, there was a line of headlights strung out like a Christmas parade through the icefall. Some of those lights belonged to our gang. The "first team" of Peter Whittaker and Ed Viesturs, along with a couple of the camera crew, got out early and were making their way toward Camp I. They are bound for a "rotation" up the hill, sleeping at CI tonight and possibly at ABC (CII) tomorrow night. That ought to work pretty good for them, although it won't necessarily feel so good. A first night at close to 20,000 ft. is usually good for a headache and some frustrating insomnia. Then a first night at 21,300 ft (ABC) will be good for… let's see, a headache, some more insomnia, and more of everything that is uncomfortable and mean about new altitude. These rotations up high can't be avoided though. Not if one is serious about eventually trying to spend nights at 26,000 ft above sea level, like we are. I'd hazard a guess that when they come down, Ed and Peter will be pretty happy to rest at basecamp again for a few days… which is also an important part of acclimating. It may be oversimplifying things to say that those bound for the summit just need to mix up intensely hard work and ample rest, time at extreme and less extreme altitudes, and endure terror and boredom for two months… but it does run something like that.

But for all of our restlessness, Gorak Shep hadn't been that bad a place for our team. A number of us hiked up Kalapathar yesterday evening in order to catch the sunset. In contrast to the ample daytime traffic for this sought-after destination, by 5 PM there was only a handful of folk left on the hill and these were hurrying down while we strolled up. The afternoon had been cloudy with periodic snow showers, but the higher we got, the more the clouds fell away from Everest and Nuptse and Pumori. We took picture after picture as the light changed and then trotted down in the dark when it had all been expended.

I was looking out of the tent at 4:15 AM because I was putting on my own boots for an important run up to the midpoint of the Khumbu Icefall. At 4:30 AM, I got together with Seth Waterfall, Erica Dohring, cameraman Kent Harvey and producer Cherie Silvera in the mess tent where we each slammed a few hot drinks and bowls of porridge before stepping out into the last shreds of starlight and moonshine. We were walking by 5 AM on what I've come to consider a fairly important mission. Let's call it the Khumbu Dress Rehearsal. I've already explained plenty of the reasons why the Khumbu Icefall is not a smart place to dilly-dally… while also pointing out that the rapid gain in altitude and the difficult climbing make humankind very much prone to dilly-dallying there. When guiding, I want my climbers strong, acclimated and familiar with the weird skills needed for the Icefall… BEFORE they step into the Icefall for real. It is not a good place to have a client or partner stumbling around with exhaustion, obviously, since most footsteps in the Icefall have to be precise in order to avoid crevasses and cliffs. And the worst possible way to come into Camp I for a first night there would be on one's hands and knees, begging for mercy, oxygen and water. That does happen from time to time, but being so spent can make one a prime candidate for fatal altitude illness.

As we chugged up the first ice hills and watched the light begin to hit the highest peaks, it was already gratifying to see how much stronger Erica was than during our initial forays up the glacier. This "dress rehearsal" was undertaken in the hopes of giving Erica the necessary confidence for climbing through to CI… but equally important for Seth and I was our need to watch Erica and gain our own confidence in her abilities. Before we risk our own lives in accompanying her toward her goals, we need to believe she is ready to reasonably go after them. It is a delicate balance. But Erica was doing a lot of good balancing herself as she stepped over bottomless crevasses and kicked up ice-walls on her spikes. Not to say that she had an easy time of it, just that her difficulties seemed no different than anybody else's in the same awkward places. In our second hour of climbing, we moved up the "popcorn" section, which is just a bunch of SUV sized ice chunks heaped against one another like… popcorn… actually.

Erica and I reached the our goal for the day, the "Dum" which is the old Sherpa name for the dump… as in gear dump (in the old days when it took a lot longer to negotiate the Khumbu Icefall, the mid-point was a significant load-carrying goal and even an intermediate camp from time to time). Seth, Cherie and Kent were already there and welcomed us with gloved fist bumps and cheers. Since, at 7:40 in the morning, we were still without the heat of the sun in the Dum, we just took a quick food and water break before declaring the "up test" a success and beginning the "down test".

We began to deal with a lot of traffic, both up and down and this was actually an important part of the test (although I definitely had not arranged with the Russians, Kazakhs, Croats, British, Koreans, Americans and assorted Sherpas to meet on these particular ladders at this particular time). Everybody stayed patient and pleasant and with some careful downclimbing we reached the lowest part of the Icefall and walked into the warm sunshine. Peter, Ed and the team already at CI had been listening out on the radios to make sure we were ok, and it was with great pride and relief that I told them to shut off and save their batteries… we were going to be fine.

Erica passed her exams. She is ready for CI and I'm fully confident that she'll get there with adequate strength reserves. Toward that end, we'll maybe go hiking one more time, rest another day and then come at Camp I ready for that all important first rotation. Oh yeah… that's where they keep the headaches… can't wait.

When trekking into Everest Base Camp (BC) two weeks ago, it felt high, rugged, and hostile. Man, what a different perspective this morning, as Viesturs and I returned to BC after 5 days at Camp 1 (19,000') and Camp 2 (21,200'). What fun to enjoy the creature comforts that we did without for the last few days…thick air (yes, 17,500' feels thick compared to 21,000'), a shower, a shave, and a Coke. It never ceases to amaze me how much I appreciate the little things that we typically take for granted. A bit of suffering and "doing without" gives great contrast to our relative comforts of BC, where living on a pile of rocks and ice can seem quite luxurious.

Our 5 days on the mountain went well and we accomplished all we set out to do on this rotation. Our night at Camp 1 was uneventful though light on sleep, as we listened to icefall and rockfall crash down from Everest's west shoulder and Nuptse. Camp 1 is in a good place but you never know "if" or "when" the big one might decide to come down. At daybreak the next day, fueled by high-octane caffeine, we blasted out of there and 2 1/2 hours later arrived at Camp 2.

Camp 2 is in a much nicer place on the lateral moraine of the Khumbu glacier and is free from objective dangers…icefall, rockfall, etc. We still slept poorly, though not from worrying about things falling from above, but from the significant altitude jump we had made from BC to here…about a 3,500' increase over the last 36 hours. Altitude symptoms affect everyone, even Ed Viesturs, and I was happy to know I had a partner to share my mild discomfort with. The next two days we made forays up to 22,000' on the southwest face of Everest and to the base of the Lhotse face. These two morning climbs were not only great for acclimatization, but let us soak in the amazing beauty of the world's highest peaks. We would start walking by 8 a.m. before the sun crested Lhotse, when the entire Khumbu is arctic blue and silent…and COLD. Then, within the hour, the brilliant sunlight would ignite the snow, rock, and ice around us and our world not only brightened but warmed up considerably. Up here there are two sources of heat…what your body generates and the sun, and you quickly learn how to maximize both. At the end of our stay at Camp 2, we were feeling pretty good. Our bodies had adjusted to the altitude and we were falling into the pace and cadence of high-mountain living.

Ed and I are now back here at BC for 2-3 days of rest. Melissa stayed at Camp 2 for another day of acclimatization, and Dave Hahn and his team just headed up to Camp 1 for their first rotation on the mountain. I'm really pleased that all team members are on track and making steady progress. Next we will head up for another rotation up high, which will include spending a night at Camp 3 (23,500'), climbing above to about 25,000' and then descending all the way to BC for more rest prior to our final push. We are one month into this expedition and so far, so good. Each day is its own challenge. My mantra is "short-term focus on a long-term goal." One step at a time, literally. But hey, I'm down here at BC resting my body and my mind, so I'm going for another Coke.