Ladders are most often associated with the Khumbu Icefall on the south side but Scott on Everest with Adventure Peaks notes over on the north "...The top of the route currently has a couple of gapping crevasses, one spanned by three long ladders strapped together at around 7,000m."

In the "better late than never" department, the Everest Peace Project team have finally made it to BC on the north.

With teams now moving freely across the Western Cwm, I thought I would describe it is a little detail as well as share one of the most terrifying climbing experiences of my life - a fall in a crevasse. First the Cwm:

It is about 2.5 miles from Camp 1 to Camp 2 with an altitude gain of 1,500'. So it is not far and not that high but ... it is hot, very hot. The sun reflects off the walls of Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse snow covered slopes making the temperature rise above 100F degrees. Yes, it can get that hot. Then it can be brutally cold if the cloud moves in, the wind picks up and it starts snowing. Out comes the Gortex layers and goggles. Smart teams are roped in groups of three or four so that if someone does fall in a crevasse, they can be easily rescued. Finally, if this is the first time in the Cwm, it is an awe-inspiring experience that opens up all your senses.

On my first Everest climb in 2002, we were moving from C1 to C2 for our second set of nights at ABC (or C2 on the south side). We had made good time through the Icefall and stopped at C1 for a food and water break. Snow started to fall had soon there was a whiteout. This is not unusual in the Icefall and Rob, Harldur and I roped up in addition to being clipped into the fixed line. It still amazes me that teams do not rope together when crossing crevasse prone areas you find in the Cwm or on Denali. Anyway we were half an hour above C1 when it happened. Here is the excerpt from my dispatch in 2002:

"I saw the small black hole in front of me, a tell tale sign of an emerging crevasse. I have crossed many of these at this point. So I followed the track to the right of the hole and prepared to take the extra large step designed to clear the visible - and invisible - obstacle. In a heartbeat, I fell through the trap door with a whoosh. Everything went dark as snow covered my face. I felt myself hanging in clear air. And it became silent. All in a heartbeat. My first sight was of the nylon rope digging into the ice wall. I intensely stared at it hoping that Haraldur was secured on the other end. It moved deeper into the ice. Solve the problem.

My mind became focused on getting out quickly. I looked down and to my right. There was my trekking pole resting on a snow powder shelf twenty feet below and there was clear blue ice for as far as I could see below the shelf. To my left was a brighter prospect, a similar powder shelf within reach of my left crampon point. About this time, Rob appeared above me anxiously inquiring about any signs of injury. He called out to Haraldur to hold tight. I reached out with my left foot to the powder shelf hoping for a foothold to leverage myself out. The snow puffed away into the crevasse carrying away my hope for an easy exit. I looked again at the rope cutting deeper into the ice wall and thought of my training where you put the handle of an ice axe between the rope and the wall to create a temporary edge. But before I suggested this maneuver, I drove the front points of my crampons into the ice wall. They held. I called to Rob to tell Haraldur to start pulling. Working together, I began to clear the icy trap. With Rob providing extra support, I soon stood beside the crevasse.

The walk to Camp 2 was long. My mind was preoccupied with the crevasse. I had lost all my energy and optimism. Haraldur, Rob, Bill and I made steady but very slow progress. The weather cleared up and now the sun was baking each of us. Off with Gortex, apply extra sunscreen, trade goggles for glacier sunglasses. Arriving at Camp 2, I was spent. I had absolutely nothing left. The final steps were on autopilot - no conscious decisions. I found my tent and sat down heavily on my pack.

I began to feel the emotions starting to escape: frustration, anger, guilt and fear. How did I step on the snowbridge? What if I had not been roped up? What if I had not been properly tied in? What if. The questions went on and on. Whoosh, darkness, hanging, quiet. The sequence repeated continuously in my head. How did this happen? I dwelled on the negative and on the fear. For the first time in the mountains, any mountain, I was afraid. I knew I needed to get a grip on myself but the fear was overwhelming. I saw myself hanging in clear air. I felt my feet reaching out to nothing. I saw the rope cutting deeper. I saw the faces of my family. It was about 3:00PM and I was thirsty and hungry but was not ready to do anything about it. I sat on my pack and thought about the event.

I remembered the story of another climber who had a friend die in a crevasse and he had to perform miracles to save his own life. I considered the danger I was exposed to and how many other people fall into crevasses on mountains. It was part of the deal. I decided to draw on my teammates for strength. I entered the tent at C2 where we ate our meals and told the team that I was shaken, very shaken. Haraldur and Rob talked everyone through exactly what had happened. I received glances throughout the conversation. Soon, someone made a joke. I joined in. It was working.

I slept fitfully that night and spent the next half-day dwelling on what had happened. It wasn't until I read again a letter that Ashley had given me before I left home that I started feeling better. I felt my confidence increase and the will to continue the climb return. I pondered what I had learned. How could I avoid such a misstep? The experience was turning into lessons. After a rest day at C2, we left at sunrise for a trip up the Lhotse face. I had one of my best days on the Hill yet."