A mountaineering guide on Everest has survived six days stranded near the summit on nothing more than chocolate bars and melted ice, a tale that has drawn grudging admiration from the British climbing community but also raises uncomfortable questions about risk management in the world's highest death zone.
The unnamed guide, working for a commercial expedition, was separated from his party during a sudden storm that swept the South Col route. With no tent, no stove and only limited provisions, he hunkered down in a shallow crevasse at 8,000 metres, surviving on a stash of chocolate and drinking water produced by melting ice in his mouth.
Rescuers finally reached him on the sixth day. He was severely dehydrated and suffering from frostbite, but alive. The story has spread like wildfire through the expedition grapevine, with British mountaineers saluting his luck and mental fortitude.
'This is the sort of survival story that traders on the floor would call a dead cat bounce,' said one veteran climber, using a term for a temporary recovery in a falling market. 'He got lucky, but the underlying trend was still heading to zero.'
The incident underscores the growing commercialisation of Everest. With permit fees soaring to nearly $11,000 per person, the market is flooded with clients who lack experience. The 2019 season saw a record 11 deaths, many in the 'traffic jam' near the summit. Critics argue that the drive for profit is compromising safety, much like a housing bubble where leverage conceals risk until the crash.
'Every season we see more punters who treat Everest like a weekend in the Lake District,' said a Scottish mountaineer who has summitted three times. 'They forget that the cost of entry doesn't buy survival. You can't hedge against a sudden storm with a layer of Gore-Tex.'
The rescue operation itself was a logistical nightmare. Helicopters cannot fly above 6,000 metres, so Sherpas had to climb through the night. The cost of such rescues runs into tens of thousands of pounds, often borne by insurance policies that are themselves opaque products.
The guide's survival on chocolate and ice is a testament to human endurance, but it also highlights the fiscal irresponsibility of modern mountaineering. The balance sheet of risk versus reward is skewed. For every success story, there are dozens of near misses that don't make the headlines. The market, however, continues to boom. Bookings for the 2024 spring season are already climbing.
One British expedition leader, who asked not to be named, summed up the mood: 'We're all pleased he's alive, but let's not pretend this is anything other than a failure of risk management. If he had been a bank, he'd have been bailed out. On Everest, you are your own central bank with no lender of last resort.'
As the guide recovers in a Kathmandu clinic, the climbing fraternity will debate the fine line between adventure and recklessness. But for now, the yield on chocolate bars has never been higher.
