Climbers lost in the South Col blizzard and huddling together for shelter

The South Col blizzard ordeal was a struggle to stay together and alive after climbers descending from the summit lost their route in darkness and wind. Near the South Col, Neal Beidleman tried to guide a mixed group away from the dangerous Lhotse Face, but the whiteout erased the terrain cues he had planned to follow. The climbers formed a human shelter, waited through brief breaks in the snow, and then faced a painful division: some could move toward camp, while others could not walk unsupported. The storm turned navigation, physical strength, and mutual aid into immediate questions of survival.

The planned route and the loss of bearings

Beidleman’s initial plan drew on his prior view of the terrain and warnings from friends who had climbed the area. Rather than head directly for Camp IV, he intended to traverse left across the slope, keeping away from the Lhotse Face and its precipice. His route was meant to lead toward a high point at the South Col saddle, where a distinct band of rock would serve as a landmark; from there, turning right and descending among the rocks should bring the group to camp, the Geneva Spur, the fixed ropes, or the surrounding debris. Each of these features offered a possible way to regain the route.

The group did not move in a clear line of command. Climbers were buffeted back and forth, following whichever headlamp was in front of them. Beidleman tried to call for one leader and one light to follow, but he could not get to the front while supporting the Japanese climber, and he had not yet taken out a headlamp. In the wind and confusion, the group traversed too far. When the slope gave way to a ridge crest, Beidleman lost his sense of direction: the terrain no longer provided a reliable line to follow.

He later estimated that the group wandered for perhaps an hour, though he could not be sure. People repeatedly moved to the front and fell behind, while the climbers called to one another to stay together. Beidleman feared that anyone who left alone to search for camp might get lucky, but was more likely to become completely lost. The group may have turned onto the Tibetan side of the South Col. By then, Beidleman’s oxygen had long run out, and the others were staggering; the wind and lack of oxygen made it increasingly difficult to interpret the terrain or think clearly.

The huddle in the whiteout

Beidleman described the storm as being like the inside of a milk bottle. He estimated winds of at least forty miles an hour, with gusts perhaps reaching eighty or more, strong enough to knock people off their feet. The climbers’ faces iced over, and they struggled across difficult ice broken by exposed rock. When Beidleman saw a dip and a rise ahead in the beam of a headlamp, he became frightened: the ground seemed so dangerous that it could not be terrain they should be approaching on the South Col. He returned to the group.

With help from Tim Madsen and Klev Schoening, Beidleman urged the climbers to stay together and huddle. He remembered that a severe storm earlier that evening had briefly subsided and become still, and hoped a pause might reveal stars or mountains by which the group could reorient itself. They formed a large pile with their backs to the wind, laying across one another’s laps, shouting, beating each other’s backs, and checking on one another. The practical work of staying warm and awake was shared: the climbers moved and kicked, checked fingers and consciousness, and tried to keep one another responsive.

The ordeal distorted Beidleman’s sense of time and left him unsure whether the waves of warmth he felt came from hypothermia, hypoxia, or both. During one break in the snow, he saw a few vague stars before the whiteout closed again. A later opening allowed him to see the Big Dipper and the North Star; someone identified Everest, and Klev Schoening was certain of the mountain’s position and the direction of camp. Even that glimpse did not instantly make movement easy. Beidleman struggled to stand and help others up, while the Japanese climber still held onto his arm. The small window of visibility offered direction, but not strength.

The group divides

Once they had some bearings, the climbers tried to get everybody moving. Klev Schoening recalled that Charlotte Fox, the Japanese climber, and Sandy Hill Pittman could stand but could not walk without support. He initially tried to help Charlotte and the Japanese climber, but was on his knees trying to lift them and could not manage both. The group rearranged who was supporting whom; Tim Madsen took Charlotte, while Lene Gammelgaard and Klev paired up.

Beidleman went to Pittman and found that her gloves were off. She pleaded with him to put them back on and said she could not walk. He told her that if she could not walk, she needed to crawl. Pittman did crawl for a time, but the wind repeatedly knocked her down. After she lost sight of the group’s lamp over a rise, she saw another light and called out. Madsen answered, and she rejoined him and Charlotte; their small group huddled again rather than risk wandering alone.

The decision facing the larger group was stark. Beidleman and Klev discussed whether they could go on and get help or should huddle again; the brief clearing had raised hopes, but people were still exhausted and exposed. They chose to leave. The climbers stumbled, walked, or ran uphill, and soon saw a headlamp near the tents. It belonged to Anatoli Boukreev, who was with Pemba Sherpa. They collapsed in front of the tents. Boukreev helped remove their crampons and directed and pushed them into separate tents.

Those left behind and the return to camp

The people who could not make that move remained in a smaller group. Madsen recalled that he lacked the strength to drag or carry Charlotte to camp, and that she refused to walk. After hearing a moan behind him, he went back for the Japanese climber and brought her to Charlotte. Beck Weathers was also having great difficulty walking and remained tethered to Mike Groom. Madsen sent Groom toward camp to seek help, believing he was still functional. The five who remained together—Madsen, Pittman, Fox, the Japanese climber, and Weathers—tried to keep awake and warm in another huddle.

Pittman’s account of crawling and rejoining Madsen and Fox describes how quickly the larger formation had become separate islands of light and people. Madsen could not see where to go and could not carry Fox; Pittman had lost the first group’s lamp; and the Japanese climber’s moan was the signal that brought Madsen back to her. Their plan was to stay put and hope someone returned. The effort to preserve the group therefore changed form: first a large huddle meant to prevent anyone from becoming lost, then smaller clusters built around whoever could still support another person.

Boukreev eventually found the stranded group after one or two attempts. According to Madsen, he carried Fox back to camp, gave Pittman an oxygen bottle, and later returned with tea and another bottle. He then hauled Pittman back, with Madsen following; Madsen believed he was the last member of the group to reach Camp IV. The account’s ending is not a single moment of escape but a series of returns: the first climbers reached the tents and were directed inside, while others remained in the storm until someone came back for them.

Equipment and the breakdown of coordination

The whiteout unfolded amid weaknesses in the expedition’s communications and summit preparations. Martin Adams had criticized Scott Fischer’s old, ten-channel two-way radios before the summit attempt, arguing that every climber should have had a small, light radio. The available radios were few and cumbersome compared with newer models, and the storm-night evidence shows how much information depended on a chain of relays rather than direct contact between people on the mountain and Base Camp.

The relay system passed messages from Base Camp through Ngima Sherpa, Gyalzen Sherpa at Camp II, and Pemba Sherpa at Camp IV to climbers higher up, with reports traveling back through the same intermediaries. Ingrid Hunt said she could not be confident that an English-language message would reach its recipient, and that Ngima’s information was inconsistent. On summit day she repeatedly asked for news; in one instance, Ngima said there was none even though he had just spoken with Pemba about Scott Fischer, Lopsang Jangbu Sherpa, Makalu Gau, and several Taiwanese and New Zealand Sherpas near the South Col. At about one in the morning, a message that Lopsang was coughing and in bad condition prompted Hunt to hurry to the Mountain Madness camp, but the connection disappeared and no one heard from the mountain for six hours.

The group also came down from a summit push with a narrow oxygen margin. At Camp IV, Mountain Madness had sixty-two canisters: nine heavier Zvesda canisters reserved for sleeping and fifty-three Poisk canisters set aside for the May 10 climb. The Sherpas carried twenty-one bottles up the mountain, while the clients and guides carried seventeen; together, the climbers took thirty-eight Poisk canisters, leaving fifteen full ones and whatever remained from the Zvesdas at camp. The supplies did not allow a second summit attempt after an overnight delay. In the storm, when oxygen was exhausted or climbers could not move independently, this limited margin formed part of the conditions in which the group’s choices had to be made.

The planned rope work also failed to happen as the clients expected. Climbers from the Fischer and Rob Hall expeditions understood that their climbing sirdars, Lopsang and Ang Dorje, would leave Camp IV early and fix the ropes so clients would not have to wait. In fact, none of the Sherpas had departed ahead to do so. This is evidence of the hazardous context around the summit-day crowding and delays, not a complete explanation for every subsequent decision in the storm. The ordeal itself is remembered through the practical particulars of losing the route, stopping together, using brief glimpses of the sky, and splitting when not everyone could move.

Meaning of the ordeal

The event exposes the limits of individual navigation in a storm that erased landmarks and made familiar terrain unreadable. Beidleman’s plan depended on a slope, a ridge, and a rock band; once the traverse went too far and the slope disappeared, those landmarks could not guide the group. Even the later appearance of the stars and the recognition of Everest restored only a sense of direction. The climbers still had to stand, support one another, and decide who could travel.

The huddle was a collective survival measure, but it could not make the group’s physical condition equal. Some climbers could move uphill toward the tents; others could stand only with assistance, crawl, or remain where they were. The episode keeps those unequal capacities in view without turning the choice to depart into an easy moral distinction: the people who left hoped to reach help, while those who stayed tried to remain warm and alive until help returned. The several journeys back to Camp IV depended on both the climbers’ efforts to remain together and Boukreev’s repeated return into the storm.