The Cacophony Interviews: May 2007 Michael Dunjey, Everest Climber

In the early hours of Friday morning, May 11, Michael Dunjey re-entered Australian airspace having spent the better part of two months on Mount Everest. His ascent ended at the oxygen-rare height of 7300m when he was forced to retreat to Base Camp or put his team (and the future of his fingers) in jeopardy. Over lunch and a couple of short macs, Simon Elliott and Brad Birt caught up with him to check out his hands, to talk everything from the mountain, to bowel movements, to the future, and kick off The Cacophony Interview Series.

C: Welcome home mate, it's good to see you in one piece. It looks as though you've left a few kilograms on the mountain...

MD: Yeah, about 8 kilograms. I went up 84kg, right now I'm 76kg. Interestingly, mountain climbing at altitude is the only form of exercise where you lose muscle before fat. I've still got some handles to hold on to.

C: What's great about being back at sea-level?

MD: Well, for starters, that's where Aimee (MD's wife) lives. But there's plenty more besides: breathing easily, getting your appetite back, eating multiple breakfast lunch and dinners, and enjoying simple pleasure like going to the toilet and having a shower. And, in time, it will be fun catching up with friends and family.

C: How often did you shower on the mountain?

MD: About once a week. And changed underwear at similar intervals. Obviously you can explore all the configurations of a single set of underwear before you've really got a problem.

C: And bowel movements on the mountain?!

MD: Well, at Base Camp it's reasonably civil. There's a small tent. It's smells feral but it's warm...and on Everest, anything warm is pretty good. Once you're getting further up the mountain it becomes a little trickier. You don't want to expose anything for too long (and at some temperatures it's not all that easy to locate through 6 inches of insulation). Exposure is a serious problem. We use a pee-bottle at night and for the weightier offerings zip-lock bags come in handy—these get jettisoned on the mountain the next day. Our climbing gear has easy access backsuits so it's not too hard although a few climbers have been known to make deposits in their hoods in error.

C: Yikes.

MD: Not me mind you.

C: Sure. What's the view like at 7300m?

MD: Well the summit looks incredibly close (although in reality it's 18 hours away). It's quite incredible really. For so many years I've looked at photos of every passage of Everest and studied it closely, so in someways nothing comes as a surprise...except that you're actually ON the mountain. Probably one of the most common phrases that got swapped between team members was 'hey guys, we're climbing Everest'. For all of us this was a dream that had been coming a long, long time and being there was almost surreal at times.

From 6500m you can see the summit really clearly and from there you really just want to get on with it. You find yourself being continually reminded by the magnitude of the moment...and the sheer and absolute exhaustion it brings.

C: What was the toughest part?

MD: Without doubt it was the first climb half way up the Khumbu Icefall. While we all knew this was about acclimatisation, nothing could have prepared us for this. We came down that day shattered, exhausted and demoralised. We'd gone through severe 'mountain shock' which our guide told us was quite typical. In some ways it was reassuring to know that many before us (and all of us on the team) felt as distraught. I've never been so exhausted.

C: Tell us more about the team...

MD: For starters, I was the only member who hadn't run a marathon. All the others had run marathons and ultra-marathons. Two had completed the Hawaiian Ironman Triathlon and another a 1000km bike race. They were super-fit.

C: Did they have any understanding of your eclectic musical tastes?

MD: I kept it reasonably hidden. I told them of my passion for Celine but, to be honest, I'm pretty sure they thought I was joking.

C: And how did they regard the physical aspect of the climb?

MD: Without exception, everyone who had run a marathon likened each climbing day past Base Camp to the intensity of a marathon. Even the easiest of days was compared to a marathon—similar exertion, similar side-effects, less oxygen. Most mountain-climbers peak around 45-60 years old. Chuck, probably the strongest on our team, was also the old guy. At 63, Chuck could climb like a ridiculously accomplished 30 year old. There were many like him, but none stronger or fitter. He was astounding.

C: How dangerous was it?

MD: We all knew it was dangerous. We'd all heard of people whose life was taken on the mountain. Every Everest season there's casualties. In a way though, you hear about it so much that you become numb to the risks. That all changed when we saw it firsthand.

C: Tell us about it.

MD: In short, one of the sherpas for another team hiked past us while we were climbing between Camp One and Camp Two. He was on his way from Base Camp to Camp Two (the sherpas typically, and super-humanly, take two camps at a time). Four hours later we saw him carried down the mountain. He was killed by a chunk of ice hitting his head. We were radioed ahead to let us know he had been killed and then radioed again to let us know that the body was only 10 minutes away. He was quite a legend of the mountain it seemed as 20 grieving sherpas carried him—wrapped in sleeping bags and on a stretcher—back down the mountain. It was a reminder to our whole team how dangerous this mountain could be.

C: Have their been many lives lost so far this season?

MD: Only two that I know of, but May is the month for Everest fatalities because it's when everyone is at the dangerous altitudes.

C: Recount the story that lead to you coming back to Base Camp.

MD: I was leading the team on that day. Until that point the attempt was flawless. The previous few days my hands had been cold but when you're climbing Everest it's quite expected. On this day one of the guides told me I needed to prepare to use some equipment on my bag for the next part of the climb. After fumbling around for a few minutes I realised that I couldn't open my bag—my hands weren't working. The guide asked me to take off my gloves and show him. My fingers were already turning black. He told me I'd need to head back to Base Camp.

C: What are some of the thoughts that went through your head when you realised that summiting was no longer a possibility?

MD: I think I had 60 seconds of complete denial before I realised that it was a pragmatic and objective decision. I couldn't operate my equipment. It became an easy call. In all our preparations we had it drilled into us: don't leave flesh on the mountain—the mountain will still be there, your body parts will be gone forever. The decision was simple. I would have endangered my self and my team.

C: What if you'd kept on going?

MD: Well, for a start i would have lost a number of fingers. It would have meant trying to hide it from the others and that would have been irresponsible...it would have put the whole expedition in jeopardy.

C: If you'd have been at 8800m (50 metres from the summit), what would you have done?

MD: Gone for it! But I wasn't, I was 18 hours away and while in the context of an 8 week trip I had completed the toughest sections of the mountain and the lion's share of it, we still had a way to go.

C: In retrospect, is there anything you could have done differently?

MD: Frustratingly, yes. While I was wearing two layers of gloves, I could have been wearing the third, high-altitude mitt. This glove restricts a lot of function and is simply thumb and mitt. Had I put this on an hour before (or three days before) things may have been different. To put them on though would have meant stopping the pack that I was leading and unpacking to retrieve these gloves. I didn't want to hold up the team...and I obviously didn't know the extent of my problems.

C: What was the reaction of the team to you having to abort the summit attempt?

MD: They didn't actually find out until they came back down to Base Camp. The group is near each other on the climbs but still stretched out a fair bit. So you're not really aware of all the tales of the day's climb until you're back at the camp. They were great about it though. They had a Celebration Dinner for me which was great of them. Climbers know how quickly fortunes can change on the mountain. Everything needs to go right on each climbing day for you to successfully summit. It's like the Olympic marathon winner—they may not be the best athlete in the field, but they're the athlete that it all came together for on the day. Realistically, I was probably in the top quartile of the climbers in our team...but anything can happen.

C: What was it like back down the mountain?

MD: A bit funny really. You're holed up in one of three 5-star hotels that are filled up with 400 climbers who have all had to succumb to the mountain. We called each other the 'Everest-Rejects'. 600 try the mountain each year; if it was that easy these hotels wouldn't be full of limping climbers with bodies in various stages of disrepair.

C: How are your hands now?

MD: As I came down the mountain, I had stop at 15 minute intervals and put my hands under the armpits of my guide to preserve them. It might sound nasty, but I'd rather have my hands. All ten fingers were dead white and wooden or glassy to the touch and well on their way to freezing. We were just below Camp 3 but to spend the night at that height and in the cold conditions would have been stupid with my hands in that condition.

My guide accompanied me back to Camp 2. I was placed on bottled oxygen immediately. This aids directly in returning circulation to the extremities. My hands were placed in a warm bath of water for the next hour. Who knows how bad my fingers may have got. But I feel with the immediate action that was taken in getting me back down, the oxygen etc, that at least three of my fingers were saved from the chop.

The second, third and fourth fingers on my right hand still have no sensation, but this should return over the next 3-9 months.

Interestingly, I can scratch my ear and feel nothing...yet my itch is sated. Nice!

C: So many of your decisions over the last decade or so have been based on a tilt at Everest. Is it too early talk about the future?

MD: It's an interesting question. Until now everything has been a stepping stone towards a much larger goal: Everest. In many ways I feel that I've done it. Have I climbed Everest? Yes. Have I summited Everest? No. Yet, I've conquered the toughest parts of Everest. I've climbed the Khumbu Icefall four times. I've been to Camp 3. I've climbed to 7300m on one of the world's toughest mountains. For the moment, my Everest itch is largely satiated.

C: Do you want to go back up the mountain?

MD: As I said, I feel no need to go again...at the moment. But in many ways it's 'once a climber always a climber'. The guides said to us all before we went up the mountain: 'whatever you do, don't sell your gear when you come back down in some reaction to what went on up the mountain. It's temporary...and you'll end up having to buy all your gear back. I sold nothing other than some oxygen tanks. So, I think I'll always be climbing in some form.

There are other alluring mountains too. Aconcagua in Argentina is the highest outside of the Himalayas and I'm keen to climb it one day. The thing about climbing as I said earlier is that you peak anywhere from 45-60 so I have plenty of time ahead of me.

C: So, what's next?

MD: On the non-climbing front, I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. Aimee and I are keen to start a family sooner than later. I'm keen to sink my teeth (or feet) back into podiatry and continue to build the property portfolio that I've started. I'm also wanting to explore the Life Coaching/Personal Coaching area. I'm continually fascinated by the difference that effective goal setting can make to a person's life and would love to be part of that journey with a host of people.

On the climbing front, I have a great desire to take small groups of people to do interesting, eye-opening treks to places like Argentina. I've had brief discussions with Wesley College about such a trip and the idea really excites me. I love the sub-continent, the thrill of adventure, the physical challenge of it all and the opportunities to explore yourself that come through physical exertion. I'd love to be part of helping people learn more of themselves through that kind of adventure.

C: Do you think everyone needs to climb a mountain?

MD: Depends whether you're talking metaphorically or physically. In some ways the answer is yes to both, but I understand that some people simply don't enjoy climbing. I absolutely believe that physical exertion, suffering and a plain old hard days' work can change your mental attitude...which flows on to the rest of your life. You see on these poxy shows like 'Biggest Loser'...some guy gets mentally broken through physical exertion, yet it becomes a breakthrough for him. They get broken, but discover another dimension on the other side of all of that.

I think we all need to challenge ourselves to gain perspective by broadening our horizons. I look around Perth and I see a whole lot of people that are obsessed by nothing more than lowering their mortgages. There's so much more of life to take in. Get out of the rut. Climb a mountain. Go on a short term mission trip. Don't make the micro-culture your whole world. Be bold enough to see beyond it. In that whole process, quite aside from the thrill of adventure, you'll gain a fresh perspective on the priority you're giving to a whole lot of other things.

C: Nice work. Tell me about the spiritual dimension of climbing Everest.

I think it's in the extremes of life that we hold on to God the hardest. For me, it's in the heights and in the depths. When things are brilliant, I want to yell out my thanks for all that's brilliant. And in the depths, I want to cry out for help.

In many ways, Everest doesn't feel like earth; it's the domain of absolute extremes. Extreme pain, extreme fatigue, extreme cold and extremely low oxygen. You discover more of God in these extremes. You appreciate more joy when you've gone through the pain.

Our team was really interesting. Probably half or more of the team had a really strong faith in Jesus. Dave from Colorado, the guy I roomed and tented with, was a deacon in his Presbyterian church back at home. The difference it made to be able to unpack the highs and lows of a day on the mountain in the context of our faith journey was huge. It was such a provision.

C: Are there leadership lessons from the mountain?

MD: Absolutely. There's a bunch of leadership and team lessons. A mountain like Everest is all about team and leadership under the most extreme conditions imaginable. What you observe is that as the altitude increases the guides switch on and become increasingly intentional about their leadership, their need to provide certainty and the conviction of their instructions. They know what it takes to succeed and survive on this mountain. Most of these guides lecture in MBA schools around the world because of the amount of leadership lessons that can be gleaned from the pressure cooker that is Everest.

In many ways it's the litmus test of leadership: leadership under pressure. My personal challenge was with diet; the guides wanted me to be eating constantly. I remember one stretch when the guide stopped the team to observe whether or not I was eating. I didn't want to slow the team down to get more food. The guide said: eat now! The team waited for me to get supplies. The guides had identified the greatest needs of each of the climbers and were holding each of us accountable to the things that would give us the greatest chance of success. Food was the big one for me.

There was little, if an, hierarchy within the team itself. It was without doubt one of the best teams I have ever had the privilege of being a part of. Aside from having a huge sense of humour (essential for this kind of expedition) each person was always looking out for everyone else. We genuinely desired success for everyone else on the team. Back in Perth now, I'm still following the journeys of everyone from my team, hoping that each of them summit the mountain.

C: A tough question maybe...was there any sense of dread coming back home knowing the hopes of so many for your success?

MD: No, not really. A mate of mine, Ed Bradley, attempted Everest a few years back and had to turn back only 100metres from the summit when inclement weather closed in. He told me that for the first fortnight after he got back it was all about how it felt to get so close. From then on he's been 'the guy who climbed Everest'. Just like me, that's true. We've both been up the mountain and we've both experienced the harshest of what it has to offer. I went to Everest and I didn't summit, but I conquered the lion's share. As I said earlier, I'm really satisfied. Occasionally frustrated—that's human—but really satisfied.

C: Mate, thanks for talking to us. I speak for a whole lot who read Cacophony and a whole lot beyond when I say we're incredibly proud of what you did up on the mountain, what you've achieved, the character you've demonstrated and the perspective you bring.

MD: Cheers. Thanks for the opportunity to answer a few questions a few people might be wondering about.