Recalling The Day Of Fatal Avalanche: It `Grabbed US'

In the rubble of a slab avalanche on Nepal's 26,760-foot Manaslu, as team members worked first to try to save Charlie Schertz and then Nancy Jackson, leader Don Goodman decided his Himalayan climbing career was over.

``This is it,'' he thought. ``I'm not going to take this anymore.''

Eighteen months ago, Goodman, 32, of Seattle, was deputy leader of the successful 1988 Northwest American Everest Expedition and sat under the roasting television lights of the press room at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and talked about triumph.

Yesterday, Goodman sat beneath the same lights and talked about death. As inevitably happens, those who don't climb wanted to know: How can any sport be worth this terrible loss?

``Both Charlie and Nancy were dedicated to the mountains,'' said Goodman, who left Manaslu immediately after the March 27 deaths of Schertz, 35, and Jackson, 34, to try to get word to family and friends through the political upheaval in Katmandu.

``They led incredibly active lives and had incredibly demanding careers along with their love for the mountains.''

Nima Wangchuk Sherpa, 41, who also died in the avalanche at 15,510 feet, was paid to be on the world's eighth-highest mountain, but he, too, was where he wanted to be, Goodman said.

It is a common theme among climbers and their families that the lives of these athletes were vibrant.

``It's what we cling to,'' Betty Jackson, Nancy Jackson's mother, said last night from her home in Moscow, Idaho.

In addition to her work as a chemical engineer, Jackson, of Federal Way, was a guide for Rainier Mountaineering Inc. She made 50 trips up Mount Rainier.

Schertz, an anesthesiologist who practiced in Pittsburgh and was on his fourth Himalayan climb, turned back from Everest in 1988 because of pulmonary problems he thought might end his high-altitude climbing.

In 1988, while describing an earlier expedition, Schertz told of watching a gung-ho group of Polish climbers head up an avalanche-prone area. He retreated as quickly as he could.

``I kept thinking of my wine collection waiting at home,'' he said.

Yesterday, Dr. Jon Haigh, who pronounced Schertz dead at the avalanche site, said that during the expedition ``Charlie had been as happy as he'd ever been in his life.''

The group had encountered unusually good luck since leaving Seattle Feb. 22. After trekking 100 miles through an area relatively untouched by Western influence, the team of eight climbers and one manager reached base camp on schedule March 15.

Camp 1 was established at 16,200 feet and was first occupied by Jackson, Schertz, Steve Steckmyer, 40, a Seattle engineer, and Sherpas Wangchuk and Zangbu.

On the evening of March 21, clouds began to gather, the start of a major storm that didn't taper off until March 25. During that time, the climbers moved camp in an attempt to keep it from being buried by 5 feet of wet snow.

It was agreed by radio on the evening of March 26 that the higher climbers would try to return to base camp the following day, while a group from base camp would make a quick trip up with supplies.

Jackson told Goodman an avalanche had dusted the camp but visibility was so poor the climbers weren't sure of its origin.

About 9 a.m., 1,000 yards down from Camp 1, a slab avalanche about 50 yards wide and 200 yards long broke from the bedrock and buried Jackson, Schertz and Wangchuk. Steckmyer was out of the path, but Zangbu was buried up to his neck.

Steckmyer immediately switched his avalanche beacon to receive the broadcasts from the buried climbers' beacons. It took him 20 minutes to find Schertz buried 5 feet under the snow. He applied CPR for 20 minutes before giving up and starting the search for Jackson.

The climbers from base camp found Zangbu staggering toward them. They immediately dropped their loads and ran up the hill with their snow shovels. Jackson was found face-down in the snow and couldn't be freed. CPR attempts failed.

Wangchuk, who was found near where Zangbu had been partly buried, was also pronounced dead.

Goodman worries that he didn't give enough thought to the avalanche area. The climbers had been concerned about the dangers at Camp 1 and about a traditional problem area called Nike Peak.

``It just crept up and grabbed us,'' said Goodman.

There has been no word from John Petroske, 28, and Mike Clarke, 55, both of Seattle; David Gordon, 51, of Kettle Falls, Stevens County; Howard Weaver, 35, of Olympia; or from Steckmyer, who stayed behind to try to bring the climbers' remains down.

Goodman and Haigh got out of Nepal on the first available plane after being trapped first by demonstrations and then by celebrations after the government agreed to a multiparty system.

A memorial for the climbers will be held at The Mountaineers Club in Seattle after the rest of the team returns, perhaps as early as April 21.