Outdoors -- Alone Against Mt. Everest -- Climber Ed Viesturs Would Be First Solo Conqueror Of Everest's Sheer North Face

"Whilst climbing I was like a walking corpse. What kept me upright was the world around me: the air, sky, earth and the clouds. . . . How does one live at this height? I was no longer living, I was only vegetating."

- Reinhold Messner, recalling his thoughts at 27,000 feet on his unprecedented 1980 solo ascent of 29,027-foot Mount Everest. --------------------------------------

Five and a half miles in the sky, no one can hear you scream. Ed Viesturs longs for that silence.

Several times before in the Himalayas, Viesturs has felt it envelop him, swallow him whole, immerse him in a private world interrupted only by the glint of ice, the scrape of rock, the foul taste of thin air and the staccato thud of a pounding heart.

Two of those sweetly solitary moments were near the top of Mount Everest, the world's highest peak.

Each time, Viesturs, 34, made the final, painful, joyful steps to the top of the world by himself, while climbing companions waited anxiously in a high camp just below.

Each time, Viesturs felt deep within him a longing to go a step farther: to face this mountain - and himself - alone, top to bottom, start to finish.

In less than a month, the faceoff begins. Viesturs will leave his West Seattle home Saturday for a return trip to Everest, which he will attempt to conquer in a fashion rarely attempted and only once achieved: solo. And he'll take a route that has never been completed solo: up the mountain's sheer North Face.

On this October attempt, there will be no support team, no squadron of Sherpas to ferry supplies, no climbing mates for rescue attempts, no ropes to break a fall. As Viesturs says, "No safety cord whatsoever."

Climbing Everest alone, the margin for error is zero. Minor slips become fatal accidents.

"Most people would never want to do what I'm doing," he said. "This is the mystery I want to figure out about myself. It's not just peak-bagging. It's self-reliance."

It is a challenge many climbers find unthinkable.

It is very thinkable to Viesturs, who is quietly emerging as one of the world's top alpinists. It is, in fact, a logical next rung on his ladder of personal challenges. The longtime Rainier Mountaineering Inc. guide already has climbed the world's three highest peaks - a feat accomplished by only seven others on the planet. And he has reached all three summits without bottled oxygen - a record that may be unparalleled. In Seattle, home to many of the world's best climbers, Viesturs is the new Top Gun.

But none of that matters to him. And none of his past feats compares to this challenge.

If he succeeds, Viesturs will join the true climbing elite. Only Reinhold Messner, the Tyrolian widely considered the king of Himalayan climbers, has lived to tell of a true solo ascent of mighty Everest. His 1980 solo trek was made on a North Ridge route less technically challenging than the sheer North Face ascent Viesturs will attempt. Messner, the only man to have scaled all 14 of the world's 8,000-meter (26,000-foot) peaks, reported feeling "leached, completely empty" on the summit. His ascent was survived, not enjoyed.

Messner's accounts make Viesturs even more determined. He purposely chose the most direct, floor-to-ceiling route on the mountain. Not to go Messner one better. Just to better himself.

"Nobody, nobody, will be where I'm at," he said.

Most climbers would shudder at this notion. Viesturs' eyes sparkle when he talks about it.

"There are very few places left on the planet where you can be completely alone. I've always thought it would be pretty neat to be totally isolated."

Neat?

"There will be no group decisions. When you're with someone else, you can compare approaches, draw on their experience. I won't have that. It will be all up to me. If I screw up and get injured, nobody can come and get me. That's it."

Neat.

YEARS OF HIGH-ALTITUDE TRAINING

Viesturs' climb would seem - at least on the surface - completely out of character for a non-assuming, shy Illinois native who once devoted his life to the care of small, furry animals.

Viesturs, who moved to Seattle in 1977 to pursue what then was a climbing hobby, is a licensed veterinarian. Indeed, it is easy to picture Viesturs in a white lab coat, gently consoling a wounded kitten. He is quick to display a wide, sheepish grin. He speaks softly, thinking about what he is about to say. He is quiet, even reserved.

But no lab coat can hide what years of high-altitude training have wrought. Viesturs' 5-foot-9, 160-pound body is a marvel of finely tuned, compact muscle. He moves with grace and ease, and climbing partners say he may be more meticulous, dependable and strong in climbing the "Death Zone" above 26,000 feet than anyone else in the world.

It appears as though the mountain gods created Ed Viesturs specifically to stroll their shoulders. And he long ago abandoned the notion of resisting that pull.

Viesturs dropped his veterinary career and began guiding for Rainier Mountaineering in 1982. In Seattle, he found it easy to find partners with similar ambitions. He has bagged many of the world's most daunting peaks since 1983, including Everest on Jim Whittaker's International Peace Climb in 1990 and another expedition in 1991.

CONQUERING K2

Viesturs' career reached a new peak last year, when he and fellow West Seattleite Scott Fischer conquered 28,250-foot K2, considered the world's greatest climbing challenge.

What was left? The Everest solo.

"I've been thinking about it for years and years. I've seen the route on other climbs. And some days, I'd be setting up by myself, making camp for other people coming up. I'd think `God, if I was here alone, I could be relaxing right now.'

"I decided I have to try it or stop thinking about it."

Still, this was a climb that almost did not happen. Viesturs tried in vain for nearly a year to raise the necessary $40,000 in sponsorships. He clearly was uncomfortable with self-promotion.

"What do you say to people? `Hi, I'm Ed Viesturs. I'm the best climber in the world. I need your money' ?"

Unlike in Europe, where climbers such as Messner enjoy Michael Jordan hero status, few U.S. climbers are able to make climbing a profession. Viesturs was ready to abandon the climb earlier this year before a friend hooked him up with represenatatives of MTV. They quickly climbed aboard, offering to kick in $40,000 and produce a TV special about Viesturs, which will air this fall. Polo/Ralph Lauren also offered $10,000 for Viesturs to wear the company's new expedition apparel to the summit.

When he is not negotiating whose label goes where on his down climbing suit, Viesturs does minor carpentry work, trains and prepares. He runs 6 to 8 miles six times a week. He alternates weight training with bicycling. His workouts consume three hours of each day.

He believes he is as ready as anyone can be.

A CLIMB IN JUST FOUR DAYS

At home on a bluff above Alki, Viesturs sorts through gear and traces his planned climbing route with a finger.

"It's basically a 45-degree wall with a snow gully running up it," he said, pointing to a photograph. "It's just a ribbon of snow. In the spring, it's a sheet of ice. The top face is covered with snow. I have to make sure the conditions are perfect."

The route, known as the Japanese Couloir, was first climbed by the Japanese and conquered again in recent years by a pair of daring Swiss, who climbed without tents and were fortunate not to meet bad weather.

Viesturs will wait for consolidated, stable snow and relatively clear skies. His approach, to be made in the fall after the Himalayan monsoons but before the onset of winter, will be made in pure, modern alpine style. Typically, expeditions scale a mountain by establishing a series of base camps. Members ferry supplies higher and higher on the mountain, then choose members for a summit assault from the highest camp.

Such expeditions require literally tons of equipment and years of preparation. If weather permits, Viesturs' entire climb up and back will take four days. His total gear will weigh 40 pounds.

He will carry everything on his back: Climbing gear, lightweight bivouac tent, down sleeping bag, cookstove, soups, high-energy drinks and food bars, automatic camera, radio and survival gear.

He will arrive at Everest's base Aug. 25 with only two companions: friend and fellow veterinarian Carolyn Gunn, who will be a base-camp cook and doctor, and Tamding, a Sherpa friend who accompanied Viesturs on Everest in 1991. He will establish an advance base camp at 18,500 feet Aug. 28 and spend several weeks adjusting to the altitude, with practice climbs as high as 25,000 feet.

Weather permitting, he'll strike out alone for the summit Oct. 1, following the full moon to the top in a relentless, solitary push. He plans to make his first camp between 20,000 and 24,000 feet, the second near 27,000 feet. On the third day, he'll leave that camp, push for the summit, and return. He'll descend on the fourth.

Viesturs is a member of an exclusive club whose members not only can function and think clearly above 26,000 feet, but scale surfaces most people would struggle to climb at sea level. Part of that ability comes from training; some is believed to be genetic.

But even for Viesturs, climbing at that height can be agony. Climbers in good condition will take two or three long breaths for every step near the top of a peak like 14,410-foot Mount Rainier. On Everest, multiply that difficulty by five.

"I count: One, two, three, four, five . . . all the way to 15. Then I take my step," he said. "And my next goal always has to be something short. I'll say, `I have to get to that rock.' The summit is too far to comprehend. That's where it becomes very mental. You're driving your body up."

FLIRTING WITH DISASTER?

Fischer, who knows Viesturs' temperament and climbing acumen as well as anyone, acknowledges that some climbers will view the solo attempt as a flirtation with disaster.

"People who aren't in the know think it's totally `out there,' " Fischer said. "And, I suppose if you just go present it to the armchair mountaineer, it is way out there. But if you know Ed, and you've climbed with him, it's different. I definitely don't think he's nuts. I think he'll probably do it. And whether he does or not, I'm confident he'll come home."

But not even Fischer, who pushed the bounds of logic and perhaps safety to conquer K2 with Viesturs last year, can imagine making such a trek alone.

"I don't know what inspired him to do this," he admits. "I'd just as soon have somebody to talk to. And I don't like to push the envelope solo."

Viesturs does not expect people to understand.

"Some people think I have a death wish," he said, bringing up the D-word himself. "I don't have a death wish. I don't want to die. It's stupid. The bottom line is, you've got to come back. Coming down is half the climb, and coming home is the best part of the trip."

More than many climbers, Viesturs minimizes risks, he said, "by being in shape, using the best possible equipment, only going when conditions are perfect."

Whittaker, the Port Townsend resident and first American to scale Everest in 1963, thinks Viesturs will make it - if he doesn't let the pressure to succeed cloud his judgment.

"The main thing is to know you've got to get back off that mountain," he said. "It's easy to get overconfident."

Viesturs' experience as a guide on Rainier leaves him well qualified to handle adversity, Whittaker believes.

"When I climbed Everest in '63, we had 40- to 50-knot winds on the summit, it was 35 or 40 below zero, and I was running out of oxygen. You just kick into that guide mentality. You say `I've got to get the hell off of here,' and you just get going."

PREPARED FOR THE WORST

Viesturs and his friends realize, of course, that no amount of preparation can ensure that the climb won't end in tragedy.

"Somebody else tried this a few years ago, and he did not come home," Fischer said. "But he had lots of preclimb publicity he felt he had to live up to. I don't get that sense at all about Ed."

Viesturs already has prepared his sponsors and friends for the worst. He will carry a radio, but no one is likely to be within rescue distance.

If he injures himself, "I guess I would have to crawl back on my own," Viesturs said. "Or . . . die."

Viesturs has no wife and no children. His girlfriend, Chantal Mauduit of Chamonix, France, understands the climbing bug: She is a climber herself. They met while Viesturs and Fischer saved her life near the summit of K2 last year. Viesturs' father has given his climbing blessing and his mother (who worries "a lot, but is getting used to it, because every time I go, I come back") offers cautious support.

This is a climb by one person, for one person.

Occasionally, that one person has doubts. Fleeting ones.

"One minute out of every day," he confesses, "I sit down and think, `What the hell am I getting into?' "

Ed Viesturs thinks it'll be a neat thing to figure out.

"If I don't try it, I'll never know."

-------------------------------------- ED VIESTURS' MOUNTAINEERING HIGHLIGHTS --------------------------------------

ALASKA: -- Mt. McKinley (20,320 feet), 1983, 1985. -- Mt. St. Elias (18,008 feet), 1988.

NEPAL: -- Mt. Everest (29,028 feet), 1991 South Col Expedition #. -- Mt. Kangchenjunga (28,208 feet), 1989 #.

PAKISTAN: -- K2, (28,250 feet), 1992 #

TIBET: -- Mt. Everest, 1987 North Face Expedition, reached 28,700 feet. -- Mt. Everest, 1988 East Face Expedition, reached 24,000 feet. -- Mt. Everest, 1990 International Peace Climb, North Ridge # . -- Suisuapangma (26,400 feet), 1993 # .

SOUTH AMERICA: -- Aconcagua (22,800 feet), 1989. -- Chimborazo (20,800 feet), 1982. -- Cotopaxi (19,500 feet), 1982.

RUSSIA: -- Mt. Elbrus (18,500 feet), 1989. -- Peak Lenin (23,500 feet), 1987, 1989.

# Without supplemental oxygen