Three days after Hall's optimistic assessment, Weathers, face burned black and arms nearly useless, would be one of the surprise survivors of one of the worst alpine disasters in recent memory. Within 24 hours, eight of the more than 30 climbers on the peak were dead, among them Hall and Scott Fischer of Seattle, who was also running a commercial tour. By May 1996 Everest had become the accessible behemoth, or so it seemed. As clothing and equipment manufacturers mitigated the first problem, and a sprawling base camp sprang up at 5,340 meters to provide warmth and food to dozens of would-be peak beaters, the issue for elite climbers was no longer whether they could reach Everest's pinnacle but rather how many paying customers they could take with them. Communications breakthroughs increased the impression that Everest was accessible to nearly anyone.
Climbers call home from the summit using satellite phones.
They send E-mail. Over the past two months, socialite-alpinist Sandy Hill Pittman has been describing her ascent with Fischer's group on the Internet and throwing in remarks about books and recipes. Pittman didn't tell her new friend that the most enduring mementos on Everest's higher reaches are the bodies of dead climbers. Weathers realizes that now. So do a lot of other people.