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As the book was being shipped, Breashears was nowhere to be found. Having already visited Mount Everest 10 times, he flew back again last month to film a documentary for the PBS series Frontline. Two weeks ago he talked to TIME by satellite hookup from the base camp on the northern, Tibetan face of the mountain, and discussed the making of his film, the creation of his book and the lessons taught by the fatal climb. "We passed some hard nights the last time we were here," he said, "thinking about the nature of the mountain, why we were on it and, most important, about our dead friends up on its roof."
Even under the best of conditions, scaling a mountain like Everest is an act of near madness. Standing on top of the peak is roughly equivalent to stopping a passenger jet in mid-flight and climbing out onto the wing. The altitude is the same, the 40[degrees]F- below-zero temperature is the same, and, most disturbingly, the lung-shredding, brain-addling atmosphere--barely one-third the pressure of sea-level air--is the same. In the 44 years since New Zealander Edmund Hillary and a Sherpa climber, Tenzing Norgay, first scaled the peak, more than 700 people have followed them to the top; at least 150 others have died in the attempt.
Despite this fearsome history, Everest is big business these days. Tibet and China, recognizing a moneymaking natural resource when they see one, have thrown the peak open to tourism. Expeditions charge climbers, often unskilled, up to $65,000 to be walked to the top. In the spring of 1996, 14 groups from 11 countries swarmed Everest's lower campsite, digging in 17,600 ft. above sea level in preparation for an attempt on the summit. Among the expeditions was a 26-member New Zealand team, headed by Hall, that included Krakauer, Dallas pathologist Beck Weathers and Doug Hansen, a U.S. postal worker who had failed in a previous climb. Also on hand was an American group led by guide Scott Fischer and teams from Japan, South Africa and Taiwan.
For the filmmakers, the climb would be especially hard. The lightest camera designed for 65-mm work weighed at least 60 lbs. Worse, the system fairly devoured film, going through 5.6 ft. every second. A 10-lb., 500-ft. roll lasted only a minute and a half. When Breashears' film company, Arcturus Motion Pictures, was approached by U.S.-based MacGillivray Freeman Films about making the movie, Breashears knew he couldn't do much about the film, but he insisted that the camera had to be rebuilt.
"I gave them two conditions," he said. "No piece of equipment could exceed 25 lbs. And when loaded and frozen at 40[degrees] below, the camera had to run every time." The producers went to work and built Breashears precisely what he had requested, and in 1996, with Viesturs, a climbing leader, walking point and a team of eight in tow, he set out for the top of the world.