Nepal earthquake: One man's desperate escape from Everest base camp after disaster

Nick Talbot was sitting in his tent when the tsunami of snow and rock hit. He was lucky to live, unlike his climbing partner just feet away

The Everest south base camp a day after being destroyed by an avalanche which left at least 17 people dead (6summitschallenge.com/Reuters)

Nick Talbot was relaxing in his tent late on the morning of 25 April, and contemplating lunch. After two weeks of acclimatisation in and around Everest base camp, he and his team of 12 were due to climb towards the summit that night. First they needed to rest.

“Base camps are generally very peaceful places,” the British adventurer told The Independent by phone from Kathmandu. “You become much more conscious of the risks when you’re climbing, but not when you’re in what should be a safe haven.”

By midday, temperatures were rising under canvas. Mr Talbot had shed all but one layer when he felt the ground begin to move. “I’ve been in earthquakes before so I knew what was happening, but what I didn’t expect was to hear a massive crack high in the mountains,” he says.

Nick Talbot was in the same climbing party as American Google executive Dan Fredinburg, who lost his life in the avalanche

“When I looked outside the tent, to my horror I saw a tsunami of snow, ice and rock coming towards us. It seemed to be 100 metres high, and moving fast. It was one of those moments when you think, OK, I can’t get out of this, but how can I minimise the impact. I left my tent and ran.

“The avalanche smashed me into the ground and I felt like I was starting to suffocate. I pushed up and tried to stagger on, but got smashed down again. Eventually it stopped and calmed down. I looked back at what had been an established camp and it had all gone.”

Mr Talbot, who is 39, escaped with cracked ribs, and cuts to his body and face. The accountant from County Durham spent the following 20 hours before his rescue finding clothing as hypothermia set in, and building shelter from the ruins of the camp. He knew he had been lucky.

“There were nine tents in a row where we slept, and we had one each,” he says. “Dan’s was very near mine. I don’t know whether a rock went through his tent, or whether he hit a rock, but a doctor got to us very quickly and he was pronounced dead straight away.”

Dan Fredinburg, an American executive at Google, had been part of the same team, led by Jagged Globe, a travel company based in Sheffield. He and Mr Talbot had climbed in the region last year, when Mr Fredinburg narrowly escaped the avalanche that killed 16 Nepalese guides above base camp. “He was a really lively character,” Mr Talbot says, his voice shaking. “He was liked by the whole team.”

Dan Fredinburg (centre), 33, was killed after the Nepal earthquake triggered an avalanche at the base camp on Everest (Dan Fredinburg/Facebook)

The avalanche, caught on film by a German mountaineer, killed 18 people in the worst disaster on the world’s highest mountain. As rescue helicopters reached the last survivors yesterday, Everest has closed early for the second year in a row. For Nepal, where mountain tourism supports a fragile economy, the loss of revenue only compounds the crisis.

“‘Horror Avalanche’ headlines sell newspapers but it feels rather insignificant compared to the greater disaster,” says Kenton Cool, a British mountaineer who has reached the summit of Everest 11 times. “But after last year’s avalanche, there is also a risk that Nepal will lose a vital lifeline.”

For the majority of visitors to Everest, base camp is the end of the road. More than 35,000 people hike to the city of tents each year. (In 2013, 600 climbers ventured higher, paying as much as £70,000 for the chance to reach the top of the world.) They stop just short of the main camp, posing for photos below the Khumbu icefall before descending.

The route below has become lined with teahouses and lodges, and accessible to any reasonably fit hiker. “Every place we stopped at had wi-fi,” says Phil Tattersall-King, who made the trek with his friend Tim and a guide in January. “Tim was delighted because he could check all the sports results, but the guides also use it to check conditions.”

Nepal has faced periodic calls to limit the human burden on Everest, but the importance of tourism is evident at every step. “We saw one guide wearing a pair of canvas shoes,“ says Mr Tattersall-King, a teacher from Hampshire. “One of his clients bought him a pair of boots back in Kathmandu. The guide was in tears, but he needed to make money that season.”

Exodus Travels, a London company that has operated below Everest for more than 40 years, now takes about 400 clients to the region, half of whom visit base camp. It has cancelled all trips until the Foreign and Commonwealth Office advice changes. “It will be of huge benefit to the people of Nepal when tourism can come back,” says marketing manager, Jae Hopkins.

Mr Talbot’s parents had to wait more than 30 hours to discover he had survived. The climber had been trying to become the first person with cystic fibrosis to climb Everest, and still hopes to meet his fund-raising target of £100,000. He expects to fly back to the UK early next week.

“I’m keen to get home but I realise I am in a comfortable position,” he says from his hotel room. “I have access to food, water and shelter. I have come through this experience in once piece, and I know that I am sitting here on the edge of a much bigger human crisis.”