Yeti skulls and sacred blessings, living as tigers instead of sheep, and mitigating risk

We detoured to Pasang Dawa Sherpa’s hometown where he was quite proud to show off the historic monastery that dates back to the 16th century. PaDawa knows the Lama of course, and was eager for us to receive an extra special blessing.

Upon entering, we came upon a glass case containing the skull and hand bones of a yeti. (Note to wife’s precocious young nieces D and Z, I have not encountered an actual yeti so far, unfortunately, but I’ll keep looking, promise to inspect any caves I come across, and report back on my findings.)

The yeti skull was partial, with what appeared to be hair attached, and its hand bones were enormous. (D and Z, I have to admit some skepticism, but they could be real. However, no photographs were allowed—apparently in years past, the monastery permitted taking pictures for a fee, but I could not sneak one for you girls without risking the wrath of the Lama—which I thought would be bad juju before stepping foot on the big mountain.)

The authenticity of these yeti bones has been disputed. According to Wikipedia, the intrigue even involves beloved actor Jimmy Stewart (who apparently smuggled a fragment out of the country in a suitcase wrapped with his wife’s undergarments) and Sir Edmund Hillary (who investigated the hand as part of the 1960 World Book Expedition).

View of Ama Dablum.

After I examined these relics, PaDawa and I entered a room decorated with masks that if they were decorating a cathedral would be called “grotesques”—but I don’t know the proper term for the same items as applied to Tibetan Buddhism. Unlike the newer monastery in Tengboche, which is a popular stop for trekkers and boasts tremendous views of Everest and Ama Dablum (see my previous post) where there were more than ten monks chanting together, in Pangboche there happened to be only one monk chanting alone.

Cameras were allowed to capture the moment when the old Lama tied strings around our necks (known as srungkue, which are protective cords that Lamas chant mantras over, blow energy into, and are worn to ward off harm, illness, and misfortune) and placed khatas as a blessing on each of us, too. The entire experience was mesmerizing.

The Lama also gave us packets of grains that I believe contained tsampa flour. As we were leaving, Jangbu Sherpa—who is privately leading my buddy Kevin Sánchez on Everest—and with whom we summitted Antarctica’s Vinson Massif together in 2023, said that we should keep these grains readily available in our pockets. Whenever Jangbu becomes afraid on the mountain, he tosses them into the air for good luck, and he advised us to do likewise. I am not sure what I would do if I witnessed a brilliant world-class expert climber like Jangbu throwing his grains up in fear. If he is scared, what hope is there for us amateurs?

We continued our trek. I had been told that the guest rooms in our Pheriche tea house would be some of the nicest we would encounter, and PaDawa exclaimed that they looked like Kathmandu! Mine was in the basement, opposite a stone wall. It was fancier than others I had experienced along our trek thus far—as promised—but was still very cold without heat.

My room featured its own plumbed toilet—a luxurious amenity. We had grown accustomed to shared facilities at previous tea houses. There were also light switches and lamps, but no outlets. You could take electronic devices to the front desk for charging overnight at extra cost. I suspect they acquired electricity from less-than-sufficient solar sources, and the fees and inconvenience constitute an effective means of rationing power.

On our way out of Pheriche the next day, we encountered hail. I’ve never been happier to be hiking in miserable precipitation, as it efficiently cleared some of the air pollution and made breathing the already-thin air easier.

We then arrived at a memorial featuring more than 200 stupas (sacred monuments to individual fallen climbers). I was told that not all of them died on Everest, but the ones I saw all referenced Everest. I noticed Eve, who was a cook for CTSS, passed away in the avalanche that hit base camp on April 25, 2015—almost exactly ten years ago. There was also Babu Chiri Sherpa, who held three world records, including one for spending 21 hours on the summit without supplemental oxygen. Another one that stood out to me was David Sharp, who died on May 15, 2006. His friend Nick left the epitaph, “It is better to live one day as a tiger than a thousand years as a sheep.”

I wonder how many people agree with that sentiment.

We live in a troubled world that detrimentally preaches safety first. Nothing great has been accomplished by someone implementing the concept of safety first. And very few people live rich and robust lives by putting safety first. If you actually applied safety first, you would be paralyzed by inaction and never get into a car, let alone play sports, given the risks. You certainly wouldn’t do anything exhilarating for recreation like cycling or skiing or white-water rafting or even running.

Safety first is the wrong motto and a misguided approach.

A friend of mine likes to say that, in his business, he strives for safety third. I appreciate and concur with his perspective.

This powerful memorial was poignant and humbling. With any great mountain—and particularly on Everest—we ought to do everything in our power to mitigate risk. Eliminating risk is not possible. But, by thoroughly researching what has gone right and wrong in previous expeditions, we can learn valuable lessons and plan accordingly. I invest a good deal of time studying the stories, watching documentaries, and reading about prior expeditions, and thereby executed some carefully-considered steps to mitigate risk, maximize the odds of summitting, and—most importantly—returning home safely.

Whether by opting for a private one-on-one program with the best possible Sherpa I could find—a man who knows the mountain, has seen it all, and is unflappable—or opting for extra oxygen so that I sleep better at high altitude, increase my appetite, feel warmer, and cumulatively have more energy, I have made strategic efforts to mitigate risk and increase my chances for success when it comes to the factors I can control.

Make no mistake, there is still significant risk.

Even so, better to live one day as a tiger, than a thousand years as a sheep.