Thanks to Mark Horrell for this review:: Way back when I published my journal The Chomolungma Diaries in 2012, there were very few books (if any) about climbing Everest that had been written from the perspective of a commercial client. Yes, there was Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air, about the disastrous Adventure Consultants and Mountain Madness expeditions of 1996, probably the best-selling mountaineering book ever written. But those weren’t really the words of a commercial client. Krakauer was a commercial client in the literal sense, but chiefly he was a journalist who had been sent to write an exposé about commercial Everest expeditions for Outside magazine. He didn’t have much empathy with his teammates, and made little attempt to talk to them about their motivations.

In 2012, the voice of the commercial Everest client was almost invisible. Guided climbers were derided in the media but never asked for opinion, except to provide soundbites for stories that had already been written. This was one of the reasons I started my blog in 2010; the commercial client’s perspective has been an enduring theme of my blog throughout its existence.

Fast forward to 2020 and things have improved somewhat. Commercial Everest expeditions remain controversial, but the media has gradually learned about their values and virtues. In the old days, alpinists and professional climbers were the only people asked for an opinion; their opinions were invariably negative because commercially guided expeditions are contrary to the spirit of alpinism.

IMHO, the 2014 Everest avalanche and subsequent Sherpa strike marked a turning point. Journalists weren’t equipped to analyse the nuances of such a complex tide of events, and the tried and tested technique of simply trashing commercial expeditions was exposed for what it was: poor-quality tabloid journalism.

After 2014, journalists realised they could learn a lot more about Everest from guides and expedition operators. Some even worked hard to provide the Sherpa perspective too. Commercial clients were still the last to be asked; even now, they are often quoted to criticise other commercial clients rather than provide an alternative perspective (you can see a recent example in this article by the otherwise excellent Amelia Gentleman, the journalist who exposed the UK’s Windrush scandal).

If you want to get the commercial client’s perspective in bite-sized format, you’re still better off reading blogs such as mine than traditional media.

Books are another matter. Since I published The Chomolungma Diaries in 2012 and Seven Steps from Snowdon to Everest in 2015, there have been many accounts published in book format of climbing Everest from the commercial client’s perspective.

One book that has been a runaway success since it was published in 2017 is Ascent Into Hell by Fergus White. It’s a book I’ve been intending to read for a while now, and I finally got round to it while in Scotland last month.

The book has much in common with The Chomolungma Diaries. It’s also written in diary format, and its use of the first person present tense, gives the writing an immediacy, as though you are Fergus’s travelling companion. It concerns a commercial Everest expedition, in this case the 2010 Peak Freaks expedition, led by Tim Rippel. And it’s a no-bullshit portrayal by someone fully aware of his own inadequacies.

But there are contrasts too. Fergus’s book is a little more serious than mine, though there are moments of humour too. This fact is evident from the blurb, which is written in a style that appeals to a different audience. My blurb is semi-frivolous, underlining that this is also a humorous book; Fergus’s blurb is written more in the manner of a ripping yarn (in fact, our accounts have more in common than the blurb might lead you to expect).

Fergus describes a south-side expedition, while I climbed Everest from the north. I knew quite a few of my teammates from previous expeditions, but most of Fergus’s team are strangers. The organisation appears to be a little more chaotic; they had a few more hiccups than I had to contend with (of which, more later).

One of the more immediate contrasts (to me, at least) is our relative experience and motivations for climbing Everest. I gradually worked my way up to Everest over a 10-year period, from shorter treks and climbs, to trekking peaks, then several 8,000m peak expeditions.

From a simple reading of this book, Fergus’s only mountaineering experience prior to attempting Everest was an aborted attempt on 7,161m Pumori the previous year. If this is true then it’s extraordinary. For one thing, Pumori is a poor choice of warm-up peak for Everest. Its steep terrain means that it’s more technically challenging – potential Everest climbers are better off focusing on hard physical challenges at high altitude than technical difficulty. It’s also known to be loaded with avalanche risk, which means there’s unlikely to be much opportunity to climb high.

More importantly, without the necessary practice, Fergus would be likely to have all sorts of difficulties climbing steep terrain using crampons and coping with nights at high altitude. It’s possible that he’s being diffident, and has more experience on snow and ice than he’s telling us about. But if it’s true then I take my hat off to him for what follows; he’s obviously a quick learner.

Fergus’s motivations are also a little different to mine. For me, Everest was the end of a long, 10-year journey. Had I not succeeded, I would have been disappointed, but I would also have had the consolation of appreciating all that happened along the way.