The ridge rises about 1000 vertical feet over its final mile, and average grade that is a little more than the slope of a suburban driveway. From below, it appears deceptively easy. The footing along the ridge can be forgiving, even easy, but in places the path constricts to just a few inches, over ice and loose rocks angled downward like roof tiles, exposed to emptiness below. You walk this vertiginous stretch bundled in a bulky down suit, stepping gingerly along in the crampons, hemmed in by a harness, oxygen mask, and ski googles, running on little food and zero sleep. The ridge´s moderate angle seems relatively benign until you begin the precarious traverse, reduced to two points of contact - your boots - rather than three or four of steeper terrain, where you can use your hands and ice ax. And you negotiated all of this when you are at the most exhausted, in the thinnest air and the most severe weather.
I´m getting anxious just reading about the climb up the Northeast Ridge of Mount Everest.
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