The Unbearable Lightness of Almost

August 1, 2025

Here's the thing about almost standing on the summit of Mount Everest, actually, gasping 398 vertical meters below the roof of the world: You are both so close, a thumbnail on the panoramic photo of the route which dominates my living room, and, in reality, you are staring up, breathless, at a 130 storey skyscraper of rock and snow. The contrast forces a newfound perspective. Because, at sea level, your average fit climber could cover 398 vertical meters in less than twenty minutes--a single episode of your favorite sitcom--and if you stretched out those 398 meters along flat ground, you could run that distance in less than 60 seconds. At 8,450 meters, just above ‘The Balcony’ on Everest’s South (Nepali) side, after nearly twenty hours of continuous climbing without supplemental oxygen, reaching the summit feels like trying to pogo-stick your way to the Moon.

On May 27th, 2025, around 4:30pm, my vision wiggling with fatigue-hallucinations, I turned around at this exact point. It was my third attempt in less than three weeks at the speed record from base camp to the summit without supplemental oxygen, and, for exactly twenty-four hours, I swore to myself I would never, ever, not in a million years, return to this godforsaken wind-scoured death-pyramid of ice and rock and human ambition. 

But then—and this is where the brain shifts its tone from trying to protect you from yourself for a brief period before pivoting and slyly whispering ‘hey, that wasn’t so bad, right?’—then I took a shower in Kathmandu. My first shower in fifty-three days in the mountains and, as shower-thinking is prone to do, suddenly the equation shifted.

Because here's what I realized: The record is attainable.  Kazi Sherpa sped up in 20 hours 24 minutes in 1998, when I was eight years old and recently tapered off the chemotherapy that had kept my childhood illness at bay. Despite three failed attempts, I had learned so much up in that outrageously thin air that, counterintuitively, I felt more confident: The record is achievable, not to say easy, certainly not to say guaranteed, which is exactly what makes it enticing and worth pursuing.

So this October, with the mountain nearly empty—a dozen or so climbers instead of the usual thousand-plus circus in May—I’m going back. Simpler this time: More self-sufficient, a smaller team, fewer points of failure. Just me and my most trusted partners and the Mountain and whatever gods govern the intersection of human stubbornness and atmospheric physics in the ‘Death Zone’ above 8,000 meters.

I hope you’ll follow along. Stay with us.

Going Back to Everest

Project Himalaya is officially back on for Fall 2025

It’s official: I'm heading back to Mount Everest this October to attempt the speed record without supplemental oxygen.

The Goal

The target is clear: break the current record of 20 hours and 24 minutes from base camp to summit, set by Kazi Sherpa in 1998. For context, the fastest time ever recorded with supplemental oxygen is 10 hours and 56 minutes—highlighting just how much of a difference that bottled oxygen makes at extreme altitude.

This will be a solo attempt using fixed ropes on the South side of Mount Everest, departing from base camp at 5,300 meters and climbing to the 8,848-meter summit.

Why Go Back?

After failing to break the record on three attempts in the spring season,, there was about a 12-hour window where I thought "I never want to be here again." But once I got back to Kathmandu, took a shower, and had a good night's sleep, the feeling flipped completely. I walked away confident that this record is within my wheelhouse—I just need everything to align properly.

"If the gear failure hadn't happened on the first attempt and if the weather hadn't been a problem on the next attempt and if I had been less tired on the third attempt, then on one of those, it definitely goes," I reflected. That's the most intoxicating type of goal: when you have to work really hard and you don't know if you're going to get it, but you know it's possible.

What Changed?

For months, it looked like a fall attempt wouldn't be possible due to lack of infrastructure on the mountain and permit restrictions. That all changed a few weeks ago when we learned another team was planning to establish base camp and fix ropes for the autumn season. Once that first domino fell, the logistics suddenly became viable.

The timing works out well too—instead of the 1,000+ people on the mountain during spring season, there will be about a dozen people total in the fall. This means no traffic jams and the ability to pick optimal weather windows without competing for summit slots.

A Simpler Approach

The biggest change for this attempt is embracing simplicity. As Adrian Ballinger from the Duffel Shuffle podcast noted about our spring attempts: "The fitness is the easy part. It's once you get to the mountain where things can really fall apart."

This time, the team will be just me and Dawa Steven coordinating logistics. I'll climb solo with one person stationed at Camp 4 (8,000m) for emergency support. It's about reducing points of failure and being more self-sufficient—carrying more of my own gear and relying less on complex multi-person coordination.

Fall vs. Spring Climbing

Autumn presents different challenges than the traditional spring season. There's typically more snow due to summer monsoons, which can increase avalanche risk but also fill in crevasses and create more direct routes through the Khumbu Icefall. There are generally fewer stable weather windows, but with only 15 people on the entire mountain, we can be much more selective about timing.

The Chaski Foundation Component

This expedition has an important fundraising element through the Chaski Foundation, our 501(c)(3) nonprofit. We're aiming to raise $50,000 to support athlete empowerment and environmental projects in Nepal and the Andes. Having this broader purpose makes the entire effort more meaningful beyond just personal achievement.

Timeline and Following Along

I'll be in Nepal from mid-September through mid-October, with the summit attempt planned for the first week of October. Unfortunately, this means skipping UTMB this year—it was simply impossible to race 100+ miles in the mountains just weeks before an Everest attempt.

You can follow the journey and contribute to the Chaski Foundation at tylercandrews.com/everest. I'll continue documenting the preparation and attempt through weekly training logs, podcast episodes, and social media updates.

Managing Risk

People naturally ask about the cumulative risk of returning after three spring attempts. It's similar to the classic question of Russian roulette—some activities accumulate risk with repetition. But I also feel significantly more skilled and comfortable on the mountain after the spring experience.

The key is accepting that some risks are simply outside your control. You can minimize exposure by moving quickly through dangerous terrain, but ultimately you have to decide if the goal is worth the inherent risk. For me, getting one more honest shot at this record is worth it.

This won't become a habit—I'm not planning to guide on Everest or chase multiple records there. But for this one goal that's been years in the making, it's worth going back to finish what we started.

The countdown begins now. Time to get back to work.

Follow along at tylercandrews.com/everest and contribute to the Chaski Foundation to support athlete empowerment and environmental projects in Nepal and the Andes.

Ty's Supporters:

La Sportiva - Footwear and Apparel

Asian Trekking - Himalayan Logistics

Chaski Endurance Collective - Coaching

Garmin - Watches and Tracking Devices

FSP Outdoors - Custom Packs

Sambob - Alpha Direct Fabric

Rocky Talkies - Mountain Radios

Athletic Brewing - NA Beer

Maurten - Energy Gels and Drink Mix

Kybun - Recovery Footwear

Leki - Hiking Poles