In last week’s episode, Jost Kobusch, a 32-year-old German mountaineer who summited Denali in winter, said he had a 20% chance of summiting Everest in winter, alone, without supplemental oxygen, and following a rarely climbed route, the dangerous West Ridge. In today’s episode, I begin by asking him for his odds of death. Watch on YouTube Timeline 00:00 Chance of dying 03:40 Climbing in the dark 08:45 Getting to base camp 12:30 Lessons from previous Everest climbs 15:30 Biggest worry 18:30 Acclimatization technology Watch previous episodes with Jost Follow Jost YouTube Instagram What do you think? Put your thoughts in the comments. Transcript Disclosure: I used AI to generate this transcript, so it may be slightly inaccurate. Francis: It’s amazing when you take these risks. We just lost Nims Dai, the great climber who did all the fourteen eight-thousand-metre peaks — quite famous, had a Netflix series, etc. — and there are countless others who have died. I can’t imagine that death doesn’t weigh on you. What’s the percentage chance you think — you said about a twenty percent chance you’ll make it, maybe thirty percent, something like that? What about the chance that you just... die? Morbid question, sorry, but I’ve got to be direct. Jost: I like your questions. You could be German, you know. Francis: Yeah, I’m definitely not American — Americans are too... Germans are more direct. Francis: So what do you think? What’s the chance that you’re going to die? I don’t care about your parents, I don’t care whether they’re sponsoring your journey or any of that other stuff. Are you going to die or not? Jost: I’m of course strongly biased on this question, because — as we all know — you rarely see it coming yourself. You always think, “it’s not going to be me, it’s going to be that guy.” It’s a bit like going to war — you know people die in war, but you think it’s going to be the next guy, not you. So I would definitely not say it’s zero. Even though I think I’m playing it super safe, because ultimately I’ve been on projects where I’ve turned around because it just didn’t align — I go back home. And honestly, as a professional alpinist, I can’t afford to just go and go again — it’s my life savings, holidays pulled together over three years, and I might get fired over the wrong call. So I need to be able to come back, and that gives me a much bigger safety margin, apart from the skill set. But it’s not zero, by definition, because there are risks you cannot calculate. They’re just there — they’re the essence of alpinism. Otherwise it would be a ritualized sport with rules, like basketball or hockey, where you don’t die. Part of alpinism is that risk. So I’d say the percentage is there, but it’s lower single digits. Francis: Okay, wow. So you’re pretty confident — which, again, makes sense, because you probably wouldn’t be doing this if you felt there was an eighty percent chance of death. Some people might, but it sounds like it’s on your radar; you recognize it, but you’re not treating it as high risk because you’re going to play it as safe as you can. Jost: As safe as I can. The goal is not the summit — the goal is to survive. Whenever we do alpinism, we put ourselves in danger to survive the danger. When you reach the summit, you haven’t achieved anything yet. The summit in itself isn’t the goal — the goal is to be back down safely. The summit is halfway through the marathon, but the other half is going to be much tougher. That’s the part where you lack attention, where you get injured. You should not mistake the summit for the goal. The real goal is being back home. Francis: Yeah, and most people who mountaineer die on the way down — that’s where they let their guard down. I remember one guy — a Japanese climber, I think it was around 1980 — the first person to climb Mount McKinley, Denali, in winter. He made it to the summit but didn’t make it back down. He radioed from the summit, and then they never heard from him again. There are countless stories like that, certainly on Everest, of people dying on the way down. So you have to keep that focus. Which brings up another issue — if you make your big push, Jost, from around 7,500 metres straight up over a thousand metres to the summit, it seems like you’d run out of daylight. Even starting at midnight, it seems like a huge push, and you might have to come back down at night since there’s a lot less daylight in winter. What are the logistics? Would you have to spend a night out — because that’s really dangerous, even more so in winter than in May or June? Jost: First of all, I wouldn’t start as late as midnight — a starting time would be more like 10 p.m. So you move up in the dark, and depending on speed, I might have to call it off. If I feel the pace isn’t sufficient, I’ll call it off — because if you do spend a night out and there’s wind, your chances of survival are extremely low at that altitude, especially bivvying. If you keep moving, if you can keep climbing, it can be fine. For example, when I climbed Denali — the same peak where Naomi Uemura was lost on descent — I kept moving even though it was minus 75 with windchill. It was so cold the liquid in my eyes turned to honey, and when I closed them they froze shut — I had to open them with my fingers. But because I kept moving, it was fine. If you sit down somewhere, most people don’t survive once there’s any wind. So logistically, I now have a significant advantage compared to Uemura and many others: even in the dark in winter — and I descended Denali in the dark in winter — I’m following a GPS track on my watch. Without that, you can get lost, make mistakes, fall. My big advantage is that even in the dark I can keep moving, and through movement I generate heat and make progress. My route will be tracked on the watch — it’s steep, but the watch is accurate enough to guide me back. That’s one of the biggest technological advances in alpinism, in my opinion. Francis: I imagine you’ll have a good lightweight but very powerful headlamp too. Jost: Of course. And I’ll have a power bank to charge it in case it fails, and a power bank for the watch too, because we’re talking extreme temperatures and many, many hours. There are also some key metrics I’ll be checking to decide whether it makes sense to continue. One big change this time: on the previous three attempts, I was really just focused on learning. Now, for the first time, I’m mentally allowing myself to plan the expedition so that I’m actually set up for a potential summit push. Everything I’ve learned over the years is going into this expedition, and I’m slowly aligning it more toward the summit itself. That feels different mentally, because I’m now actually visualizing the summit push — I’ve already scouted the place I’d start it from. It feels more tangible than ever before, and I feel as prepared as I’ve ever been. Francis: That’s great to hear. What about the logistics of getting from Kathmandu to Everest Base Camp? Normally that route is shut down in winter — very few people make the classic trek. Are you going with yaks, on foot, or by helicopter? What’s your plan? Jost: I’ll first be in the Annapurna region, then the Manaslu region, for acclimatization, focusing on first ascents. Then at the start of November I’ll relocate to Lukla — a normal flight route — and stay there a bit for training, because an expedition itself isn’t good training, so I need training blocks in between. Then I’m looking at some first ascents in the Khumbu region, to acclimatize further and explore. As for equipment: traditionally you’d use yaks and a lot of gear — a kitchen tent, dining tent, shower tent, personal tent, a cook, a second cook, and so on, plus a lot of food. My logistics are very light, for two reasons. First, I honestly don’t need much — I’m a solo climber. Second, the impact — both on the environment and the budget — is much smaller without heavy infrastructure. I’ll have 75 kilograms of equipment carried by three porters. My idea is to employ three people who carry rather than give the money to one driver — a bit of social sustainability. It’s low season, there are fewer jobs, so in a way I’m providing work for three people instead of one. They just carry the equipment to base camp, and from there I carry everything myself. The logistics couldn’t be simpler. Francis: Is the base camp the same as the famous Everest base camp most Khumbu Icefall expeditions launch from, or is it different since you’re going up the West Ridge? Jost: The West Ridge doesn’t change the starting location — I’ll just walk a bit further, maybe a kilometre in a different direction than people heading for the Khumbu Icefall. What’s significantly different is that I won’t be staying at base camp itself — I’ll be staying in Lobuche, in a lodge. That’s also how I avoid bringing hundreds of kilos up there, and honestly it’s way more comfortable, because winter at Everest base camp is extremely uncomfortable — very windy, strong winds that destroy your tents, so cold that even in your down suit at breakfast the honey turns to glass — nothing you put on your bread works. So you have soup instead. Francis: Speaking of which, what are some things you learned from your previous Everest expeditions that you’re definitely doing differently this time? Jost: One example — don’t bring honey. It only works from around eleven o’clock, once the sun’s on the tent. But there are bigger learnings too. One is the route itself — the lower section I’m climbing hasn’t been climbed in about thirty years, and the way I’m combining it is a variation that’s never been climbed in that combination. I wouldn’t call it a new route — more a
