Adrian Hayes, a renowned British adventurer, author, and leadership mentor, recently embarked on a treacherous expedition to Kanchenjunga, which ranks as the third-highest mountain in the world.
Recognized for his remarkable feats in some of the harshest environments on Earth—such as climbing K2, reaching both the North and South Poles, and traversing Greenland as well as the Empty Quarter—Hayes encountered one of his toughest challenges on the 8,586-meter Himalayan peak in May of this year.
Upon reaching the summit, he encountered severe issues, including running out of oxygen, breaking his hand, and suffering from frostbite, ultimately being left behind in what climbers refer to as the “death zone.”
In a revealing interview on the podcast Situation Today, Hayes shares insights about this experience, discussing the mental and physical strength required and how lessons learned in extreme conditions can be applicable to leadership and business in modern times.
Catch the complete interview here:
The edited version of the interview is provided below.
What drove you to conquer Kanchenjunga?
This mountain is the third-highest globally and has a steepness comparable to K2, yet its summit push is significantly longer. This journey is grueling; while it isn’t as avalanche-prone as other summits, fatigue and exposure pose substantial risks.
Located along the eastern border of Nepal and Sikkim, near Tibet, I had the privilege of serving in the Gurkha Regiment years ago and recruited in that region. I viewed this mountain three decades ago and promised myself, “One day.”
I have been on various adventures since I was 17, driven by the need for experiences, personal growth, and excellence. After putting my pursuits on hold for seven years to raise my daughter—my most daunting challenge—I returned to exploration. We attempted Kanchenjunga last year but fell short of reaching the summit. This year marked our second effort.
It’s often noted that mountaineering has evolved significantly over the years. Has it shifted towards commercialization or the pursuit of attention?
Absolutely. Most current expeditions are led by Sherpas, and social media has turned these climbs into spectacles. Adventurers feel compelled to demonstrate their achievements—running a marathon isn’t sufficient anymore; it’s about completing ultra-marathons on mountainous terrains.
Mount Everest has transformed into a circus. Records now encompass everything from age milestones to country-specific climbs. This change became pronounced when Nirmal Purja summited all 14 eight-thousanders, leading to a Netflix documentary that emphasized rapid ascents between base camps.
We need to reconnect with the fundamental reasons for undertaking such challenges: for the experience, solitude, and clarity. And that quest doesn’t have to commence in the Himalayas; the mountains in the UAE are remarkably beautiful, and I frequent them every winter weekend.
Can you describe the summit attempt? Were you alone or with a team?
There were eight climbers and eight Sherpas during the summit push. Previous acclimatization phases were largely solitary or involved just a partner. By the time we were ready for the summit attempt, only five climbers remained, and the conditions were inhospitable. The atmosphere felt hurried.
We departed from the lower top camp at 6:30 PM on May 10, reaching the summit at 2:30 PM the following day—20 hours later. I ran low on oxygen during the ascent as my Sherpa fell behind me. Eventually, I found myself leading the group. I managed to get access to oxygen again and summited, but I was in dire need of water.
READ MORE: Peak performance: Adventurer and business coach Adrian Hayes
How long can one reasonably survive without sufficient oxygen?
Not long, really. For those accustomed to climbing with supplemental oxygen, its sudden absence feels like severing power to an electric vehicle. Everything just halts.
Inexperienced Sherpas can pose a challenge. I don’t mean to be harsh, but mine was quite young. Once I retrieved oxygen, we reached the summit under dreadful weather. We snapped a quick photo and video, then commenced our descent.
Was that when you injured your hand?
Indeed. During the descent, another climber lost their footing and collided with me. I fell off a ledge but got caught by fixed ropes, putting all my weight on my hand, which became severely injured.
Navigating down with one functional hand is exceedingly challenging. It took us three to four hours to descend a mere 200 meters. The rest of the group made it back to Camp 4 safely. Tragically, a French climber perished on the way down; it was her inaugural 8,000-meter peak.
Subsequently, I ran out of oxygen once more. It was then that I began experiencing HACE (high-altitude cerebral edema). I became disoriented and irrational, even instructing my Sherpa to leave me behind. I began hallucinating, seeing non-existent climbers and lights, and eventually lost consciousness at 8,300 meters.
What was that descent like?
The journey from 8,300 to approximately 7,700 meters took more than a day. I took a wrong turn, slid down 30 meters, and was plagued by hallucinations of villages and teams. I spoke to figures that were not present but persevered nonetheless.
Eventually, I faltered again, but then I heard a voice. A Sherpa appeared with oxygen. He secured me, provided a mask, and guided me back to Camp 4. The following day, I was airlifted out of the area.
Today, I owe my survival to getting low enough and the timely arrival of that Sherpa.
Did you sustain frostbite as well?
Yes, I experienced it in several fingers and my right foot. Healing is ongoing; one finger is still troubling me, and my foot is painful, but it’s a minor price to pay. I’ve been informed that very few individuals have lived through a solo descent from the death zone.
What motivated you to persist throughout this ordeal?
Three key factors: First, an instinctive autopilot guiding me down. Second, my fitness level—being in peak condition aided tremendously. Third, my belief system; having previously descended Everest without oxygen, I was aware of the possibility.
I also forced myself to focus solely on the descent. I blocked out fear, panic, and family thoughts, centering solely on that single goal.
Some people have inquired whether I’ll face PTSD as a result of this experience. While I do revisit the events, I don’t perceive it as traumatic; I’m merely grateful to be alive.
What insights do you carry into the business arena as a result of this experience?
With two decades of coaching behind me, my focus extends beyond mere motivation; I delve into areas such as leadership, growth mindset, change, risk, and resilience.
Resilience often comes up as a significant issue; senior executives frequently express that their teams lack it, especially among younger employees. We’ve fostered a culture that is risk-averse and overly sheltered, influencing behaviors and outcomes.
We are failing to teach critical thinking, merely providing what to think. With our reliance on smartphones and AI, essential problem-solving skills have diminished. Many individuals cannot navigate without GPS anymore.
However, life is rarely smooth sailing. Challenges arise, and the more you challenge yourself, the more equipped you become to handle difficulties.
What guidance can you offer business leaders wanting to foster resilience in their teams?
Start with establishing a healthy culture. Encourage open and honest feedback—it’s invaluable. Align your team around cohesive values and desired culture.
Establish an atmosphere where taking risks is welcomed, and mistakes are viewed as opportunities for growth. Promote problem-solving abilities and critical thinking, and support difficult discussions.
We need individuals capable of independent thinking, willing to challenge the status quo and communicate transparently. That’s the pathway to cultivating resilience.
And what’s on the horizon for you? Do you plan to continue climbing?
This recently concluded expedition marked my last 8,000-meter ascent. Chasing all 14 peaks seems unnecessary; others have accomplished that.
Nonetheless, I intend to return to the 7,000-meter ranges in Tibet, India, or Nepal. Not immediately, but potentially next year.
It’s not about setting records anymore but rather seeking refuge from the chaos, immersing in nature, and reconnecting. The mountains in Hatta, Ras Al Khaimah, and Oman are also exceptional and worth exploring.