Kit, 37, the world freeskiing champion in 2004 and 2005, had her eyes on two prizes. No woman had skied Mount Everest, and no person of either gender had yet skied from each of the Seven Summits, the highest points on each continent. Everest was to be Kit's seventh. Rob, 41, was tagging along to film his wife's accomplishment, but with an illustrious career in ultra-steep skiing, he couldn't easily resist the temptation to make his own turns at 29,000 feet. Jimmy, 33, is well known for his mountain photography and had been to Everest's summit in May 2004, so, as a Jackson Hole neighbor of Rob and Kit, he was an obvious choice to get still shots. He meant to do that while skiing himself. Wally Berg, the leader of our expedition, was ably directing these efforts from Base Camp. I was the team's one-way climbing guide.

Fortuitously, my other job, when not guiding, happens to be ski patrolling, and as I climbed down from the summit toward the Hillary Step, at 28,800 feet, I rationalized that I'd simply switched hats up there on Everest. I would set up a belay anchor and position myself above the Step, then I would declare it "open" terrain for my skiers. We'd agreed that as I got my anchors set, they would ski down to me from the summit. I'd try to make sure they didn't go out of bounds—for instance, into Tibet, three inches to the left and 9,000 vertical feet down the Kangshung Face.

After ten minutes, Kit skidded to a stop just above me. Having descended the summit ridge on skis, she'd already accomplished the feat of skiing from the tops of the Seven Summits. I was impressed, but I was still worried as hell. I didn't know how she, Rob, or Jimmy would manage the next section, the Hillary Step, a 40-foot vertical rock face.

Rob showed up a moment later and very confidently tied into my belay line. His intention was to descend and traverse the Step while I safeguarded him from above. There were problems with this plan, aside from the obvious one, which involved the snow's reluctance to hang around on rock faces. Within just a few minutes, Rob was down and around a corner and I had no communication with him. This wasn't from lack of trying. We had belay signals, rope tugs, radios, and yelling at the top of our lungs as possibilities, but none seemed worth all that much when time dragged on and Rob's weight didn't come off the rope. Kit began to edge down toward the blind corner, and a few members of our Sherpa team made their way down to see what had happened to Rob. He'd made nearly all the very difficult moves needed, but then he'd run out of oxygen, meaning the last of those moves was nearly impossible with skis on. He was stuck.