Kyle and I had been moving for over 18 hours, skiing five miles of glacier and climbing 3,100 feet of the convoluted south west ridge of Peak 11300 in Alaska. The setting sun bathed the peaks in a soft, rosy light. As Kyle rappelled to a small col in the ridge, where we planned to bivy, I snapped a few pictures and smiled.
I am now ready to tell my firsthand encounter of being left alone to die this last May on Everest. It is a true story with no details embellished. I am willing to sell my story and photos to the party willing to pay the most for a story about human greed and the fight for survival.