‘Death zone’ detainment

It was supposed to be the experience of a lifetime involving reaching the summit of the world's highest mountain, but instead it turned into three hours of sheer terror and heartache that Wang Tianhan will never forget.

Wang, a 38-year-old former monk and climbing enthusiast from Beijing, was in his own words "kidnapped" at an altitude of 7,800 meters on Mount Qomolangma in the Tibet Autonomous Region on May 22. His mission had been to conquer the highest peak in the world for a second time, but instead he was intercepted by several people from hiking company Himalaya Expedition who tied him up and marched him back down to base camp.

Over the course of the three-hour ordeal, he posted several messages on his Weibo microblog pleading for rescuers to come to his aid.

"While [the group] stayed in their tent breathing oxygen, I was left out in the icy wind," Wang said in one of his posts forwarded thousands of times by fellow microbloggers.

Concerns for safety or profits?

The next day, the company issued a statement accusing Wang of illegally ascending beyond the altitude of 6,500 meters. "This is the point where climbers must pay before ascending further, but he crossed it without informing authorities," the statement said, adding Wang was "a sneaky climber."

The climbing "fee" Wang had neglected to pay to the hiking company was between 200,000 and 300,000 yuan ($31,560-47,340).

An emotional Wang argued that he wasn't "sneaking" and simply "misunderstood regulations for climbers" during a phone interview with Metro Beijing on Monday, breaking weeks of silence since the incident occurred last month.

According to regulations, any hikers ascending past 8,000 meters on the mountain, an altitude known as the "death zone," must be authorized by the General Administration of Sport or the China Tibet Mountaineering Association under the Tibet Sports Bureau.

The "death zone" is notorious among climbers as being an open graveyard because of its unpredictable avalanches and unforgiving climate where one mistake can mean the difference between life and death. In spring this year alone, 11 climbers died trying to reach the summit.

The issue of safety remains at the core of Wang's case. Hundreds of climbers have died trying to scale Mount Qomolangma over the past century and experts put the fatality rate at one death for every 10 successful attempts to the summit.

Wang also defended his resistance against Himalaya Expedition employees, saying he was suspicious of their motives right from the start.

"I refused to cooperate with them while descending because I couldn't trust them," he said. "At one stage they abandoned me and left me exposed to the danger of falling into an ice crevice. I still need a proper apology by the company."

Wang's cold treatment on the mountain triggered heated public discussion. Some argued that Wang, as an unauthorized hiker, needed to return to the base camp for his own safety, while others argued tying the adventurer up was a measure that was too excessive and further risked his life.

Roof of the world rendezvous

One of the purposes of Wang's climb was to take photographs from the summit for a book he plans to publish based on his past expeditions.

"I borrowed a camera from my friend. I was so worried it would be destroyed when I was intercepted," he said.

Wang has a modest income and before his May climb raised 100,000 yuan from his own savings and donations from friends. "I paid for accommodation and other services during my ascent," he said, hastening to reiterate that he wasn't "sneaking."　

Wang's confidence in reaching the summit stemmed from his experience in May 2002, when as a novice climber he reached the peak after a grueling two-day expedition.

He never anticipated his hopes of repeating history last month would be dashed. "I didn't plan how high I would reach. I wanted to stop ascending anytime and anywhere I wanted. I suppose I felt free on the mountain," he recalled.

Wang's ambition to pursue freedom in life was shaped when he was a teenager. Born into a farming family in Dabashan in Southwest China's Sichuan Province in 1974, he was attracted by the teachings of Buddhism and became a monk after high school.

Wang's passion for climbing originated from his days as a monk living in a monastery on Mount Wutaishan, one of China's famous mountains related to Buddhism in North China's Shanxi Province.

Wang settled in Beijing in 1996 while he was still a monk and enrolled in Chinese culture studies at Beijing Normal University, as well as Peking University where he studied theology.

"I failed to graduate as my English was too poor," he said. "But what I care most about is acquiring knowledge, not graduating with a degree."　

Back at life's 'base camp'

Wang, who describes himself as a "master" of the wooden xylophone, quit the Buddhist associations he belonged to in 2000 after he became disillusioned with their teachings.

Today, he lives near the leafy surrounds of Fenghuangling Nature Park in Haidian district, and his main form of income comes from selling wooden xylophones he crafts himself.

"Sometimes it takes me two or three years to make a xylophone," he said, adding each instrument sells for between 20,000 and 40,000 yuan. "I do it only to maintain my livelihood, not to make a profit."

But the harsh realization that any future attempts to climb Mount Qomolangma will require him to have several hundred thousand yuan has grounded his aspirations. "I was too na ve," he said of his climb last month. "I knew little about regulations in this commercialized world."

Wang admits feeling ambivalent now toward mountain climbing, saying he's unsure which direction to take in life. But one thing is for sure: he's ready to hang up his ice pick and climbing boots.

"I've decided to quit mountain climbing forever," he said, letting out a deep sigh. "The sport has left me with a scar that will probably never heal."