‘Left to die': British adventurer Adrian Hayes on resilience at 8,300 metres

Gulf Business

4 days ago

British adventurer, author and leadership coach Adrian Hayes (66) recently returned from a perilous expedition to Kanchenjunga, the world's third-highest mountain.
Known for tackling some of the planet's toughest environments – including summiting K2, reaching the North and South Poles, and crossing Greenland and the Empty Quarter – Hayes faced one of his greatest tests yet on the 8,586-metre Himalayan peak in May this year.
After reaching the summit, he ran out of oxygen, broke his hand, suffered frostbite and was eventually left behind in what climbers call the 'death zone.'
In this interview with
Gulf Business
podcast
Situation Today
, Hayes reflects on the experience, the mental and physical resilience it required, and how the lessons from extreme environments apply to leadership and business today.
Watch the full interview here:
An edited version of the interview is also posted below.
What inspired you to take on Kanchenjunga?
It's the third-highest mountain in the world and nearly as steep as K2, but twice as long. It's got the longest summit push from top camp to summit of any mountain. It's brutal. Not avalanche-prone like some peaks, but exhaustion and exposure are the real killers.
The mountain is on the eastern Nepal border with Sikkim, close to Tibet. I served in the Gurkha Regiment years ago and used to recruit in that area. I saw the mountain 30 years ago and always told myself, 'One day.'
I've been adventuring since I was 17. For me, it's always been about experience, growth and the pursuit of excellence. I had to stop for seven years to raise my daughter — my toughest challenge — but came back to it. We tried Kanchenjunga last year and didn't summit. This year was a second attempt.
By all accounts, mountaineering has changed a lot over the years. Has it become too commercial or attention-driven?
Yes. Most expeditions are now Sherpa-led, and social media has made everything a performance. People want to prove themselves: show they've done something impressive. It's no longer enough to run a marathon; now it's an ultra-marathon on a mountain.
Everest has become a circus. There's a record for everything now: the youngest, fastest, first from a certain country. That shift happened especially after Nirmal Purja climbed all 14 eight-thousanders. It became a Netflix documentary, and suddenly, it was about flying between base camps and beating records.
I think we need to get back to the core reason for doing these things: for the experience, the solitude, the clarity. And that doesn't have to be the Himalayas. The UAE mountains are fantastic too — I'm out there every winter weekend.
Tell us about the summit attempt. Were you climbing alone or in a team?
There were eight of us and eight Sherpas for the summit push. Earlier acclimatisation rotations were mostly solo or with a teammate. By the time we attempted the summit, only five climbers remained, and the conditions weren't great. Everything felt rushed.
We left the lower top camp at 6:30 PM on May 10 and reached the summit at 2:30 PM the next day: 20 hours later. I ran out of oxygen on the way up because my Sherpa was behind me. At one point, I ended up leading. Eventually, I got oxygen back and summited strong. But I was desperate for water.
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How long can you realistically survive without adequate oxygen?
You can't, really, not for long. If you're used to climbing with oxygen and it suddenly runs out, it's like pulling the plug on an electric car. You just stop.
My Sherpa was inexperienced. I don't want to be harsh, but he was young. I eventually got oxygen again, and we reached the summit in horrible weather. We took a quick photo, quick video, and we started descending.
That's when you injured your hand?
Yes. On the descent, another climber tripped and crashed into me. I was knocked off a ledge and caught by the fixed rope, but all my weight went onto my hand. It wrapped around the rope and was basically put out of action.
Descending with one hand is incredibly difficult. It took us three to four hours to descend just 200 metres. Everyone else made it back to Camp 4. Tragically, one French woman died on the way down: it was her first 8,000-metre peak.
Then, I ran out of oxygen again. That's when I started suffering from HACE (high-altitude cerebral edema). I became disoriented and irrational. I told my Sherpa to leave me. I was hallucinating: seeing climbers, lights, even entire teams that weren't there. Eventually, I passed out at 8,300 metres.
What was that descent like?
It took more than a day to get from 8,300 to around 7,700 metres. I took a wrong turn, slid 30 metres, hallucinated villages and teammates. I talked to people who weren't there. But I kept going.
Eventually, I crashed again. Then I heard a voice. A Sherpa had come up with oxygen. He clipped me in, gave me a mask, and got me down to Camp 4. The next day, we reached Camp 2, and I was airlifted out.
I'm only here today because I managed to get low enough and because that Sherpa came for me.
And you suffered frostbite as well?
Yes, in several fingers and my right foot. It's healing. One finger is still bad, and the foot is painful. But it's a small price to pay. I've been told very few people have survived a solo descent like that from the death zone.
What kept you going through this experience?
Three things. First, a kind of autopilot. That instinct to get down. Second, fitness: I was in top condition. Third, belief. I've descended Everest without oxygen before. I've done big climbs. I knew it was possible.
I also shut everything else out. No fear. No panic. No thinking about family. Just one focus: descend.
People have asked if I'll suffer PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). I've relived the experience, sure, but there's no trauma. I'm just happy to be alive.
You draw lessons from this for the business world too. How does that tie into your work?
I've been coaching for 20 years. I'm not just a motivational speaker: I speak on leadership, growth mindset, change, risk and resilience.
Resilience is a big one. Many senior execs tell me their teams lack it, especially the younger generations. We've grown up in a risk-averse culture, sanitised and wrapped in cotton wool. That has an impact.
We're not teaching people how to think; just what to think. With smartphones and now AI, we've outsourced problem-solving. We've lost basic skills. People can't even navigate without GPS anymore.
But life isn't always smooth. Things go wrong. The more you challenge yourself, the better prepared you are.
So what advice would you give to business leaders trying to build resilience in their teams?
Start with culture. Encourage honest feedback: it's the greatest gift. Get your team aligned on how you work and what culture you want.
Create an environment where risk-taking is encouraged, and mistakes are seen as part of growth. Promote problem-solving and critical thinking. Encourage difficult conversations.
We need people who can think independently, challenge the status quo, and communicate openly. That's how you build resilience.
And finally — what's next? Will you keep climbing?
This was my last 8,000-metre peak. I don't see the point in going back to chase all 14. That's been done.
But I do plan to return to the 7,000-metre ranges in Tibet, India, or Nepal. Not immediately, but maybe next year.
It's not about records anymore. It's about getting away from the noise, being in nature, and reconnecting. And you don't have to go to the Himalayas: the mountains in Hatta, Ras Al Khaimah, and Oman are incredible too.
Pictured: Adrian Hayes on a previous expedition.