On the Edge

Sir Edmund Hillary’s death this past week came at an interesting time. A few nights prior, I met a woman who climbed Everest three times, once without Sherpas and once actually reaching the summit. She was telling a class of would-be winter travelers about the Ten Essentials for Survival. She and the other instructors are pretty knowledgeable and serious about winter travel, so reading of Hillary’s life, I can understand and appreciate the effort put into his many adventures. I’ve done the same on a much smaller scale but it’s enough to appreciate Edmund Hillary’s skill and determination.

I can also recognize the risks he took. The backcountry, no matter where, is a place were you are entirely on your own. The more remote the location (eg, Everest Summit, 1953) the more on your own, the less chance of rescue. You fuck up, you die. Nature doesn’t care one whit about you, your dreams or your life. If you’re not prepared to deal with nature on her terms or if you do something stupid, you die. I’m challenged by snow in Washington’s Cascade Mountains. Everest summit may just as well be another planet yet Edmund Hillary went there, a knife edge ridge with sheer seven and eight thousand foot drops on either side. The much smaller drops in the Grand Canyon are plenty sheer for me, thank you.

Edmund Hillary was fortunate to live in a time of unexplored places. Everest was hardly unknown–his attempt was not the first–but he and Tenzing Norgay were the first to reach and return from the summit. They were also part of a team. Without that support, Hillary would not have even been in a position to find his route to the top. The same is true of his many subsequent adventures, I am sure.

That’s what makes Edmund Hillary’s life so exceptional. I have a small taste of adventure but it’s only a fraction of what Edmund Hillary has seen. Yet I am ecstatic and pleased to have seen that much. Imagine a life lived wholly in that spirit of adventure. Hillary was a fortunate man.