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Author: Lincoln Hall
added that it was an idea that excited me greatly. Why had I played down my excitement and talked to her about it so casually? I had some unfinished business with Mount Everest, but I also had a wife whom I loved passionately and two amazing sons. How could I consider leaving them for two months while I returned to the dangerous, inhospitable environment of the worldâs highest mountain?
The answer could be found in the way that, decades ago, climbing had captured my soul.
Two
RETURN TO EVEREST
W ITH OUR THREE-YEAR STAY in Singapore coming to a close, decided it was the perfect time to act on a long-term dream. For years I had thought about a trek to Everest Base Camp. Now, with the possibility of a full-scale climbing expedition the following year, I was even keener to visit the region with Barbara and the boys. I wanted them to see Everest close up so they could appreciate its impossible enormity, while breathing for themselves the oxygen-starved air at Base Camp. I wanted them to understand how Mount Everest had been such a powerful force in my past, how it shaped my present, and how it might soon shape my future. But, of course, the boys were more interested to visit the worldâs most famous landmark, which happened to be loosely linked to my name, along with those of many other climbers.
My link to Everest came from my role in establishing only the second new route on the mountain to be climbed without the use of supplementary oxygen. The first such ascent had been accomplished by Reinhold Messner, the most influential mountaineer of modern times, who at the same time became the first person to climb the mountain solo. Our ascent had been an extraordinary team effort, achieved without Sherpa support, but because I did not reach the summit myself, I burned with disappointment immediately after the climb.
Three years later I was the first person ever to stand on the summit ridge of Mount Minto. My five friends were climbing the final steep slope, but I waited for them so that we could trudge up together to the tip of the highest peak in Antarcticaâs deserted Victoria Land. While I waited, I stared out over range after range of mountains, almost all of them untouched, our peak the centerpiece. Between us and the coast, the only signs of human presence were our camp on the far side of a high pass and one hundred miles of ski tracks and caches that led to our small yacht anchored against the sea ice in vast Moubray Bay. My disappointment at not reaching the summit of Everest seemed immaterial. The issue became an item of unfinished business, just a candle in the twilight. Nevertheless, Everest remained a special presence in my life. My family did not know that on any day since October 1984 I could have closed my eyes and seen the summit pyramid as clearly as if I were back in Tibet, at the spot near our Advance Base Camp where I spent hours alone with my yoga, alone with my thoughts, staring upward.
I could not expect Dylan or Dorje to grasp even a hint of what the mountain meant to me. Barbara understood at a spiritual level my connection but could not relate to my willingness to embrace such great dangers. She knew that climbing had shaped my character, and she wasnât about to undermine the catalyst that had delivered to her the man with whom she chose to spend her life.
IN LATE DECEMBER 2004 we caught an early morning taxi to Singaporeâs Changi Airport, en route to Nepal. The flight to Bangkok was uneventful, and we were in luck on the next leg to Kathmandu. The high peaks of the Himalaya rose above a sea of clouds. First we saw Kanchenjunga, the worldâs third-highest peak, and its outliers. The clouds maintained a level horizon obscuring all the ranges until we approached the Everest region, where the next cluster of giant mountains broke through. There was Makalu at number five, Lhotse at number four, the mighty Everest itself, and then Cho Oyu at number six. The mountains stood proud
The answer could be found in the way that, decades ago, climbing had captured my soul.
Two
RETURN TO EVEREST
W ITH OUR THREE-YEAR STAY in Singapore coming to a close, decided it was the perfect time to act on a long-term dream. For years I had thought about a trek to Everest Base Camp. Now, with the possibility of a full-scale climbing expedition the following year, I was even keener to visit the region with Barbara and the boys. I wanted them to see Everest close up so they could appreciate its impossible enormity, while breathing for themselves the oxygen-starved air at Base Camp. I wanted them to understand how Mount Everest had been such a powerful force in my past, how it shaped my present, and how it might soon shape my future. But, of course, the boys were more interested to visit the worldâs most famous landmark, which happened to be loosely linked to my name, along with those of many other climbers.
My link to Everest came from my role in establishing only the second new route on the mountain to be climbed without the use of supplementary oxygen. The first such ascent had been accomplished by Reinhold Messner, the most influential mountaineer of modern times, who at the same time became the first person to climb the mountain solo. Our ascent had been an extraordinary team effort, achieved without Sherpa support, but because I did not reach the summit myself, I burned with disappointment immediately after the climb.
Three years later I was the first person ever to stand on the summit ridge of Mount Minto. My five friends were climbing the final steep slope, but I waited for them so that we could trudge up together to the tip of the highest peak in Antarcticaâs deserted Victoria Land. While I waited, I stared out over range after range of mountains, almost all of them untouched, our peak the centerpiece. Between us and the coast, the only signs of human presence were our camp on the far side of a high pass and one hundred miles of ski tracks and caches that led to our small yacht anchored against the sea ice in vast Moubray Bay. My disappointment at not reaching the summit of Everest seemed immaterial. The issue became an item of unfinished business, just a candle in the twilight. Nevertheless, Everest remained a special presence in my life. My family did not know that on any day since October 1984 I could have closed my eyes and seen the summit pyramid as clearly as if I were back in Tibet, at the spot near our Advance Base Camp where I spent hours alone with my yoga, alone with my thoughts, staring upward.
I could not expect Dylan or Dorje to grasp even a hint of what the mountain meant to me. Barbara understood at a spiritual level my connection but could not relate to my willingness to embrace such great dangers. She knew that climbing had shaped my character, and she wasnât about to undermine the catalyst that had delivered to her the man with whom she chose to spend her life.
IN LATE DECEMBER 2004 we caught an early morning taxi to Singaporeâs Changi Airport, en route to Nepal. The flight to Bangkok was uneventful, and we were in luck on the next leg to Kathmandu. The high peaks of the Himalaya rose above a sea of clouds. First we saw Kanchenjunga, the worldâs third-highest peak, and its outliers. The clouds maintained a level horizon obscuring all the ranges until we approached the Everest region, where the next cluster of giant mountains broke through. There was Makalu at number five, Lhotse at number four, the mighty Everest itself, and then Cho Oyu at number six. The mountains stood proud
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