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The poet William Blake wrote in the early 19th century: “Great things are done when men and mountains meet.” Great things indeed were done on Mount Everest in the past two weeks. Also poignant things, foolish things, deadly things. Hundreds of climbers from 11 different expeditions were on the mountain 31 near the summit when a freakish and fierce storm blew in. Eight climbers perished, the highest one-day death toll since the first expedition tried to reach the top of the world’s tallest peak in 1921.
Adventures have always sought challenges: deeper jungles, wider oceans, newer worlds. But mountains have been special. Perhaps it’s their size, their power, their resistance to conquest. Climbers search not just for summits but also for themselves. They reach up to reach within.
That helps explain why Everest has been enveloped by “Mountain Madness,” the name of a Seattle company that offers guided tours of the peak for about $65,000 (plus airfare to Nepal). New technology and equipment have also helped: lighter gear, warmer clothing, better radios and televisions.
But the community of high-mountain explorers now is gripped by soul-searching and second-guessing. Everest, after all, is not a theme park. Some of the dead were experienced guides who lost their lives trying to save less agile amateurs.
Is it right that an average person can order an ascent of Everest out of a catalog? An Australian mountaineer, Tim McCartney-Snape, told the Associated Press: “Some things should remain sacred, and Everest is one of them. Even the strongest and toughest have found it can be extremely difficult just existing at that altitude, without other people depending on you.”
On Everest, dependency can lead to heroism and to tragedy. One frostbitten amateur, Seaborne Weathers of Dallas, was plucked from a rocky ledge at 22,000 feet by a Nepalese army helicopter ? an act of incredible bravery. And Rob Hall, a guide who had climbed Everest several times, stayed on its slope with a dying customer. After learning they were hopelessly trapped, Hall managed to place a satellite telephone call to his pregnant wife Jan, in New Zealand. “Hey, look,” he told her, “don’t worry about me.” Rob Hall died before rescuers could reach him. He knew the mountain was still a mountain. Still a goal. Still a dream. Still a killer. |
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