Posts Tagged ‘Everest’
Extra Day
Since circumstances led to Cyndie and me each having a car up at the lake over the weekend, we didn’t need to go home at the same time. I asked for an extra day at the lake and Cyndie headed home to relieve the animal sitters. With no responsibilities, I opted for a bike ride in the middle of a Monday in the north woods of Wisconsin.
There are some wonderful stretches of good pavement passing through wooded acres that offer a rewarding combination of forest bathing while sailing along on two wheels. It feeds my mind, body, and soul.
Returning to the Wildwood driveway brought me up to the empty house where I could enjoy the best of everything it provides in precious solitude. After a quick dip in the lake, followed by a shower, I stretched out diagonally across the bed under the sunshine coming through the skylight window for a luxurious nap.
For those of us who don’t live alone, having a spare day every so often when you can leave a trail of your belongings anywhere you please and eat and sleep when the whim arrives is invigorating. I also chose to watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon while eating a sandwich and some West’s Dairy Praline and Caramel ice cream.
Sure, having pets can add a lot to a person’s life, but being free from any need to tend to precious critters often gives me just as much joy. I wouldn’t have been able to finish a full-length movie while devouring delicious bite-sized portions of ice cream if Asher had been staring up at me with his big eyes and whining to play.
How do you describe eating ice cream from a spoon (I’m not usually a cone person), but not ever biting it? I don’t actually lick it. Am I lipping it? Sliding the spoon back out from my mouth while silently scraping a portion of the creamy goodness with my lips to be held back for my tongue and mouth to absorb it with glee. The spoon then goes back in for a second pass, maybe a third before it is clean and ready to be reloaded for another iteration.
Maybe there is a word that better describes the technique. If I weren’t so inclined to avoid interacting with AI sites, I might find such a descriptor by searching.
The movie I watched lasted much longer than my ice cream and it was almost as much fun, given the subject of Sherpas and Mount Everest. I highly recommend the documentary film, “Mountain Queen – The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa,” which I found on Netflix.
Lhakpa was the first Nepali woman to climb Everest and survive. She holds the record for most Everest summits by a woman. What she has accomplished in her life outside of climbing is maybe even more remarkable. She is an inspiration of great strength, both physical and emotional.
She and her children deserve much broader recognition, which I hope this film will bring.
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Weekend Escape
With the Wisconsin deer hunting season getting underway on Saturday, I spent the weekend laying low, ensconced in the comfort of our couch and chairs around the fireplace reading about people who were anything but. I had been loaned a copy of Anatoli Boukreev‘s book, “The Climb: Tragic Ambitions on Everest” detailing his account of the fateful events on Everest back in May of 1996.
It was revealing to finally read Anatoli’s version after previously only having been exposed to Jon Krakauer’s descriptions from his book, “Into Thin Air.”
As happens every time I read about what people endure in the death zone of high altitudes, I am dumbfounded that anyone would subject themselves to the insanity.
Reading about the prolonged deprivation they suffered in the high altitude storm while I am comfortably lounging by the fire is mind-bending.
As precious as it was for me to spend time in the Himalayan mountains in Nepal, none of the “death zone” expeditions hold any appeal.
I am satisfied to read the accounts of others while escaping from the realities of being shut in by hunting neighbors and a coronavirus pandemic.
Unfortunately, the outcome for those who lost lives that day back in 1996 always comes out the same, no matter who’s account of the events I’m reading.
My heart breaks for them every time.
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Himalayan Memories
A dear friend who was a precious member of the Himalayan trek I did back in 2009 recently visited us and left me with her illustrated edition of Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air.” I had read this book about the deadly 1996 season on Everest when it was first published but had not seen this version with all the photos and graphics.
David Piper took this shot of me overlooking Namche Bazaar
Thinking I would breeze through and just look at all the pictures, I unexpectedly found myself powerless to ignore the text. After an attempt to skim some of the reading to refresh my memory failed miserably, I gave in and absorbed every last word, at the expense of sleep and a few daily tasks.
I simply couldn’t stop reading until I reached the end.
Of course, the early portions of the descriptions from Kathmandu up to Lukla and then the villages up to 13,000 FT elevation resonate deeply with my first-hand experience and bring a rush of vivid pleasant memories flooding back.
I clearly remember the specific spot Krakauer describes when the rocky path first arrives at a vista with a view of the peak of Everest.
The adventure travel group I trekked with had a tag line that “Everyone Has an Everest.” While re-reading “Into Thin Air” I have found myself understanding better than ever how to apply this thinking more often to everyday life.
It doesn’t need to be some epic accomplishment. Reading the intricate details of the goings-on in a guided expedition to reach the summit of Everest reveals how important each little step is, maybe even more important than the few abbreviated minutes they are able to allow themselves to spend at the top.
As well, the critical value of coming back down after the pinnacle is achieved, which is the only thing that will allow a full realization of the accomplishment.
So it can be in our everyday lives. Each thing we do in an effort toward our goals holds value like the preparations individuals make in an Everest expedition.
It’s not simply the destination, but the journey that should be valued in our day-to-day mini-expeditions.
The journey both there, and back again.
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Relative Something 