France, Tour Ronde, 1996, I am climbing a 60% slope on mixed ice and rock.  I am roped to Jouergen, my German guide. I thought I was in good shape but this 12,000-foot peak is testing my condition.  I plant my ice axe in one secure position and then another.  I concentrate on kicking the front points of my crampons solid into the ice.  At ten thousand feet it is easy, and then the summit tests my strength.  I take each step one by one.  Jouergen asked me if I am tired.  I answer "no".  He replies "I would be surprised if you were not."  An instant dose of reality.  From now on, I tell the truth.

I once heard that adventure is defined as when you are doing it you pray to God to get you out alive and once it is over you pray to God to do it again.

Alaska, the Granite Range, 1999, Howie and I are almost up the couloir when we hear the telltale CRACK of ice breaking.  We instantly fall to the snow, plant our ice axes, cover our heads and hold on to each other. The fall passes and we acknowledge the danger with a smile.  It was a small "water-fall" avalanche that covered us with ice, snow and rock.  Twenty minutes later, another covers us and Howie looks at me with the unspoken question to which I respond "Let's go down".

Danger seems to drive the adrenaline that keeps us going.  Maybe this is a commentary on the lack of excitement in our everyday lives.  While watching the soccer game or band concert brings family satisfaction, it is often what we do for ourselves that brings personal satisfaction.

Climbing is a sport that requires you to be fit, mentally in control, a team player, patient, and accepting of failure.  This last characteristic is very misunderstood.  Consider spending from 6 to 18 weeks attempting a summit only to be turned back by weather, equipment failure, your own inadequacies or something else: a team-member's inadequacy.  Do you place blame or just go on?  What do you learn?

My life is a balance of three areas: family, work and myself.  I try to focus on each area while not ignoring another area.  I find that when I get out of balance, my overall happiness suffers as does the other areas.  My personal time is focused on climbing, today.

Mountains test your "essence".  They bring out your best and your worst.  They are completely unforgiving, impersonal and answer to no higher authority.  When you agree to climb one of these high mountains, you declare formally or informally how to dispose your body upon death.  This exercise makes declaring beneficiarie simple.

August 1997, Cathy and I are sitting on our patio and discussing my "body disposal" assuming the worst for the upcoming Cho Oyu expedition.  I have the legal form on the table for both of us to read.  The choices: 1) bury on the mountain, 2) cremate in Kathmandu, or 3) return to your home.  By the way, choices 2 and 3 are conditional upon being able to get your body off the mountain - highly unlikely in the vast majority of the cases.

Why does someone go on these expeditions knowing what you know?  Many people I have met on these expeditions are very successful in life already.  Almost everyone has the full support of the closest family members.  For me this is without question and gives me strength.  So why risk EVERYTHING for a mountain summit?

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