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INTRODUCTION -- THE JOURNEY BEGINS
INTRODUCTION -- THE JOURNEY BEGINS
"Grandpa, please write a book about your climbs in the Andes. I would like to read about your adventures."
Why
climb mountains? Well, why any
inspiration? Why
did the
early explorers sail the vastness of the oceans?
Why did
we explore the moon? Is it not in
touching the unknown
that we
find our true selves?
CHAPTER 1 -- NEVADO OJOS DEL SALADO,
CHILE: GHOSTS OF THE CONQUISTADORS
When
James crosses the top of a rock the size of a
small
car, the monster shudders ever so slightly
but
remains in place. I know this because I
stand
directly
underneath him, some twenty feet below,
and for
seconds I freeze to the spot not knowing what
I
should do, pee or flee.
----
I
see the summit now and know we are almost there.
“Judy, what are you doing here?”
I halt in puzzlement.
Judy? What?
I turn to confront what must be a new addition to our climbing
team.
“What’d you say?”
James points to a nearby boulder.
“That’s my sister sitting on that rock. What’s she doing here?”
My altitude haze disappears in an
instant. James is hallucinating!
CHAPTER 2 -- MONTE PISSIS, ARGENTINA: HIGH
WINDS FROM TARTARUS
I am
not afraid. I know this because I am
certain
not to
see another sunrise, and this bestows a
measure
of stoic calm.
----
Our world is a vast manuscript, and
those who
do not travel read but a sheet.
CHAPTER 3 -- LLULLAILLACO, CHILE: A CASE
OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
The sky here is absent those
silver needles
that weave our world
together.
----
Altitude has a perfidious
way of robbing me
of my mental abilities when
I don’t even know
my pocket is being picked.
CHAPTER 4 -- CLOSING THE CIRCLE ON
LLULLAILLACO, CHILE
Still, at times my actions come too close
to being carelessly haphazard about it, as a
drunk is careless, acting as though I have no
regard for life, not understanding in an hour
what any sane person knows in a minute.
----
As for the missing miner, is his body still
out
there somewhere? Most likely.
Perhaps he
became lost and, at the end
of his strength, sank
to the earth and cloaked
himself in dreams and
snow. An entire, unknown world died with him.
Who could know his failures,
his fears, his loves,
his deepest thoughts, his
triumphs?
CHAPTER 5 -- NEVADO TRES CRUCES,
CHILE: THE CRACKING OF THE WILL
I do
not believe in miracles. Yet, my solo
life in
the
mountains has been one extended miracle,
for I
have survived some dangerous moments
among
them. This is necessary bravado. I must
believe
fervently in myself or I shall perish amongst
the
high peaks.
----
I try again to make that
first step forward. But my leg
lacks life, and repeated
attempts at movement meet repeated
resistance. It is immovable, as a sturdy tree rooted in
the earth is immovable. The summit is mine. The weather
promises success. The moment is propitious. I try again.
I
order it to move! But my leg remains firmly in place. I’m
unable to control the most
basic of human
functions.
CHAPTER 6 -- INTERLUDE: CLIENTS
Today I
believe he was the luckiest of men that day.
This
incident closed out my guiding career. I found
leading
others on a big mountain too stressful.
And
who
needs that kind of tension at 57 years of age?
CHAPTER 7: MONTE PISSIS, ARGENTINA: THE HAND OF GOD
Perhaps
this is not the place for me, a place
where I
shall have to pay for the things I’ve
done as
well as for the things I haven’t done,
a crazy
kind of place turned upside down where
they
kill you as a criminal or they kill you as a saint.
----
It’s a whiteout! The word itself is enough to
strike sheer, unadulterated
terror in the
heart and soul of any high
altitude climber.
Of all the words in all the
dictionaries in all
the libraries in all the
world, this is the most
dreaded, the most feared,
the most frightening
for me, and I suppress a
momentary urge to
pass water.
----
It
remains for me to marvel that I still breathe.
And I
reflect that we either live and die by accident
or we
live and die by plan. Some say that we
shall never
know
and that we are like small bugs that children kill
on a
summer afternoon. But some say, to the
contrary, that
even
the sparrow does not fly without a gentle push
from
the Hand of God.
CHAPTER 8 -- LLULLAILLACO, CHILE: HOW DID
THOSE GUYS DO IT, ANYWAY?
I’m the only one to have
ever seen these exact
stones and probably the only
one who ever will.
The real proof of their
existence is my viewing them,
for this grants them
life. If man is the measure
of all things, then they do
not exist to the rest of mankind.
----
My body slumps next to them,
weary beyond the
knowing, exulting as an
explorer entranced
by an unexpected discovery
exults. I wonder,
how did those guys do it,
anyway? How could
they do it, without stoves,
warm clothes, sturdy tents,
without plastic boots, warm
socks, warm gloves,
without freeze-dried meals,
dark glasses, warm
sleeping bags, and without .
. . . cigarettes?
CHAPTER 9 -- TRES
CRUCES, CHILE: CLIMBING WITH FRIENDS
“I saw
the most amazing thing and have a photo to
prove
it.”
“Yeah,
what’s that?”
“A
guanador. My first sighting.” I cannot disguise
my
enthusiasm and happiness at my incredible fortune.
“A
what?”
“A
guanador. They’re a cross between a
guanaco
and a
condor. They’re very shy, so to get a
picture
is
quite a feat. They’re akin to the
jackalopes out in
Arizona. You know, seldom seen, and then only on
postcards.”
Chuck
looks at Dan for several seconds. It
takes
time
until things sink in, since their headaches
are a
distraction; still, they eventually manage wan smiles.
“Bob,
if you have pictures of this creature in that
camera
of yours, you’d better protect it from me
the
rest of the trip. It’s priceless!”
----
In an
existential way, I feel the mountain’s pleasure
at my
return. My presence here lends a price to the sand, a
value known only to the
mountain and to me.
CHAPTER 10 --TRES CRUCES, CHILE: THE LAST
CLIMB
The passersby know nothing
of my coming
climb or of my previous
forays upon their
sacred peaks and would have
given them scant
recognition if they had
known. To move among
these strangers with the
wonderful knowledge of
my Andean intent fills me
with a vague pride. I
seem a lonesome sentinel
guarding a favored treasure,
though the treasure seems valuable
only to me.
----
Welcome to old age, macho
man!
----
They say that when one
dreams it can last but seconds.
But in those seconds one can
live a lifetime. We can live
and we can dream, and who is
to say which is the greater reality,
the one we know or the one
we imagine?
REFLECTIONS: THE JOURNEY ENDS
My climbs made me interesting to myself.
Solo mountaineering made me different from
others and satisfied my desire for uniqueness
from the ordinary living of the rest of my life.
My understanding was that I needed this individuality
more than I needed friends.
----
So for me, death holds no terror.
And this knowledge,
learned during my time amongst the great peaks, permitted
me to see that it is better to attain the truth of self by not
locating it while seeking it than by deciding not to seek it
and never finding it.
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