Through my eyes.

As I try to balance myself in the washroom...(2006)

whereis_kate — Wed, 5 Nov 2008 14:08:00 GMT

As I tried to balance myself in the washroom while holding a roll of toilet paper, hand sanitizer and the bottom of my pants I heard several screeches. Ignoring it, thinking it is those damn dogs again, I continued with my own business. I succeed in the washroom and headed to my room, putting my trusty hand sanitizer in my pocket. On my way there I heard another type of screech. I froze. That’s not a dog, I thought to myself. Andrew and Jenny came out of their rooms and met me by the top of the staircase. “What the bloody hell is that?” Andrew asked as we all looked at each other in horror. I took a few steps towards my room and threw my toilet paper through my room door. I quickly went back to the staircase and looked at Andrew. We ‘rushed’ down the stairs as quickly as our bodies would let us move in the new altitude (Phakding, 2600m). We got out the front door to see a man standing over an object, hitting it with full force, with a metal pipe. My body went numb and my eyes widened. It’s a woman! I didn’t know what to do. This only happens in movies where I am safe at home, sitting on my couch nice and warm under a blanket, eating Lays chips and peanut butter M&Ms. Andrew immediately started yelling at the man “What are you doing!? Stop!” I snapped back into reality and I turned and ran…in the other direction. Oh heroic me. I ran upstairs to get the man that I respected so much, looked up to and trusted with my life. Hoping to get him to save the day, I loudly knocked on his door to hear a calm, “yes?” I nervously and somewhat excitedly yelled, “Ian! Some guy is beating the SHIT out of a woman!” only to have him open up the doors and say “Don’t interfere with the locals.” I say “Oh, ok. I’ll tell Andrew” and he shuts the door on my face. I turned and ‘ran’ to the stairs. I got half way down and then I stopped. Don’t interfere with the locals!? How can I not!? I thought to myself. This is wrong! I have to help! I quickly got outside and saw that Chris has now joined the party. I looked around and saw many people watching this man beating a woman who has a child holding her hand, screaming and crying, as she laid on the ground not moving, only screaming as tears ran down her face. By this time my heart was racing like I had just run a marathon and my breathing had quickened to an uncomfortable level.

Finally, Andrew and Chris got him to stop. Jenny begged us to go back inside and we all agreed that it was probably a good idea. Everyone walked upstairs except me. I leaned back on the wall, which I was very thankful for, I took off my glasses and I rubbed my eyes. My world was spinning and I didn’t know if it was from the situation or the altitude. The team came back down realizing I didn’t follow and they forced me up the stairs. I felt my eyes fill up with tears and my body was shaking uncontrollably. I stood at the top of the stairs with Jenny and tried my best to slow down my breathing. I’m not too sure what I did in the next 5 minutes, but I remember my thoughts. How could those people just let that happen!? It’s wrong and disgusting. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. He isn’t THAT big. I can’t take him but lots of those people watching could have. Especially if they all went at him! Why did they just watch? Once I finally calmed down, it started again. A horrible cry followed by many more. Furious I ran down the stairs, cursing, I whipped the door open. Then my courage failed me, again. He was beating her for the second time. I heard Jenny and Andrew yelling at me, from the doorway, to get inside. I became nervous seeing real violence and my body froze once again. But then I looked at the woman, then the child. This feeling of rage filled me and I started to yell at the man. Andrew ran out and joined me. Jenny came out and started to beg us again to come back inside where it is safe. Safe? You expect me to run to safety when this woman and child can’t? Or can they? I have no idea, but they aren’t running so neither am I. I think to myself. I turned to see Jenny’s worried face but quickly turned back to the man who seemed to be backing off the woman. His friend put his hand on the other man’s chest and started to push him away from the woman. Good timing jerk! But then I thought, at least he stepped in.

We all checked up on the woman making sure she was not seriously injured. I watched the man walk away, with a slight stumble and I felt a bit of relief. I heard Ian’s voice, I quickly turned to see him doing up his coat as he walked through the doorway and then he said “I hope you all aren’t silly enough to interfere with the locals”. Once I heard this I felt so much rage inside of me I thought I would have punched him in the face right there and then. But deciding against it I stomped inside, up the stairs, punched the wall (not a good idea), went into my room and slammed the doors. I sat on the edge of my bed and held my head in my hands, concentrating on my breathing and my hate for Ian at that time. After about three minutes passed I heard a knock on my door. Millions of thoughts rush through my head. Shit…Ian is going to want to give me a speech or check up on me. Just shut up and listen. You are mad and you will probably say something you will regret in the morning so don’t be witty or bitchy. He came in and I lifted my head from my hands. He saw the anger, shock, worry etc, and all the many other emotions I was feeling all at that time, in my eyes and his face fell. He explained to me why he acted the way he did and about how people in Nepal live. The best line I heard that night was “Now how would I explain to your mother that Katie got a knife stuck in her chest?” I then thought to myself, Oh…good to know your first thought wasn’t “Oh my! Katie has a knife in her chest! I’m so sad’ but more of a worry for saving your ass from my mother’s wrath. But I settled for saying “Yes Ian, I understand.” We said our goodnights and he left the room. Two minutes later I left my room to sit on the stairs, drinking water, to think about things.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about this whole episode. I still don’t know what I really think of it though. This is all so new to me. I find myself late at night lying on my bed, lights out, with my head torch on pointed at the ceiling. This is when I get real “Kate time.” I get to think about things bothering me and not surprisingly this is one of the things that come up. Why did those people just stand and watch? Is it entertainment for them? Is it the same as when I rent a violent movie and sit on the couch and watch people being blown away by rapid gun fire? Or when in the movie they have those five minutes, at least, dedicated to a big fight between two people where a pipe would really be nothing compared to the weapons some of these characters use on each other? Why is it that when I watch the movie I don’t give it a second thought but when I see it in real life I struggle with it? Why is it that I can punch someone on the ice during a hockey game but not in real life? This is something I know I will have a hard time with for my whole life. I’m seen as a very aggressive person and I would agree but then it comes down to it, am I really? Could I beat someone up? Could I kill someone? I can’t answer these questions unless I am put into a situation where I would or I wouldn’t. I can think about it and guess but I will never know until the moment I have to choose. Right after this situation unfolded, I was furious and disgusted with the ways that the Nepalese lived. But after the rest of that night to think about it, I changed my thoughts on it all together. Who am I to judge their way of life? Why is it wrong for that man to beat up, as I was later told, his wife? If you asked me this question three weeks ago I would have said “It is wrong. And that’s how I feel.” With no thought about it. But now I find myself questioning my beliefs. What is wrong? Is it something you shouldn’t do? If I walked into Philosophy and hit Mr. Seggie in the face, is that wrong? Yes. But why? Well because he didn’t do anything to deserve it. Does this mean that if he did something to deserve it, then it is all right to hit him?… So if the woman did something bad to the husband and he started to beat her up, is that ok? No. Why not? Because it is wrong. Well what is wrong?

This conversation in my head seems to always go around in circles and get no where. The definition of wrong at (www.dictionary.com) is: Not in conformity with fact or truth; incorrect or erroneous or Contrary to conscience, morality, or law; immoral or wicked. a) Unfair; unjust. b) Unacceptable or undesirable according to social convention. If there is any truth in this definition then it was right for him to beat her because the society didn’t seemed to think it was incorrect, immoral, wicked, undesirable etc. So who was wrong? The man or me for interfering? Thinking that he should be locked away, was it really me who should have been put in jail for trying to make things…wrong? Who is wrong? Which could also be said as, who is not conforming to fact or truth? Who is incorrect or erroneous? Who is contrary to conscience, morality, and the law? Who is immoral and wicked? Unfair? Unjust? And who is unacceptable or undesirable according to social convention?

A few days later, the weather was awesome and my legs felt pretty good. We had to walk nine hours that day so I kept my pace controlled and at a medium pace. I was walking along the side of a small mountain. There was about three meters of walking room from the side of the small mountain/big hill to where a small ridge/cliff was. No worries, it isn’t too busy today. I looked ahead of myself to see Jenny walking in front of me and further in the distance a bunch of people running around busy doing things that I couldn’t see yet. I saw a bright orange tent pitched on the side of the ridge. It was such an odd place for a tent to be, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My curiosity grew as I walked closer. An older woman walked past me with her arms full of prayer flags. She wasn’t overly happy but seemed to be smiling. I was very interested in what everybody was up to but I didn’t think much of it. I kept walking and for some reason I looked to my left, down the ridge. To my surprise I saw a few men down a long ways, struggling up the ridge. I kept walking as I watched them. I saw one man with some object covered in a white blanket. I’ve always been amazed at the Nepalese people’s strength. He struggled with every step. I stopped to watch a bit more and figure out what he was doing. I took a better look at the white blanket and saw red. There were random blotches of blood all over the cloth. How did I miss that? I watched him struggle and he turned a bit, which made me see beneath the blanket two legs sticking straight up in the air. They had dark grey shoes on the feet. My heart started beat a lot faster and I tried to get some words out to Jenny who also stopped not too far ahead of me to see what was going on. All I managed to get out was “Is that…?” and she said “Ya… I think so.” Immediately understanding the situation, Jenny said “let’s go.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t take my eyes off this man carrying someone up the hill. Stupidly I still didn’t accept that this man he was carrying was dead. I watched the other men try to help him, but it was useless. It was too steep for more than one person to take the body up. Some man with a thick accent to my left, who came from no-where, said “accident, accident” as he pointed to the man down the cliff with his hand that held a walking pole. No shit eh? Thanks for the update Captain obvious. I thought to myself as I looked back down the hill. It seemed like the man doing all of the carrying shifted the body a bit when I looked away. He continued up the ridge, and then the wind picked up. A side of the blanket lifted off the body and folded over to the other side. That’s how I saw his face. A face that will haunt me forever. I remember breathing in quickly and holding, for what seemed forever, my breath for as long as I could. I felt my body in pain, begging for the release of the old air and hoping for new air to come in. “Kate, come on.” Jenny said, but everything she said from then on was foggy and only background noise to me. The man’s face was pale, even though the Nepalese tend to have darker, tanned skin. His head was tilted back a bit and his mouth was open, not fully but quite a bit. His eyes were closed. My stomach turned and twisted trying to get rid of the knots that had just been created. I swallowed, turned and started walking again. I only got a few steps around the corner when I was faced with about five yaks wanting to get by. I wasn’t about to take on yaks so I went to the far right, stepped up on a mound of dirt and grabbed onto a bush that was growing right by my head on the side of the hill. The yaks finally went by but I couldn’t move my body to walk. Instead, my knees buckled and I slid down the side of the hill that I used to hold myself up with. I let everything go. I had no choice, it was coming out no matter what so I just let it. I sat down and held my head and cried. Jenny, Padam and Chris, who were a bit behind us, came up behind me and tried to take my bag away. I didn’t want to sit and think about it so I got up and started walking again. Luckily I had a hat and sunglasses so no one who passed me could really noticed anything was wrong with me. I would wipe away any tears that snuck down past my sunglasses and tried not to show any emotion. A straight face would be better than a sad one I thought. I trekked quite quickly and ended up catching up to Ian, Andy and Andrew who were pretty far ahead of us. They stopped at a shop, but waited for us before they went in to get anything. I stood with them, biting my lip and kicking the dirt, every-so-often to keep myself busy which was planned to help stop any close calls of me breaking down. But when Jenny caught up and said “Are you ok?” and hugged me, I couldn’t fight it. (It seems to be the right thing to do and question to ask an upset person when you want them to cry.)

We walked over to the side so we wouldn’t be in the way of other trekkers and I sat on a step. This time I held the back of my head, pulling it to my knees. I wanted to curl up and just fade away. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I’m guessing Jenny explained things to the guys, so they buggered off. Ian, Jenny and Padam stayed with me though. Padam came over and put his hand on my shoulder. He then stood up straight, as I looked at his shoes, and said “why you crying?” My first thoughts were Why the frigen hell do you think I’m crying! If anything why AREN’T you crying!? Or at least a bit upset! But I would never yell at Padam, he has always taken care of me and yet again I was upset so I tried to say as little as possible knowing that emotions can control what you say and you usually end up regretting it later. Ian seemed to see, some how, my anger towards Padam’s question and he started to explain why Padam said that and he talked about Buddhism and re-incarnation. “You would have noticed that the family didn’t seem too upset about this…?” Ian said and I quietly answered yes. He then talked about their beliefs and how it differs from his and mine. (As we talked about each other’s beliefs earlier on in the trip) and that, “they are probably, if anything, mad that he won’t be there tomorrow to work on the fields.” I couldn’t help but laugh a bit to this and shake my head because it was so absurd to me. Ian handed me a Coke and walked away. Jenny stayed and tried to comfort me a bit more but eventually left to use the ‘loo’. I soon realized I had no idea where my bag was, I was so distracted I didn’t even know someone took it off of me. But I didn’t care too much so I stayed where I was sitting down and looked around me. There were huge stones with prayers carved into them, prayer flags, small temple like buildings, etc. I still felt very upset but a little bit stupid too. I didn’t even know him and I was the only one overly upset/crying. I stood up, found my bag and started walking again. Still much faster than usual because all I wanted was to be at the next lodge, in my room, in my sleeping bag, curled up to think about things.

I never thought I would smile and really mean it ever again until we got to the next rest stop and Ian said “How” (and doing the stereotypical “Native American hello” with his right hand) He asked me how I was and I said ok. He then said jokingly trying his hardest to make me feel better, “So no sweet love making tonight?” I grinned, laughed a bit and then said “I don’t think so. Not tonight.” I knew then, that things would be ok. Different, but ok.

As I sit here, safe, in my home…I can’t help but wonder. Could I ever believe in re-incarnation? It amazes me how dedicated Buddhists are to their religion. They believe in it so much that death is not a scary ending for them. If anything death is another beginning to them. Christains believe in heaven and that it is an amazing place, but they still tend to fear death. Does this mean that maybe they don’t really believe in heaven? If you asked a Buddhist if he/she feared death they would probably look at you funny and say “why would I fear death? I will be back” and if you asked someone who was Christain if they feared death, most (not all) would say yes. But if heaven is such an amazing place why do people fear going there? Do they fear that they won’t get in and will be sent to the depths of hell? The Ten Commandments don’t ask for too much. It seems like basically to be a good person, which is how you supposedly get into heaven, you have to treat others how you want to be treated, don’t kill etc. And if you ask for forgiveness you are in! Because all of your sins will be forgiven. So what’s to worry about? I felt scared, sad and confused when I saw the porter who had died. Why? I don’t necessarily fear death because it doesn’t really make sense to fear something that is inevitable.

Why did I grieve for a man I don’t know? Why did I worry for him? Why was I scared? I wasn’t the one who was dead, he was. So maybe I wasn’t scared at all for him, maybe death became a reality to me and I am actually terrified of death. We fear the unknown but I don’t fear history or law and I know absolutely nothing about it. Maybe there is something deeper to our problem with death and it isn’t religion. Was I wrong to cry? No, I don’t think so, but the main thing is to try and realize why I cried. Was I being greedy as it was probably seen by some of the Nepalese or was I being compassionate? As it was probably seen by the group who are all from Britain. Who is right? The definition of right (from www.dictionary.com) is conforming with or conformable to justice, law, or morality: do the right thing and confess. In accordance with fact, reason, or truth; correct: the right answer. Fitting, proper, or appropriate: It is not right to leave the party without saying goodbye. Most favorable, desirable, or convenient: the right time to act. This puts us in the same situation as who is wrong? Who is being appropriate? Who is correct? Who is conforming to morality? I guess the only answer to “who is right?” is “Who is on the right side of the world?”…and that depends on where you’re looking at it from.

Gallery: The lions of Zimbabwe

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 16:48:00 GMT

Spent some time volunteering at a Lion rehabilitation center in Zimbabwe. WOW. Must go back!

Gallery: Beautiful Zimbabwe!!!!!

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:32:00 GMT

I lived with an amazing family in Zimbabwe. They are very good friends of mine. They're family. It was an unbelievable experience

Gallery: My time in Kenya

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:20:00 GMT

Amazing, amazing, amazing! I left my heart in Africa

Gallery: Nepal Everest Base Camp Trek 2008

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Amazing. Was available to help out with leading this one. A Life changer for sure! Only a few randoms again. Add more soon

Gallery: Nepal Everest Base Camp 2006

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

First trip to Nepal, Trekking to 5350M altitude. What a trip! Just a few photos. More in #2

Balancing on The Shoulders of Giants (2008)

whereis_kate — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 01:45:00 GMT

If Francys could stay alive she would be famous. She squeezed Serguei’s hand. Her husband squeezed back, letting her know he could feel her there. They could see the curvature of the Earth, the first husband and wife ever to do so. The thin air bit into her chest. The dazzling light burnt her eyes. She was tired. Very tired. She should be. She had just become the first woman from North America to climb Mount Everest without bottled oxygen. Serguei started down the mountain but only after a few steps he stopped to look over his shoulder at Francys, still on the summit. Looking as though she belonged there, standing with the giants of the world. There was an innocence to her that stood out now more than ever before. She was so beautiful. A sick feeling of fate came over Serguei and he insisted that she start descending with him, immediately. Isaac Newton’s Theory does not always happen when on a mountain like Everest. What goes up…only hopefully comes down. Now, if she could stay alive, she would be famous. Charles Evans kicked into the hard ice, showering shafts of crystals onto his tweed trousers. He wrapped the sodden hemp rope around his ice axe, more for psychological safety than a serious attempt to hold a fall, and looked up at Tom Bourdillion. They didn’t need to say anything. They were soon to become the first men to summit the highest mountain in the world. The first men to plant the flag. They knew what that meant. Phantog sighed and slowly closed the little red book. She held it close to her chest and rested her eyes for a moment. Not for too long. It was far too cold for that. But long enough to reassure herself. She was the chosen one. The Great Mao had told her so. It was her destiny to be the first. The first woman on the summit of Mount Everest. She would succeed or she would die. That was what was expected of her, and she accepted the honor with pride. Light blues. Deep greens. But mostly striking yellows. The vivid tents buzzed with excitement. The surreal melody of yak bells mixed with the jarring reality of walkie-talkies swirled around me as the glacier wind swept them across Everest Base Camp and up the cold mountainside. Hopes and dreams danced all around. Passion. Anticipation. Energy. Climbers leaving for the high camps. More coming down. If I tried hard enough I could feel the presence all those who had gone before. But I sense there is more. Something underneath. Something not spoken about. Something hidden from view like the deep underbelly of the glacier. Base Camp is as much filled with positive energy as it is filled with sorrow and inconsolable despair; fueled by failure and mourning. The contrast from one tent to another can be huge. One can excitedly be celebrating the fulfillment of a lifetime’s dream, while another comes to terms with the death of a teammate. Understanding either emotion is impossible unless you are lucky or ill fated enough to be in one of those tents. But the contradicting emotions does not stop there. Just inside Base Camp there is a “bakery” in a tent where tourists love to try and make it to; so they can walk around sticking their noses in tents trying to see if they can talk to a famous climber. And of course buy some of the apple pie. Sitting amongst the fluttering Buddhist prayer flags, watching the small black dots edge their way through the majestic and lethal Khumbu Icefall, I realized that the human spirit cannot move mountains, but it can certainly try and climb them. What may seem crazy to one person is critical to another. Each has their own Everest, but whether they choose to attempt the summit or not is a choice of both spirit and mind. As Henry Ford said, ‘Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.” If we allow our human spirit the wing space to fly, we can attempt the summit of any peak in our lives. Struggles are inevitable, but failure is not. The human spirit moves us inexorably forward with the hidden power of a glacier. Its power and purity is often covered and its constant movement sometimes forgotten. But scratch the surface just a little, push away the mask of rocks and stones, and there it will be, ready to help us do extraordinary things. Time was passing quickly but their steps were slow. Francys was starting to get very weak and delusional. Serguei tried to help take some of the weight off of her by putting Francys’ arm over his shoulders but it was no use. Her legs eventually started to give out and Serguei was too weak to take all of her weight. Serguei sat Francys down in the snow and attempted to prop her up as much as he could. If they were anywhere else in the world, he would have been able to pick her up, throw her over his shoulders and walk for hours. But after the summit bid and the altitude, both bodies were starting to deteriorate very quickly. Serguei took Francys’ goggles off of her face to get a good look at her eyes. He took her hand in his and leaned into her, almost pressing his nose onto hers. Francys’ eyes were not focusing and her limbs were weak and limp. “Fran, sweetie” he said choking through tears of helplessness. “We need to get up now, lets go back down to camp 4 and get into some warm clothing ok?” “Come on, you need to get up”. Francys only responded with mumbling and small movements with her hands. Serguei knew he couldn’t get her down alone. There was no one else around to help. Anyone coming down from the mountain wouldn’t be able to help anyways. Their bodies would be just as exhausted as his. He had to leave her in order to help her. He needed to find fresh climbers to give up their summit bid to save his wife. Unfortunetly this was not an easy thing to do. He was starting to get dangerously cold, sitting still beside his dying wife. He had to move now or soon he wouldn’t have the option to go get help. Stumbling to get up Serguei keeled over, gasping for air. Time was demanding him to move quickly to save Francys but his body was commanding him to move deathly slow. His condition was not much better than hers. He bent over Francys, who was becoming quieter as the minutes flew by. He left her the only oxygen bottle they had left. Kissing her on the forehead one last time, he whispered, “Fran I love you, I will be back for you,” and slowly but anxiously turned away from her to find help. He would only have one chance at this. It was 1953; Evans and Bourdillion were about to be the first men to summit Mt. Everest. The prime of England, the crème de la crème of the U.K, these men were the chosen ones to put a flag on the top. Standing on the breath taking South Summit, they had to make a choice. Their bodies were in very bad condition and luck was as far as it could be from them now. But the choice was theirs. Do they push on, be the first to reach the peak of Everest, and then enter a situation where death is almost inevitable? Or do they turn back? Dragging their tails between their legs as they make their way to Base Camp. They only had a few minutes to make this life-altering decision. Would they take the risk to die as heroes or go home as nobodies? Looking at each other through their masks and oxygen-deprived minds, they knew what they had to do. The sacrifice they had to take. Together, they made a decision that would change the designed tale of Everest forever. Putting her red book away, she left her tent at the final high camp very early in the morning. It was time for the final push to the summit. All of her hard work and planning over the past couple of years was starting to really pay off. The peak of Everest was only a few hours away from her now, and she could feel it. Her body was weak but her will was strong. Today was her day to put her country’s flag on the summit of Everest and to claim her ranking as: ‘Phantog! The first woman to reach the top.’ She would be a legacy for all of the women around the world to know and strive to be. There was only one problem. She could see evidence of a team climbing very recently in the direction she was about to go. Were they female climbers or male climbers? She wouldn’t really know until she had traveled back home. A thought that would haunt her for the rest of her expedition. Success is something that all humans strive for. It can be anything such as: successful parenting, successful fishing trips, success at work, success in bed, successful workouts, and the list goes on and on. Success is very important for our purpose in life. Without it, what would we work hard for? Where would we imagine our lives to be in the next few years? What would the point to living really be, if the goal were not steering in a positive direction? This is all full of purpose and hope but when we brand success as reaching a climax of a story, best of the best, or furthest in one direction that you can go… it loses it’s meaning all together. An obsession has been created with a type of success that is not about personal growth but about public showing. If people notice what you have done and reward you with attention and awe then you are considered very successful. Does this mean that acceptance equals success? The South Summit is about 300 vertical feet from the actual summit of Everest. To get to the summit you have to walk along a thin ridge. One slip to the right could have you in Tibet in a few free falling seconds while a slip to the left would have you plummeting graciously down Everest’s Southwest Face; With your scream being frozen by the subzero temperatures. Concentration and focus are essential to get across this barrier. Funny enough, at this altitude these are the first couple of things that you lose; Next to most of your strength and familiar breathing. Further on past this ridge was the unknown. There could be anything else in the 300 vertical feet between these two men and the summit. There is a powerful saying that can continue or end a life. As cliché as it is, it still rings true: ‘The summit is only half of the journey’, you need to get yourself back down safely. This platitude could save a life, two lives even. And Evans and Bourdillion were not stupid men, this was obvious to them. What they had to decide now was what is more important. Risking health, limb, and life for a successful label or to turn around to face public failure. Success in this position can only be defined by the experience itself; to be there to understand the greatness of the event. No one other than Evans and Bourdillion themselves would know the real success they had, standing on the South Summit of Everest, questioning the importance of the next 300 vertical feet. When at that altitude, distance is not measured by feet or meters but by time. Time is dependent of strength, weather, and level of difficulty. The path to the top does not change, only the conditions and the climber. Taking all of this into account, the bittersweet taste of the summit was still enough to make these men hesitate to turn around. The ‘What if’ thought rushed around their minds bouncing off of their fatigue, passion, and the effects of the altitude on their brain. Through his goggles and oxygen mask, Bourdillion turned to Evans and smiled. Of course you could not see his mouth or any other part of his face because of the amount of protection he had on. Spending this much time on a mountain with another person gives you that connection where you don’t actually have to see the other climber’s face or hear his voice to know what he is thinking. Evans pulled his oxygen mask away from his face. Icicles attached to his mask and face splintered off and sparkled in the sun as it fell onto his brightly colored jacket. He took a long hard breath and said “Hey mate,” Smiling through his teeth he paused to take another painful breath and continued to say, “you feel like some hot milk tea back at camp?” Putting his oxygen mask back on he extended his hand out to Bourdillion. They both nodded and shook hands. Never looking back to the summit. Conquering their egos, the highest men in the world slowly turned back down towards Camp 4 to have some hot milk tea. On their way back down to Base Camp, Evans and Bourdillion gave helpful tips and pointers from their climb and what to be ready for and expect while having a friendly chat with two hopeful climbers on their way up; Tenzing and Hillary. There is a funny feeling I get while peering up at the huge mountains that circle Base Camp. Why do we do this? If the point is to climb to the top, turn around, and walk back down…then why wouldn’t I just stay down here and save myself all of the trouble. The amount of work that goes into just planning the expedition let alone actually doing it is mind blowing in itself. The cost just to get a permit to climb the bloody mountain is currently over seventy thousand dollars and it’s still rising! Then once you have begged enough sponsors to pay for your permit you need to have the proper equipment, flights, food plans, a decent team recruited, porters set up, and then after all of that you have better been working out. Then from there you sweat yourself to Base Camp where the rest of us are all sitting around waiting for our turn and time to go up, knowing very well that we are putting our lives at risk in more ways than a hundred. Imagine what could have been done with this time and money. The starving people who could have been saved, the steps towards curing cancer that could have been taken, or the extra hours at work that could have been logged. Climbing a mountain is useless. Then again…useless is key to productivity. As the female climber Phantog made her first steps onto the top of Everest it had been eleven days since Junko Tabei was labeled the first woman to summit. Phantog was too late. Phantog would have taken pictures, experienced the view, proudly put her country’s flag up and walked away just as any previous summiteers would have. The only difference between her and Tabei’s expedition is time. They both personally struggled mentally and physically, they both had passion and drive for the summit, and they both had seen what many mountaineers long to see for their whole lives. But the front page of any paper would not say “Tabei and Phantog summit Everest!” A couple of hours had passed since Serguei left Francys. Two members from a South African team was on their summit bid, when they noticed a body that they did not expect to be there. The two surprised climbers observed some movement. Unable to ignore her and continue up the mountain they went over to see what the problem was and if they could be of any help. Fully knowing the depressingly low chances of saving anyone up here, they canceled their summit attempt to try and rescue this climber’s life. The SA expedition leader knelt down beside Francys and attempted to communicate with her. Recognizing her from previous camps he started to wonder where her husband was. They didn’t pass him on the way up. Unable to worry about him at that moment, the two climbers attempted to move her down the mountain. The heavy dead weight of her expiring body was too much for them. They put her back down where they found her and tried again to communicate. All she was able to say was, “Don’t leave me,” but they knew she was already gone. She was so delusional and unresponsive to anything said to her. It was just a matter of time until she wouldn’t make any sound at all. Looking over at his fellow climber, The SA leader felt the worst shock of his life. He could see symptoms in his teammate that could very well lead to Francys’ condition. They too had to leave her behind. Standing still and exposed in the freezing temperatures and high altitude could easily kill them. Making her as comfortable as they possibly could, and leaving some more oxygen bottles with her, they turned back down the mountain. Painfully leaving their dreams of the summit and a fellow climber behind them. For about 10 years Francys’ body was lying in the same spot, exposed to every climbing expedition making a summit bid, and eventually she became a marker for direction. “Keep left once you pass the purple body”. The SA expedition leader that gave up his summit attempt to try and save her, later made an expedition to ‘bury’ Francys; For the respect of her and her family. Spending month after month after month trying to get sponsorship, flights, sherpas, etc. He finally successfully reached her body once again but this time to put her body at peace, away from the eyes of everyone passing her body. Serguei’s body was never found. If they just could have stayed alive they would have been famous… It is said that, to be productive you have to produce something. Success comes from productiveness. Climbing a mountain does not actually produce anything. But the importance about allowing yourself to be adventurous and giving your spirit some elbowroom is invaluable. Just by doing the things that may seem senseless to some is the way to find the cure to cancer, the solution to world hunger or even how to get that promotion. The solution to these dilemmas is not in anything we have already done or it would not be a problem anymore. In order to get something done or be productive we have to do and be the senseless. Without senselessness we will just continue in a straight line instead of going up and attempting the summits of our greatest challenges. People who have come and gone before us have constantly reminded the world of the importance of the human spirit. Through the stories of their lives, we can learn of our own personal strength and power. All we need is a bit of inspiration and our own internal drive. As we balance on the shoulders of giants of the past, we expose and reach our true potential. The senseless struggle up the mountains of their lives …and the tourists? They just come for the apple pie.