Anyone who has caught the mountain bug has either been asked or asked themselves if they would like to climb Everest someday. And at a guttural level, especially in our younger days, we’d probably say, yes, of course. Why not?! But over time, I’ve found that definitelies can turn into probablies, and then no-way-at-alls.
First Thoughts
After climbing Kilimanjaro back in the day, I certainly posed the question to myself. I knew how incredible I felt after climbing a big mountain like Kilimanjaro and imagined that climbing Everest would be even more inspiring—more invigorating and soul-elevating. More everything.
But it surprised me to find that, even back then, I didn’t have much interest. The idea of having to wear oxygen masks and vie for climbing space near the summit didn’t feel like a thrill to me. It felt like an unnecessary vanity. One that overlooked the whole point of climbing. I’m not saying I was above it—just that it didn’t draw me in the way it does others.
The Need to Test Oneself
Look, I get the allure of climbing Everest. There’s an elemental part of climbing that makes a person want to see just how far they can go. Testing oneself and pushing limits is a real thing, and something I honor and respect. But even back in the nineties, hearing about people dying from trying to force their way to the summit in conditions where they should have opted otherwise, made me feel like Everest wasn’t a mountain anymore. It felt more like the Tower of Babel. A fool’s errand just to say you’ve been to the top of the world. I wondered if we should maybe leave some mountains for a higher power.
Thirty years ago, the number of climbers on the mountain increased dramatically, and there were some storm-driven deaths, solidifying my feelings that it wasn’t worth the risk. Fast forward to today, and it’s even more hectic and crowded up there, with over 600 hikers and guides needing to be rescued this month as a result of the treacherous conditions. If you couple the chaos with stories of hikers needing to pass dead bodies on their way to the summit, the quest for Everest seems less about honoring the great spirit and more about earning a trophy. Kind of horrific, actually.
Another Way
All of this is not to say I begrudge all climbers who tackle Everest. There are plenty who approach the mountain with respect and have pure intentions when they head up. A desire to learn something about themselves. I get that. But if 600 hikers needed to be rescued this month alone, then maybe we could pick some other mountains to climb? After all, it’s not like any of us are the first anymore. Maybe you’ll be the first of your friends to climb it, but if that’s the case, you’d probably also be the first of your friends to climb Denali, or Rainier, or some of the Colorado fourteeners. Or a thousand other mountains.
And if you did opt for a different mountain and headed somewhere more remote—somewhere less known—I’d wager that you would have an even more rewarding experience. One that gives you the sense of accomplishment you are looking for, while giving you a chance to really connect with the earth. To see it and respect it—and to thank it for letting you live to experience it.