Blind Descent Read online

  Once JoAnna and I felt confident this was the right move, Adam and I started making plans. However, Adam’s quest was over before it began. One day while I was training on a local climb, he took his motorcycle out on a motocross track in Bremerton, Washington. He crashed after landing a jump, breaking his back in multiple places. He was helicoptered to Seattle’s Harborview Medical Center, where several of his vertebrae had to be fused together. The doctors said he had a yearlong recovery ahead of him, so climbing at high altitude with a heavy pack was out of the question.

  I continued to push ahead toward our goal alone, but I was grateful to still have his support and encouragement.

  The first of the seven summits I attempted was Alaska’s Mount McKinley, also known as Denali, or “the High One.” I set out to tackle this 20,320-foot peak in 2009, but I had to turn back just shy of the summit due to high winds. The following year I climbed both Africa’s highest peak, Kilimanjaro (19,341 feet), and the highest mountain in Europe, Mount Elbrus. Located at the southern tip of Russia, Elbrus measures at almost the same elevation as Kilimanjaro: 18,510 feet.

  Next up would be the tallest of them all: Mount Everest.

  •

  Although I was already in good shape from the past few years of intense climbing, there were some extra preparations I’d need to do to make sure I was ready for Everest. Whenever I set a climbing goal, I tried to alter my training to conform to the specific conditions of the mountain I’d be climbing. For a mountain like Kilimanjaro, which has a high elevation but takes little technical skill, the best thing was to work on cardio since you can’t really train for the elevation. For mountains like Denali and Everest, which are more than 20,000 feet, I added 60 pounds to my pack and did my best to climb three to four times a week. Sometimes I trained on Mount Rainier, which stands at 14,411 feet and is the most highly glaciated mountain in the lower 48 states. But most often I did my training on the various 4,000- to 5,000-foot peaks in my backyard in Seattle.

  To emulate a heavy pack and to build up my climbing strength, I filled my pack with old laundry-detergent dispensers full of water. That way I could get a great muscle and cardio workout on the ascent and then dump the water at the top to save my knees during the descent. I tried to get on the trail by 5 a.m. to ensure that I didn’t cut into work time or time with my family. I was usually back by 8 a.m. for my work meetings, with a Starbucks in hand for JoAnna.

  On days I didn’t climb, I ran six to eight miles on backcountry trails near my house or swam across local lakes, such as Lake Sammamish or Rattlesnake Lake. I’m not a fan of stationary training (treadmills, pools, and stationary bikes), so if I have a choice, I’ll always train outdoors. Not only does this regimen keep me in physical shape, it also keeps me mentally fit. You can never predict what will happen on top of a mountain, but it will never be as climate controlled as a gym.

  Another thing I focused on during my training was making sure I had a solid nutrition plan. I knew I needed to make up for the extra calories burned in my workouts, but even so, that wasn’t an excuse to indulge in unhealthy snacks (except my weekly box of Chips Ahoy! cookies). For ordinary training days, my diet looked something like this: I started the day with a bowl of oatmeal and a latte; lunch was a sandwich or a can of ravioli; and dinner was usually steak, pasta, or fish. For Everest training days, I still ate three meals a day, but I needed to fill in the gaps with constant snacks since I was burning calories almost as fast as I was taking them in.

  The physical preparations for the climb were a lot easier for me than the mental and emotional preparations. Having been on several extended climbing trips in the past few years, I knew that the separation from my wife and kids would take its toll. And the past expeditions had been three weeks or less, which was considerably shorter than the two months required to climb Everest. But when you’re heading to Everest, there are no shortcuts. Between the distance, the extensive traveling, the high altitude, and the long process of acclimatization, the trip couldn’t be completed in less than two months.

  I’m fortunate to have a wife who supports me in these endeavors. JoAnna and I discussed my trip plans often and in great detail so we felt like we were doing this as a team and remained unified in our vision. Many of JoAnna’s friends told her they’d never let their husbands climb, and some of them even scared her with stories about climbing fatalities.

  Unlike me, she is cautious by nature, but she is open to hearing my side of things. Before I went to Everest, I gave JoAnna an analysis of the various mountains I’d climbed to give her perspective. Mount Rainier has a history of 400 fatalities; Everest has only 200.[3] By those numbers, I’d already climbed the riskier mountain multiple times. Of course, she knew that there are lots of variables to consider and that many more climbers attempt the accessible peaks. So on a mountain like Rainier, the number of accidents increases based on volume alone.

  But even though JoAnna has her fears, each time I leave on an expedition, she says, “Enjoy your time, but please come home safe!” It helps me to keep those words sealed in my mind so I can hold on to them when I’m stuck far from home at high altitude, surrounded by swirling winds and whiteout conditions.

  Even with a supportive wife, though, there was no real way for me to prepare for being away, knowing that I would face real dangers in the months to come. But I tried my best to hide my sadness from my children. Although they knew that Daddy was climbing the highest peaks on the seven continents, they were too young to know the inherent dangers I would face. At ages seven and four, they still thought Daddy was Superman and could do anything. They were good motivation to make sure I was as prepared for this trip as I could possibly be.

  Securing funds for an expedition can feel like an uphill climb in itself, especially for Everest, which is one of the most expensive climbs in the world. The Nepalese government requires climbing permits, which run $25,000 minimum for an individual climber. Then you have to pay for all the gear, travel to Kathmandu, and take a flight to Lukla, where the trek to base camp begins. And since climbing Everest requires an extensive team, there are also the funds needed to pay Sherpa porters, who help bring gear to base camp; climbing Sherpas, who provide assistance higher on the mountain; porters who carry and stage the equipment at higher camps; cooks for base camp and Camp II; and icefall doctors, who fix the ropes through the Khumbu Icefall. In addition, there are the incidental costs for things like food, oxygen, and tips.

  I knew that Western-guided companies charge anywhere from $60,000 to more than $100,000, which was well beyond my budget. I chose to work with a Seattle-based company that had local connections in Nepal so it would be less expensive. I wasn’t part of a large team, which meant I had Sherpa support and a climbing Sherpa, but for the most part I would be on my own. JoAnna was agreeable to this approach, but she insisted that I use supplemental oxygen. I agreed with her. In the 1920s, George Mallory and Andrew Irvine had helped remove the stigma that “real” mountaineers don’t use oxygen, and now oxygen is used above 23,000 feet by more than 97 percent of climbers. There were some cuts I was willing to make for the sake of saving a few bucks, but oxygen wasn’t one of them.

  To help with the costs of the climb, I partnered with several sponsors. One was the AIDS Research Alliance, which raises funds with the goal of developing a cure for the epidemic. I’d be wearing gear with their logo on it to build awareness for them during my climb. I also connected with several product sponsors and a couple of financial sponsors. The rest came from out of our pockets—from the money JoAnna and I had been saving for this.

  Beyond the physical, mental, and logistical preparations, I spent a lot of time focusing on the expedition itinerary. For me, the planning phase is what fuels my motivation and excitement. And since climbing is typically a team effort, I did my best to include my whole family in the planning process. It helped make things more real for me when I broke down each phase of the trip and shared it with JoAnna and the kids. It also helped to keep me focused. With
all the potential distractions that threatened to keep me from accomplishing my goals, the planning kept me loyal to the reasons I was doing this in the first place.

  I’ve found that focus is especially important in a sport like climbing, where there are so many vocal critics. One day when I was in the planning phase, I was at Starbucks with my family, and I was approached by someone who had heard I was preparing for an expedition to Everest.

  “I heard you’re climbing Everest,” she told me. And then, right in front of my two young children, she said, “What are you thinking? You’re going to die up there.”

  I paused and counted to 10, knowing I’d regret any gut-level response. I tried to calmly diffuse the situation and then turned to Emily and Jordan to see what damage had been done. Fortunately, with the white noise of various conversations and skinny vanilla lattes being frothed at high volume, they were oblivious to the verbal bomb that had just been dropped. It was one thing to prepare to scale a mountain that looms at the cruising altitude of a commercial jet. The line at Starbucks was something else altogether.

  •

  The final few months leading up to my Everest expedition were intense as I made sure the finances for the trip were covered, arranged to take unpaid time off work, took care of personal finances and bills, planned activities with the company sponsoring my trip, and maximized time with my family.

  JoAnna and I wanted to be sensitive to how my trip would affect our children, and we were intentional about setting aside time to talk through everything together. With their different ages and personalities, we knew that Emily and Jordan would face this in unique ways. At four, Jordan had a hard time comprehending how long I would be gone or the vastness and risks of my climb.

  One evening after dinner I sat down with Jordan and told him a simplified version of my upcoming trip. When I was finished, I said, “Hey, buddy, do you want to ask me anything about it?”

  “What kind of animals will you see there?”

  Not many animals are tough enough to survive in Everest’s harsh climate and high altitude, but I wasn’t about to give my son something else to worry about. I told him about the few animals I knew could exist in the high parts of the Himalayas. “Well, there are a lot of yaks, which are like big, hairy cows,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “How tall is the mountain, Daddy?”

  We looked out the window together, searching the skyline. “It’s as tall as an airplane flies,” I said.

  “Is that as high as heaven?”

  I smiled. “Not quite.”

  As a first grader, Emily was more aware of the dangers. She’d heard adults talk about the risks involved, and she had classmates who parroted back things their parents had said. And she was old enough to remember the last trip I’d gone on.

  Emily was five when I’d gone on my first long expedition to Denali for three weeks. Three weeks seemed like an eternity then, but it was only a fraction of the time I’d be gone for the Everest trip. Denali stands at 20,320 feet, while Everest’s elevation is 29,035 feet. Now, that difference may not sound like much, but in terms of altitude, those extra 9,000 feet are significant. The added elevation affects every aspect of the climb, from acclimatization to the duration of the trip to the gear that’s required.

  Emily has a strong will, and while I was gone, she had just continued on with her normal life. JoAnna told me Emily hadn’t shown a ton of external emotion, which we knew meant she was internalizing her feelings. I understood her perhaps better than anyone else, because I tend to process emotions the same way. Knowing how hard the Denali trip had been for her, JoAnna and I wanted to be intentional about giving Emily space to talk through her feelings with us.

  When we discussed things as a family, Emily tended to be quieter than Jordan, but when she and I had alone time, I made sure to ease her concerns. One day when she got home from school, I could tell something was bugging her.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said. But she was talking in her little-girl voice, which meant there was something troubling her.

  I kept probing, and finally the story tumbled out.

  “Kayla’s dad said you were going to die climbing,” she said. She wouldn’t look at me, but I could hear the quaver in her voice.

  I wanted to give that dad a piece of my mind, but I knew that wouldn’t change the way Emily felt.

  “Nothing is going to happen to me, sweetie,” I said. “I will be home with you before you know it.”

  When I tucked both kids into bed that night, I gave them the same reminder: “It’s always harder before I actually leave,” I said. “Someday you’ll look back, and the trip will just seem like a blur.” I said it to reassure the kids, but I was also reminding myself.

  •

  I was working for Cisco Systems, one of the largest technology solutions providers in the world. I liked it because of the people I worked with and the challenging work I got to do. Another perk was that my position allowed me to have a flexible schedule. I was able to work from home a few days a week, and they let me take chunks of time off for my climbs. In many ways it was a win-win, because I would also be testing and showcasing Cisco technologies during my trip. I had routers, wireless access points, 3G connectivity, tablets, and laptops spread all over my home office so I could get them ready to be used in a developing country, in areas where this type of technology had never been seen before.

  My flexible schedule meant I was around more than most parents and could be present for my kids’ school events and other activities. JoAnna and I made it a point to meet with Emily’s and Jordan’s teachers to talk about how my leaving might affect them in school.

  Another way I got involved was through a program called WATCH D.O.G.S. (Dads of Great Students), which sprung up in schools across the country in response to the 1999 Columbine school shootings. This program encouraged dads (after they’d gone through background checks) to attend class with their children as an added layer of protection for the school. I got to hang out in Emily’s class, help the teacher, eat lunch in the cafeteria, and play on the playground. I also had the opportunity to visit other classrooms to talk about my climbs.

  One day just a few weeks before I was to leave for Everest, I was surprised when Emily’s teacher, Mrs. Heinz, called me up to the front of the room.

  “We have a small gift for you,” she said.

  Then she presented me with a handmade book. As soon as I opened the cover, my eyes started to fill with tears. Each student in Emily’s first grade class had contributed a page with pictures and comments.

  And that wasn’t all. Looking a bit sheepish, Mrs. Heinz pulled out something else. “It’s a Snoqualmie Elementary School Cougar medal for you,” she said. “For your trip.”

  I could barely choke out my thanks. These gifts and the students’ support meant more to me than I could adequately thank them for.

  As much as we were focused on how the kids would handle everything, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for JoAnna either. She had recently started a Christian counseling ministry at our church, Church on the Ridge. She was glad to have something to keep her busy throughout my trip, but it was going to be difficult for her to juggle everything on her own—the finances, the kids, her ministry responsibilities, and all the household tasks. But while she may not be a risk taker, she is tough, and she was up for the challenge. And she had known from the beginning what kind of person she was marrying.

  We’d met 16 years earlier, when I was into extreme sports like snowboarding, rappelling, and surfing, and jumping out of helicopters in the Navy. I served in the US Navy for six years, and during that time I learned a lot of lessons that paved the way for my mountain climbing. I spent 18 months in training, including Air Rescue Swimmer (AIRR) school, which is widely considered to be one of the most grueling schools in the US military; Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE), which provides training for land survival, interrogation, and prisoner of war (POW) tac
tics; and Helicopter Anti-Submarine Squadron training school. But the most significant lessons I learned revolved around staying calm and maintaining confidence in dangerous situations. That was certainly something that would come in handy in my upcoming expedition.

  JoAnna and I couldn’t have been more opposite, as she’s deathly afraid of heights, but we understand each other and have come to respect the way each of us is wired.

  And despite her fear of heights, JoAnna has made an effort to enter my world. She’s gone on smaller local climbs with me, and she even joined me at base camp on Russia’s Mount Elbrus. She loves the beauty of the mountains and appreciates why I do what I do. I imagine there are times she’d be happy if I were an average guy who worked from nine to five and sat on the couch on the weekends, but ultimately she knows I’d be miserable with a lifestyle like that and I’d be squelching the person I was made to be.

  She fell in love with a guy who lived a significant portion of life with both feet off level ground, and she has a pretty good idea I’m not going to change anytime soon. It also gives her peace of mind to know that safety is my biggest concern, having seen me in action on trail hikes and climbs we’ve done together. She also knows that I’d give my life to save another, if the situation arose.

  The one thing that kept both of us grounded as we prepared for this adventure was our faith. We prayed continually about my trip—for protection and safety for me, for the kids’ adjustment, for JoAnna as she would be a single parent for a while, and for God to be honored through the trip.

  During the church service the Sunday before I left, our pastor, Charlie, brought JoAnna and me onstage. All the church staff members laid their hands on us and prayed for a safe climb and a safe return. I hoped Charlie wouldn’t ask me to say anything, because I didn’t think I’d be able to open my mouth without falling apart.