I realized that our expedition had generated significant publicity when I met the reporters who had greeted me at the Orlando airport. Frankly, I was shocked as I had no idea that our adventure had garnered so much exposure. The first local newspaper article about our expedition appeared in the “Orlando Sentinel” on May 31. Focusing on the project Mike’s middle school students were involved in, the article began: “A local man is part of an expedition to reach the summit of deadly Mt. McKinley, and the climbers’ lone lifeline to the outside world is a bunch of Colorado sixth-graders who are posting news of the party’s progress on the Internet.” From there, interest in our expedition grew exponentially, and it was soon being followed by other newspapers and media outlets. “Climbers ‘all right’ in bid to conquer Mount McKinley,” “Climbers make it to peak of McKinley,” “McKinley climbers stranded,” are samples of some of the headlines. The articles contained facts about us, the mountain, and our expedition, together with a bit of conjecture and speculation about what was going on. Aside from numerous newspaper articles, our journey was the focus of television and radio reports.
After I returned home, I received hundreds of letters, postcards and telephone calls from family members, friends, clients, even complete strangers. The large majority were supportive and congratulatory, although one or two were offensive, to say the least. One of those, sent anonymously, advised that the writer wished that I had died on the climb. On a more positive note, a humorous card from one of my clients, a middle-aged man like me, said “Why don’t you take up golf like the rest of us?” The members of my church had set up a prayer chain to pray for my safe return, and I assured them that their prayers were welcome and apparently very successful.
I received many invitations to talk about the expedition, and one of the things I most enjoyed was going to local schools and speaking to students about my adventures. The younger students, in particular, loved asking questions and looking over my climbing equipment; the ice axe and crampons were foreign to the youngsters, and they were, and still are, fascinated by them.
For years afterward, I was a reluctant celebrity. I was besieged by calls from the press, family members, friends, even people I didn’t know. I was often interviewed by reporters and received numerous requests to speak at events. It was slightly embarrassing for me, as I felt that I had my personal reasons for going to Denali, and I certainly didn’t do it for public attention. However, I never passed up an occasion to speak, and went to every Kiwanis Club, Rotary Club, church, school or other function to tell the story of our expedition. Likewise, I never turned down an invitation to talk with the press. And I would have to say that I was treated very well by the representatives of the news media.
Often when in public, complete strangers still approach me. “You’re that guy on the mountain,” or “You’re that mountain climber,” they will say. I always try to say hello, and to speak a bit with those folks. Although my “celebrity status” has faded over time, people still remember me as the guy who climbed Mt. McKinley.
Much has happened since my trip to Denali. I continued to practice law, focusing on family law, and became certified as a family law mediator. I enjoyed mediating and helping to resolve family disputes, and that became the focus of my professional career.
After about twenty years of practicing law, I decided that I wanted to become a judge. I live in Lake County, which is part of a five-county judicial circuit. When an opening came available for a circuit judge, I applied.
Although county and circuit judges are elected in Florida, if an opening occurs before an election is pending, the Governor fills the vacancy through an appointment process. I applied twice without success, both for positions in our circuit but outside of Lake County. I had better luck on my third attempt. A circuit judge in Lake County retired during his term, so I applied for that position. I was fortunate enough to make it through the committee process. One evening, I received a telephone call from then Governor Jeb Bush. At first, I thought it was a friend of mine trying to trick me, but it was really the Governor, and he told me that he was appointing me to the bench.
I have happily served as a circuit judge since 2002. I love the job, as it is challenging and interesting, and hope that I can hang onto it until I retire.
Since my Denali expedition, I have gotten divorced and remarried. The divorce was emotionally painful and difficult, not only for my former wife and me, but for my three grown children as well, and I hate that they had to go through that difficult process. I have much respect for my former wife. She is always an incredible mother, and I continue to have at least a civil relationship with her. Luckily, I have a tremendously close relationship with all of my children, and without them being there for me, I don’t know what I would have done. Todd, Nicole and Kara, and now my three grandchildren and one great-grandchild, continue to be the center of my universe. On a recent Father’s Day get-together, I looked at the three of my children as we ate breakfast together and realized how lucky I am to have them in my life. They are all great children, and, if I measure my success in life by the love we share rather than by the mountains that I have climbed, then I have truly reached a remarkable summit.
Meeting Nancy, my present wife, changed my life. She is the kindest, most decent and loving person I have ever met. She and I are active, and we enjoy many of the same interests. She is supportive and encourages me, and I have a genuine happiness that makes everything in life seem sweeter. We have now been married for a few years, and look forward to enjoying our retirement time together. She was the inspiration for writing this story; my muse in its truest sense.
I cannot downplay the impact my participation in this expedition had on my family. Obviously, they were concerned about my safety, and worried that I would be injured or killed. They were excited to be following along on our journey on the Internet, but things became more difficult when the stream of information dried up. After not hearing from us when we lost contact with Mike’s students, the climbers’ families developed a “support group,” and they shared the news they were able to gather by e-mail and over the telephone. Dennis, with some first-hand knowledge and experience, became the guy they went to with questions, and he helped alleviate some of their concerns. The parents of the climbers, mine included, became actively involved in the chain of communication. Any bit of data was quickly disbursed throughout the group, and I know that it was comforting for my parents and family to be kept in the loop.
My youngest daughter, Kara, was in Jamaica on a church mission trip with a group of young people while I was on Denali. They were working with children in a rural hospital. While there, they had limited contact with the folks back home. Unfortunately, all that she knew was that there was an accident on Denali, and one of the members of our party was injured or killed. She did not know who it was. Obviously, this was horribly distressing to her. A few days after that, they returned to the United States, and she learned that I was fine. It had to have been very difficult for her to have gone through that stressful time, and I wish that she hadn’t.
It is hard to describe to others what happens or what we go through when mountaineering. Although my family knew that it is a dangerous avocation, when it became personal, when it was their own son, brother, husband or father who was in dire circumstances, the emotional stress became real and it was overwhelming. I wish I could have summited the mountain and returned home without the deadly incident, and hate the fact that my family members had to suffer through the distress that they did.
I was lucky to have reached the summit of Denali that year. The success rate for climbers on the mountain in 1998 was a dismal 36%, much lower than the average rate of about 50%. It was the lowest rate of success in the last ten years prior to 1998. It was an El Nino season, and the bad weather was probably the culprit. The weather in May, when we started our expedition, was described as some of the worst ever experienced on Denali. The snowfall was incessant, and continuous winds, gusting to 50-80 miles per hour, wer
e relentless at higher elevations. “It was grim,” said veteran lead climbing ranger Daryl Miller. In June, the weather improved thanks to a stalled high-pressure system.
I often think about the amazing individuals I encountered during the trip to Denali. Annie Duquette has retired as Base Camp Manager on Mt. McKinley. I am sure that Denali will not be the same without her.
Ed Hommer, the climber who had prosthetic devices on both legs, did not reach the summit of Denali that year, but he did the next. After his successful ascent of Denali in 1999, Hommer wrote a book, “The Hill,” which chronicled his incredible life. He did not stop climbing mountains after Denali, continuing his adventures in Alaska and the Himalayas. His attempt to be the first double amputee to summit Mt. Everest fell short when his team had to turn back because of bad weather 3,000 feet below the summit. Hommer planned to return to Everest, and went on a training trip to Mt. Rainier, which was led by Jim Wickwire. There, at a point called “Disappointment Cleaver,” Ed Hommer was struck by a basketball sized rock that had fallen, and was killed instantly.
I wrote to Phil Ershler soon after we returned home from our expedition. I explained that his finest accomplishment was not getting us to the top of Denali, but in leading our broken bodies and souls down safely after we lost Chris. Phil continues to lead mountaineering expeditions around the world. When they reached the summit of Mt. Everest in 2002, Phil and his wife, Susan, became the first couple to climb the seven summits, the highest peak on each of the seven continents. The Ershlers are sought-after motivational speakers.
Mike and Meegan got married shortly after our expedition. Kara, my former wife, and I had the pleasure of attending their beautiful wedding in Vail Pass, Colorado. Sadly, however, I lost contact with those amazing individuals I climbed with. Mike, Meegan, Dennis, Romulo and Ellen were all remarkable people, and I was lucky to have had the opportunity to get to know them. Although we were together a relatively short period of time, we were intimately thrust together in circumstances in which all emotions were intensified. Particularly with Mike and Meegan since I had spent so much time with them, we laughed and cried together, and we depended upon each other as if connected by some invisible life support system. I wish I had done a better job of staying in contact with all of them after we returned home, and I often wonder what happened to them and how they are. I have no explanation for why I didn’t stay in touch, and take the blame for my failure to do so. Maybe that was my way to avoid bubbling up the bad taste of Chris’s death.
I gave up mountaineering. Right after my trip to Denali, a fellow climbing buddy, another “weekend warrior,” wisely advised me to do another easier climb, just to show that I could. I wish I had followed his advice. I think it may have boosted my confidence, but maybe it would have been foolish. In any event, I didn’t follow his guidance.
To be truthful, I still felt a lingering fear of alpine climbing. Following my McKinley trip, on a visit to Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina with my daughters, I embarrassed myself when I froze in fear when the wind blew while we were crossing a small bridge between two rocky peaks near the top of the mountain. They and other tourists walked across it very easily, while I stood immobilized with a death grip on each hand rail. The wind, it seemed, forced unspeakable memories to surface.
After the Denali expedition, I did plenty of hiking in the mountains of north Georgia and North Carolina, often going with my daughter, Kara, as her teaching schedule permitted her to take time off to do that with me. I truly enjoyed our time together, and it reminded me of when we participated in the YMCA Indian Princess program when she was a child. Once, when my former wife and I traveled to visit her family in Las Vegas, Kara, who was still a high school student, came along, and she and I took a side trip to climb Mt. Whitney. We signed on with a guide and took a different route than the standard one to the summit. Unfortunately, Kara had just recovered from the flu and was feeling miserable when we got higher up, so we turned around and descended. Despite that, we still enjoyed camping and hiking in the beautiful high Sierra Mountains of California.
While hiking with Kara on Mt. Whitney, I was often worried about her. Once, particularly, when we were crossing a cliff face on a narrow trail, I was quietly troubled as we slowly inched across. Concerned that Kara could fall, I reached my hand toward her backpack, hoping that I might grab her if she did. This was the first time on a climb that I was really concerned and worried about someone other than myself, someone so close to me, and it truly added a new dynamic to the experience.
I often thought about Willi Unsoeld and the death of his daughter. Unsoeld was a famous American mountaineer. As part of the first American team to summit Mt. Everest in 1963, he and another climber split off from the main group and summited the mountain by the difficult West Ridge route. Unsoeld lost nine of his toes to frostbite and spent several months in the hospital recovering. He lived in Washington, where he became a leader in outdoor education. Willi Unsoeld climbed Mt. Rainier over 200 times.
Willi had a daughter, and he named her after the beautiful Himalayan mountain, Nanda Devi, the second highest peak in India. Nanda Devi is a very difficult mountain to climb, and in 1976 Willi led an expedition there. One of the members of his team was his daughter, Nanda Devi. There, Willi’s idea of spiritual growth through mortal risk would be dreadfully challenged.
Nanda developed a stomach illness during the expedition. After spending several days climbing at high altitudes, she became very ill. She said “I am going to die,” then passed into unconsciousness. Despite their diligent efforts to revive her, the party was unable to do so and she died. I can only imagine the pain and grief that Willi suffered. Having shared the joy of the mountaineering experience with his daughter, he then had to suffer the lonely pain of her demise. After that, Willi continued to climb, but unfortunately lost his life when he was captured in an avalanche while leading a group of college students on a climb of Mt. Rainier in 1979.
When she had graduated from college, I had told Kara that I would take her to Africa, a promise I had failed to fulfill. Years later, after I was divorced, I decided to go. I invited all of my children, but Todd and Nicole could not go. Kara, who was teaching and available to go over the summer, was able to join me.
We signed up for a two week trip to Tanzania. The first week included a climb of Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa at 19,318 feet, while the second week consisted of a wildlife photo safari. The trip to Africa was incredible, and, along with Denali, was the adventure of a lifetime for me. The climb of Kilimanjaro was a difficult hike through some of the most amazing landscapes on earth. We witnessed remarkable examples of flora and fauna, while being led up the mountain by interesting local guides. We also had the opportunity to trek together with fascinating and friendly people. When we arrived at the high camp, Kara had developed a nasty cough, and I wasn’t feeling well at all, so we opted out of the summit bid, and descended with one of the guides the next day. Despite having failed to reach the summit, we have unforgettably good memories of our time on the mountain.
Our safari the following week was just as mesmerizing. We were driven by our guide to Lake Manyara and Segengeti National Parks, where we saw every kind of African wildlife imaginable. We visited the Olduvai Gorge in the Great Rift Valley where the earliest human fossils were found. We saw the Ngorongoro Crater, and then went on to the Tangire National Park. We finished our tour with a visit to a Masai tribe, which was an incredible and unforgettable experience.
Africa is truly a remarkable and unique place, and the people are exceptional. I will never forget our time there, and it was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life.
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
Henry David Thoreau – Walden
Climbing Again?
I stood on the Muir snowfield looking up. The weather was pleasant, almost warm. Ahead, up and beyond my sight
, stood Camp Muir, our destination for the day, and much further beyond, the summit of Mt. Rainier. Feeling energetic, I smiled and marched on.
Nearly ten years after I had climbed Denali, my last alpine expedition, and despite having vowed never to do this again, I returned to Mt. Rainier. A couple of prosecutors who worked at the courthouse convinced me to go along with them. I worked out, trained, and prepared for the trip, but I was worried that I was not fit enough to do it, nor mentally ready for the challenge of another high alpine climb.
As I ascended the snowfield, I felt strong and climbed well. I had more alpine climbing experience than the assistant guides who accompanied us, and I felt confident and emotionally sound. Without much difficulty, I climbed with our team to the high camp. However, when we bedded down for the night prior to the early morning summit attempt, I had a headache and could not sleep well. Although I have felt like this on expeditions before, and continued climbing when I did, I rolled up in my sleeping bag and imagined that horrible things would happen. The wind rattled my tent, which rattled my brain. I lost all confidence, and willed myself to feel worse than I did. I talked myself out of a summit bid, rationalizing that I have been to the summit of Rainier twice before, and didn’t need to risk attempting to go there again. Really, like we used to say as kids, I “chickened out.”
Around midnight, as the others awoke and prepared for the climb to the summit, feeling embarrassed, I told our guide that I didn’t feel well and would stay behind. My tent mate, Mike, clambered out to join the other climbers. Among the excited voices, I heard the other prosecutor, John. Unfortunately, I would not join them.
After my experiences on Kilimanjaro and Rainier, I wondered about my ability to climb above 14,000 feet. One summer, on a family trip to Breckenridge, I decided to attempt a climb of Mt. Elbert, the highest peak in Colorado. At 14,440 feet in altitude, it is the highest mountain in the Rockies and, after Mt. Whitney, the second highest peak in the contiguous United States.
Tears in the Wind Page 14