by Sharon Wood
Everest came home with me. For years I believed I abandoned Dwayne on our descent from the summit. He said to me once, “How could you know how close I was to the edge when I didn’t know myself?” His words didn’t comfort me then. I was still blinded by the harsh glare of my own judgement.
The quiet ones are still the quiet ones. Dwayne, like James, has an enviable way of not dwelling on the past. He laughs when I ask him how Everest has impacted his life. “Why should my life change as the first man to accompany the first North American woman to climb Everest? I’m one among thousands who have climbed it by now.” Modest and understated, he behaves as though nothing changed and has resumed his work as a mountain guide.
Meanwhile, I have tuned and turned our story into a motivational tale I tell in sixty minutes or less. After all this time, I wonder, is the story I tell still true? As I ask myself that question, I glance around the room and realization sets in. Truth is subjective.
Tonight, as if for the first time, I hear Kevin’s reassuring words about his role on the expedition. His truth. And I hear Dwayne’s too. He never judged me. My teammates have spoken with pride, as if they knew twenty years ago that they would be accounting for their actions now. Listening deeply to my teammates, who are honouring our climb and one another, I allow another possibility to rise.
Dan startles us all as if from a spell when he shouts, “Jesus! It’s already eleven o’clock! We’ve gotta hit the road.” People begin to stir, retrieve bags and dishes, and tug their partners toward the door. The evening is over and I haven’t said anything yet. I’m reeling, still revising my outdated assumptions.
I’m standing in the hall as people press by and thank me when Jim bumps up against me. “Aren’t you going to say anything, Woody? You being the big public speaker and all?” I flush with self-consciousness. “Come on.” Jim prods me, not wanting me to miss out. “It’s not too late.”
“I need you to stand by me,” I whisper.
He grasps my arm, pulls me back into the living room and says, “Listen up, everyone. Woody’s got something to say.”
I begin. “I’ve told the story of our climb to over a thousand audiences. I’ve talked about all of you. It’s you who have made the story that so many want to hear. One that makes me proud to tell. It’s a privilege to have been a part of this team. Thank you. I’m grateful.”
I now know this is all I have to say—and every word I have spoken is true.
* * *
It has been more than ten years since the reunion. Today I accept that every teller may have a different story about our experience and every listener may hear a different message—none of which may match mine. I used to obsess over my scripts, revising and rewriting them to ensure the message I was conveying was true for me. And it’s no wonder; the message had to shift, as I did through my life. Now I end my presentations with a blessing: “May we keep surprising ourselves.”
I believe my Everest story is about the power of being wholehearted in whatever we choose to take on. I’ve learned it is our actions and our relationships that remain with us for a lifetime, and they are what matter most. Not the trophy. The trophy—the dream—is just there to capture our imagination. And when it is beyond our reach, then we rise—to our potential. Each time we do this we are transformed—from living a life confined by our limitations to living a life defined by our possibilities.
I am indebted to my climbing adventures, for they showed me the promise and joy in ascending. There have been other challenges since, many of them messy, not all of them fun. Yet they continue to help me evolve. To thrive, not just survive.
In the end, it is relationships that give value to survival. None of my accomplishments have any meaning without the remarkable people in my life.
It is because of them, and with them, I rise.
Acknowledgements
It has taken a community to write this book. Deep gratitude to Marni Virtue and Barbara Parker, dear friends, muses and coaches through it all. And many thanks to Tom Hopkins and mentor Charlotte Gill for their patience in the early stages of teaching me how to write.
I am grateful for the opportunities the Banff Centre and its benefactors provided, and the support of talented faculty members, including Charlotte Gill, Trevor Herriot, Marni Jackson and Tony Wittome. I am also grateful for the numerous participants in these programs who furthered my development as a writer.
On several occasions, I considered tossing this manuscript in the fire. A special thanks to those who read my manuscript and prevented its demise: Steven Ross Smith, writer in residence and former director of Literary Arts at the Banff Centre; Joanna Croston, director of the Banff Mountain Film & Book Festival; Tom Hornbein, author and first ascensionist of the West Ridge of Everest; and Mary Metz, senior editor at Mountaineers Books. I valued their encouragement.
Thank you, Anna Comfort O’Keeffe, managing editor at Douglas & McIntyre, for accepting my manuscript and choosing the right editors “to tighten things up and strengthen the narrative thread.” And many thanks to my editors, Lucy Kenward and Brianna Cerkiewicz, in following through with Anna’s promise!
I feel deep appreciation for my family and their support backstage. My husband, Garrett Brown, for his patience, understanding and careful eye on the pages. My mom, who gave me the confidence to accomplish anything I put my mind to. My late father, who fostered the concept that the value of a person is in their strength of character rather than in their education or status. And my boys, Robin and Daniel, who echoed back unconditional faith and ceaseless encouragement.
I extend my gratitude to all those who let me write in their homes while they were away. The solitude was invaluable in keeping my mind on task and my butt in the chair.
I have benefited from the feedback of many readers: Barbara Bay, Garrett Brown, Colleen Campbell, Steve DeKeijzer, Jim Elzinga, Jane Fearing, Caroline Marion, Cathy Ostlere, Geoff Powter, Karl Siegler, Albi Sole, Chris Stethem, Daniel Stethem, Robin Stethem, John Stevens, Marni Virtue, Ken Wylie, editor Erin Parker and the women in our Monday night writing group. And I feel blessed with many exceptional adventure partners and friends who have bolstered my resolve to share my story and stick with this ever-evolving craft of writing. You know who you are.
This story would not be worth telling without the exemplary efforts and actions of my Everest Light teammates: Barry Blanchard, James Blench, Dwayne Congdon, Kevin Doyle, Jim Elzinga, Jane Fearing, Dan Griffith, Bob Lee, Dave McNab, Chris Shank, Laurie Skreslet, and Albi Sole. Thank you.
In addition to family, friends, teammates and teachers, I am grateful for the powerful and formative influence that Outward Bound and the YMCA had on my development and orientation as a lifelong student and leader. May it ever be so.
Allison Andrews climbs below me on the first pitch of Air Voyage at Lake Louise in 1985. Pat Morrow photo The 1984 Makalu West Ridge Team, left to right: Charlie Sassara, Ken Bassett (expedition doctor), me, Dwayne Congdon and Albi Sole. The upper part of our route is directly behind Albi, half in shadow. Carlos Buhler photo I lead the first pitch of Bourgeau Right-Hand in the Canadian Rockies in 1985. Pat Morrow photo The 1977 Mount Logan Canadian Women’s Team, back row, left to right: Kathy Calvert, Lorraine Drewes, Judy Sterner, me and Diana Knaack. Cathy Langill is in front. Photo courtesy author’s collection Everest Light Route. Google Earth; Image Landsat / Copernicus, US Dept. of State Geographer, Image © 2019 CNES / Airbus, Image © 2019 DigitalGlobe The Canadian Everest Light Team: Standing, left to right: Laurie Skreslet and Kevin Doyle. Back row, left to right: Barry Blanchard, Dan Griffith, Dwayne Congdon, James Blench and Dave McNab. Front row, left to right: Jim Elzinga, me, Chris Shank, Albi Sole and Dr. Bob Lee. Jane Fearing is missing from the photo. Courtesy of the Continental Bank We are the first team to arrive at Basecamp in the pre-
monsoon season of 1986. Mount Everest is fifteen kilometres due south at the head of the Rongbuk Valley. The American Great Couloir team and Spanish Northeast Ridge team will arrive a few days later. About forty of us will occupy the Rongbuk Valley. Jim Elzinga photo Albi hefts a box onto our cargo trucks in Lhasa, bound for Basecamp. Jim Elzinga photo Yaks shuttle approximately two tonnes of our supplies the first six kilometres to Camp One. Team photo A view of Everest from Camp One. Our route winds through the penitentes (ice pinnacles) of the Rongbuk Glacier to Camp Two which is located at the bottom right end of the north face. Jim Elzinga photo A team member walks up the Rongbuk Glacier between Camp One and Camp Two. Jim Elzinga photo Team members walk down the glacier at 6,000 metres. Camp Two is hidden in a hollow, centre page, near the lowest point of the rock face. Our route follows the left-hand edge of the rock to gain the snow arête (spur) above. Jim Elzinga photo Dr. Bob prepares to operate on Dwayne’s sore throat at Camp Two. Jim Elzinga photo Jane makes pancakes in our kitchen shelter at Camp Two. Jim Elzinga photo Chris Shank shows the ravages of the sun and altitude. Many of us wore light disposable surgical masks to protect our airways from airborne silt down low, and at the higher altitudes, to retain moisture in the arid and often windy climate. Jim Elzinga photo Team members carry loads on the headwall above Camp Two. Team photo A climber carries a load on the spur above the headwall at approximately 6,300 metres. Team photo Kevin Doyle is near Camp Three talking into one of our massive radios. Jim Elzinga photo Team members are on their way down the West Ridge and nearing Camp Four at 7,300 metres. Team photo Dan is left of James at Camp Four at 7,300 metres on the West Ridge. Team photo A view from around 7,200 metres shows the 1.5-kilometre-long stretch of ridge we follow to reach Camp Five at the base of Everest’s upper pyramid. Jim Elzinga photo The summit bid meeting is held in the Camp Two kitchen shelter. Left to right: Barry, Dwayne (hidden behind Barry), Albi and me. Jim Elzinga photo Dave McNab climbs at 7,700 metres across the Diagonal Ditch above Camp Five. Sharon Wood photo We reach the summit at 9 p.m. Dwayne Congdon photo Laurie helps Dwayne and me recover at Camp Five on our descent from the summit. Dan Griffith photo Kevin, Jim, James and Barry (left to right) are delighted to hear from Dwayne and me that we are twenty feet from the summit. Chris Shank photo My son Robin, in utero, and I pose with Canmore’s Three Sisters in the background. Barbara Woodley photo My son Robin is five years old on a family climbing day in Cougar Creek in Canmore in 1995. Colleen Campbell photo My son Daniel is twelve years old on this scramble up Schaffer Ridge in Lake O’Hara in 2004. Pat Morrow photo