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A CENTURY AFTER A CANADIAN WAS INSTRUMENTAL IN CHARTING THE WORLD'S HIGHEST PEAK, A FELLOW CANADIAN REFLECTS ON THE MAGNETISM OF EVEREST
IT'S A PERFECTLY CLOUDLESS day in November 1981, and I'm scrambling up a ridge on the south side of Lhotse, the fourth-highest peak in the world. Or maybe it's Lhotse's neighbour, Nuptse. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell from my map where one mountain ends and the other begins. But I do know that I'm ascending the flank of the Everest massif, in Nepal. And, thanks to the altitude, I'm moving surprisingly slowly.
Yesterday I was on the western side of Everest's giant pyramidal peak, looking up at the storied Southeast Ridge, the route taken by Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay on their way to the summit in 1953. Down below, the Base Camp area was empty. Apart from a few other trekkers, there was no one to be seen. An American expedition left the mountain about three weeks ago, after successfully putting five men on the top - the only Everest summiteers of the year.
Today, I've decided that, just for fun, I want to go as high as I can by myself. As it happens, I get only to about 5,800 metres before I'm forced to turn around. The way ahead looks too dangerous. I don't want to have an accident because, as far as I know, there is nobody within miles of me. And I have no way of contacting anyone.
It's the highest I've ever been, but I've just turned 22, and I hope that in a few years I'll go much higher. About 3,000 metres higher, in fact - up to 8,848 metres. I've come to Everest on a personal reconnaissance mission. When I return, ideally before the end of the decade, I plan to be the first Canadian to climb the world's highest peak without supplemental oxygen.
I CAN'T REMEMBER exactly when I began to feel the pull of Mount Everest. Nor can I explain why. I grew up in southern Ontario, with no peaks anywhere in sight. But I loved the mountains every time I was lucky enough to visit them - first the Eastern Townships and the Laurentians in Quebec, then the Rockies...